#and i got into a small accident because of a large wave and glass-sharp broken shells but i'll survive

[sollilua]

dani lore: i know how to use spears/polespears and throw knives

[ficforce]

Handle With Care

Shinmon Benimaru x F!Reader

SFW

No set timeline

Established relationship

The weather was particularly hot and on days like this, the Town was quieter during the afternoon. People were content to stay in the shade to drink and talk, even the children were willing to wait for the sun to move a little in the sky to cool things down before they played again. Y/N hummed softly to herself as she continued to knit a new blanket for the Guardhouse’s supply. It was an unfortunate fact that sometimes people’s homes got destroyed when someone turned Infernal but the Hikeshi always did their best to provide for their people.

She looked up when a shadow crossed over her and smiled at the man stood in her light, a bored-looking expression on his face, “You’re in my light, Benimaru.” She pat the space beside her on the raised walkway of her friend’s home and the Captain dropped down beside her, “I was going to come home as soon as I finished this blanket, my friend came back early so I wasn’t stuck babysitting all day.” Y/N watched as Benimaru picked up the corner of the blanket to take a closer look at her handy work, “Were you passing by or looking for me?”

“Looking.” Benimaru next picked up one of her needles and gave a small grunt as he accidentally dropped it onto the ground where it seemed to simply vanish, “…Shit. Sorry, Y/N.” He knew she hated when he messed with her tools, he glanced at her face and her soft sigh felt as bad as being told off, “I’ll make sure to pick some new ones up.”

Shaking her head, she finished off the row and put everything down on her lap, “It’s okay, they were getting a little blunt for needlework.” Benimaru watched her reach to the side and hold up her flask, the outside was cracked and the handle broken, “Could you get me a new one of these?”

He blinked at it in silence; wasn’t that one only a few weeks old?

Then he realised that she probably hadn’t had enough to drink, he’d watched her prepare the tea the previous night so that it would be perfect for icing but it seemed her effort had gone to waste.

“Sure,” it was then his crimson gaze caught sight of the tea stain on her favourite yukata, “Did you drop it all over yourself?”

“I was drinking it and then someone walked into me… it was just an accident.” She didn’t dare tell him that the guy who walked into her called her a klutz and gave her a shove - it wasn’t worth the man being beaten to a pulp over a flask and her clothing.

“Tch, they could have offered to replace it for you” He sat up straighter, “Who was it?” he knew Y/N was too kind to make a fuss; she was always letting things like this slide even when it wasn’t her fault. Benimaru wished she would get mad sometimes, she wasn’t weak in the slightest and nor was she shy. She was just too damn nice.

It meant that, sometimes, she was taken advantage of.

He had hoped that maybe it would stop once they became an official couple but it was just the same. “Benimaru, It’s okay, it was just an accident.” She reached over to stroke his cheek and he huffed, “Did you fix the bar you broke last night? I went and apologised for the mess this morning, the owner was still sweeping up glass.”

“Y/N?!” The man she has walked into rushed to help her up and began apologising for knocking her down, explaining that he had been wrestling with two of the other guys there. “We were just messing - you okay?”

“It wouldn’t have happened if that guy hadn’t have touched you…” She should have been firmer in telling the drunk to get lost but she had asked so nicely the man laughed and grabbed her again. “You’re too forgiving, Y/N. If I didn’t know you could handle it I would worry all the time.” Benimaru leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll get you a new flask whilst I’m out with Konro. The Twins found something suspicious so we’re gonna check it out.”

Once the hottest part of the day was over, Asakusa bloomed back into life and Y/N headed to the butcher to pick up something a little special - the Hikeshi had been working flat out and she figured they deserved a little something. Not all of the Hikeshi lived in the guardhouse; some of them had their own homes and families. They only stayed on the nightshifts, if there was a party or if Benimaru had totalled their house. Most of the time everyone liked to meet in the evening and share a meal; this often included wives, girlfriends and children. Dinner was often loud and fun but it meant the kitchen was always busy during the day.

Removing her shoes at the genkan and stepping up into the main room Y/N walked straight into another body. She let out a surprised yelp and fell backwards onto the floor.

The other laughed, “Not if he’s gotta refer to that cripple, Konro. If you can’t fight then just die, ya know!”

Smiling at the three grown men who looked like scolded kids, she shook her head, “It was an accident, don’t worry about it, okay?” Her elbow throbbed a little but it wasn’t worth mentioning, “I’m going to get changed then help out with dinner. You three make sure you don’t hurt each other.”

“Y/N, you’re too nice! Waka woulda kicked our asses.”

“You can have a free hit, we’re men, we can take it!”

Y/N waved them off, “You’ll have to do far worse than knock me down to get a reaction, boys.” It wasn’t that she wasn’t annoyed or that she didn’t want to knock their heads together - she just didn’t like to lose her temper over small things. Maybe she was too forgiving and maybe she was a bit of a doormat but she had people who liked or loved her to get mad on her behalf.

Placing the shopping down at the doorway of her shared room with Benimaru, Y/N removed her yukata and tossed it into the laundry basket before pulling out a fresh one from the drawers. She liked the colour of this one; she also liked that the twins had picked it especially for her to do chores in. It wasn’t like she had to help out around the Guardhouse but she liked doing it… she couldn’t slack just because her lover was the Captain.

Grabbing the shopping on her way toward the kitchen she hummed quietly to herself, grabbing the sliding door to enter she paused when she heard her name from the other side.

“Do you think she’ll notice?”

Another male voice scoffed at that, “Even if she does she’ll not do anything, she’s such a wet blanket - why’s Shinmon even with her?”

“Maybe she’s just a really good lay?” It was only two voices, surprising as the kitchen should have been busier but she recognised the voices as two of the new recruits. They didn’t know her… they had no right to be talking about her this way.

She had heard it before, people made fun of her, they tried to take advantage of her too but she could usually ignore it. Once she got in there she knew they’d be too cowardly to say it to her face.

“She suits him, Shinmon is pretty pathetic - sure he’s strong but he’s not cut out to lead.”

Y/N’s hands were shaking as anger coiled low in her belly, her usual calm demeanour cracking as they mocked the people she loved most. They could say what they wanted about her but that was her family and she couldn’t just ignore that. “Well, the poison I picked up should be enough to see the Lieutenant and kids off. Just gotta hope if weakens Shinmon enough for us to handle him - then we get the old gang back together and take the town. Fucking Hikeshi think they run the place.”

Her eyes widened as she heard their plan, her mind going blank as she dropped the bag she had been carrying and slid open the door to the kitchen.

x - -

Hinata and Hikage both sneezed at the same time and Hikage complained loudly, “Someone’s talking about us!” Hinata nodded and then they both let out a surprised squeal as the ground shook slightly. Running to Konro, they each grabbed his pant leg and looked up at the smoke rising in the distance.

“An Infernal?” Konro looked at Benimaru whilst placing his hands on the girls, “…The alarm isn’t sounding though.” They were already on their way back from investigating what they had thought was a White Clad hideout but turned out to be a secret club for a bunch of kids playing ‘gangs’.

“Not an infernal.” Benimaru answered and squinted at the sky, “There’s a lot of heat and I didn’t hear any explosions…”

“Y/N!” Konro yelled as he got through the crowd and started shouting orders to have everyone moved back, “You’re gonna hurt someone! The fire is already spreading out of control!” She didn’t seem to be able to hear him and he knew she’d never forgive herself for causing this much destruction, “We’ll fix it, Y/N, just stop!”

Benimaru and Konro seemed to realise at the same moment what was happening and Benimaru called up one of his matoi, “What set her off?”

From above it was easier to see that a large crowd had formed outside the Guardhouse, smoke billowed off the burning blue flag that hung by the entrance and he could see part of the wall of the Guardhouse was blown out into the street.

There were a few Hikeshi trying to stamp out the sea of blue flames before they jumped from house to house and in the middle was Y/N.

Benimaru hopped off the matoi once he was close enough to the ground, standing between her and two cowering men, “Y/N.” He hadn’t seen her like this before, he had heard she could get angry but he had never once witnessed it; the bottom of her yukata was burning from the intensity of her ability and her eyes blazed. The way her face contorted in rage was so different from her usual calm expression, all of her anger was on the men behind him, “Whatever they did I’ll handle it - you need to cool down before you get hurt!”

Her ability had one of the highest temperatures on record, she had burnt him on occasion and Benimaru knew that she could burn out fast, he could see her chest heaving already as her oxygen ran low. “Y/N!”

Benimaru approached her after getting a few of his guys to grab the two battered men Y/N wanted to cremate, he reached for her shoulder and just before he could touch her he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and stumbled back a few feet.

She sent two tendrils of flame towards the men behind Konro, they skirted past Benimaru and Konro to catch the clothing of her targets. They screamed in fear as their clothing burnt and the heat started to break through their resistance, the Hikeshi holding them let go immediately. Her hand raised to deliver the finishing blow - she’d lost her senses. All she wanted was for the two men to vanish, to stop existing so that they could never hurt her family again.

“Enough!” Strong arms wrapped around her, Benimaru’s clothing began to smoke within seconds - her yukata was turning to scraps the longer she used her ability, “Stop,” he said into her ear, “This isn’t you, this isn’t my sweet girl - you gotta stop.” He didn’t want to knock her out but he also didn’t want her getting tephrosis.

He was hugging her too tightly for her to finish her attack and instead she increased the heat around her to force him to let go; the buildings on fire nearby lit up more violently than before. “Let me go! They were going to kill you! They were going to poison your food! They didn’t care that they’d kill Konro and the girls too!”

“And you’re gonna burn down the town to punish two cowards.” He felt her stiffen and then her body relaxed against him, the air around her began to cool rapidly and the fires on the buildings began to shrink. “We’re safe, you kept us safe but this is enough.”

“B-Beni…” The man didn’t say anything as she hid her face in his neck and clutched at his coat, “I’m sorry, I… I just- I can’t lose-!”

“I know,” He murmured. Earlier he had wished she would get angry more often but not like this. Not to the point of destroying property and losing her mind, “It’s done… leave the destroying to me from now on.”

“I’m sorry…” She whispered, “I thought I was better than this.” Y/N really thought she had a handle on her anger; it had been years since she had reacted like this. She had lost her family as a child, her mother had infernalised and killed her father before she could be put to rest. Y/N had been angry afterwards, hating that people could burst into flames, hating that the Hikeshi couldn’t get there in time to save what she had left; when her ability came in she could hardly control it and caused fires whenever she got angry. It had taken nearly killing another family to make her stop and change.

To start forgiving people and letting things slide. “D-did I hurt anyone?”

“No one important.” Benimaru picked her up into his arms and turned his head to catch Konro’s gaze, “They were gonna poison us, I’ll leave them to you, Konro.” The Lieutenant nodded and Benimaru headed inside to look after Y/N.

The twins ran after the couple to help, grabbing Benimaru’s clothing whilst occasionally glancing back, Asakusa didn’t treat traitors well and the hearing how they planned to use poison didn’t go down particularly well. “Konro looks real mad.” Hinata giggled.

“They shouldn’t have made Y/N angry first.”

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Fortune’s Rule, Part 3

Ok, I thought this was going to be a 3-parter but, once again... it got away from me. So this is the third part and I’m almost entirely sure it’s the second last part. 

Part One Part Two

Pairing: Damian Priest x OFC

Word Count: 3,902

Content advisory: The smut has arrived! 

Indeed, for the rest of the night, you’re lost in your thoughts. ‘Damian’ you repeat in your head, thinking of how well the name seems to suit him but not knowing why. Damian with his long dark hair and tattoos, and that knowing, sinful smile. You haven’t been attracted to anyone since Johnnie and even that had more or less fizzled out by… you try not to think about it but the images come to you anyway. 

It’s the same sort of thing that you dream about, the sensation of being back in the woods, cold and desperate, clinging to the bag of money that still sustains you, shivering at the thought that your boyfriend and best friend might be dying in the water or that they might survive and know that you abandoned them. It’s like you can almost hear them dragging themselves towards you, broken steps from broken bodies. 

“Excuse me?” a sharp voice snaps you back to reality. 

“Yes,” you stammer, “I’m sorry.”

“Two PBR,” the young man says, his voice making it clear that he’s repeating this. 

You nod and turn around to get the chilled bottles out of the fridge but when you stand again, your body freezes and one of the bottles slips right out of your hand and shatters on the floor. For a second, you see Cynthia in the alley across the street, next to Damian’s store, slowly advancing from the shadows in the same terrible state she is in your dreams. 

But then a man emerges from the alley, adjusting his belt to make it clear what he was just doing. He sports a vest covered with badges and short, crimson hair but he is nothing like Cynthia. He jogs to catch up with a small group of punks and they all take off together, which leaves you in shock, standing in a rapidly expanding puddle of beer laced with broken glass. 

You sheepishly take a third beer from the fridge and hand them to the customer, not even bothering to count the money he drops on the bar before grabbing a couple of towels to soak up the mess. It takes that plus an entire roll of paper towels and a thorough mopping to clean up the mess and even then, you’re not certain you got all of it. The scent of cheap beer is in your nostrils for the rest of the night. 

Of course, this would be the night that you have customers lingering until nearly two, stretching out the time before you can take Damian up on his offer. But the sign in his shop stays lit, like a beacon letting you know you can find your way there no matter how late you come. So you let the customers stay and serve them as long as they ask. And when they’re gone you make yourself go through the closing rituals to the last detail. 

When you go to shut down the lights, you feel yourself shiver a little and you could swear that you see a shadow moving somewhere in the back but you turn and rush out of the place, locking the doors and closing the security gate before rushing to find out what your dark stranger has to tell you. 

You’re frightened by the screech of tires, a car Plotinus down the road well above the speed limit, loaded with kids blasting some sort of trap beats and hollering at you for interrupting their ride. You could swear that you looked down the street when you started to cross and saw nothing. Shaken, you instinctively grip your bag to your side and scurry the rest of the way to the shop door, ringing the bell as a handwritten sign instructs. 

There’s a loud buzz and you push open the door, much heavier than it looks, to find yourself in a dimly lit cavern of strange and slightly ominous artefacts, jars of leaves and roots, rough crystals and many, many books in a wide range of languages you’ve never seen before. 

“So you decided to come,” the familiar voice greets you from behind the cash. He’s bent over, arms folded on the counter, sharp eyes fixed on you with that same, inscrutable smile that seems his natural state. 

“I guess I was curious.”

You shuffle forward slowly, surprised that even stooped the way he is, he’s still taller than you. It’s like he’s a human projected on a screen, huge and frightening. 

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he soothes. “Or what I have to offer.”

Your first instinct is to insist that you’re not scared but you know damn well it’s obvious you are. You give him a weak smile. 

“I don’t know if I believe in any of this,” you mumble. 

“It doesn’t need you to believe in it.” He rises and pulls aside a sheer curtain that leads to a back room glowing with crimson light. “Follow me.”

A street-smart person, the sort of person you’d like to think you are, would tell him to go fuck himself and head for the door. Who knows what he’s got waiting back there? Certainly not you, who couldn’t put up a fight against him under any circumstances, with every dollar to your name slung over your shoulder. He could skin you alive and it’s doubtful no one would ever hear your screams. 

Damian raises his eyebrow a little and steps back to allow you to pass. And you do, entering the room so that your back is to him, so that you wouldn’t even see an attack coming. 

He circles around you, eyes fixed on your body the entire time. You grip the strap of your bag involuntarily. If he’s a charlatan peddling hoodoo, there’s no reason to think he would have a problem with direct theft. 

“I’m not going to steal your money,” he tells you. “I told you, this is on the house.”

He takes a seat at a round table at the center of the room and motions for you to take the chair opposite him. You follow his direction as he picks up a deck of cards, running them thoughtfully through his large but surprisingly graceful hands. 

“Take these,” he says, placing the cards in front of you. “I want you to shuffle them and when you’re done, I want you to cut them into three piles from right to left.”

The cards are awkward in your hands, larger than a playing deck, and you feel clumsy as you move them around, trying desperately not to drop any. 

“How long do I shuffle them for?”

“Until it feels like you should stop.”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes at this but you keep shuffling, pleased as you get the hang of it and then, suddenly, your mind just tells you to stop. It’s like you hear a literal voice and your hands stop moving without you even having to think about it. You lay the deck out in thirds and he nods to show you that you’re doing it right before picking them up. 

He pauses, running his palm over the cards before laying them out in an odd pattern. He stops and starts several times, reacting like he’s reading a book, except that the book is you and you can’t tell if he likes what he sees. 

“So I was right about the accident,” he says quietly, his eyes still studying the strange images in front of him. “That’s a bad injury you’re carrying.”

“It hurts sometimes. It’s not so bad.”

He shakes his head and locks his eyes on yours. “You don’t believe that.”

He runs his fingers over one particular triad of cards, nodding as he does. 

“But you did get some money from it.”

“Insurance,” you croak. 

He shakes his head more emphatically. “No, you’re not telling the truth. This didn’t come from any legal means. You did something bad to get it. Maybe that’s why that bag always feels so heavy.”

“It feels heavy because I have everything that’s mine in it.”

“You live alone like a hermit. You work at a job that pays you under the table, I think. You’re cut off from everyone and everything. And what you have you carry with you everywhere.”

“I told you that last part. And the rest is stuff you could have guessed just from watching me.”

“You think I’ve been watching you?”

You stiffen because the truth is that you’ve been watching him, wondering about him, wanting to speak to him with something like the casual confidence he has speaking to you. 

“Well I have,” he adds with a quick wink. 

You feel your whole body flush and look down to hide the excitement that you know is in your eyes. 

“When I say you’re carrying everything with you, I’m not just talking about a bag of money.”

“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now? Or question me?”

“Psychoanalysis never gets a person as far as I can get. And I don’t have to question you because everything is right here.” He waves his hand over the table. “I just have to put the pieces together. I told you, it’s a gift.”

You purse your lips and he looks down at the cards again. Occasionally, he’ll draw a new one and place it over top of others. 

“If you’re going to get where you need to go, you have to let go of all this.” He looks at your tense face and clarifies, “And, no, I don’t mean your money. The money doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never been without it.”

“Fair enough. I’ve always been able to get what I need. But you can’t. No matter how careful you are with that bag of loot, you’re not going anywhere until you confront what’s really weighing you down.”

This time, you do roll your eyes because it’s starting to sound like he’s recruiting you to a cult. 

“Those nightmares are going to continue and they’re going to get worse, you know.”

For the first time, you sit bolt upright and let out a little gasp. 

“The cards aren’t telling me what it is, not yet. Which means it’s pretty dark.”

“So how do I deal with it.”

Damian reaches across the table and takes one of your hands in his, turning it upward so that he can see your palm. You assume he’s reading it but instead he strokes along your fingers and between them, his touch like a moth’s wings. He hisses as he feels you tremble at the stimulation. It’s like he’s opening something up in you, delicately brushing aside the stitches that hold you together. He works his fingers up from your hand, over your wrist, never exerting any greater pressure, exhaling in a long, soft sigh as he trails his fingertips up the inside of your arm, coming to rest in the hollow of your elbow. Lifting his hand away, he stares deep into you, and it’s like he’s pushing and pulling the breath into and out of you with his own, at the same languid pace. 

Placing your arm back on the table, he cuts a glance to the side of the room. Following his gaze, you’re surprised to see a couple of sinks with chairs in front of them, hairdressers’ stations. 

He smiles when he sees your confusion. “The place was a hair salon before I bought it.”

“And you decided to leave those here in case the fortune telling business got slow?”

“Maybe,” he laughs. “Actually, I like them. They help.”

“They help you see the future?”

He turns back to you, his expression dead serious. “They help me help others.”

He stands and takes both your hands, guiding you back to your feet.

“In order for people to overcome their obstacles, they need to cleanse themselves and release what’s inside them, or else they’ll never be able to understand what it is.”

“Is that what you think I need?”

He steps close to you so that you can smell his skin, musky with layers of herbs like the ones he sells, wicked, magical scents that make your skin prickle. He doesn’t speak, but touches your head, running his fingers through your head and over your scalp, pressing slightly on certain points as he strokes all the way down to the base of your neck. He repeats the action and as he does, you swear you can feel the circulation increasing. Your forehead throbs but it’s not like before; it’s like there’s something leaking out of you. 

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let it out.”

Your head falls back but he cradles it there, his free hand continuing to trace patterns on your skin. At first, it’s like he’s putting you to sleep but then it starts to feel like he’s waking you up, that you’re becoming more alert than you have been in a long time. The scent of him seems to thicken and grow earthier, greener, wetter, but you realize it’s not him at all. It’s the forest and the river and once again you’re cold and alone. Tears leak from your eyes. All you want is the power to say that one word: Help.

And then you’re back in the red-lit room. Damian is standing flush against you, cupping your face in his hands and regarding you with a knowing expression. 

“Come,” he whispers and leads you to one of the hairdressers’ stations. 

He eases your aching body into one of the chairs and adjusts it so that you’re reclined with your head tipped back into the sink. You feel the water on your skin but it’s the strangest sensation, like it’s the exact same temperature, so perfect and comfortable you feel like you could enjoy it forever. 

Damian runs his hands gently through your hair, separating it and working through the tangles with the precision of a surgeon. He moves your head from side to side, manipulating the knots in your neck and smoothing everything up and out into the water. 

Then you feel something thick and balmy, something that smells like rosemary and lavender and sage, things you remember from your grandmother’s garden, lifetimes ago. He works the substance through your hair, into your scalp, the pressure of his touch slightly heavier now, like he’s coaxing something to the surface. 

He rinses you clean and presses your hair into a towel and finally you open your eyes, only to have him run his hand over your face. 

“No, just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

In your whole life, you’ve never had a man wash your hair before. But no man has ever made you feel the things you’re feeling now before. So you close your eyes again as he moves away. 

For a few seconds, you don’t know where he’s gone, but then you feel his hands on your thighs, just above your knees, the heat from them radiating upward. You immediately tense but he presses his hands down a little more firmly. 

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Let me help you”

His hands slide up, lifting your shirt so that your stomach is exposed. You flinch again and then you feel his breath against your abdomen, the light touch of his lips trailing over the skin while he wraps his hands around the small of your back and lifts a little. With his tongue, he draws a line from just below your breastbone all the way down to the low-slung waist of your denim shorts, pausing slightly to press a soft kiss on the edge of your navel that makes you shiver. 

He unbuttons your shorts, kissing the hollow between your hips and flicking his tongue over it. You glance down and his eyes are fixed on yours. He stops moving. 

“Put your head back. Let yourself go.”

You want to tell him that you’d like to be an active part of what’s happening but the look in his eyes makes you think that he has something in mind and you want to know what it is. So you let your head rest and close your eyes, focusing only on the feeling of the man between your legs. 

He slides your shorts and panties down in one smooth movement and runs his palms up your thighs. Then he leans in again, his breath hot against your pussy, and even that has you releasing a few needy sounds and lifting your hips, trying to get him to dive in. 

Instead, he lowers his head a little and kisses all along the folds of flesh, exploring them with his lips and tongue, humming in satisfaction when he feels your body react, or when another sound escapes you. He presses his tongue at the very back of your opening and slowly draws it along, all the way up to your swollen clit, which he captures between his lips and sucks gently for a second before releasing it again. 

It’s like the rest of your body isn’t even there and that the only part of you that’s real is your starving core. Every sensation you can feel is coming from his attention and the rest of you is floating in some sort of suspended animation. He rests his hands on your hips, pressing his thumbs into the depressions next to the bone and even that seems to build your excitement. Then he starts to push his tongue inside you, pressing against every nerve at your entrance firmly and with unerring precision. 

As he does this, you feel like part of you has escaped. It’s like you’re standing over your own body, looking down at the still figure of a woman, throat flushed, gasping for air, crying out feebly for something. 

Damian flattens his tongue and works it around your clit again, soft strokes at first, then swirling it in tight circles and then flicking the engorged bead enough to make you feel like you’re about to explode before he returns hungrily to your dripping folds, massaging the fleshy mound just above your clit with those long fingers. 

He rocks back and forth, shifting between your pulsing labia and clit until your whole body is trembling, something you seem able to see from your vantage point hovering overhead. You’re clutching at the arms of the chair, at the edge of the sink, at anything. Your cries are getting shorter and sharper as the tension increases. 

This time, he doesn’t shift positions. He works on you determinedly until your orgasm erupts and as it does, it’s like the whole of your body opens and some sort of energy flows out, something hot and light and wonderful that continues for ages. And it’s not like you haven’t had lots of orgasms but this is something completely different. It’s like your body has melted against this man’s mouth, like the orgasm isn’t going to stop although, finally, it subsides and your body closes itself up again. 

You’re so weak you can’t even move. When he appears next to you, offering a bottle of water, he has to help you sit up before he tilts the bottle so that you can drink from it. 

“Take it easy,” he murmurs, wrapping one massive arm around your shoulders to keep you steady. “You’ll be ok in a couple of minutes.”

Your head hurts but it’s a different pain, softer and more diffused, like something you could forget once you had something else to focus on. Damian, meanwhile, has pulled up a chair and is watching you, arms resting on his knees. And still there’s that coy smile. 

“I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting…” you stutter. “Thank you?”

His smile broadens and he runs his hand lightly down the side of your neck. “I told you, you need to relax a bit so that whatever you’ve got inside there can escape.”

You shudder. “I’m not sure I want it escaping.”

“I’ll tell you again: it’s the only way you can deal with it.”

“Does that mean you want me to tell you all my dark secrets?”

“Maybe I know them already.”

You straighten up, a little of your wits returning to you. “I don’t know if you’re that good at reading minds.”

He stands and helps you up, resting his hands on your shoulders. As you get back on your feet, you notice an impressive erection in his pants. You step so that you’re pressed against him and run your hands up his chest, sighing in appreciation when he cups your head in his hands, gently removing the towel and allowing his fingers to weave themselves in your still damp hair. 

You mirror the gesture, gripping his dark locks and pulling him down into a kiss. You have to stand on your toes even with him lowering his head, but he steadies you with a hand on your back and gladly returns the kiss, grunting a little when you grind your hips against the bulge in his pants. The intensity builds so that it almost feels like he’s fucking you with his tongue again, like he could make you come like this if he really wanted to, even though it’s physically impossible. 

Finally, you pull away, dizzy again, and grip the waistband of his jeans. 

“Why don’t I help you with that?” You pant. 

He shakes his head and it seems so contradictory to what just happened that it takes you a moment to register that he’s saying no. You dive in for another kiss, which he enthusiastically returns, making you bold enough to rub your hand insistently over his bulge. 

He pulls back, shaking his head once again and lifting your hands off him. 

“I don’t do that on a first date,” he tells you. 

“Are you serious?” He can’t be. You can still taste your pussy on his breath.His hard-on is straining against his pants. 

“Yeah I’m serious. I’ll do what I just did for you but for the other… It’s a rule I have.”

“Do you have a rule against me getting on my knees for you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “actually I do.”

You roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Some women would think that’s a pretty good arrangement.”

“Well this woman is wondering if she gets a second ‘date.’”

He grins. “You know where to find me sweetheart.”

“Does that mean you want to see me again?”

“I’d love to see you again. But you know that.”

The truth is that you feel like you don’t know anything about this man who seems to know everything about you. He walks you out to the front of the store and bids you goodbye letting his lips trail down your neck and along your collarbone, finishing with a soft, slow kiss to the hollow of your throat. 

“Catch you later,” he whispers. 

The door closes behind you and you make your way down the stairs, once again feeling unsteady. As you reach the sidewalk, the neon sign shuts off. Whatever business he’d planned on doing tonight ended with you. You linger a few moments, hoping that the door will open and he’ll either tell you to come back or walk down to meet you and take you somewhere that he can work more of his witchcraft on you. 

Nothing happens. It stays dark and quiet.

[cognacdelights]

i wonder about something angstyy where indie comes to jj very upset because her and john b got into an argument or vice versa, maybe jj comes to her because of his dad, i think it would be interesting to see their emotional relationship with each other u know? love your writing bro xx

thank you so much, that really means a lot to me! Also, I got carried away with this one...

warnings: violence, injuries

JJ pushed open the corrugated steel door, the keys to the recovery truck nonchalantly dangling around his middle finger. His steel-toe-capped boots were heavy against the concrete floor as he strolled casually through the workshop after responding to an emergency call out in Figure Eight; jump starting a Porsche for a clueless trophy wife who was late for her yoga class. 

As soon as he heard the corrugated steel slamming against the rusted door frame, his boss pulled his head from the beneath the bonnet of the battered and bruised Volkswagen Beetle which he had been working on all morning. JJ casually nodded towards his boss, acknowledging him, “just a jump start. Took me longer to actually get there than it did to get her car running.”

“Easy money, don’t knock it,” Joe responded with a slight laugh - the kind which consisted merely of a rapid huff of air being expelled from his nose. His grease stained hands reached for the chipped mug of coffee that rested against the cluttered work bench as his beady, malachite eyes watched JJ as he waded through the mounds of tyres and unused car parts. “There’s someone for you in the office,” he nodded his head in the direction of the small, box room in the corner of the workshop, before taking a sip of his coffee. 

As he neared the paint-splattered door, he spied the familiar chestnut waves through the two frosted pains of glass. His calloused palm pushed down against the broken door handle, alerting the petite brunette to his presence instantly. The cushioned office chair slowly swivelled round and his sapphire eyes were met with two puffy, glazed-over orbs and an accompanying pair of tear-stained cheeks. Indie. 

A deep exhale surpassed his chewed-up lips as he took a few cautious steps towards her, a pang of anguish tugging on his heart strings as he fully embraced the state of the teary-eyed girl before him. He discarded the recovery truck keys on the paperwork-filled desk as he crouched before her, his clammy palms resting against the exposed skin of her thighs and his thumb rubbing tenderly across her the cellulite-plagued plains. 

“What happened?” his concern-riddled voice rose barely above a whisper as his soft, sapphire eyes peered upwards at her. 

“John B threw me out,” Indie divulged with a sorry-for-herself sniffle, her tone croaky as her strained throat struggled to push the words out. 

“He threatens that every other week, but he’s yet to actually follow through with it,” JJ offered his comfort. However, his instincts - rightfully - convinced him there was more to the situation; Indie and John B had been trapped in a tumultuous cycle of explosive arguments for months on end, but never had she turned up to the workshop in such a state before - especially when she was under strict orders from both JJ and his boss to stay away. 

“This time was different,” she elaborated her previous explanation as she choked out a sob, “he literally threw me out of the chateau.” Slowly, she twisted her arm to reveal the sore-looking graze which expanded down the length of her forearm, that she had acquired as her petite frame collided with the splinter-riddled boards of the decking. 

JJ sucked in a sharp breath of air, attempting to remain calm for Indie’s sake. He often played the role of Switzerland during their heated exchanges, patching up the holes on both sides of the conflict. However, this time, John B had crossed the line by laying a hand on her; in fact, he had more than crossed it - he had pole vaulted over it, and at some velocity. His lips pursed into a thin line as he inspected the wound; luckily, there were no splinters caught in the graze, although it was clogged with dirt and sand particles.

“I didn’t mean to smash dad’s ashtray. It was an accident,” another sorrowful sob crawled out from the back of her throat as her waterline brimmed with fresh tears, “I was looking for my lighter and it just fell off the table. He just started yelling at me, telling me that I was good for nothing and a waste of space. Then he threw me out and locked the door behind me. He never locks the door.” Her eyes glistened with an ever-flowing stream of tears as an inky trail of mascara meandered down her paling complexion. 

“It’s just an ashtray, Squirt. It can be fixed,” JJ reassured her in his soft tone. He pulled open the bottom draw of the desk, retrieving the first aid kit from beneath a pile of miscellaneous clutter. Dampening a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide, his indigo eyes flickered upwards to meet hers momentarily - showcasing the anger that was laced within the pearl-like speckles. “I need you to be brave for me now, pretty girl, because this is going to sting like a bitch.”

“Just do it,” Indie nodded with another sniffle, a stray tear dropping onto the bare flesh of her thigh. 

“That’s my girl,” he encouraged her with an understanding smile as he tenderly dabbed with hydrogen-peroxide-soaked cotton ball against the graze. Indie grimaced immediately at the contact, fighting an internal battle to not flinch, as the stringing sensation consumed her. Carefully, he cleaned the wound as best as he could with the minimal supplies he had to work with, making sure to rid the wound of all the sand particles, at least. He then placed a gentle, tender kiss against the graze before attentively covering it with a large band aid. 

Indie leaned forwards, coiling her arms around his neck tightly and burying her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed in his comforting smell - the specific concoction of sweat, weed and his favourite cheap aftershave comforting her instantly. Feeling the strain on his ankles, JJ languidly stood from his crouching position, pulling the petite girl to her feet in the process. His muscular arms entrapped her against his toned chest and his lips pressed loving kisses against her temple as she stood almost on the tips of her toes.

“I don’t know what to do,” Indie admitted solemnly, her slender silhouette shaking with each grievous sob. 

“I do,” JJ replied, unable to disguise the anger laced within his tone, “I’m gonna throw him through that fucking door when I see him.” Indie squeezed his robust frame firmly before peering upwards, into his dark and impassive eyes. JJ’s thumb softly swiped away the influx of tears which had spilled over her waterline before placing a tender kiss against her nose. “Go get yourself something to eat and then you can help out here, valeting the cars until I finish,” he told her softly, his thumb attentively caressing the small of her back through the thin cotton of her oversized t-shirt. 

“I charge $15 an hour for my service,” she attempted to make light of the situation - despising being in such a vulnerable state, especially in front of JJ.

“I’ll buy you a six pack of twinkies,” JJ bartered with a chuckle. 

“Deal.”

Send in a request here!

[blacknailpolishonguitarstrings]

Forgotten in the rain

The streets were empty and quiet, devoid of life, save for the occasional passing car, rushing and hissing over the wet asphalt. Dark clouds swirled in the gray sky, pouring their sorrows on the desolate city below. Most remained in their homes far away from the endless rivers of water falling from the sky, but not Sirius. No, he most certainly did not despise the grim weather or the rain. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed it, finding it peaceful and almost…serene. He liked to hear the sound of the millions of droplets of water clattering against the windows and cars, sliding down vibrant green leaves, falling on the ground, sinking into the earth and turning it into mush, and disappearing down the drains into the cold metal pipes. It calmed him, washing away the restlessness, pain, and memories, even if it only were for a few short minutes. A light, trembling wind fought his way into his body, past his leather jacket, chilling him to the bones, ruffling his wet hair. But again, he did not mind. A dark green leaf, the colour of Aisha’s eyes, detached itself from a low hanging branch, fluttering briefly in front of his face, before titling down and falling at his feet on the gray cobblestones.

Aisha…she was lovely. A smart, funny, gorgeous woman filled to the brim with joyous life. A temperamental, but kind soul. But it was not the same. Something was still missing inside of him, a small, but important void in his chest, almost as if he had lost something he had never possessed in the first place. And it hurt. He hid it well but it pained him.

He continued walking, immersed in his thoughts and not paying attention to his surroundings. Sirius was so distracted, that he did not notice the pots full of flowers standing on the side of the sidewalk and nearly fell flat forward on his face, as he tripped, knocking them over. White petals flew in the air, and gently settled on the dirty pavement, around withered green stems. Cursing he picked the, up, stepping on one in the process and leaving behind ugly black stains on the squashed flower. They were beyond salvaging.

With a heavy sigh, he entered the little flower shop, water running down his clothes and heavily dripping on the floor. His hair lay in wet black and gray strands on his face and neck, sticking to his skin, and his blue-gray eyes shone bright with curiosity in the dim lighting as he looked around. The place was small and dark, walls covered in crackled navy blue paint, and a couple of dingy light bulbs hung from the bare ceiling, casting their flickering light on the room. Flowers of every shape, colour, and size were cramped in glass vases, broken stems and yellowed leaves were strewn here and there across the floor, and dried bundles of faded pink roses and baby breath flowers hung upside down above the counter, suspended on thin strings.

Sirius stood there, immobile, holding the damaged flowers, at loss, when the green door behind the counter opened, and an old man appeared. He was very tall and slim, dressed in a knitted cream jumper and brown corduroy pants. His hair fell on his face in a mess of graying dark copper curls stricken with white locks, casting shadows over his eyes. He seemed oblivious to Sirius’ presence, nose deep inside a large leather-bound book he cradled tightly with one hand, a steaming red mug of tea in the other. Clearing his throat, the black-haired man walked up to the counter, running a nervous hand through his dripping locks.

“Hello, sorry…I…Uhm,” he stuttered.

The shopkeeper looked up, clever green eyes meeting a confused silvery blue gaze. It was as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over Sirius, filling his bones with fear, chilling every inch of his skin with anxiety. Those brown flecks swimming in pools of emerald, those sun-kissed golden curls, the millions of little freckles peppering pale, once youthful now wrinkled skin, the warm wool of knitted cardigans, the sharp scent of burning hot tea that has just been brewed, the crinkle of rapidly turned pages…he knew all of these things. He was more than familiar with them. It all belonged to Remus John Lupin. It was his Moony. His Moony, who he hadn’t seen in years. Memories washed over him, flicking in his mind like a flipbook, rushing through the years.

The first time he saw the tall, lanky boy with gangly limbs on the Hogwarts Express, the nervousness written all over his face, clear as day, as he sat on the stool, the Sorting Hat heavy on his head and insecurity dancing across his taught features as the name “Gryffindor” resonated in the Great Hall. Sirius remembered the first year, spent in nervous glances and reclusion, the bitterness and resignation when his secret came out, and they found out he was a werewolf.

He remembered Second Year, when Remus’ smiles gradually got brighter and he became more comfortable, yet he still wouldn’t change in front of his friends.

Then came Third Year, and the whole Animagus process, where he finally saw what it was like to turn into a vicious beast once a month, what it was like to tear yourself apart and wake up the next day, just a little more tired and broken than the day before. Fast forward to Fourth Year where his problems with his family truly began, Remus’ constant worried glances, and that cold, dark Christmas Eve of 1974 where he, Sirius Black, appeared at the Potter's barely breathing, beyond hurt and wrecked.

He, of course, never forgot Fifth Year and the stolen, longing stares, the minute he realized he liked boys, and the precise moment he understood that the boy in question was Remus John Lupin, his best friend. He also recalled, with regret and sorrow, the time that he gave away Remus’ condition to Snape; an idiotic, dangerous, so-called prank that near,y cost him one of the most important people in his life.

And then Sixth Year and its tension, the first drunken kiss, the secrets, the lies, and the blissful nights spent at the very top of the Astronomy Tower. Sirius kept the memories of summer 1977 dearly, reminiscing of the sweet warm nights, the bonfires, the day the rest of their friends found out about him and Remus, and the pure joy and happiness of those few weeks.

He remembered Seventh Year and the mounting fear, hanging heavy in the air, the worried whispers, and the empty, saddened stares...all things that perdured even after Hogwarts.

Then came the War, accompanied by mourning and grief, only brightened for a few moments by James’ and Lily’s wedding, and then Harry's birth. A joy that didn't last long, as Sirius’ rapidly deteriorating relationship with Remus finally broke with the death of their best friends and his unjust imprisonment.

He remembered every excruciating full moon of the twelve years spent in Azkaban, every other remaining day blurring into an unintelligible mess, slowly sinking into insanity, with no knowledge of Remus’ whereabouts.

He remembered, without doubt, the first time he saw his godson, Harry, all grown up, looking just like his father, brave and kind, having survived more than he had ought to. And then there was Remus too, looking exhausted and grayed, only a pale, faded shadow of his former self. The next few years were spent between Order missions, confrontations with Death, and the same old, familiar stolen glances. They attempted to rebuild their relationship, yet they never regained that special, magical even, bond.

And after the War, Remus disappeared. At first, they exchanged weekly letters, which then got rarer and rarer, until they stopped coming altogether and for years, Sirius knew nothing of him. Until now.

“Excuse me, sir!” said Remus waving his hand awkwardly in front of his face. “You...wanted something, right?”

The other wizard suddenly shuddered, blinking, as if he had just been roused from a trance.

“Yeah, sorry...I...um...was just, you know...thinking,” he stuttered, blushing.

His former friend raised a sarcastic, amused eyebrow.

“I just wanted to pay for these flowers I sort of...destroyed. By accident of course!” Added Sirius hastily, watching him apprehensively.

“That’s alright, I should have thought to bring them in a while ago already. It’s curious, really, you remind me of someone I used to know a long time ago. His name was Sirius Black. Quite a peculiar name, isn't it?” he replied pensively.

A flare of hope lit up inside Sirius. Maybe, just maybe, he remembered and recognized him.

“Remus?” he asked quietly.

“You know me?”

A look of surprise crossed his face.

“I…,” he hesitated. “No. I thought I knew you but I guess I was wrong. I must have mistaken you for someone else, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright, it happens to everyone from time to time,” answered Remus lightly. “Do you want anything else?”

“Maybe white roses, for my girlfriend.”

“Excellent choice! These are my personal favourites” he said, reaching for a bouquet of snowy white roses, with soft petals and lush, dark green leaves.

“I know they are,” thought Sirius bitterly. “You told me in Third Year on a lazy summer day that white roses were your favorite flowers because your mum’s garden was full of them.”

“I’m sure she will love them,” he smiled.

[imagine-loki]

I signed up for this

TITLE: I signed up for this.

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Decided to challenge myself to a speed run. Wrote this in under an hour. So, be weary of any issues with continuity. I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

Based on an Imagine by @imagine-loki.

=

Loki let out a weary sigh as he fell backwards onto the creaky, uncomfortable single bed. His feet peeked more than a few inches off the bottom, though his head was nearly flush to the headboard. In another life, he would have grumbled about the furnishings not being lush enough, the bed not cradling him in near weightlessness. Right now, he was just happy it was supporting his weight after that hasty repair last week.

It was no matter; he slept in a ball anyway. If he slept.

“I actually might tonight,” he muttered to himself.

The more he rested, the more he became aware of the ache in his fingers and the sting of his raw knuckles. Though years ago those injuries might have befallen him from battle, or a spar, today his pains came from scrubbing a floor clean on his hands and knees. Loki was no longer that god burdened with glorious purpose. He was just another mortal with a couple of thousand years head-start on life. After Odin’s swift (but not entirely merciful) judgement following the disaster in New York, he had been stripped of nearly every morsel of magic in his veins and hand-delivered to Neighborhood Pals, an organization designed to do tasks for those in need.

Carl had been his first assignee, helping him around the rec room of the community center. The man, bent in his old age had not been much of a fuss. In fact, Loki found that he liked talking to old codger, as irritatingly perceptive as he was.

Which was why when he went to drop off some groceries after not seeing him in the community center for a few days, and seen the lived-in grime of the floors, rotten food in the pantry and soiled linens stacked high, Loki had nearly snapped. He demanded to know why his family was not taking care of him better. Carl said that his daughter used to take care of him, but trailed off before he had relayed a full explanation. It had not taken Loki more a minute to piece it together. His daughter was dead and it was his fault. And so, he took his frustration and rage on every square inch of the property until it gleamed.

The trilling mobile in his pocket made Loki groaned. Fishing through the pocket of his trousers, he pulled the damn thing out and answered without glancing at the ID. Only one person ever called him.

“Yes?”

“Hello to you, too, Sourpuss.”

Loki groaned once more. Having Stark as liaison between Odin and the tasks he was assigned was hell. He supposed it was even more irritating because Stark had not even had the decency to be short with him this entire time and that annoyed Loki to no end. It was hard to find hatred when you were given nothing to work with. Loki sighed, sitting up and running his free hand over his shortened locks–a parting gift from some Asgardian guards that Frigga had to fix, later. The little tuft of hair at the top was reminiscent of when he was much younger.

“I was just going to inform you that Carl left a really nice review on your work today. What did you do, take him to see the hot babes?”

“Got him drunk and high. I’m surprised he didn’t die of an overdose,” he replied after a long while. Tony guffawed down the line. Loki nowadays was all bark and no bite, he would say.

“Well, I have your schedule for tomorrow. I’m going to send you an address and you will be there at 9 am, sharp.”

“And after?”

“Nope, she’s your whole day. Name’s Charlie and she is blind, so be extra careful with sudden movements.” Loki hummed his assent and hung up. Sometime later, sleep overtook him.

…

It was 8:59a when he rapped on the door. “Neighborhood pal.” He felt ridiculous every time he announced his presence that way, but it was required of him, per Tony’s rules. A lot of the time people were convalescent, and couldn’t physically get the doors themselves  They needed a warning before Loki simply let himself inside.

Just beyond the door, there was movement and quiet muttering. Loki waited with bated breath for the sounds to come nearer, and instead was rewarded by a large crash and a muffled goddammit. Loki tried the doorknob to find it unlocked, and he pushed the door in, immediately gasping.

On the floor, surrounded by glass was a woman, on her knees. She was wearing mismatching purple jeans with an orange top that seemed to be inside out. Her feet were bare and it looked like she attempted a plait on her long brown hair and grew frustrated, halfway through. Next to her was an overturned coffee table from where the glass had come from and she tried to find purchase for her hands on the floor to leverage herself up and succeeding only in getting shards stuck in her palms.

“Stop!” Loki’s voice barely traveled over the sound of her gasping sobs. “Stop, I’ll help you up.” He stepped over some larger pieces of what he thought was a vase and put his hand on her shoulder, where she immediately flinched away.

“Get off me!”

Loki fought the urge to step backwards. He wanted to leave, somehow convince himself that it was in everyone’s best interest… but there was glass all around and she looked small and helpless.

“Sorry. Sorry. Should’ve warned you. I’m going to pull you up. Do not plant your feet.” Loki wrapped an arm around her torso and plucked her straight off the ground. His strength came in handy sometimes, and with a few short steps, he had deposited her on a soft grey sofa. “Don’t touch your face. You have glass in your hands. Let me clean this up and I’ll pull it out in a moment.”

He noticed she was struggling to stop her empty gaze on where she thought he might be. They were a beautiful shade of hazel, he also noted, that wouldn’t see another single sunset because of him. Tears ran tracks down her tanned skin, though she had stopped sobbing. Now, she only looked irritated? Disgusted? Angry?

“Do all monsters have such soft voices?”

Loki’s breath hitched. Definitely angry. And so skilled at finding the wound and prodding. “I’ll be back to pull the glass, Charlie.”

Wordlessly, he retreated. After a little digging, he found a broom and swept up the broken glass, righted the coffee table and tidied up the area, every so often glancing over his shoulder to look at Charlie. She seemed uncertain about moving from the spot he dropped her in, fearing another accident if she ventured further. She did, however, fiddle with her hands, grasping bits of crystal and pulling them from her skin.

“I found the Aiding kit,” he announced quietly, coming to kneel before her. “You shouldn’t pick at your hands. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Charlie scoffed. “What? Will I put my eye out? Will I be reduced to a whimpering child who can’t remember where her coffee table is anymore? Will I be forced to live off of Tony Stark’s charity because I can’t work anymore? Stop me when you hear the right reason, by the way.”

He stuttered dumbly before he found his words. “I-I am sorry.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m magically cured!” She gestured her surroundings. “All I needed was the most insincere apology on Earth from the vilest creature to have ever roamed it. Now I’m all good!”

The words and her tone stung, he had to admit. Most people avoided talking to Loki about the attack–it seemed to be human nature to avoid the pain of conflict. One or two people were angry and gave Loki an earful before he was allowed to do his work, but Charlie had been the first to actually hurt him. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

Loki thanked his lucky stars for one small miracle: her lack of vision meant she couldn’t see the tears that beaded onto his eyelashes. He cleared his throat, reaching for her hands. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch and he turned them palm-side up on her lap to pull jagged pieces of transparent glass out of the shallow scratches with a pair of tweezers. Her eyes had finally (though possibly not on purpose) fallen onto him and her blank gaze stayed unerringly glued to his form as if she were cataloguing him. He felt strangely pinned down by her stare.

After wiping down her palms with an antiseptic wipe, he allowed Charlie pull her hands away from his grip. The barest corner of her mouth curled in a half-snarl, clearly annoyed about having had to rely on her own personal demon for help.

“I apologize for the rough introduction–”

“Rough introduction was when you soared over the city in a battle cruiser with the hopes to enslave us. I don’t think a smile and good customer service would do much to change that, Loki.” Loki opened his mouth to interject a defense, but was cut off before any words formed. “I had a life and a job and a boyfriend. I could fucking see! You are only here because Stark insisted I do this, but how you can think that doing a few chores will ever amount to the damage you did is beyond me! Save your goddamn apologies. I don’t want them.”

The muscles on the back on his thighs were screaming from being kept in that squatting position for so long. Loki, however, found he could not move; scared stiff, as it were. The only thing he could do was stare helplessly into the wide-eyed anger before him, taking care not to distract himself on the freckles over her nose, and blink away the fresh wave of tears brewing at the corners of his eyes. Loki sniffed and her brow furrowed into a deep frown.

“Are you crying?” Charlie’s tone was halfway between irritation and disbelief.

“No, of course not.”

Her fingers jabbed him indelicately on his cheekbone. A little more traveling and they were skimming his closed eyes. He sighed as she drew them away, dampened in tears. “Oh, it has feelings.”

“Yes, it has been a surprise to everyone, including myself,” he riposted somewhat sarcastically, shoving the gnawing guilt to the back of his mind. Charlie chuckled under her breath despite herself. “Let me help you.” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. Order the monster around.“ She seemed hesitant at his turn of phrase, though it had been her who had used the name, in the first place. "Have you eaten yet? How about we start there?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood and made for the kitchen. It was organized, though showed signs of misuse, as well as a small scorch mark on one of the counters. Apparently Charlie had tried to cook before giving up on the endeavor all together. Loki put some coffee on, and bread in the toaster, before fetching butter and jam from the refrigerator. He made a face at the contents–he would need to clean it out and buy new groceries before the day was out; something she could quickly consume.

Charlie shuffling off the couch pulled his attention. He watched as she stumbled around the coffee table again. That would need a new place to live. She seemed unsure of her steps, but was doing well to keeping to the clear space of the living room and kitchen. A growl sprang forth from her lips as she pawed the air, likely looking for the kitchen island just ahead.

“Three steps forward, two steps left,” Loki supplied, not wanting to interfere. If she was going to live on her own, she was going to have to learn the lay of the land. “Mind your feet, there’ll be a barstool right when you reach the countertop.”

“This is exhausting.”

“I think we just need to clear out some of the hurdles. You’ve got lovely knickknacks, but you need open space where you’re not afraid to run into anything.” He buttered the perfectly toasted bread and smeared a thin layer of raspberry jam atop. He lay the slices on a plate and slid it in front of Charlie while he poured coffee. “Arms’ reach. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” she replied, distractedly. Charlie placed her hands on the counter and slid them gently over the surface until they bumped against the plate. When she held the toast and took a bite, she made a sound like she was starving. It took the noise for Loki to see the slightly sunken quality of her face.

“Charlie, when’s the last time you ate?”

She slowed down her chewing, jaw tensing at the question. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” There was no response from across the counter, and so Loki dug his hand into his trouser pocket to find his mobile. The other end of the line picked up immediately. “Stark, I need a favor.” He covered the mouthpiece on his phone and leaned forward. “I’ll be right back. Mind the coffee, it is still very hot.”

…

“Charlotte Camden, what the ever-living fuck!?” Tony had just burst in through the front door of Charlie’s apartment. Loki had just finished putting away a boatload of glass and porcelain decorations into a box in Charlie’s closet. He had pushed furniture to the sides and organized her closet by colors, to avoid being mismatched.

Charlie, who had been sitting on the floor “supervising”, turned towards Loki with eerie precision and glared. “You snitched on me?”

“This isn’t about Reindeer Games, Charlie. Have you or have you not refused the last three food deliveries sent to you?”

“Tony–”

“Have you or have you not? It’s a yes or no question.”

Her fists opened and closed with restraint. It was clear she wanted the option to storm out, but lacked the ability. “I didn’t want to do this stupid program in the first place!”

Tony scoffed. “Great! So what was the plan? Starve to death? Get hit by a car trying to get to the corner bodega?”

“Yes!” Tony instinctively stepped backwards at the roar. “I don’t want to live like this, Stark. How would having him here be of any help?”

Loki felt his skin crawl as Tony turned his attentive eyes towards him. His own jade orbs were fixated on a spot on the hardwood that was slightly discolored compared to the rest. The same thoughts echoed in his head. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

“Tony, he’s a monster." He was a monster. "This will never be enough." This wasn’t enough. "There’s no way to fix this." He didn’t know how to fix it.

"Come on, Charlie. He’s trying his best here,” Tony whispered, taking a knee in front of her. “He’s been working really hard to try to make up for what he’s done.” Charlie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. “Let me call Ben. Maybe he can reason with you.”

“Ben left, Tony.” There was something broken about the way she said those three words.

“What do you mean? When?”

“Three weeks ago. It’s OK. He left a note. Because I can read that, right?” Her head turned towards Loki’s general vicinity. “It’s on my bedside table, if you’re curious.”

Slipping quietly backward, he went into Charlie’s bedroom. On the bedside table a piece of paper looked as if it had been folded and unfolded several dozen times. It was crinkled and smudged, as if constantly stroked. His fingers snatched it off the table and he brought it up to his eyes.

Charlie,

I don’t know how you do this. I don’t know how, after everything that’s happened, you can even think of taking his side. Loki is a monster and he doesn’t deserve a single iota of kindness or consideration you’ve shown him. You should have demanded his death, not his rehabilitation. He’s ruined yours and countless others’ lives and you just walk around with your “we don’t know the whole story”.

Well, I know my story. And I love you, but this life wasn’t what I signed up for. We had plans and they’ve all gone up in smoke. I can’t do this anymore.

Goodbye.

Ben

Rage roiled in the pit of his stomach, equal measures for this Ben person as it was for himself. He had well and truly fucked this woman’s life. And she had defended him. And it cost her everything.

Loki caught his breath, though he hadn’t noticed when he started panting. Forcing himself back into the living room, he watched Stark glance up in his direction before scowling. The man had patted Charlie on the shoulder and got to his feet, intent on meeting Loki in the middle. Instead, Loki shoved the note into Stark’s chest and continued over to where Charlie sat.

Sensing his presence, she raised her face to him, eyes struggling for a place to focus upon. His hands rested on her shoulders and she tensed, fists clenching. When he pulled her into his chest, her hands occupied themselves with beating at his chest, his stomach, his arms–anywhere she could reach. He remained still, teeth clenched against the pain. He welcomed the sting and the bruises that would inevitably follow. Anything if it took away her pain.

“Keep going. I know you have more in you,” he whispered. Charlie hesitated, tears starting to leak out of the corner of her clenched eyes before punching him again. “Go on. I signed up for this.” A breathless sob jarred her chest and echoed into his own. Her arms, tired and aching, twined around his middle and squeezed for all she was worth. “I promise you, I signed up for this.”

[heylissaaaaa]

Words Slip Out

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader Summary: An unexpected question at an inopportune moment Word count: 5.3k Warnings: fluff and angst (mostly fluff and moderate angst), mild hurt/comfort, mild (non-graphic) injuries, moderate violence,  A/N: Hello lovelies! This was written for another one of the ever-wonderful @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ ‘s challenges, with the word prompt “verklempt: completely and utterly overcome with emotion”. It’s also a prequel to the one-shot I wrote for Star’s last challenge, called Rainbow Afternoon, but you don’t have to read that one to understand this one. For registered users on AO3, you can also read this fic here.

You had found the ring by accident.

It was hidden, of all places, in his sock drawer. One of the greatest spies and assassins in the whole world, and he’d tucked in in the back corner of his sock drawer. You were going to tease him something awful after he proposed. Never going to let him live this one down.

Though, to be fair, you supposed he thought you wouldn’t have any occasion to be in his sock drawer. And normally, he’d have been right. But then you’d lost a bet on how long a frozen sausage can be in the microwave before it explodes, and laundry duty for the both of you was the punishment. He probably hadn’t put two and two together.

You didn’t touch the ring box, wouldn’t dare open it, only finished putting away his clothes and shutting the drawer. But that didn’t mean you would - or even could - stop thinking about it. What did it look like? How long had he had it? Did anyone else know? You were positive Steve did, probably Sam too. But had he confided in anyone else?

Your mind flit through question after question until it landed and stuck: how was he going to ask you?

Nothing big, of that you were sure. He liked making grand romantic gestures - liked the blush on your face, because you didn’t - but he wasn’t one for crowds. Would he wine and dine you first? Would he do it with the rest of the team watching, or wait until it was just the two of you? Would he wake you up with it one lazy Sunday morning? You didn’t have any answers, each scenario as likely as the last, but in all of them you could feel his love.

You were still lost in thought when Bucky came back from hanging out with Sam and Steve. They had a standing day out twice a month that had become something sacred. The only outsider ever to go with them was Tony, when he was up for it and had the time.

“Doll? Hey,” he said, smiling when your eyes focused and you finally registered that he was in the room. “I knocked and you didn’t move. What’s that pretty mind thinking about so hard?”

He knew you well enough to know when you were lying… unless you said something that would distract him. So you shrugged, gaze drifting down his body and back up again. “Your butt,” you said, as casual as if you’d said you had been thinking about the weather. “How was boys’ day?”

It worked like an absolute champ. “Great; a blast,” he said curtly, shoving his jacket onto a hanger and kicking the door shut. “More importantly, tell me more about these thoughts of yours concerning my butt.”

You grinned and accommodated him when he crawled up the bed towards you. International super spy, sure, but still very much a man.

*

Two sharp raps on the front of your open door and then Bucky strode through in full tactical gear. You were belly down on the bed, reading a magazine, and sat up when you heard the knocks. “Suit up. We have to go,” he said. He tossed a manila folder towards you.

“What do you mean ‘we’? I thought you were going with Sam,” you said. The two of you didn’t go on missions often together; you went with Natasha, and he went with Sam or sometimes Steve. Opening up the folder, you began to look over the information it contained. It looked like a fairly simple mission: data extraction from an abandoned production facility owned by a Hydra front.

He rummaged through your closet until he found one of your body suits and tossed it your way. “Something else came up. One of the agents we were tracking disappeared; Sam’s going after him and you’re coming with me,” he explained. “Besides, you’ve got more technical experience than either of us to begin with.”

You changed in the bathroom and followed Bucky out of the room. The rest of the file was half-read, half-recited to you by Bucky on the jet as you made the few hour trip toward your target. The factory was built several miles outside any town, surrounded by forest on all sides, and for that you were grateful. You weren’t expecting any resistance, but the knowledge that the nearest innocents were well out of range was comforting.

“Ready to go?” he asked, checking over the various buckles and straps of his gear one final time.

Palming one of your handguns, you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s make it quick and then we can stop for burgers on the way home?” you asked, a little bit of childlike hope in your voice that made him laugh.

The data you were looking for was in the manager’s office above the warehouse floor. The door that Bucky opened groaned on rusted hinges, catching on the doorframe that didn’t quite sit right after so many years without upkeep. Stepping over the threshold after him, you were met with a maze of pallets piled high with cardboard boxes and wrapped in cellophane. This was a facility abandoned at a moment’s notice. Ceiling-high shelves leaned against the walls, half full of more unmarked boxes.

“You head up to the office, I’m going to poke around down here,” Bucky said. You waved him off and started wading through the sea of crates and pallets. At the other end of the room you found a set of metal stairs leading up to a room that overlooked the whole floor through very large windows. The door was open when you peered in. Bookshelves lined the wall to your left and the desk faced the wall to your right. A picture frame on the wall reflected light from the monitor. In a warehouse that was supposed to be empty, that could not be good.

Rounding the corner of the desk, your stomach dropped. “Oh shit,” you breathed.

“What happened?” Bucky’s voice demanded in your ear, but you were only half paying attention to him.

The main monitor was indeed lit, a pop-up window showing the progress of the deletion command that someone had initiated. It was almost halfway finished. You were quick to the computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as you attempted to salvage what you could. Only then did you remember that he’d asked you something. “Buck, they’re erasing everything. They knew we were-” The first shot rang out and cut you off, followed by others. He grunted in your ear. “Bucky!”

“I’m fine. Keep going.”

You glanced up from the computer, scanning the warehouse floor below. Bucky was just visible, hiding behind a wall of crates closest to you. He didn’t look to be harmed, and your heart stuttered in relief. Further away, you saw the agents. “I see maybe, eight of them, all armed. They’re splitting in three. I’m working as fast as I can.”

He didn’t respond and you turned your full attention back to the monitor. Someone must have been on the other end with remote access, because the computer was actively fighting you for the information you were trying to salvage. One hand jabbing at the keys, you reached into one of your suit pockets, pulled out a thumb drive, and plugged it into the side of the monitor. A few more minutes of cyber-battle, and you were finally able to start the download onto your drive. “Ha! Take that you bastard,” you muttered, flipping off the screen and whoever was on the other side.

So engrossed were you with the task at hand that you almost missed the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs leading up to the office. “Shit,” you spat. You weren’t finished, but it would have to do. You were out of time. Tying up what loose ends you could, you ripped the drive out of the port.

A bullet whizzed by your left shoulder and you knew you were really out of time. Going around the side of the desk facing the windows, you crouched down and went through your exit options.

The door was out, for obvious reasons. You could hide here and try to fight them, but the desk wasn’t very good coverage and the office itself was way too small to be an advantage to you. You looked around again, and groaned. Bucky was going to be so pissed off at you, but you tried to justify yourself as you stared up at the window.

You took a deep breath, stowing the thumb drive in your suit. Covering as much of your exposed skin as you could, you shot up from behind the desk, got a little bit of a running start, and crashed through the window.

“Look out below!”

Bucky whipped around right as you hit the ground with a yelp of pain, tucked and rolled to his side in a shower of glass. Pain exploded up your left leg, lighting up that entire side of your body. You’d definitely landed wrong on your ankle. Pulling yourself up into a sitting position, you moved over to sit with your back to the crates.

One of the agents peered out the broken window, and you shot him right between the eyes. He was the only one to make that mistake.

It was quiet in the warehouse now. Most of the first group were severely injured or dead, but you knew there were more coming. If you were going to get out, you had to go now.

Next to you, Bucky was scowling. You could feel it boring into the side of your head. “Are you out of your mind? I would’ve come up and got you!” he hissed.

You brushed stray pieces of glass off your suit. “Oh relax. I got the rest of the data and a sprain is better than a bullet hole while I waited. Now, come on,” you said, holding your arms out towards him. He didn’t move an inch and instead continued to stare over at you accusingly. “Up and over, Barnes, we’re on the clock and we’ll move faster if you carry me.”

The prospect of proximity seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he had the audacity to break out a lazy grin. “Sweetheart, if you wanted to get into my arms all you had to do was ask,” he said, though he stood up and help you to your feet. Putting one arm around the back of his neck, he hoisted you over his shoulder so you could watch his back as he ran with you.

The buckles of his gear pressed against your stomach, and you were sure your elbow did not feel particularly nice digging into his shoulder blade, but neither of you complained. “Think we can go back the way we came?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head. “More of them coming that way,” he stopped with his head tilted, listening. “They’ve gone around the sides too. We’ll have to backtrack into the offices and circle around.”

No sooner had he made the decision than another two dozen agents were streaming through the main and side doors. “Time to put those morning runs to good use,” you said, firing off a few shots towards the lines of men racing toward you.

The hallways weren’t very wide or tall, dingy white walls and gray tiled floors depressing under the fluorescent lights. “I’m starting to think this place wasn’t quite as ‘abandoned’ as Stark told us,” Bucky grumbled, flinching out of the way as a bullet raced past the side of his head. You didn’t answer, too focus on trying to keep your balance over his shoulder enough to aim as you returned fire. The arm you were using to hold yourself up with was starting to tremble, and you were having a hard time breathing with Bucky’s shoulder squished against your abdomen.

When you emptied the clip of your handgun you shoved it back into its holster and reached down for the other one you were carrying. No way were you going to try and negotiate reloading with the position you were in. You were lucky enough as it was that Bucky swerved around a few sharp corners, giving you a second’s reprieve from the gunfire.

Some of the men had gone around to try and cut you off from the front. Bucky blocked the shots they got off and fired back, not stopping as he jumped over their fallen bodies.

The crowd of agents was thinning now with each round you fired, far less following and no more jumping out in front of you. Bucky kicked down a door and then you were outside, albeit on the other side of the warehouse, but you were that much closer to safety. Still, the click of your third empty weapon - you’d stolen Bucky’s too - made you curse. Because of course, of course, there was one agent left. Completely out of bullets and there was still one agent standing.

It wasn’t far, you didn’t think, so you could try to outrun him. Bucky no doubt had more stamina. But as another bullet lodged itself into a nearby tree, you knew you had to do something else.

Bucky yelped as one of your hands braced itself lower on his back, and the other began groping down by his left thigh. He stumbled a step before he could regain his footing. “Woah, hey, Jesus. Be careful down there, would ya? I was kidding about getting frisky.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, hot shot. Just keep running,” you huffed, making another swipe for his legs and grumbling when you missed.

“What are you-?”

Your shout of triumph interrupted the rest of his question as your fingers finally wrapped around the hilt of the knife strapped to his thigh. “Fucking finally,” you muttered, and glanced up to where the last agent was still tailing you. One quick steady breath to aim and the blade flew from your fingers. You watched with a detached sort of satisfaction as if flipped, end over end, to land neatly where the agent’s left eye had been.

Patting the small of Bucky’s back, you let yourself go limp against him with a heavy sigh. “I think we’re okay,” you muttered. You turned your head to the side and caught sight of the now-empty holster. “Thanks for the knife, babe.”

You felt him slow underneath you and turn, swinging you slightly to one side. A moment’s hesitation and then a sharp inhale as he took what had happened to his knife, the body still visible behind you. “Christ,” he groaned. And then, quietly, breath on a sigh, “Marry me.”

It thundered in the silence that followed.

The shadow of the jet fell over you and you pushed off of Bucky, landing in front of him with only a slight wince. His ears were pink and his eyes were wide, betraying his own shock at what he’d said.

You blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, um- I-”

“Now? You’re doing this now?” It sounded harsher than you’d meant it, coming out of your mouth, and you felt bad about that. But you were upset, damn it! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen - not on a half-failed mission, sweaty and injured, after you’d both just killed two dozen men. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He went redder. “I don’t know! You had me all… verklempt!” he sputtered.

“Verklempt? Where did you even-?” You shook your head, turned your back on him, and hobbled up into the jet. You were still muttering to yourself as you tossed yourself down into the pilot’s seat and began readying to leave. Bucky stood outside, staring at you, until you snapped, “Get on the fucking jet, Barnes.”

Turning back toward the console, you heard the heavy thud of his boots, and the impact as he sat down. It was silent the rest of the way home. You wanted, several times, to turn and look at him. But the thought that he might already be looking at you, that you might end up looking at each other, stopped you.

When the jet landed at the compound, Bucky stopped you before you could hit the button and let down the ramp. “Would it be so bad? Being married to me?”

Part of your heart broke, and it softened the lingering scowl on your face. You were still upset. But you also couldn’t leave him to think that was why were angry. Cupping the side of his face in your hand, you ran a thumb over his cheekbone. “Of course it wouldn’t, Bucky. Nothing would make me happier,” you murmured.

There was something he wanted to say, more than one thing you wanted to say, but no room left in the jet for either of you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you dropped your hand and let down the ramp.

Tony, Steve, and Natasha were waiting in the hanger when you got back. That all three of them were there was a little odd, but you were so determined to get away that you didn’t give it too much thought. “Nat, darling, take me to the infirmary please?” you asked with more cheer than you felt, half-hopping over to her to avoid putting pressure on your injured leg.

She looked between you and Bucky, searching for the answer to a question she hadn’t yet asked. Turning around without a word, she bent down so you could climb on her, piggy-back style.

You tapped her collarbone as you passed Tony, and she stopped. Wedging a hand between your front and her back, you felt around until you found the zipper for the pocket you’d stashed the thumb drive in. You shoved it towards Tony’s chest. “I got as much as I could,” you said. His hands came up over yours to take the drive, and Natasha led you away from the hangar. Behind you, you heard Steve and Bucky talking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Natasha waited until you were changed and sitting in the med bay, one of the nurses cleaning the cuts on your arms, before she pounced. “What happened?” she asked, in that nonchalant way she had that let you know she was keenly interested in the answer.

You sighed, shoulders dropping. “With the mission or with Bucky?”

A pause, in which Natasha searched your face, eyes flicking back and forth. “Both,” she said.

“They were waiting for us when we got there, had already started wiping everything. I got maybe half of it, had to jump out a window.” The nurse - Daniel, you thought his name was - snorted as he straightened up, having finished with your arms. You gave him a wry smile and a shrug as he moved on to examining and then wrapping your ankle.

“And Barnes?” Natasha pressed.

You looked away from her, jaw clenched. “Asked me to marry him right before we got on the jet,” you started, and told her the rest of what had happened. Your voice was thick and your throat burned with the tears you were trying to keep at bay. Now that the shock and adrenaline was wearing off, you felt a little dumb.

“You’re upset, but not surprised.”

A helpless shrug was all you could give for a moment as you negotiated the sobs tightening your chest. “Found the ring a month ago, maybe. I’ve been waiting for him to ask.”

She let out a breath, coming to sit in a chair next to you. “And this wasn’t how you pictured it going.”

“I know it’s a dumb thing to get worked up over, and I know he didn’t mean it like this.” You couldn’t get his face out of your mind, the way he sounded when he thought you were refusing him. “And I wasn’t expecting anything big or extravagant; you know I don’t care about that kind of attention. But I just- was hoping for something… else. Something special and normal and not tied to this job.”

Daniel gently interrupted, his hand warm on your shoulder. “You’re all set. Get some rest, keep your ankle iced and elevated. If the pain gets too intense, you can take some ibuprofen or Tylenol, whatever you prefer.”

“Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it,” you said, returning his wave as he left.

Natasha was there as soon as you were upright, an arm under your own. “Hey, why don’t you come hang out in my room for a while? It’s closer than yours,” she said. You wanted to decline and go back to your own room, but she continued before you could. “We can watch something if you want, make some popcorn. I’ll even steal some of Sam’s M&Ms for us.”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “With an offer like that, how could I refuse?”

Together you hobbled over to her room where she brought you over to her bed. Once you were settled back against the headboard, a pillow under your ankle, she left for snacks while you scrolled through Netflix looking for something to watch.

You’d gotten through Natasha’s list, trending now, and popular on Netflix twice when you noticed that she still hadn’t come back. It didn’t take that long to make popcorn, especially since her room was one of the closest to the kitchen. You were starting critically acclaimed movies when she slipped back into the room, a large bowl under one arm and a bag of ice in the other.

“I was about to send out the search party,” you said, pausing on Molly’s Game to read the description.

Natasha handed you the bowl and laid the ice over your ankle. From a pocket in her jacket she revealed two bright yellow packets of peanut M&Ms. “Sam was in the kitchen, just got back,” she said. She settled down on your other side and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Oh I wanted to see that.”

“It sounds good,” you agreed, and queued up the movie.

You didn’t remember when it ended, only that at some point the TV was switched off and Natasha was running a hand through your hair. The bed shifted as she got up, and then her hand was on your other side, gently shaking your arm. “C’mon, sleepy, let’s get you back to your room.”

You groaned and shook your head, not even bothering to open your eyes. “Jus’ wanna stay here,” you mumbled.

Natasha scoffed and started to pull you into a sitting position. “No way. We both know you hate going to bed without your routine and waking up in rooms that aren’t your own. I will not be put on the wrong side of morning-you for that,” she said. You grumbled, but knew she was right. If you fell asleep without going through your routine, it guaranteed you’d wake up in the middle of the night feeling gross. You put an arm around her as she helped you off the bed.

As the pair of you walked down the hall, you noticed an alertness to the way she moved and looked around that puzzled you. It was subtle, and would be unnoticeable to most others, but you knew her pretty well. It wasn’t mission alertness, cold and wary, but more like… anticipation, excitement.

It spiked as you approached your bedroom door, which was now closed. “Nat, what’s going on?” you asked.

She didn’t answer except to nudge you with her hip into reaching for the handle. You opened it slowly, and the breath caught in your throat.

Bucky stood in the middle of the room, dressed in jeans and a Henley. His hands were clasped together behind his back like he would fidget otherwise. The overhead lights were switched off. Instead, candles covered the long windowsill against the back wall, the entire top of your dresser, and most of the desk in the corner where Bucky liked to clean his guns and knives. It gave the room a warm, soft glow, but it wasn’t what drew your attention.

The entire room was filled with pale pink peonies, one of your favorite flowers. There were blooms laid loose among the candles, both with and without stems, and others in different glass vases. You wanted to run your fingers over their petals, get close enough to see the specks of deep crimson you knew would be there. The whole room smelled like peonies, not intoxicating or cloying, but beautiful and fresh.

Natasha removed your arm from around her neck and backed away, making sure you were steady enough on your own. You barely noticed, too focused on the flowers and the man who’d gotten them for you. “Hey Buck,” you breathed, stepping into the room and shutting the door.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, his voice as soft as yours. He rushed to your side when you took a step forward, putting an arm under yours and helping you sit on the end of the bed. Taking the spot next to you, he turned so that his whole body faced you. “How’s your ankle?”

“Just a sprain. Daniel down in the med bay says I’ll be right as rain in no time.” You looked around at all the flowers again, heart swelling as you took in the way the light shone on the pale petals. “These are some real pretty flowers, Barnes.”

He looked too, a fond smile on his face. “Do you like them? I got ‘em for my best girl,” he said, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. Emboldened when you leaned into his touch, he shifted from by your side to kneeling between your legs. “See, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask her, but I messed it up. I was hoping she’d let me try again.”

“‘Course I would.”

“I want you to know: I had a plan. I was going to wait until it was warmer and take you to that park where we met. Remember, when you-”

“When I hit you with my bicycle, yes, I remember,” you grumbled. It was something he refused to let go of. Never mind he was the one that was so busy messing with Steve that he wasn’t looking where he was going. And never mind that he was fine, thank you very much. Did more damage to your poor bike than anything else.

His laugh made your chest warm and your heart soft. “I was half in love with you already after that. You made sure I was alright before completely tearing me a new one. You weren’t even phased by the fact that you were scolding the Winter Soldier, with Captain America looking on. He was on me for a week after that because I didn’t get your number. Then Tony walked you into the compound and introduced you as the new team member and, sweetheart, I was gone.”

Once upon a time, you’d been an agent for SHIELD and - after everything had happened - you’d been a little lost. Then, you’d woken up one day to a forwarded email recommending you for a position as a member of the Avengers. It hadn’t said anything about who’d made the recommendation, and you’d never had many friends in high places, but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was only after you’d officially joined that they let slip that Fury wasn’t quite as gone as everyone thought he was.

The position hadn’t been guaranteed when you’d met Bucky and Steve in the park, so you didn’t say anything in case it turned out not to be true. And facing them in the common room of the compound, seeing the moment they recognized you, was something you wouldn’t ever forget. “You dropped the coffee pot. I don’t think I’ve seen Tony that mad, or Clint that visibly crushed. He looked like you’d told him Santa wasn’t real,” you said.

“The point is, I had a plan,” he said, his cheeks a little pink. “But then today happened, and things went a little wrong. I kept thinking how they could have been way worse. Either of us could have come out with more than a couple of cuts and a sprained ankle. But you had my back and I had yours. And I saw that fucking knife sticking out of that guy’s head and it reminded me how strong you are, how capable and - I’m man enough to admit it - how incredibly hot you are. In that moment, I was overwhelmed by it. By how much I love you. By the reminder that this-” And here he finally took from his pocket the velvet ring box that had been gracing your dreams for a month. “This is all I want. A life with you for as long as I can, as long as you’ll let me.”

With steady hands, Bucky opened the ring box. The ring inside was a band of rose gold that went from smooth line metal at the bottom and morphed into vines about halfway up either side. The vines wound around a small opal. The longer you looked, the more you felt tears gather in the corner of your eyes, the pressure building in the base of your throat. The rose gold was warm and felt like being in his arms, and the opal shined the way his eyes did when he watched you laugh at his teasing. It was a physical offering of his love, of the life he wanted.

“Bucky it’s perfect,” you breathed. Your hand by contrast, was shaking when you lifted it for him to put the ring on. When it slid home and sat snug on your finger, joy lit up in your chest like fireworks, bubbling out of your mouth in uncontrollable giggles. You brought Bucky closer for a kiss so that he could feel it too.

“I paid a lot of money to get those flowers here, so I better at least get to see the ring before you guys start removing clothes!” Tony called from the other side of the door, startling the two of you apart. Bucky dropped his head onto your chest and you leaned yours against his, torn between irritation and amusement. There was a muffled impact, Tony’s yelp of surprise and maybe pain, and a “come on, man” that definitely came from Sam.

“Tony, have a little class, would you?” Steve hissed. In a louder voice, definitely meant for you and Bucky to overhear, he added, “Besides, they shouldn’t be doing anything with her sprained ankle!”

Bucky huffed a laugh and you could feel him gearing up to shout back, but you beat him to it. “I swear to God if I open that door and see anyone on the other side, you’ll wish you had a sprained ankle.”

“Come on boys, let’s give them some space. But we better see that bling first thing in the morning. You’re both expected at breakfast,” Natasha said, herding the boys away like a schoolteacher her children. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as their footsteps faded away, Bucky joining you. As annoying as they were, you did love your friends.

Bucky lifted his head, forcing you to lift yours too. You gave in to the kiss he asked for, but pulled away a few moments later. He lifted a brow at you. “I have one question,” you said.

The brow rose a little higher. “Shoot.”

You squinted at him a little. “Where exactly did you learn the word verklempt?”

[tragicallytron]

So, this Cutler guy... (CHP 2)

WOOOOO CHP 2

“The one thing that sucks about your place is that I can’t walk around with my hood up.” Ant said to Harm as they walked through one of the many thin alleyways.

“Just that?” Harm asked, staring ahead.

“Yeah. This is the only place where programs like to pull on my hair.” Ant pointed to her two long hair… prong… things. They looked so bizarre compared to the rest of her hair, which was thick, gray, and stopped just at her shoulders. The prongs were long, thin, jagged, and stuck up. When she’d put her hood down, they’d stick out a good foot away from her face. They always reminded Harm of antennas. He always suggested she could cut them off, but Ant declared they’re ‘too iconic’ to be removed.

“Buuut you’re here, so that cancels out the negatives.” She flashed her friend a smile.

Harm stared at her before facing the streets again.

“Another left.” He said as they were approaching a fork in the path. Since most of the pathways were surrounded by towering walls, it was easy to get lost, so Harm had his own way of remembering where to turn to reach the center of the city, a place where he and Ant would spend most of their time together.

The heart of the city was a hassle to get to, but it was probably the best part of the inner city. While most people had to enter buildings through windows, vents, or by crossing over sloppily bade bridges because most places were cramped together, and the alleyways were so thin that many doors could hardly open all the way, the heart was a wide open area. The structures surrounding the area created a large square border that could make any program feel boxed in, but you could actually see the sky thanks to how spaced out the buildings were. There wasn’t any scrap metal hanging overhead, no wires, nothing.

Harm looked ahead and spotted a wall covered in neon-colored graffiti, most of the writing and crudely painted characters were unrecognizable. It was one of the landmarks Harm used to guide his way through the area. “Right.”

The two took a sharp turn then continued walking straight. They could hear distant chatter getting louder. A bunch of programs loved to hang out at the heart, who could blame them? Plenty of room, good stores, good food to eat as you watch a great fight happen, and the chances of getting jumped were real slim. Harm personally loved to windowshop. There were always plenty of weapons and gears on programs that’d catch his attention.

The two finally exited the thin alleys and began roaming around the heart. Just as Harm expected, it was crowded. The groups of people scattered throughout the area, all loudly talking to one another as the faint buzzing of broken billboards could be heard, the graffiti on the walls, the flickering lights from both buildings and street lamps, and the odd aroma of burnt rubber fused with a cooked meal were far from charming, but they gave the city life.

Ant suddenly nudged him, “Yo, look over there.”

She pointed to a lady. Her face was narrow, her hair was white and in a sleek, high ponytail. Her circuitry colors were nothing special, white being her main one, and secondary being teal. She was with a group of friends, hands on hips, laughing at whatever was being said. She looked pretentious.

“What about her?” Harm stared at her, unamused.

“No, no, you’re not looking.” Ant guided his head to the lady’s heels.

Harm’s eyes lit up. Attached to the side of the heels was a light gray baton, one that’s able to generate a light cycle, no doubt. She must’ve been from another part of the grid, who else would be stupid enough to have their baton out in the open like this?

Harm clenched his fists. Man, just thinking of all the great parts he’d get from dismantling one of those… It electrifies him. Programs in this part of the city would do anything to get their hands on a light cycle. Nobody cared about the fact that driving through the thin, jagged roads was a death sentence, they just wanted to be fast.

The two watched the lady glance to the side, motion ‘One moment’ to her group, then walked into an alleyway.

“Now’s our chance, whaddaya say? You follow from behind and I go above?” Ang asked, a big, confident grin on her face. That was their usual tactic whenever they saw something they liked.

Harm was about to agree, he was almost ready to start tailing behind the program, but he stopped himself. His shoulders slumped and he let out a groan. “We can’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“There might be guards around.” Harm explained.

“So? That’s never stopped you before.” Ant said.

“Yeah, but before we were only dealing with one or two guards who were stupid enough to wander in. Last cycle, there were about five. The big ones too.” Harm started walking through the crowd, squeezing through clusters of people or shoving aside any program who didn’t pay attention to where they were walking. If he couldn’t snatch goods off of programs, he’ll have to look through the abandoned buildings. It’s not as fast--and it’s certainly not as fun--but he didn’t want to put up with programs making a scene and getting unwanted attention.

Ant’s eyes widened, “Woah, what happened yesterday? Did’ja get ratted out? Did they find you hackin’ off limbs?” She followed behind.

“No. Some random program busted into my place and the guards were tailing behind him. He made me break a window.”

“Someone broke in!? Man, I KNEW I should’ve visited yesterday!” Ant snapped her fingers.

“Yeah, made a dent in my schedule.” Harm grumbled. Harm thought of a small building not even a block away, it has--well, had--a large glass dome as a ceiling, and was one of the best looking places in this city. It wasn’t cramped between other structures, it wasn’t completely trashed with wires and broken metal, the programs who used to live there--scientists, apparently--took good care of their workplace despite living in this trashhole. That changed several cycles ago. Harm remembered waking up to a loud explosion one night, and when he roamed the streets the next cycle, programs were talking about how an ‘accident’ occured, how an experiment had ‘gone wrong’ and derezzed everyone inside.

Harm’s been wanting to rummage through that place ever since. No one’s tried to fix it or demolish it; other programs have probably already searched through it, looking for whatever goods those brainiacs had on them. Hopefully there’s still some decent things left.

“Hey, no rush with my suit, a’ight?” Ant pat him on the shoulder, “I know you got commissions you’re dealing with, and if I gotta use those disgusting chute suits for a few cycles, I don’t mind.”  

“Aren’t those the same thing as your wingsuit?” Harm raised a brow. He paid no mind to the other programs giving him glares and spiteful comments as he shoved them aside.

“No, you do not understand how ugly those chutes are. They don’t even FLY, they just glide me down like some stupid paper airplane.” Ant groaned, “And they’re SO fragile. The Renegade could sneeze on them and the wires would snap in two.”  

Ant’s mentioned the Renegade before, mostly ranting about how he’s made her work harder, how he keeps destroying their property, and how he’s giving Tesler constant headaches. He doesn’t blame her for going off, he sounds like a pain to deal with.

“Some programs are saying he’s Tron, which I hope isn’t true, cause I never imagined Tron sounding so whiny!” Ant got several strange looks from surrounding programs. There’ve been rumors here about the Renegade--about Tron--recently, and hardly any of them have been good. There were mentions of a potential reward if one were to capture and turn in this Renegade, or anyone working with him.

Harm could see the shattered dome just up ahead. He grabbed Ant’s hand and pulled her along, “Let’s go before these creeps get the wrong idea.”

“Whatever, my boss can kill ‘em!” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, well your boss isn’t here right now.”

They made it out of the sea of programs and arrived in front of the ruined building. A battered sign was placed on the wall, right beside the hole where the door once was. “Minu… Sinimo… Lab” That’s all Harm could make out.

He welcomed himself inside, Ant coming in as well. They both looked around. This was probably one of the better places they scavenged through. This lab managed to withstand an explosion from the inside and remain in one piece, the only missing chunks of this small, octogonal-shaped structure were the windows, the front door, and the giant glass dome above them. Only a quarter of the glass roof was still standing, it was a dustier, lighter orange compared to the neighboring buildings, which had a much more vibrant version of the same color. The remains of the roof were scattered all over the floor and furniture, glistening from the city lights.

Harm noticed a crooked staircase that led to the second floor--well, it was more like an indoor balcony. It was trapezoid shaped, placed comfortably between the walls, and there was a thin black railing that stretched across the edge. It made the lab feel much less hollow, and Harm was impressed to see the black columns supporting it still standing. He was also surprised the programs here had the blessing of stairs instead of needing to use vents.

Underneath the platform were multiple tables pressed against the wall with an array of items laying on top of them, mostly beakers and test tubes. Come to think of it, there were a lot of tables in this place. Right when they walked through the front door, Harm could see nine tables broken into rows of threes. Maybe if the programs spent more money on better security than tables, they’d still be here.

There were other bits of furniture besides the tables, there were chairs--of course, whiteboards with wheels that had smeared writing, and random chunks of machinery that got crushed by debris.

“Check it!” Ant grabbed onto a short metal pipe sticking out of the rubbage and yanked it out. The pile of trash collapsed and scattered over the floor, the loud tumbling causing Harm to cringe.

She tossed the pipe into the air then caught it again before holding it over her shoulder, “A replacement for my bat!”

“You have a disc.” Harm pointed out as he approached one of the tables, shoving aside the chunks of cement and metal on top. A nice variety of tools were hidden under the garbage.

“Yeah, but…” Ant lowered her head, “Not a fan of it. Bats are cooler.”

“You don’t know how to use it.” Harm said as he picked up a power drill, observing it to make sure it was still usable. He’s never seen Ant use her disc before. Granted, what she was programmed to do didn’t involve any fighting, just keeping her ears open for information and sharing it with her boss.

“I kinda do. Oh, hey!” Ant’s eyes lit up and she scurried over to Harm’s side, “I could totally teach you the few moves I do know!”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that next time I want to derezz myself.” Harm grabbed the rest of the tools on the table and held them firmly. He made his way to the stairs.

“Come on, you won’t even give my idea a go?”

“I don’t know if walking in here made you forget what the rest of this dump looks like, but Argon has much more open space compared to here.” Harm stated, sounding rather aggravated. He stepped over a couple of broken steps and observed the platform. It had far less rubbish on it compared to the first floor, only broken parts of a large pipe and shards of glass laid on the ground. Lab equipment, more machinery, many of the inventions here had already been dismantled, making it nearly impossible to figure out what they once were.

A wide open folder splayed on top of a counter, which laid parallel to the rails, caught Harm’s eye. He wandered over there, looking through the giant hole in the ceiling. The specs of orange light coming from the towering buildings above looked quite nice, honestly. Reminded him of stars.

He set the tools down and grabbed the folder, tons of crumpled papers sat beside it. He started flipping through the contents, a grin began to form on his face.

“Nice…” He said to himself.

“Ooooh, whadja find?” Ant’s footsteps could be heard rushing up the metal steps.

“Blueprints.” He flipped through the pages to show Ant. The tears and incredibly messy handwriting would’ve made it difficult to decipher what the blueprints were going on about, but luckily the refined drawings provided clarity. Ant could spot sketches of disc enhancements, upgrades for tanks, and batons that could summon all sorts of tools.

“The programs here were making weapons. No wonder they were attacked.” Harm said.

Ant stopped and pointed at one of the pages, “Hey, I’ve seen those! Tesler commissioned a whole bunch of ‘em at one point for the guards.”

She held her pipe vertically with both hands, “They, like--I think there’s a button facing them, or they twist the top a certain way, so when they lift it up and hit the ground, it causes these weird quakes? Well, not really ‘quakes’, but it moves the ground a whole bunch. Cool stuff!”

“Mhm.” He didn’t express it, but that did sound cool. He wondered if there was a way he could use that feature in the future. As he closed the folder, he started fantasizing of all the weapons he could make and modify for himself, the upgrades he could give to other programs, the money he’d make. It’ll be great.

“You wanna keep lookin’ around?” Ant asked. “I got all I need.” She spun her pipe around.

“Same here.” Harm walked towards the railings and lept over them, landing on his feet with a loud thud that echoed throughout the lab. Ant landed beside him.

“I got the tools,” Harm continued, “and plenty of work to keep me busy.” He said as he eyed the thick folder, the electrifying feeling running through him again.

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

Happy Birthday @rudzik-art!

As many of you know, Robin (@rudzik-art) is turning 20 today. As a surprise gift for them, I took an AU we talked about and turned it into a fic! (So, today is not only a celebration of Robin’s birthday, it’s officially my return from fic hiatus.)

But that’s not enough to mark an occasion as important as a 20th birthday, so I got some of our favorite artists involved as well! Read it on AO3 to see it with the art. 

Fic Summary: Juno Steel, pirate of the ship Carte Blanche, did not expect to net a mermaid today. 

I give you: Juno Steel and the Brine of Deception

I.

The day seemed ordinary when Juno woke up. He lay in his hammock, watching the square of light on the floor waver as the Carte Blanche rocked in the waves. Or maybe just because he was still really hungover. The crew had stayed up late making toasts and singing shanties last night, and that had involved quite a lot of rum.

“Ughh.” Juno sat up and began to unwrap his hair.

"Mornin', Mate Steel!" His roommatey, the exceptionally clever Rita, beamed at him from her hammock. "How are ya feeling?"

"Sick," Juno grumbled. He climbed out of his hammock and padded over to the washstand. "I've got to get off this rum."

"Yeah, Mate Steel, I told ya that swill Ms. Vespa brewed ain't good for ya."

"I know." He glanced at her in their broken mirror as he lit a candle, which hung from the ceiling in a glass bottle. "Did Buddy say if we're docking today?"

"Nah, she said last night that we’re just doin’ chores again." Rita watched Juno adjust his eyepatch in the mirror and rocked forward in her hammock. "Why? Did you wanna go ashore?"

"Eh, not especially." Juno tied his eyepatch on and started towards the door. "It's not like I mind being on this stinking ship where my legs feel like jelly and…." He sighed. "You know what, Rita, let's talk about this later. I've got a busy day to start on."

“See ya, Mate Steel.” 

Juno stepped out into the hallway of the ship. He stuck his head into the galley to grab an orange from a bowl on the counter and plucked away the curling peel with his rough, uneven nails as he creaked into the hall. Down the hardwood floors and the few puddles from leaks, he bounded towards the staircase that led from the ship's quarters to the main dock.

“Captain’s waiting for you,” snarled Vespa as soon as Juno’s head appeared above decks. 

“Morning to you too, Vespa.” 

Vespa frowned and went back to twisting a knife around in her teeth. A briny sea breeze rustled the bandana tied around her forehead. “Good morning,” she muttered, like it was a concession. Then abruptly she crossed her tattooed arms and cleared her throat. “Now get a move on. The captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” 

“Duly noted.” Juno ducked past the first mate’s glare and strode down the deck. He tossed his orange peel overboard, but a breeze caught it, and spun it back onto the deck, where it was pinned abruptly under a heeled leather boot. 

Captain Aurinko’s dark eye studied Juno from under her hat. In her broad-shouldered coat, criss-crossed with belts that dangled swords and pistols, she was intimidating with a streak of devilish intrigue, and she smirked as she lifted the orange peel from the deck. “You ought to clean up your trash, Juno.” 

“Captain A.” Juno rubbed the back of his neck and sheepishly plucked the peel back from the captain. “Sorry about that.” 

“Not to worry, darling. Shall we sit down?” Captain Aurinko neatly unfolded a scroll from her belt and spread it over one of the barrels nearby. She and Juno perched on surrounding barrels. “Our schedule is fairly lowkey today.” Her leather-gloved fingers traced Juno’s name, written in ink on a list. “I want you to check the nets and get some fishing done. Don’t complain,” she added, as Juno rolled his eye. “You’re the best at it, darling. After that, go over the stores with Jet, and then I’m sure Rita would appreciate it if you tied up your shared room a bit.”

“Seems like a slow day,” Juno observed. “What happened to ‘high adventure’ and all that?” 

“That’s taking a back seat at the moment.” Captain Aurinko pursed her lips. “To be honest, darling, I worry that our current crew isn’t… properly equipped to handle missions of the capacity I have planned.” She rolled the map shut. “But that’s no concern of yours. On your way, darling. Come find me if you need anything.” The captain stood, dusted off her coat, and glided away to take her place at the ship’s wheel. 

This job is somehow way more than I expected and not what I expected at all. Juno sloshed through the inch of water in the cargo hold. The nets lay all tangled together, and it took a few long minutes of blistering his fingers on their ropes to untangle them. Hell, I probably should have just stayed on the Mars continent. 

And yet the Mars continent had never been home to him, not really. Not since the constables and the law had seen to condemn him over a few childhood tavern brawls and turn him into a wanted lady. As a child, Juno had always promised his brother (may his soul rest in peace) that he’d leave and be an explorer one day. That just ended up looking different than he imagined. 

Still, Juno reflected as he dragged a net up the stairs. It felt like something was missing from his life. Some final adventure he needed to conquer, or maybe some event that would set a grand adventure in order. Right now he just existed, drinking rum in the mornings and evenings and sloshing about on the sea with all the rats and the treasures and people he didn’t know if he could trust. Rita aside, of course. 

The net rigged into the pulleys, Juno cast it over into the ocean. Within a few seconds, it vanished beneath the rolling blue waves. Juno rested his arms on the railing and sighed. What he needed, once he finished his tasks today, was a good long nap, and maybe a cup of coffee instead of rum, assuming they still had coffee in the stores. Then he should mend the patch in his work breeches, and afterwards -

The weight in the net shifted abruptly. Juno frowned and stood up from his slouch. Sure enough, when he tested the rope, there was an uncommon weight to it that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A large school of fish? A small whale? Maybe an octopus. They’d caught an octopus last week, and Captain Aurinko still wrote with the ink they’d extracted from it. Whale oil could be useful too, plus good for trade too. Juno eagerly tightened the opening of the net and began to pull it up. It was heavy, but Juno was a strong lady. He ground his feet firmly to the deck and pulled again, harder, heave-to heave-to against the struggling of his catch. Finally, a splash confirmed that the net had risen above the surface of the water. With a few more final pulls, Juno hefted the net alongside the ship. He quickly tied the rope around a wooden post nearby, to secure it taut, and ran over to see what he’d netted; and there, lying in a tangle of rope of seaweed, was the most supremely beautiful man Juno had ever seen.

No, not a man, or at least, not a human one. Because, Juno realized upon closer inspection, humans didn’t have a silver-blue tail where legs should be, or gently pulsing slits along their throats, or webbed ears, and they certainly didn’t have nails as long and sharp as knives. The mermaid turned his head. His ink-black hair sat plastered to his face with dripping seawater, and when he opened his eyes, Juno saw that they were the same ink color all the way through. Blue scales glimmered along his cheekbones. His face and body sparkled with droplets of seawater, like small diamonds, and here and there wet strands of seaweed clung to his bare chest and arms. He was utterly terrifying, and yet, Juno had never seen anything so exquisite. 

“Well?” hissed the mermaid. 

Juno blinked. “Well, what?” 

“Oh, honestly.” It was hard to tell with no irises, but Juno thought the mermaid might be rolling his eyes. “You pulled me out, you quite clearly wanted me for something. I suppose you’re one of those humans that eats mermaids, aren’t you?”

“Huh? What the hell, of course not.” 

“Hmmm.” The mermaid plucked a lock of seaweed from his neck and flicked it back into the sea. “Now you’ll say you’ve grabbed me by accident.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Obviously.” He imitated Juno’s tone and smirked, slightly. His teeth were just as sharp as his nails. “You’ve never seen a mer before, have you?”

“‘Course I have,” Juno scoffed, suddenly on the defensive. “In… storybooks and stuff.” The mermaid lifted his eyebrows. “Listen, I’m new to this whole pirate thing, okay? I just wanted to grab some fish for my crew’s larder. You weren’t exactly part of the plan.” 

“Ah.” The mermaid shuffled forwards and wrapped his hands around the ropes above his head. “So you’re not going to eat me.” 

“I’ll chuck you back in, if you want.” 

The mermaid giggled. He leaned forward and reached one of his hands through the net to grab Juno’s chin. Juno jolted and, with instinct, brought up his knife and pressed it to the mer’s sternum. “So defensive,” the mermaid purred. His thumb swiped over Juno’s jawline. “You have a shaving nick right there.” The very tip of his nail pressed into Juno’s skin for a minute, and then he retreated. “Well,” he said. “I’m afraid you can’t chuck me back in, love. You see, in your eagerness to haul me up onto this rowboat of yours, you tightened your net quite fiercely. Now my poor tail is injured. I can’t possibly swim.”

“What?”

“So you may as well cut me down. It looks like you’ll be stuck with me for a while.” 

Juno narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying?” 

“Oh yes, because I would lie so I could spend several days hanging around with a crew of pirates? You’re not that cute, love.” He reached out his hand again. “But, if you’re so determined, I’ll tell you my name. You may call me Glass.”

“Glass. Hi, I’m Juno Steel.” Juno sighed heavily. The Captain’s gonna love this. He pulled the net over the railing and lowered it carefully to the deck. Glass smiled up at him as Juno freed him. Juno stepped back and rubbed his forehead. “Great,” he sighed. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?” 

“That depends, how adventurous are you?” 

“God damn it.” Juno tossed the net aside. “It’s too early in the morning for me to have a mermaid hitting on me. You just - stay there while I go get the Captain.” 

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Glass called after him, but Juno pretended not to hear. 

II.

“So,” said Buddy delicately. “This is quite a predicament.” 

“I’ll say,” Vespa snarled, smacking her fist into her palm. “We have a crowded crew already, and then Steel goes and lands us with an injured fish to take care of.” 

“Hey, don’t drag me into this.” Juno raised his hands innocently as Vespa shot a glare in his direction. “Listen, I’m not the one responsible for this. It was this guy who swam right into my net.” 

“Oh sure, the fish is to blame for your stupidity.” 

“The fish can hear you,” Glass trilled. 

The crew stood in their spare hold, positioned awkwardly around a basin of seawater. Glass lay primping in the water, finger-curling his hair and watching the five pirates from under his long lashes. Juno couldn’t help but notice that the mermaid’s gaze seemed mostly to be fixed on him. Rita, who watched countless plays about mermaids, hung star-struck at Juno’s elbow, clutching her face in her hands.

“Ain’t he so preeeeeetty, Mate Steel?” she whispered into Juno’s ear as the captain and the first mate deliberated amongst themselves. “He’s just like one of them old paintings, or like, like something right out of a play, ya know? He’s kinda scary too, though, but in a really nifty way, don’tcha think! It just - just -” She scrunched her forehead as if searching for the words. 

Frannie, the parrot perched on Rita’s shoulder, squawked, “Shiver me timbers!”

“Yeah, exactly!” Rita beamed. “It shivers me timbers! Shivers ‘em real good, don’t you think he’s pretty, Mate Steel?” 

Glass lolled in his basin, running his sharp nails over the fine webbing at the end of his tail. He winked at Juno. Somehow, the lady got the sense that Glass could hear everything Rita was saying; but more than that, it was as if he could hear everything Juno was thinking. Like those solid black eyes could see things normal eyes couldn’t. 

“He’s something, alright,” Juno murmured. 

“What I do not understand is how he came to be injured.” The quartermaster, Jet, stood by Rita’s other side with his arms crossed. Jet always wore the same thing - baggy brown breeches, a ragged white shirt, and a brown jacket so enormous that it could probably serve as a backup sail if the Carte Blanche ever needed one. He wore his long silver hair tied up in a ponytail. Despite their difference in personality, pirating ability, and three feet of height, Jet and Rita were close friends, second only to Rita’s bond with Juno. “I do not believe our simple fishing net would be strong enough to damage a mermaid’s tail.” 

“Well, you’d have to ask him about it.” 

“There is no need to be defensive, Juno.”

“Whatever, you’re all on my case, and I’m getting pretty tired of it, big guy.” 

Across the room, Vespa and Buddy drew away from each other and turned to face the rest of the group. “Alright, darlings,” said the captain. “We’ve thought this over -” 

“More like we’ve argued it,” Vespa muttered. 

“Peace, love.” The captain laid her hand on Vespa’s arm. “After some deliberation, Vespa and I have decided that we cannot abandon the mermaid back to the sea with an injury. We may be pirates, but we are not monsters. He will stay here until he recovers from his injuries.” 

Glass giggled and slid his tail back into the water. “So generous of you.” 

“You’re welcome, darling.” Captain Aurinko smoothed back a stray lock of her hair. “Additionally, since Juno was the one that injured him, Juno can be the one to attend to him.” 

“What.” 

“You heard me, dear. You’ll bring him his food, refill the water in his basin, and see to any medical needs he may have before he’s recovered. Any questions?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a question, how come I’ve got to -”

“Then if there are no questions, the meeting is dismissed.” Buddy smiled and took Vespa’s

arm. “We’ll see you all later. First we have some things to... attend to.” Vespa shot one last glare in the others’ direction before following the captain away to their cabin. 

“Well,” said Jet. “If that is all, I will return to my repairs of the Ruby 7 lifeboat.” 

“Hang on, you can’t all just -”

“I’ll go with ya!” Rita said, ignoring Juno’s protests. “Bye-bye, Mate Steel and Mistah Mermaid!” And she skipped after Jet, Frannie flapping behind them both. 

Juno sighed heavily and turned back to Glass. The mermaid had his arms folded on the rim of the basin, and his head cocked at an inquisitive and seductive angle. He smiled. “Well,” he said. “It seems that it’s just you and me.”

“Don’t get too used to it, I’ve got lots of chores to do.” 

“Oh, but the Captain said you needed to look after me,” Glass beamed. “Doesn’t that mean I’m at the top of your chores list?”

Juno glared down at the mermaid. “Fine. Tell me what you want and make it quick.”

“Oh, it’s quite simple. I just want someone to talk to.”

The pirate blinked. “Are you kidding? You want me to hang around here and talk to you?”

For a moment, the mermaid’s flirtatious smile vanished. His inky eyes narrowed, and he glanced away from Juno before speaking again. “I’m not trying to force you if you don’t wish, Juno, I simply… hoped to get to know you better.” He glanced back at Juno quickly, and Juno started. 

He’s not… no. He can’t be. Not me. 

So he shrugged and grabbed a nearby stool. “Sure,” he said. “Great.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I’d like to hear more about you, of course.” Glass lifted his eyebrows. “Juno Steel. Juno. A goddess on the high seas. Although - pardon me - you don’t seem entirely suited to this profession.”

“Yeah.” Juno fiddled with a spare thread on his blouse. “Didn’t plan to be a pirate, originally. I wanted to go into law, but then I found myself on the other side of it. With my brother.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’d always planned to leave the Mars continent together, but then...” The pirate sighed deeply. “He… he’s not around anymore.”

Glass watched Juno quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Juno cleared his throat. “Anyway, Rita and I have been friends for decades. Business partners. She’s a locksmith, and I’m an informant, so sometimes we worked together.”

“I see.” Glass leaned forward on his elbows, and his smile sharpened a degree. “Not such an upright lady, are you?”

“Hey, careful. I still have my morals.” Juno crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. “Anyway, she did a job for Captain Aurinko and put two and two together that she’d been hired by a pirate. Suggested that I could give the Captain any information she needed, and together Rita and I got her out of a tricky spot. So, the Cap offered us spots on her crew.”

To Juno’s surprise, as he narrated to the mermaid, he found himself enjoying the conversation. Glass was a good listener, and seemed interested in Juno’s life in a way that few people had been for a long time. Every lady needed to feel special every now and then, and Juno was no exception. 

“So,” he said eventually. “Mermaid. What’s your life story?”

The mermaid still smiled, but something about his demeanor had changed. “Oh, Juno,” he said. “I don’t have a story, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t tell it to anyone.” 

“Huh.” 

Glass sighed and leaned back in the water, lounging with his arms on either side of the basin. “I’ll leave you be,” he said theatrically. “Thank you for keeping me company.” 

“Yeah.” Juno got up, feeling strangely regretful. “No problem.” 

Juno finished up his chores and took a nap to sleep off what remained of his hangover. Afterwards, it was time for dinner, and for the first time since joining the crew, he didn’t eat with everyone else. Instead, he brought two plates to Glass’s room and they ate together, chatting about things they’d seen on the sea. 

“I swear, it looked like an underwater city. Whole thing, made of coral.”

“Oh, I’ve been there. It’s not a very long swim from here.”

“Really?”

“Mmm. Pretty place.” 

And Juno kept thinking about the mermaid that night, as he lay in his hammock. The ship’s rocking and Rita’s snoring usually lulled him to sleep, but tonight felt different. Every time he tried to doze off, he was struck by the thought that Glass lay just down the hall, with his dark eyes and his sharp smile. Maybe the mermaid was lonely. Maybe he was having trouble sleeping, too, and would want company.  

Finally Juno’s curiousity overpowered him, and he got out of bed. Rita and Frannie were both deep asleep, but he put on his slippers to be extra quiet, then lit a candle. He was about to slip out the door when he heard a loud thud. But not from the direction of Glass’s room. It sounded like it came from the ship’s treasury. 

What the hell?

He snatched his pistol and slipped out of the door. Juno crept along the hall, keeping close to the wall with his candle outstretched before him and his pistol at his side. He moved along the right-hand side, so that nothing could creep into his blind spot, but still the creaking of the ship and the uneven sway of it unnerved him. Again, the clinking noise sounded from the treasury. He could see the doorway. Juno took a deep breath, counted to five, and whipped around the corner. 

Glass looked up from the chest he was elbow-deep reaching into and frowned. “Ah,” he said. “Well, hello.” 

It was Glass, but… human. As far as Juno could tell. He had legs, normal ears; his eyes were regular eyes, with gorgeous dark brown irises. He wore a short white dress belted with a corset, as well as a knife strapped to one of his distractingly gorgeous thighs. 

The pistol trembled in Juno’s hands. “What,” he breathed, “the hell.”

“Careful, now, there’s no need to wave that thing around.” Glass raised his hands, both of which clutched long ropes of pearls. His teeth were less prominent, but still looked thrillingly sharp. “I can explain everything.” 

“Yeah?” Juno stepped closer and pointed his gun at the mer’s - the human’s - heart. “Start talking.” 

“I understand this is confusing, Juno. In some ways, I’m glad you’re the one who caught me. It means we get to have a secret.” Glass stepped closer to the pirate. “Just for the two of us.”

“You were a mer,” Juno sputtered. “You were injured.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Glass covered the quivering barrel of Juno’s pistol and pointed it away from himself. “Juno, listen to me. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong. But I can tell you. I will tell you. I’ll tell you everything, if you want to know, but you must promise me you won’t alert your captain.” 

“Why not?” Juno snapped. “You’re robbing us. You lied your way onto our ship and - and just so you could get our shit while we slept?” 

“Well, it’s not really yours, now is it?” He was so close now. Juno could feel Glass’s warm breath on his cheek, followed a few seconds later by his knuckles. A shiver ran through him involuntarily. Glass chuckled. “I trust you, Juno, and I can’t have you giving me away now. Please.” He leaned down and whispered in Juno's ear, “I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

The words drifted into the pirate’s mind and melted over his senses like slow honey. He shivered in the brine-aired night, and in the warmth radiating from Glass’s presence. It was a sensation so strong, so all-encompassing, that for a second Juno didn’t even notice that warmth had retreated. He snapped to his senses just in time to watch Glass disappear out the door. 

“Hey - HEY!” he shouted. “Get back here!” Juno sprinted after Glass as the long-limbed thief bounded up the stairs towards the deck, and into the open air. The deck’s rocking motions were more obvious here, swaying Juno back and forth on his own feet as he fired a warning shot into the night air. “Glass, you bastard -! get back here!” 

Glass paid him no heed. Dripping pearls and laughing, he crossed the deck in a burst of speed. Juno stumbled after him. He can’t get away, the pirate thought, he has nowhere to go - and as soon as the thought entered his mind, Glass leapt over the edge of the railing and out into the open night. 

“NO!” Juno shouted. His momentum carried him the rest of the way, and he ran right into the banister, wrapping his arms around it. Below, he saw a flash of silver scales as Glass disappeared beneath the rolling waves. Juno stared, dumbfounded. He had no time to process, or to call for the captain, before suddenly the ship lurched again beneath his feet and sent him tumbling headfirst into the waves. 

III. 

The water crashed into him. Juno gasped as the cold ensnared him, but the gasp let in a rush of frigid water into his lungs, making him sputter. His arms struggled weakly. His fists clutched handfuls of seawater as the weight of his clothes and the tossing of the waves dragged him under. For a singular moment his head parted the surface of the waves, but before he could even taste oxygen, the water closed over him again. Juno couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned. All he could feel was that burning and the numbing coldness. And then, suddenly, he felt something wrap around his waist. 

Juno looked down and gave a garbled yelp of surprise. Glass was at his side, holding him close. He wore the strings of pearls around his neck, and he wrapped one of them gently around Juno, holding them together in the tumult of the water. Juno fell still. Black dots swam before his vision, and the cold seemed to sting his bones, but the mer’s arms were warm, and Juno instinctively drew closer to him. 

“Juno?” Glass murmured. His voice sounded distant. “Juno, stay awake. I can help you breathe, but you have to stay awake -” His hands clutched Juno’s shoulders, but the detective could barely feel them. Glass’s face moved closer to his. “No, stay awake - I can only help you if I breathe for you, and I can’t do that if you’re not awake to say so - no no no, keep your eyes open for me! Please, Juno -” His grip tightened in almost frenzy. The black dots blurred the edges of Juno’s vision. His entire body felt made up of this pain intensifying in his lungs. “Juno, I can save you, just give me a yes, please don’t black out, please don’t -” 

Juno could barely feel, but with what little strength he had left he tried to nod. His forehead tipped against the mer’s shoulder. Glass drew back and cradled Juno’s face in his hands, and then, strongly, he pressed his warm lips onto Juno’s mouth. Oxygen entered his body slowly, like warmth dripping slowly down his throat. Juno felt something like life beating in his chest, and he almost tasted sea salt, but before he could reflect on anything he was feeling, the black dots swelled to cover his vision, and everything faded away. 

When Juno came to, he found himself lying on a cool stone. The world above him slowly came into vision: a cool, dark cave, striped with damp vines that dangled from the ceiling. He felt cold water lapping at his ankles, and heard soft singing in the air in a haunting language he didn’t recognize. Weakly, he lifted his heavy head and looked around to get his bearings. Through the mouth of the cave, Juno could see the sun rising on the horizon, and the golden glow bled into the cave as if it were paint spilled across the water’s surface. Glass lounged on another rock, drawing ripples in the water with his fingertips, still in his mer form and glistening with pearls. After a few seconds all of Juno’s senses fell into place, and he realized the mermaid was the source of the music.

“Glass?” he called weakly. 

Glass stopped singing and looked over. His shining face lit into a smile. “You’re awake.” He rolled off of the rock and vanished with a faint splash into the water, and then a moment later emerged dripping wet by Juno’s side. The hand shifted and a moment later Glass’s face appeared above him. 

“Juno,” he sighed. “Here, let me help you sit up. How are you feeling?” 

“Unghh.” Juno rubbed his head as the mer helped him into a sitting position. “What the hell happened?”

“You blacked out.” Glass shifted back a few inches to give Juno breathing room. “Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Juno sat up higher on the rock. Glass leaned on the side, with his arms folded and his head tipped to one side. His scales shimmered. “You saved my life,” Juno said. “Didn’t you?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you die, Juno.”

“You kissed me.” 

Glass stirred his fingertips through the foam brushing up against the rock.

“You kissed me. You stole from my crew, and then you saved my life. Why the hell would you do that?” The water lapped quietly at the edges of the cave. 

The air misted before Glass’s lips while he breathed, and his gills pulsed. A drop of water slid down the slope of his forehead.. “I had a very straightforward plan,” he murmured eventually. “I’d been tracking your ship for a while now, you see. I saw that big fellow rowing above me one morning, so I swam to the surface to see what was going on. When I noticed that chest he was loading onto your ship, I decided to track you all. I knew you must have some kind of treasure, and I wanted it. I hid under your prow, or swam near you. Then one morning, a net dropped, so I seized my chance and swam into it, and then….” He turned his head and fixed his black eyes on Juno. “Well, then you messed up my whole plan.” 

Juno started to speak, but Glass talked right over him. 

“You, all fascinating and charming, with your fed-up attitude and your adorable pout.” He smiled. “I don’t meet people very often. I’m usually on the move, either on land or in the water, and I never have time to… to chat with someone I find attractive. And then,” he chuckled, “I decided to forget you and go through with my plan anyway - and you came to stop me! Leaving me to save you, in the end.” He shrugged delicately. “What can I say, darling? You are beautiful. I want to know everything about you.” 

Glass closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded arms. Juno watched him, with his heart drum beating in his chest. Around them the water was turning golden. Juno watched him, and thought, He thinks I’m beautiful. 

“What are you, exactly?” 

The mermaid lifted his head. “Hmm?”

“I mean, you’re a mermaid, right? But then when I saw you in the night, you had legs, your eyes were normal -”

“Ah. Weren’t you listening?” Glass smirked. “Shapeshifter, love. I can be a mer or a human as it suits me, but I’m never just one for very long.” 

“Huh.” Juno thought about that for a moment. He could feel his pulse in his throat. “And you’re a thief, apparently.” 

“You can have your pearls back if it bothers you that badly.” 

“Honestly?” Juno took Glass’s hand in his. “Right now I kind of just want to pay you back for saving me.” 

Glass looked up. He met Juno’s eyes and let the pirate draw him up onto the rock, and as the golden light spilled far enough across the water to light them up, they kissed. 

It was like oxygen-giving, but better. Glass’s lips were soft and sweet, and he tasted like the ocean. Juno felt the sunlight falling across their shoulders, and both of Glass’s hands twisted gently in the front of Juno’s shirt. He dragged him closer and their kiss grew deeper, with Glass’s tongue slipping into Juno’s open mouth, and Juno wrapped his legs around the mer’s waist. They didn’t break apart until it was physically hard to breathe, and even then, only far enough for the mermaid to press his forehead to the pirate’s.

“Glass isn’t my real name,” he said, breathless. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Juno gasped. “Christ, you’re a good kisser. Okay. What is your real name?” 

“It’s in Mer. You won’t be able to pronounce it.” 

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“Nąuhréyęvhve.”

“What the fuck kind of name is that.” 

The mermaid with the unpronounceable name laughed and dropped a quick kiss onto Juno’s cheek. “It means dancer.”

“Yeah, I still can’t pronounce it. I’m just gonna say Nureyev.”

“Nureyev.” The mermaid tried it, head tipped to the side. “Nureyev” He turned to face Juno again and smiled. “Hmm. That does have a nice ring to it.” 

And they kissed again while the sunlight grew around them. 

IV.

Captain Aurinko liked to think of herself as a level-headed person, but right now, Juno Steel had her worried. “It’s no big deal,” Vespa had told her. “He vanishes at the same time as the mermaid, so what? The mermaid guy probably talked his ear off, and Steel just got annoyed and chucked him overboard.” 

“Then where is Juno?” 

“It is possible we overlooked some part of the ship when we checked,” Jet suggested. 

Vespa smirked. “Or he’s screwing the mermaid somewhere.” 

“How would that -” Rita had begun, but Buddy decided that Rita should go check the stores, and Vespa should go check the crow’s nest, before they could have that conversation. 

Now, she stood on the deck by the ship’s wheel and watched the horizon through her telescope. All she saw were the unchanging waves. Buddy sighed and lowered the telescope from her eye. “Come on, Juno,” she murmured. “This crew won’t work without you.” 

Behind her, the deck creaked under footsteps. “We checked the crow’s nest,” said Vespa. “Didn’t see anything.” 

“Us, either,” called Rita as she and Jet emerged from the lower stairs. “Mate Steel just ain’t here at all.”

“Rraw! Mate Steel ain’t here!” squaked Frannie.

Jet furrowed his brows. “I think,” he began heavily, “that perhaps we must consider -”

“No,” said Buddy. “We’re not giving up yet.” 

“Buddy.” Vespa laid a hand on her arm. “Listen, we don’t know what this mer guy might have done, okay? We should start makin’ the assumption - Rita? Are you okay?” 

Rita had begun to cry, holding the end of Buddy’s long coat and using it to dab her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, matey,” she sniffled. “It’s just, I’m rememberin’ that in plays mermaids eat people sometimes, and I don’t want Mate Steel to get e-eaten, ya know? An’ that mer-guy had such really sharp teeth an’ I don’t wan Mate Steel to di-i-i-ieeeee.” She sobbed loudly and blew her nose on Buddy’s lace trim. 

At that moment, a loud splash sounded from the ocean. The four turned around in time to watch the Juno and the mermaid course up on a jet of seawater and collapse onto the deck, where they lay sputtering in a puddle. Juno’s clothes clung to him, soaking wet, and the mer wore a tattered white dress. “Hey, guys,” Juno coughed.

“What the hell?!” exclaimed Vespa. 

“MATE STEEL!” Rita ran across the deck and threw her arms around Juno’s shoulders. “You’re alive! Oh, Mate Steel, we was so WORRIED, I thought somethin’ terrible’d happened to ya, where’ve you BEEN Mate Steel? Did he kidnap ya? Did he hurtcha?” She glared at the mermaid and fumbled for her little dagger. “I swear, if you hurt one curl on my Mate Steel’s head, I’m gonna -”

“I’m fine, Rita.” Juno sat up and helped the mermaid to his feet. Buddy blinked, sure she was seeing something wrong - perhaps the rum had gone to her head. The mermaid had legs now. “Guys,” said Juno. “Nureyev’s here to return some stuff he took.” 

“Oh.” The mermaid laughed nervously. “I thought I was just dropping you off.”

“Nureyev.” 

“Fine, fine.” He reached into his pockets and pulled out all the strings of pearls that should have been in the Carte Blanche’s treasure stores. Buddy raised an eyebrow as the mer-turned-human - Nureyev - held them out to her. She took them from his hands and eyed him. 

“I was under the impression that mer usually only have tails,” she said lightly. 

“I’m a shapeshifter.” 

Vespa and Jet said, “a what?”

“A SHAPESHIFTER?!” Rita exclaimed. “Wow!!! That’s so COOL, Mistah Nureyev! Like, like in that really great play that came out last month, Squares and Triangles and Also Sirens? Wow, that play is so GOOD! Can you turn into anythin’ you want, or just a mer and a human?”

“More importantly,” said Buddy, “how long were you planning to use your abilities to rob us?”

Rita fell silent. Nureyev smirked. “Quite a while,” he admitted. “Juno simply… altered my initial plan when he spotted me last night.” 

“Ah. So that’s where you’ve been.” Buddy smiled as Juno blushed and ducked his head. “Well, it seems there’s simply one way to resolve this whole mix-up.” 

“Yeah!” Vespa drew her scimitar and pointed it at Nureyev. “I say we tie him up and make him walk the plank!” 

“Rraw! Walk the plank!” agreed Frannie. 

“That is impractical,” said Jet. “If he walks the plank, he will simply transform underwater and swim away. I propose that we throw him in the brig until we reach port. We can decide from there.” 

“Hey, c’mon, none of this is making sense,” snapped Juno. “He gave all the pearls back.” 

“You’ve certainly had a change of attitude.”

“Yeah, well you could use one, Vespa, and here’s another thing -”

“Enough, darlings!” Buddy held up her hands. “That’s enough. I have an alternative proposition.” She marched across the deck and stopped before Nureyev. “You possess interesting skills, Nureyev. Skills that I think our team would find very useful. And, since I’m sure Juno will vouch for your character, judging from the fact that he’s wearing your lipstick -”

“Hey-”

“- you have an in.” She held out her hand. “If you want it, darling, there’s a place for you here aboard the Carte Blanche.” 

Nureyev glanced over at Juno, who stood watching him with hopeful eyes. A smile grew across his face. “Well,” he said. “I must say, it’s nice to finally be appreciated.” And he shook Buddy’s hand. 

~~~~

“...aaaand that’s my idea for a stream about us!” Rita set down her stack of papers and beamed around at the rest of the crew. “Whaddaya think? It’s good, ain’t it?” 

“It is exceptional,” said Jet in a grave tone. “I am moved to tears.” 

“I dunno, I think it’s a little unrealistic in a few parts.” Juno gestured to the portion marked as chapter five. “I don’t really see why I’d let a mermaid kiss me while I’m drowning.”

“You totally would, Mistah Steel!” Rita clutched her story defensively. “You’re just horny for death!” 

“I’m what?”

“In my case,” said Nureyev, over the laughter of the rest of the crew, “I don’t see why I’ve been characterized as a mermaid.”

“Every pirate stream has to have a mermaid, Mistah Nureyev? Ain’t you ever seen High Seas of Saturn? The Ghost Ship that Also Has Zombies? Pirates of the Carribean 207: Oh My 

God When Will This Franchise End?”

“Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell, I’m afraid.” Nureyev shifted Juno’s position on his lap and rubbed the lady’s thigh. “My introduction scene was on point, though. After all, Juno does love me in fishnets.” 

“Shut up,” Juno mumbled, blushing. Nureyev chuckled and kissed his neck. 

Buddy took another sip of her tea. “You’ve created quite an interesting story, darling. I’m glad it’s kept you entertained. I know our long periods between heists can get tedious, but I’d say this has been fun for all of us.”

“Oh yeah, this part.” Vespa waved a section of Rita’s script. She’d been writing notes on Rita’s finished pages throughout the reading process. “Where it says my arms are covered in tattoos. I’ve only got twenty tattoos and only six of them are on my arms, so I thought that was kind of unrealistic, kid.” 

“I’m taking artistic license, Miz Vespa!” 

Vespa narrowed her eyes and grabbed her knife. “Are you saying my tattoos aren’t already artistic?” 

“N-no! Fine, I’ll change it!” Rita snatched the page back and began to doodle furiously on it. Jet leaned close. 

“Do not listen to the haters,” he whispered. “You have created a masterpiece of television.” 

“Thanks, Mistah Big Guy.” 

“You are welcome.” 

“Well, this has been entertaining.” Nureyev tapped his fingertips on Juno’s knee. “If there’s nothing else that you require, the two of us will probably go to bed…”

“No, you can’t go to bed!” Rita frowned. “Whaddaya mean? We’re just gettin’ started!” 

“Rita, you’ve read us your entire story,” said Juno. “What else is there.” 

“I’ve read you the pilot episode.” Rita reached behind her and grabbed an enormous stack of blank notepads. “But now, you’ve all got to help me plot the rest of the first season!” 

The rest of the crew looked at each other. Juno sighed and got up from Nureyev’s lap.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll get some coffee started. Looks like we’re gonna be here a while.” 

The End

~

Big thanks to @in-consist​, @awalkingparadox11​, @scintillart​, @hemaris​, and @acadieum​ for all the incredible work they did! 

[may8344]

The Journey of a Forgotten Soldier (Levi x OC)

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters:

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags:

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary:

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.2k

—

Chapter 9: Humanity’s Hope

Following the long, dirt trail up the hill, Commander Shadies led the remaining Scouts to an abandoned castle ruin. It was made of stone brick that was slowly crumbling. Though it was broken-down and some areas were broken off, it seemed like a sturdy shelter. Along the side, there was a small, wooden horse stable able to house all of the Scouts’ horses.

As Isabel dumped water into a wooden pail for her horse to drink, she glanced at the stone building. “Hey, are we actually gonna stay in this dump?”

Furlan hopped off of his horse and stretched his back. “The wall certainly looks old and unreliable, but they’re making good use of these old castle ruins.”

“It won’t be any good against a Titan attack, but it should keep us a nice shelter for the night,” Alana chimed in.

“Oh, right! The Titans don’t attack at night.”

“Still, we’re outside of the walls,” Levi broke their conversation. “Anything could happen. Stay sharp.”

[~]

Soldiers piled into the building, unpacking some of the supplies they had on the wagons. Blankets were laid out on the floor as conversations filled the main room. Everyone was recuperating from the frightening encounter they had, drinking or eating the handed out food.

Furlan dropped his bag on the floor, and sighed as he slid down the wall to a sitting position. “Man, I never imagined we could stop a Titan that easily.”

Levi began digging through his bag, pulling out a large blanket to lay on the floor. “It was unexpectedly fast, but if there’s just one, that’s no problem.”

“So ‘Levi the Invincible’ does just fine, even with the Titans,” Alana teased as she sat down on the right side of Furlan, holding onto his calloused hand.

“Just like I said, you’re super strong, Big Bro!” Isabel complimented as she stretched out her arms. “As long as you’re with us, we’ll make it home alive somehow!”

Levi sat down on his neatly laid out blanket on Furlan’s left side. “If we ever faced more of those Abnormals, I’m not so sure.” His eyes stole a glance to his blond companion. “But more importantly, Furlan.”

“What is it?”

Lowering his voice, Levi frowned, “Do you really think he brought the documents?”

The blond haired boy nodded as his face turned more serious. “Yeah, I made sure of it. Earlier, when I snuck into Erwin’s room, I checked every place that looked suspicious. I didn’t think I’d find them easily, but I did happen on unrelated documents all over the place. I even picked open a locked drawer. It sure overflowed with secret looking documents, but none of them were the ones we are looking for.”

“So if, with all of the papers in that room, those were the only ones missing, then he’s gotta have them on him after all!” Isabel concluded.

“Yes. He might be carrying them, even outside of the walls.” Even after he went over everything he knew, Furlan still looked conflicted over something. However, he hadn’t seemed to want to address it. “If he’d hidden them outside the military, then that old fossil Lovof surely would’ve found them.”

“Hey, Furlan?” Alana questioned as she seemed skeptical. “Just how far can we trust that old guy?”

“Everything he told us seems true, except the part about the reward. Erwin let us in the military, just like Lovof said he would.” He answered with a small smile, inconspicuously squeezing the ravenette’s hand.

“Wow! I was really worried that something terrible’d happen to Levi. Like, if it all turned out to be a lie just to catch us.” Isabel added.

“The nobles see people like us as insects.” Furlan responded calmly. “A noble will never crush an insect with his own bootheel.” Gesturing the three to come in close with a finger, he whispered. “Right now, we just have to find the papers. I saw Erwin and the Commander head off together. Before he returns, Isabel, Lana and I will search his bags. Levi, you guard the passage over there and until we give you the signal,” He pointed to the small hallway across the room. “If he comes back before the signal, then stop him.”

“Stop him? You mean start a fight?” Levi asked nonchalantly.

“Don’t draw attention!” Alana scolded him, lightly hitting his arm.

Furlan, Isabel, and Alana stood up, ready to walk towards Erwin’s bag.

“And don’t kill him right now, even by accident.” The blond added. “After all, if we lose an officer outside the walls, we’ll be in trouble, too.” With that, each person got ready to launch their plan.

Levi silently walked inside of the hallway and leaned against the brick wall. A torch lit up the tunnel just enough for everything inside to be visible. This quiet time gave the ravenette time to think about everything that was happening. “Nicholas Lovof. ‘A certain figure’, hm?” He mumbled to himself. “If we really go through with this… we can all live together in the royal capital.” Clicking his tongue, he looked down the end of the hallway, waiting to spot Erwin. “Damn it, hurry up.”

As if on cue, the blond section commander began walking towards Levi. Shocked to see him actually appear, the silver eyed thug averted his eyes to the ground, a scowl evident on his face.

“What are you up to here alone? Aren’t your subordinates with you?” Erwin questioned, surprised to see Levi standing there.

“They’re not my subordinates.”

“I see.” A small silence occurred between the two as tension grew. However, Erwin was the first to break it. “So… how are you adjusting to military life?”

“Lousy. All anyone talks about is the Titans, with that stifling look on their faces.”

“Of course. The Survey Corps attracts people like that.”

“I’m sure with you at the top of that list,” Levi responded, annoyed by the social contact. Unfortunately, he had to deal with it.

“Your fight today was brilliant. You defeated an Abnormal so easily on your first expedition. I’m sure having a natural like you around will make the others feel safer.”

Levi’s attention was drawn to Erwin quickly at his statement. Instead of anger, the ravenette was shocked from the compliment. After all, he didn’t believe him. “Back then, there was a soldier who fought it first and got eaten. I figured out how to fight that Titan because I watched how it moved while eating him…”

“I see. As you’ve realized, the Survey Corps was built upon countless such sacrifices.” Erwin’s gaze hardened, as he stared past Levi. He looked completely determined. “There are still too many things we don’t know about the outside world. But if it means taking back the world for humanity, I’m sure none of them regret dedicating their hearts to that cause.” His hard stare turned towards Levi. “Not one.”

“Levi!” Isabel’s voice rang through the hallway as she waved at the said ravenette. “Sorry I’m so late! I finished changing, so you can come back!”

With that, Levi pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the smiling redhead. Under his breath, he whispered, “What kind of reason is that, idiot?”

“Hehe, sorry. I saw you staring each other down, so I panicked.”

The four somberly regrouped back to their original spot. They were unsuccessful in their search mission. Levi sat on the sack that the blanket had been in, Isabel sat on the blanket, and Furlan and Alana sat on the ground next to them.

“So you didn’t find anything. The only possibility left is he must keep it on him at all times. In the end, we’ve got to kill him.” Levi concluded.

“You can say that,” Furlan argued, “but he won’t go down easy.”

“You got a second?”

The four turned jolted to the sudden voice that interrupted them. It was a woman with brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She wore glasses that strapped around her head like goggles and the average soldier uniform. Though she only stood at an average height, something about her seemed a little off. With a grin spread on her face, she continued, “I was watching you. At the crucial moment.”

Furlan and Isabel looked at her in shock. They had no idea they were being watched this entire time. Alana shifted closer towards the blond with a protective hand on his shoulder.

“Crucial moment?” Levi glared at the woman as he discreetly began to grab his pocket knife from his back pocket. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Quickly, she bent down with her hands on her knees. “I mean when you defeated the Titan, of course!” She practically yelled as a warmer smile appeared on her face. “It was incredible! I boiled over with excitement in spite of myself!”

Levi had been completely taken aback by the compliment. His normally narrowed eyes were wide with shock, but he managed to compose himself. “Thanks...”

“I’m Hanji Zoë,” she introduced. “You’re Levi, aren’t you? And that girl is Isabel.” She glanced at the redhead, who watched her skeptically. “That’s Alana,” she nodded towards the ravenette. “And you’re... er…” she trailed off, unable to remember the blond’s name.

“I’m Furlan,” he responded, turning his head away in annoyance.

“Right, right! Furlan! Nice to meet you!” Hanji sat down quickly and playfully hit his shoulder, earning a glare from Alana. The excited brunette looked back at Levi, with her pure grin. “Levi, you didn’t go through the training corps, did you? So how did you get so good with ODM Gear?”

As the annoyed black haired man was about to make a sarcastic remark, he was interrupted by Furlan whispering. “Be nice.”

“I practiced. A lot.”

“You taught yourself!? It was hard for me even to get my balance with the belts at first. Is there some trick to getting to the next level?”

“Not really,” Isabel responded, getting annoyed herself.

“Wow, you state it so plainly. Even a small hint would be good, though. See, everyone’d like to know.” She looked over her shoulder at all of the curious Scouts. “Everyone saw your fight. You’ve even given them hope that humans don’t have to lose to the Titans if we fight correctly. It was really outstanding! That’s why I insist…”

That had piqued Isabel’s interest. No longer was she wary of the brunette, but more so excited. “Heh, we’re amazing, right!? Now you see it, right!?” Isabel beamed.

Hanji gave the chipper girl a soft smile. “Yeah, it was amazing. That’s why I insist on hearing the trick from Levi.”

“You know, Levi’s the strongest! Even in the Underground, he’s number one!” Isabel stated proudly.

“Is that so? I’d like to hear the secret of that strength. How about it, Levi--”

Once again, the excited redhead cut off the fake-smiling brunette. “Levi’s… uh… um…,” running out of things to flaunt about her friend, she stuttered trying to come up with more things to say. “Anyways, he’s strong!”

Hanji was beginning to lose her patience, but kept her smile present. “Oh, right, Isabel! As a sign of our new friendship, would you like a treat?” She handed Isabel a small sack of cookies in order to keep her from talking again.

Alana watched unconvinced with the brunette. Tapping the blond’s shoulder next to her, she wanted to get Furlan’s attention. He calmly tilted his ear down to the shorter girl, listening carefully to what she had to say. Quietly whispering to him, she asked, “Do you trust her?”

In response, Furlan gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. That was enough to calm down the worried ravenette, though she still watched Hanji like a hawk.

“How about it? Could I get you to tell me what you think?” Hanji asked once more.

“I’ll pass. I do it my own way. It’s not something I can teach other people.” Levi asked, trying to keep his nice facade up.

“But--”

“Sorry, but I’m tired.” He cut her off, turning his head away.

Hanji’s face fell as she sadly nodded. “I see. Sorry to disturb your rest.” She stood up, patting Isabel’s head. “Thank you too, Isabel, Furlan, and Alana. Let’s have a longer talk later!” Turning on her heel to walk away, she turned once more and gave a wave. “If you come back alive, I’ll treat you to a meal!” She finished and walked over to her fellow group of soldiers.

Feeling safe to talk again, Furlan sighed. “What a weirdo… but what’s the big deal about just teaching them some kind of simple trick?”

“I don’t want to be responsible for the lives of anyone other than you three.” Levi answered calmly.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Alana gave a small smile to her fellow ravenette. “Anyway, Hanji doesn’t seem particularly bothered.”

“Hey, Levi?” Isabel turned to him while chewing on her cookie. “I don’t really get all that stuff about taking back the word for humanity, but these guys think it’s worth dying for, don’t they?”

---

(A/N) Hello all! I hope you enjoy the new chapter. I don't believe I went over this chapter much editing-wise, so if there are any grammatical errors, please let me know. This is the last chapter before some things go a little wild~. I'm afraid I still haven't gotten much to making new chapters due to a lack of time, motivation, and writing interest. Even so, I hope that everyone who enjoys this will continue to even if I take a hiatus.

Don't forget to leave a like, comment, and have a great day!

Also, I am posting this story on AO3 and Tumblr. Don't hesitate to check those out either :)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May8344

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/LillieAkabane

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Dancing After Death

Link to song

Synopsis: More aftermath, someone pays a surprise visit to Feyre.

TW: Dark thoughts. 

Ao3 Link

Chapter 8: Dancing After Death

I was paralyzed.

As I laid in Rhys’s guest room bed beneath the light of the rising sun, I realized that I was paralyzed in my own mind.

I didn’t know how it happened. I didn’t know how I lost control—but suddenly, the onslaught of memories and emotions rose like a cresting wave, and I was bound to the shoreline as they crashed down upon me over and over again, mercilessly, drowning me until the very breath ripped from my lungs. Every pulse or movement or mental process lead me right back to those moments in the coffee shop. Whether I was in the front with the barrel of a gun pressed to my forehead, or clutching that very gun as two bodies slumped before me, the only thing I could think, feel, hear and taste was murderer, murderer, murderer.

And when that wasn’t enough, I was brought back to the incident. To mangled metal, shattered glass and heat waves rising from the ground as fresh blood met the winter snow. Brought back to moments alone in the stand-alone bath tub we used to have at the penthouse with a blade pinched between my fingertips.

I had to wring my hands in my lap to try and control myself.

At some point it was too much, being in that room by myself, alone with the hurricane in my mind. And instead of giving into the instincts that screamed at me, I went for a compromise.

Floorboards creaked beneath my feet. Tiptoeing, I held my breath as I crossed the hallway from the guest bedroom to the bathroom where I’d been only hours ago trying to scrub away two strangers’ blood. It still smelled of the bleach that Rhys had doused over everything before going to bed.

Cold enveloped me as I sank into the ceramic tub. It was large, big enough for two people, and comfortable enough that I could extend my legs in front of me without bending them. Rhys’s shirt billowed out around me.

What was I doing here? How did I end up here?

Questions that reverberated through me. Unanswered they remained as I curled further into myself in a failed attempt to escape the cold ceramic. The pain in my chest was sharp and aching, but I ignored it.

More importantly, though, was how do I get out?

I was stuck in a spiral, I realized. Wide enough at first that I didn't realize I was falling, spinning and bending into the depths of my broken being in a tightly coiled spiral, all the way down. No way out. Forever trapped in this cycle until the end.

The thought terrified me. I had no way out. I was trapped.

A creaking sound rippled through the small space, and my head whipped to the door to find a groggy Rhysand looking back at me confused. There were bags beneath his eyes. I hadn't noticed until he stepped into the dim light where his sleeplessness shined through. Loose sleeping clothes curtained him, sweatpants and a t-shirt similar to the one I wore.

He took a few steps towards the bathtub and perched on the side of it, taking in my curled position. “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

Rhys looked me up and down where I laid hunched in the tub, then swung his legs carefully over the curled lip of the ceramic to settled down in front of me. We both adjusted so our legs ran parallel to each other, and his were so long he had to keep them bent so they would fit in the cramped space.

“You’re warm,” I murmured, nestling my head between my shoulder and the ceramic.

“You’re cold,” he replied, then hesitantly laid his arm on my legs so that it covered my ankles and calves. My eyes closed at the heat he radiated.

Hot, like the blood that’d coated me a few mere hours ago. My eyes snapped back open to see Rhys watching me intently, his expression calm and neutral in the wee hours of the morning.

“Night Industries works in security, right?” I wondered aloud. I didn’t know why I asked it, but I just wanted to hear the sound of his voice. To let him talk, to let me forget.

Rhys swallowed before answering. “Yes and no. It’s one of the many facets of the industry, one that we’re very focused in right now—but I started off in real estate, like your fiancee.”

“That’s why you own half of Prythian.”

A wry smile. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“You only do security detail? Like there’s a line-up of jacked mysterious men and women at your disposal?”

At that Rhys let out a soft chuckle. “Security detail, cyber security, infrastructure security, all of it. Though we don’t like to think of it as a line-up. It’s more of a reservoir.”

I shot him a pointed look. He only wore his usual cunning smirk, but with each passing second both or our expressions dropped until we mirrored the same empty, hollow gaze.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

Darkness like I’d never seen before flickered in Rhysand’s eyes. “Yes.”

“What happened?” Unease twisted in my gut.

The male released a sigh and sank deeper into the ceramic. An invisible weight made his shoulders sag. “I used to be a police officer. Before I took over my father’s business, before I got into business, I was a cop. Trained at the academy for a year, was on duty for two years.” He paused briefly, as to collect his thoughts, then said, “One night, we got a call. Hostage situation. A man had kidnapped his niece and had her for over a week in an ongoing investigation. It was outside of the head detective’s precinct so they called us in to try and manage the situation before the others arrived. After an hour of trying to negotiate, I could tell things were about to go bad. And all I could hear was that little girl’s voice, pleading for someone to help her.

“I went in and the house was a mess. Bloodstains on the walls. Rotten food in the kitchen. The hole place reeked. We knew he’d been abusing her in more ways than one.” Rhys swallowed hard. “When we went down to the basement, the guy had a gun to the girl’s head. It was all I could focus on, and in the heat of the moment, I didn’t think. I just shot.”

That’s when his eyes finally held mine, and he admitted quietly, “He was using her as a shield. I didn’t see because I was panicked and all I saw was the gun against her head. But I shot her by accident. Then I shot him. As soon as the case was closed I gave in my resignation.”

Tears streamed down my face. Over and over again, like a song I couldn’t shake out of my head, the sound of the gunfire went off.

“How do you move on? When will the pain finally stop?”

Rhys’s expression bled empathy. “I wish I could tell you that it goes away. I wish I could tell you that I let my experiences be my strength and not my downfall.” He released a defeated breath. “But there isn’t a day that goes by that her scared face doesn’t enter my mind. At first I thought it would kill me, but now it’s faint. Like the smooth edge of a scar.”

Scars. I knew a lot about those. They lined my thighs up and down, evidence that years had passed, and I had not forgotten. Not forgotten that cursed night when I’d killed another woman, again at the hands of my blessed shortcomings.

Though I’d tried to erase them, I’d tried to get ride of them, the truth is that my scars still burned bright when revealed. They made others gawk and stare and mutter to themselves, and only further buried me into the slow grave I was digging.

“Feyre?” Rhysand murmured.

I looked up to him from where I’d been staring at my thighs, covered by the thin material of his t-shirt. It smelled faintly of citrus and jasmine. Before I knew it, a calm settled over my body, and my cheek rested against the cold ceramic as sleep washed over me slowly, then all at once.

+

Creaky footsteps sounded throughout the room as someone tried to carefully tiptoe from the door into bed. The light flowing through the room alerted me that it was early morning. I didn’t know how I’d gotten from the tub and back to the guest room, but I assumed it was thanks to the dark-haired man sleeping in the room across the hall. Yet why has he come to wake me in the wee hours of the morning?

Then something strange happened. A weight made the mattress dip next to me, and someone slid into the sheets. I bristled when skin brushed against my legs, and beside me there was a sharp intake of breath.

“What the—” a masculine voice swore lowly.

No time was wasted as I damn near jumped from the bed. When I looked down, there was man—that wasn’t Rhys—wearing the same shocked and disturbed expression that I was.

Except that the face wasn’t unfamiliar. I could spot the long, tousled hair and sharp jawline anywhere. My jaw dropped as I whispered, “Cassian?”

“Feyre?” Came the equally surprised response. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, sleeping. In my bed. You—” he shook his head. “How did you get in here?”

More footsteps thundered down the hallway, gaining closer to us, and a tired, groggy voice called panicked, “Feyre?”

Then Rhys tore open the door, wearing nothing else besides sleeping shorts, his head whipping back and forth between Cassian and I. I guess the pyjamas he’d adorned hours ago were more for my sake than for his normal sleeping comforts.

“How did you get into my house?” Rhysand demanded as he took in Cassian, still curled up in the bed.

“How did she get into your house?” Cassian retorted incredulously. “I am not the stranger here. This is my bed.”

“Oh bullshit Cass, how many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t your room?”

“Well it certainly isn’t Feyre's either!” Cassian looked from Rhys to me. I stood there, lips pursed tightly, thanking the Gods that Rhys’s t-shirt was long enough to cover my thighs. “How do you two know each other?”

Rhys and I held each other’s gazes, waiting for the other to explain the complicated relationship between us. Finally, Rhys sighed and said to Cassian, “She’s Tamlin’s fiancee.” Then he looked at me and wondered, “You called him finally?”

“We box together,” Cassian explained, then grinned. “So that’s how you got my number. Didn’t want to associate yourself with my brother, did you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, shut it.”

More moments of silence passed between the three of us as we looked to one another in the small space. My headache grew with each pulsing second, and Cassian only goaded, “Well? I get that you work with her fiancee Rhys, but pray tell why the pretty lady is in my bed?”

I narrowed my eyes at Cassian and Rhys only replied, “First of all, it’s not your bed. And second of all,” the male sighed and looked to me before saying, “I was going to call you first thing in the morning. There was an incident last night. At the coffee shop.”

Cassian’s brows shot up and he demanded, “Why wasn’t I called immediately?”

“Because I had to call Azriel. It wasn’t your kind of mess to clean.” Rhys pursed his lips. “Two men threatened her by gun point trying to find the shipment.”

“So you took care of them?”

“No.”

Cassian was about to ask who, and I could tell, because he looked to me then went silent. He had his answer.

“Oh, Feyre,” Cassian murmured, full of heartbreak. I blinked back the tears threatening to pour over as the brunt of what’d happened yesterday hit me once more.

“I need you to take her to your private clinic. We have to keep this as secret as possible.”

Cassian looked to the bandage on my forehead that Rhys had carefully placed on top of the cut. “You mean she hasn’t been to a hospital yet?”

“Can you please stop talking like I’m not standing right here.” I interjected quietly. “I didn’t want to go last night, Cassian. I will go with you later and we will figure all this out,” I pointed to the window, “when it isn’t five thirty in the fucking morning.”

Rhys looked to the window, then to Cassian. “Why are you only getting home at five thirty in the morning?”

The brute only shrugged his shoulders. “Went out drinking with Mor.”

“Until five thirty?”

“No, until two. Then I stayed up watching TV and eating your cereal. We need more cereal, by the way.”

Rhys turned with a disapproving grunt to head back to his room, and I had to look away from his backside which was scandalously highlighted by his tight sleeping shorts. He growled over his shoulder, “I want my key back,” before slamming the door to the master bedroom.

Heaving a sigh, I looked back to the male who still lounged in my bed. “Well?”

“Well what?” Cassian bit back.

“Out.” I pointed to the door.

“This is my bed!”

“Out!” I repeated before climbing back under the sheets and curling onto my side.

Weight shifted beside me and I felt a voice whisper next to me, “You sure you don’t want some snuggles?”

A gurgle of laughter bubbled in my throat, but I pushed it down before taking a pillow and swinging it at him with all my might. He finally retreated and the door closed, leaving me alone with the morning light and the sound of my quiet breaths.

Alone with the deafening stream of babbling thoughts. Blood and pills and eyes and guns. They traipsed around each other, allowing the fear they incited to creep down my spine and nestle into my bones. I tried to spool that fear back in, master it, and shove it down where it couldn’t be reached, but the fear was always stronger.

+

Cassian, Rhysand and I ventured back into town to a private clinic Cassian and Rhys relied on when treating injuries received in more…illegal situations. Madja was the doctor that day, and she did a full check-up—physical exam, neurological exam and CT scan to confirm there was no damage to my brain. She said that the impact had been harsh enough to cut skin, and I’d have a tiny scar on my forehead thanks to it, but nothing that would seriously harm my health besides short-term headaches. Cassian and Rhys had stayed with me the whole time (due to my notable unease in describing what’d happened the previous night) until Madja had closely examined the bruising on my chest and arms. Apparently, I’d broken a rib.

I didn’t have the heart in me to guess whether that’d been due to James or Tamlin’s desk.

She also gave me a splint for my wrist, which I now would have a valuable excuse to wear around the house that Tamlin wouldn’t go ballistic at. Though I’d been roughed up, Madja assured me that everything would heal on its own eventually and I didn’t need surgery for my rib. I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods for it.

When I left her office with the prescription clutched in my hand, Cassian and Rhys were instantly there asking questions one after the other. Once satisfied, we finally made it back to the car, when Rhys informed me that Tamlin was arriving in an hour and that he’d meet Rhys and I at the penthouse. Cassian had to go work some paperwork out at the gym anyways, and I found myself saying goodbye to him on the street out front while Rhys waited in the car.

“How didn’t you know I was Tamlin’s fiancee if you’re working on this with him?” I asked Cassian, who stood before me with a scowl and his arms crossed. Ever since we’d left Madja’s office, something seemed off about him.

He answered, “Rhys gave me very little details, and at the time you weren’t much of a security risk. Not until now, anyways.”

An awkward pause extended between us, so I tried filling it with, “If you own the gym then why are you working with Rhys and Night Industries?”

“Side job,” he quipped with a shrug.

I dropped my voice and asked lowly, “What’s wrong, Cassian?”

The wind muted our conversation to passersby, and I was grateful as he blew out a sigh and said, “I saw the footage, Feyre. Of everything that happened in the shop. The injuries described to your chest don’t match up.”

My heartbeat climbed into my throat. “What?”

“He punched you in the stomach. Below your chest. No where near your ribs.” He shook his head. “I don’t know whether to come with you and kill the prick myself or to yell at you for putting up with this.”

I swallowed hard and looked away from Cassian’s piercing stare. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Cassian.”

“Yes I do. And I’ll be damned if I stand back and watch him do this to you.”

“Hey,” I asserted, all bite and fury, “this is my life. These are my choices. And these are my secrets. Mind your own fucking business.”

He raised his hands in defeat, then slowly walked away without another word. My face burned in shame as I got back into Rhys’s car and slammed the door, hard.

+

When we arrived to the penthouse, Tamlin was already there, hunched over the couch with his back to us. I swallowed hard at the sight, knowing full well by the tension in his muscles that he was furious. At the sound of the elevator doors opening, he spun around, and true relief lined his features when he saw me. I wanted to run to him, let him hold me—I just wanted someone to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright. But as soon as he saw that I was okay, that I was in no immediate danger, he turned to Rhys with the promise of death in his eyes.

“This was your mistake, Noctis,” Tamlin spat with an accusatory finger pointed in Rhys’s direction. The dark haired man only slid his hands into his pockets and raised his brows, as though he were mildly amused at the bold claim Tamlin made.

“I didn’t hire those two men to attack your fiancee if that’s what you’re asking,” Rhys said nonchalantly. “And I intervened as soon as I was alerted to the situation.”

“There shouldn’t have been a situation in the first place,” Tamlin spat. “You’re fired.”

Rhys scoffed and stepped closer to my fiancee. “You’re not the one who hired me, Tamlin. I’d check with Hybern before you make such claims.”

“I just got off the phone with him, and he agrees that this was the last straw. Effective immediately your contract is broken. The fees for the early termination of the contract are being transferred to you as we speak.”

Rhys looked from Tamlin to me, and though his expression never slipped up, I could see it in his shoulders—there was fear there, in the way he stood too-still. “Who’s going to handle the shipments, then? Your two dimwits who fucked it up last time?”

Tamlin shook his head in disgust. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Rhysand laughed, a full, mocking laugh, and turned on his heel. “Take care of yourself, Tamlin. And Feyre, darling,” he paused and looked over his shoulder to hold my gaze, "Fight it."

Without another word, the dark-haired male stepped into the elevator, and stepped out of our lives.

Which left me alone with Tamlin, who only looked me up and down, then wrapped me in his arms. I winced at the pressure on my chest, but let him hold me nonetheless.

“I’ll protect you,” he swore lowly in my ear, “I promise, Feyre, I’ll protect you.”

[jd07201990]

(First Pic by @texanstrong) Trevor might not have been the humblest dancer at the school, but he was the most talented. The dance academy he was attending was mostly for the rich, but he’d managed to get in on skill and talent, having been seen practicing at a park in town. However, because he was middle class, while the rest of the boys were quite well off, he tried too hard to stand out. Being cocky, arrogant, putting the other boys down when they’d make a minor mistake. One of the boys he targeted most was his rival, Kyle. Kyle was of equal talent, but came from the most powerful family in the city. Rich, spoiled, he was used to getting everything he wanted, and when Trevor would one up him, or steal the attention with some flashy show of skill or prowess, he would fume, sometimes even exploding into a signature rich boy tantrum. He vowed he’d get rid of Trevor, one way or another. His chance came one day while Trevor was practicing alone in the open studio. Twirling, jumping, going into hip crushing splits with ease, he wasn’t paying attention, the music too lout for him to hear the door open, and footsteps coming closer. Trevor Started to whirl around on his toes, lifting his leg up at a 90-degree angle to gain speed, when his foot collided with something solid and he went crashing down to the floor. He found Kyle, sputtering next to him, blood gushing from his face. His nose looked crooked, with a harsh bump in the bridge. Obviously Broken, Kyle was screaming, hurling threats, when the security guard on duty came running in. Kyle immediately found his opportunity! His demeaner changed instantly, from rage to painful, desperate plea. The guard asked what happened, and before Trevor had a chance to explain he accident, Kyle said that Trevor had roundhouse kicked him in the face, after he’d tried to help him with his balance. He told the guard Trevor flew into a rage, and broke his nose, telling him he was a pretty boy and needed to be taken down a notch. Of course the Guard, being employed by Kyles parents, believe the story. He called the police, restraining Trevor until they came to arrest him. He spent days in the county jail waiting for his court date, not being able to afford bail. His public defender was useless, and so, with all the money and power backing Kyle and his family, Trevor was sentenced to, “1 year – 175lbs” Neither His parents or Trevor knew what this meant. Only finding out when He’d been bussed out of town to a remote facility that looked like an old Military base, hauled inside, and met with the people who’d be running his life for a year.

He’d been shocked at first to see that all the other inmates were massive. The entire building reeked of stale locker room funk. They ranged in age from 18-25, but looked to be the size of a professional, and sometimes offseason lifetime bodybuilder. Some where shy, some more aggressive. Some seemed to change, their personality being warped by whatever was happening to them. Trevor would find out exactly what that something was. Given his uniform, He went through the orientation, they explained that, by the time he left, he’d be 300lbs. The weight the judge had sentenced him to finally made sense. He’d be turned into one of these massive muscle freaks! Losing his cool, he fought, screaming about his future dance career, how this was illegal and so on, until they sedated him, put him into his cell, and started the Hormone infusion. A cocktail of drugs designed to speed up growth, send his body into a second puberty of sorts, and coupled with his new routine, He’d grow into the hulking brute this facility specialized in. He had moments where he’d lose it, crying, or screaming at his instructors, he learned quickly not to, as the punishments were brutal, often life altering and permeant. His first, was a dose of something they called B-O 120. It was a set of shots given under the arms, and just above his cock. For days he had no idea what it’d do, but after a week, he realized its effect. He woke up one morning in a cold sweat, shivering, but noticed immediately the funk that filled his cell. He thought maybe one of the other boys had come in, they always seemed to stink. But realized with horror, it was him. He was sweating like a pig, and the musky scent was coming from his underarms, which, even more to his horror, were filled with a dense wiry bush of matted hair.

Another punishment had been less physical. A few months in, after he’d gained a considerable amount of bulk, he threatened the laundry attendant, because his clothes always came back with the deep pit stains he’d grown accustomed to. This got him a week of “classes” which was really him, sitting in a cold metal chair, staring at some stupid movie about behavior. However, he never really knew what the movie was about, always waking up yawning when the instructor slammed a ruler on his desk. The effects were slow, but soon he realized what they were doing.

The movie was changing his natural behavior. He was starting to walk differently, swaggering, swinging his arms heftily, and worse, scratching at himself unconsciously. A grope at his shorts, or a quick pit scratch, even a long scratch or pulling at his shirts where they’d crawl up his newly beefed up muscle butt. Worse, He vocabulary seemed to include more than his typical level of cursing. Nearly every sentence riddled with swearing, like the dumb meatheads he hated from school. Finally, the words Dude, Bro, Bruh, and so on became common, he knew it, heard it, and hated it, but he couldn’t stop. One final infraction, against another inmate, had sent him to the facility barber, who sat him in the chair, strapped him in, and lowered what looked to be a hair drier helmet down over his head. The barber himself never touched his head, but with a few buttons, the machine went to work. His head felt on fire, heat spread over his scalp, while tingling sharp pains shot over his skin like 1000 mosquito bites. The barber had to gag at one point as his yelps and shrieks of fear were getting too loud. An hour later, the helmet released, lifting off his head, to reveal a brutal new haircut, and his hair was a totally different color. No more classic dark wavy locks. Now, he had his hair in a brutish fauxhawk style, longer and floppy, and brightened into an orangey brown color. To his horror, he was told this was permeant. He’d be able to grow it out, but the color was his forever.

The year went on. He’d outgrown his uniforms like clockwork. Week after week, having to be issued new, larger sizes. The jockstraps and boxers they forced him to wear seemed to be the fastest to be replaced. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew his cock and balls were growing. He’d been average, not small, but now he had a salami and two large chicken eggs dangling between his thickly beefed thighs. He blushed every time he sat down, having to immediately go onto a lewd, “man spread” legs held wide to not crush his goods.

He smelled worse than some of the boys, obviously the result of his first punishment, and he was only allowed to shower at the end of each day. Having to go through classes, morning workout, the hard labor in the yard, more classes, another workout, and dinner before having 5 minutes to shower under the cold water and go to bed.

Finally, his year was nearly up. He’d gained all the weight he’d been sentenced to. The instructors had even followed the side notes in the court order to focus attention on his legs. He was massive. Bulky, his thighs as thick as a mid-sized tree trunk. His calved were like footballs. His torso was not spared though. HE was built bigger than most NFL players. Arms like ham hocks, hands calloused from all the lifting. His tshirt sleeves seem to always bunch up under his arms, soaked in reeking sweat. He was forced to lumber around, almost waddling from the sheer bulk of his body. He was eating like a starved man, easily consuming enough to easily feed a family of four. He was a brute. A big, smelly, brute. Although he hadn’t lost any of his intelligence, his personality and mind were his own, you’d never know it from the swearing, crude Bro-talk he’d been programmed with, and his ever-present lewd gestures of scratching at his mass. Groping his massive cock, adjusting his lemon sized balls. He was, on the outside, the epitome of what he hated most. A big, Dumb, Meathead.

A week before his release, he was brought to a room with an obvious one-way mirror. Told to stand still and left alone for 20 minutes. On the other side of the glass, Kyle, his accuser, was cackling at what had been done to his rival. There was no way he could dance, that talent scout was going to pick him now that the best dancer in the school had been bloated up into a monster. He was delighted, but his cruelty was ever growing. He gave Trevor a once over, head to toe, then smiled up at the Facility manager, handing him an envelope with cash, and a letter promising more funding from his family if his demands were met. “I think Trevor needs one more thing, just to make sure he can’t manage to learn to dance with that bulky body. Is it possible to make his feet, more, disproportionate? Bigger?” Kyle asked with malice. “Of course. We’ve got compounds and treatments that can do just about anything. This,” The manager waved the stack of cash, “should cover it.” Kyle shook the man’s hand and left, while Trevor was collected from the room and brought to the Facility treatment center. He was told to relax, as they strapped him onto a table, locking his legs in stirrups. He struggled just a little but was too afraid to misbehave. He asked questions, what was happening, why, but no one talked to him as a few of the treatment staff put an IV into his arm, and then started to strip his sneakers, socks, then started to rub and massage his already large size 17’s with a warm grey looking goop.

It took no time at all for him to feel the dull, aching pain he’d come accustomed to, as “growing pains” from his year of forced growth. His toes splayed, and he grunted, as the IV pumped the activator through his veins. The goop was soaking into his feet, his muscle, his bones, and was starting the near instant process. He felt his bones pop, then crack, screamed at the sudden sharp pains, but watched horrified as his feet grew, and grew. 18, 19, 20, 21, stopping, minutes later, at a whopping size 22 wide. The second side effect took only a few seconds to manifest. A sudden, musty, strong stink filled the room, as the goop soaked in and forced his feet to sweat profusely. He’d soon find that he’d be going through several pairs of socks per day, drenching them, and filling his sneakers with foot stench, no matter how clean he kept them. He cried, his deep voice bellowing dumbly as he wiggled his thick sausage toes now and knew for certain he’d never dance again.

It took the rest of the week for him to readjust to his massive new feet. They made him clumsy, oafish, and he knew if he ever tried to balance and spin on his toes, they’d snap under his immense bulk. They released him back to his parents, who cried and threatened to sue for what they’d done to their baby, but it was no sue. Trevor was shortly picked up by the local college, and had no choice to bot give up dancing, take the scholarship they offered, and play football as the big, bulky brute he is.

[thegingertrekkie]

Lost in a Dream World

Part 28: Out of Time

You are practically sprinting down the halls of the castle, only stopping when you detected movement. You only had fifteen minutes of invisibility and once Dabi woke up the castle would be swarming. There wasn't a lot of time. You hadn't followed through with your "deal" with the patched up man, so you didn't know exactly where Kirishima was being kept, but the dragon was making so much noise that you were positive you were heading in the right direction.

There were significantly less guards which was a surprise, you thought there would be heavier guard around Kirishima. As the patrols seemed to thin out you could tell you were getting closer, but his roars were getting weaker. He couldn't maintain his magic within the walls of the kingdom. That was another time limited you needed to consider.

"Why won't it do what I want?" A familiar angry voice echoed down the hallway "It is my dragon, it should do as I say!"

Shigaraki! You stopped as fast and you could, nearly tripping over your own feet. The king turned the corner, entering the hall you were in. He was scratching at the raw skin on his neck, visibly agitated. Toga was skipping next to him, a demented smile on her face. Her wild golden eyes made you uncomfortable. You took a step back to press against the cold wall, but your back didn't connect with anything. A small gasp escaped your lips as you phased through the wall, landing on the ground with a thud.

You ended up in a dark and dusty room. It must have been used for experiments because the work tables lines three of the walls were covered in a assortment of beakers, tubes and old books. Over the tables there were shelves full of little circular jars, each glowing a different color. In the middle of the room was a huge cauldron that appeared to be empty. There was a thick layer of dust over everything.

"Young (y/n), I've been waiting for you."

A skeletal figure rose up from behind the cauldron, blue eyes staring at you through matted blond hair. You almost screamed, throwing your hands quickly over your mouth to suppress your voice. You tried to run but the wall behind you was now solid. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust so you could see the person in front of you.

"A-all Might? W-what? How?" You glance down at your still invisible hands and then back at the deflated form of All Might.

"I wish I could explain but there is no time." All might said, moving around the cauldron and up towards you. "You are here to prevent the next great war, the restore the true king, and unite the kingdoms. You are the one prophecy has foretold would come."

You stared up at All Might dumbfounded.

"No, no I just got stuck in this world by accident! I'm just trying to fix what I messed up and get home!"

"You will need this..." the blond continued, ignoring your protest and shoving a glowing bottle into your hands "and this..." A heavy sword was placed in your hands. "Good luck young (y/n)."

Both items radiated energy, but they felt familiar. "What do I do with these...? All Might?"

The room was empty and a door had materialized on the far wall. You were so shaken and confused, but time was running out. You'd process what just happened after you escaped. There was a dusty old scarf you used to tie the sword to your back and a small satchel you could slip the bottle in. Luckily both items became invisible as soon as they were secured to your body.

You walk through the door and find yourself in a huge room that's partially on fire. Anything that was flammable was either burned or burning. There was a large metal cage in the center of the room and inside was Kirishima in his half dragon half human form. The boy was beaten and bloody, heavy metal chains attached to every appendage and a blue crystal collar was locked around his neck. He was breathing heavily, body shaking, it looks like he could pass out at any moment. There were no guards in the room, Kirishima must have burned enough of them to keep on the other side of the door.

Kirishima head spun around widely after you took a few steps into the room, his nose twitching. He must smell you, but he can't see you. You approach slowly, worried that you might scare him and you'd end up another scorch mark on the floor. The dragon is looking right at you with a confused scowl.

"Kirishima it's me" you whisper putting your hands on the bars of the cage "I'm going to get you out, I'll come up with a plan."

"Where are you?" The dragon whispers back.

"Invisibility spell. Not much time..." you mumbled looking around the room.

There was only one door, the way you had entered had disappeared. There were several windows but they were way too high and you couldn't ask Kirishima to fly you out in his current condition. You didn't have time to camp out and wait for someone to open the door and you didn't have the fire power to fight your way out. You didn't even know where you were in the castle anymore, that weird room had you all turned around. Your fingers drummed against the bars nervously, mind racing a mile a minute. What were your options? Did you even have any options?

Kirishima's hand brushed over yours, trying to calm your nerves. Instantly your body reappeared. The spell was broken.

"Fuck!" You hiss, pulling your hand back and grabbing your head in despair.

The red head flinched at your sudden appearance, glancing at the door and then to you. There was a pained look on his face, he knew as well as you did that this was an impossible situation.

"(Y/n)..."

"Don't worry I'm going to figure this out!" You started digging through your pockets, fishing out the charms Tokoyami gave you.

They were all different colors and shapes. Each radiated a sort of familiar aura, and you were trying to remember exactly what Tokoyami had told you about them. The one you had thrown at Dabi released electricity. There was a pink one in your hands that a made you think of Mina. You were going to go out on a limb and guessed it would release acid. These little charms had powers that mirrored your friend's quirks... Why didn't Tokoyami just say that?

You press the pink charm against the bars and they start to smoke and dissolve, burning your hand in the process but you don't have time to react. The charm melts through two of the bars before it stops working, but it's more than enough space for Kirishima to come through. You reach your hand inside the cage.

"Lets go"

The dragon takes your hand and let's his body relax, shrinking down to his smallest size and letting his chains clatter to the ground. The restraints fall to the ground with a loud bang, the sound reverberating off the walls. You both stiffen at the sound, hearing guards murmuring on the other side of the door. Kirishima curls around your arm, securing himself tightly to you. Running to the closest window you pull out another charm, it was yellow and shaped like a six. The charm reminded you of Sero, you hoped that it worked the way you wanted it to.

You throw the charm as hard as you could at the window and it exploded into several strands of thick tape that were long enough to reach the ground. It wasn't exactly what you had in mind but it would still work. You began scaling the wall, the sticky tape tearing at you skin each time you moved your hands higher. The door swings open just as you reach the window sill. Confused and panicked chatter of guards fills the room.

You have seconds before they notice you, there's no time to be cautious. Wrapping some of the tape around your knuckles, you clench your hand into a fist and slam it against the window. Blood paints the decorative glass as you punch it over and over until it shatters. If the guards hadn't seen you before, they saw you now. An arrow whizzes by your ear, grazing the skin. A warning shot. The guards are yelling at you, some are trying to grab the extra tape to follow you. Using one of your many daggers you cut the rest of the tape, keeping one intact to throw through the broken window so you could scale down the other wall.

An arrow plunged deep into your right calf just as you force your way through the broken glass window. The sharp edges cut deep into your skin, you can feel the dampness as blood drips down your arms. There's no time to feel pain. On the other side of the window you can finally see were you are. You on the far side of the castle, overlooking the sea below. It's a deadly drop into the water and sea foam from the waves make impossible to tell if there's rocks or water below. You look around for another option.

The lip you are standing on seems to wrap around the castle wall so you break off the end of the arrow in your leg and begin inching to the side, away from the broken window. Your mind is racing, none of the charms left can help you and Kirishima was still too weak to fly. Standing precariously on this ledge you were wide open, you heard the down of armored footsteps above you as guards gathered on the roof of the castle. They were going to attack from above. A pained cry escaped your lips as another arrow dug into your shoulder. It had come from above.

You were out of time. It was certain death no matter where you turned, but there was an option that would give Kirishima a chance. You pried the shape shifter off your arm and held the little red dragon close to your chest. Hands trembling as adrenaline pumped through your veins. You turn to face the castle wall and ruby eyes met yours.

"I'm sorry!" You sob, you didn't realize you had begun to cry "This is all my fault!"

You clenched your eyes shut, curling your body around Kirishima and pushed yourself backwards off the ledge.

[ayurileopardsdream]

Prosthetic love ~ Chapter 1

Inspired by @elastigale and @yamino ~ Alternate universe (Non-Super Au, No Bob au, Modern au) 

Description: Girl gets in an accident, meets her future girlfriend through a special prosthetics company. Gf becomes her exclusive engineer.

Author’s note: Warning. Violence, disability. (I don’t have a physical disability nor do I know anyone who does so if I do or write something wrong, please let me know ^^”) (Also Bioprosthetica is not a real company and the name idea was given by a couple of friends mashing thoughts. If they read this, thanks guys~)

Rating: T

Words: 3,030

Au: Non-Supers, Stratogale is alive, Modern!au, Bob Parr isn’t around

Fandom / series: The Incredibles

Characters / Pairing: Elastigirl, Stratogale. (Temporary Edna Mode)

Genre: romance, hurt & comfort, fluff, angst.

Do you want to know how it happened? How it happened without the cape.

At least she was a hero, just the way she’d always wanted. 

It was just another typical Saturday morning. Gail Fowler was just arriving at her favorite queer-friendly coffee shop downtown Metroville. She had more volunteering at the local zoo later, where she loved to be and play and care for the birds. So she was getting her favorite vanilla macchiato, before she headed off. 

What she didn’t realize at the time was the two big burly white American men that walked by with a big brown paper package, set it on the desk, and take off running as if they’d left the oven on. Nobody thought anything of it, especially not Gail, as she walked out of the shop happily, until her back was blown out and she was sent flying across the street when a bomb went off inside the store, sending glass and bricks and smoke everywhere.

Looking back horrified, she tossed her half full cup onto the grass behind the sidewalk and leapt into the fire and flames, feeling more than obligated to help rescue people.

Coughing through smoke, fire and brimstone, cringing at bodies and rubble that lied around, she helped a few other people drag the other 5 survivors out onto the street where they were in open air, and when she dashed back in for the 6th, a loud boom sounded nearby. The rest of the building was going to collapse if she didn’t hurry!

Searching through the mess as best she could, flipping broken tables and heavy building destruction until she found a coughing cashier blocked away in a supply closet about to crash.

“C’mon! We have to get out of here!” Gail yelled over the blaring sounds of the disaster all around. Thankfully the person agreed, and lifting their arm over her shoulder, she helped them limp out to safety. But at the last minute, the building began to shake, and Gail looked in horror. She had a split second to think, and her limbs weren’t fast enough... She clenched her jaws and felt tears in her eyes as she shoved the survivor out, and just like that, the building collapsed in a massive pile of concrete and brick and rubble, and Gail Fowler was never to be seen again.

Just kidding.

The world had gone dark and dusty. Gail was on her back, as she’d jumped backwards when the building fully collapsed, and she groaned and gave a cough, squinting her eyes in the little cave of darkness, made of very squished concrete chunks. It was so hard to see... her ears were ringing, so she could barely hear... great. There go her two main senses. Her head was kind of dizzy, she could barely focus on anything at all. 

Blinking her eyes, she sighed and rubbed her face while sitting in her wheelchair, rubbing the back of her neck in her favorite black turtleneck sweater and now rolled up dirty green cargo pants. Cargo shorts, now. Thinking back on her accident was... extremely painful, to say the least. After a lot of mental and psychological and depressing physical therapy, she’d finally decided after 6 and a half months to look into prosthetics. She missed walking. Running, leaping! And in her mind, in her dreams, flying. But... she couldn’t do that anymore... 

So she wanted a change. She’d set herself an appointment to meet with the people of Bioprosthetica. 

It was just about 9 am. The sun was out, bright and early as she was. It was comfortably warm outside, like the sun giving you a big hug!

An associate and their engineer in training should be arriving soon! The appointment said 9 am sharp. And just like that, a small black haired lady walked out from around a corner, followed by... the most gorgeous young red-haired girl that Gail had ever seen. Gail’s mouth literally dropped a little seeing that gorgeous red bob on that tall angelic head, and holding a big dark green binder that looked very important. What was even better was that the apprentice blushed a little in return and waved a hello by silently wiggling her fingers over the binder and giving a shy smile. Oh my goodness. Cute.

It wasn’t till the small lady snapped her fingers in front of Gail’s face did she shake back into focus and have her face burn brighter than the assistant’s hair. Maybe.

“Hello. I am Edna Mode. You come for fake legs, yes?” 

Immediately her blush went away, and a knot in the pit of her stomach formed. “Yes Ma’am.” She said with obvious sadness.

Edna Mode stared her down, looking her over for a minute, then snapped her fingers, and turned away, walking out of the room as she spoke. 

“Helen Truax, you will work on this woman here. Your first sole project. Measure her, comfort her, build her the legs she needs. No matter the cost.” Then she left the room.

Both women’s jaws dropped after that point.

Helen’s eyes widened in surprise, but she kept her cool only to grip the green binder a little tightly. “Thank you ma’am. I greatly appreciate the opportunity.”

Gail however was just really surprised she’d be left alone with such a gorgeous lady! Her face was burning again!

“So, when do you want to get started?” Helen asked, beaming with excitement, and she’d suddenly teleported  to standing right in front of Gail’s wheelchair. How had she got there so fast?!

“Um. Uhh. Err.” She stammered, leaning back in her chair without the ability to speak.

“Here’s to the start of a new beginning, and maybe a new friendship!” Helen exclaimed, holding out a hand to shake.

Yeah. A new adventure indeed.

They decided to start immediately. Gail didn’t have a lot of plans, she kind of just wheeled around her apartment, used the gym with the landlord to strengthen her arms when she wasn’t at therapy, and she was into bird-watching, and she’d recently gotten into some video games, since she wasn’t really keen on going outside, due to her depression and anxiety and all.

Anyways, she had free time. And when the very cute engineer asked her to go over to her house, she could barely refuse. Let alone say anything at all. 

Helen chuckled at the speechless and blushing and awestruck girl before her, then opened her book, wrote something down, and placed something on Gail’s lap.

“I’m going to go get my stuff. Hopefully you’ll be able to speak when I get back?” Helen teased, stroking a finger under Gail’s chin, before walking away with a sway of her hips.

“Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. I am so gay.” Gail thought in her head, taking deep breaths and trying to calm her completely red face. Man oh man were her ears burning up. Helen was so friggin cute. 

When she came back with a cute jean jacket over her dark blue and white-dotted dress, a brown clutch over one shoulder, and her eyes half-lidded and looking very... flirty? Gail just ended up blushing again.

“Ready to go to my place? I want to get started immediately. Unless you have other plans.”

“N-no! No plans! I’d love to get started!” Gail explained, literally waving her hands around frantically while being redder than a tomato. 

Helen laughed with a little blush, then looked at her for a second.

“Want me to roll you out? Or you can do it yourself..” She trailed off, but Gail smiled shyly. “You can wheel me if you like.. you know where your place is.” Well obviously! Damnit Gail, think before you speak!

Helen just laughed and tucked a piece of her own hair behind her ear, and then handed Gail the green binder. “Can you hold this for me while I push you? It’s very important, so don’t lose it.” 

Gail nodded, holding the binder close to her chest as Helen wheeled her away. What a lovely day it has been!

When they got to Helen’s house, it was just reaching 9:30 am. It felt a lot later for some reason. The redhead stated that her parents wouldn’t be back till the next day, a business trip, so Gail was welcome to stay the night. The poor girl was completely red the whole time, barely able to speak through her embarrassment and shyness. The poor girl. 

Helen wheeled her in, her house had a ramp already set because of the job, cruddy boards lines up on the steps for now, but it worked. Once the wheelchair was set in the living room, Helen set out all her paperwork, notes and pens and pencils and erasers, all that stuff somehow neatly fit on a large living room table. Impressive.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Helen offered, writing something down on a graph before pulling out a roll of measuring tape from a storage container across the room. Guess she worked in here often. 

“M-may I have a glass of water please?” Gail squeaked, poor thing was still completely red. 

Helen almost felt a little bad, this girl was so cute and way too embarrassed. “Hey, you can relax here. You’re okay. No need to be embarrassed about anything. If you need anything at all, any help, food, water, anything, just ask.”

The way Helen’s eyes sparkled as they were so close, and she was offering herself to Gail, her own eyes sparkled and stared right into her own, she was lost in the moment, if there was one. Lost in space, floating, drifting endlessly in her mind, frozen and staring wide-eyed at those gorgeous brown eyes that almost looked red in the dazzling sunlight and-

It was Helen’s gorgeous giggle that brought Gail back to life, making her blush soften, but it was still really there.

“I’ll go get you that water. “ Helen murmured, slowly rising from where she’d been bent over in front of Gail, and sauntered into the kitchen, turning her head and smirking as if to make sure Gail was watching, before getting a cup from a high shelf, on her tippy toes, Gail watched in little awe. She just couldn’t take her eyes off that angel... oh my goodness... did she really just call her an angel?!

It wasn’t till the last second, as if doing gravity and physics multiplications in her head (a meme, not actually) but it was really like everything was in slow-motion, she looked at Helen’s foot in her flats, and she noticed just by a millimeter, like some freaky magic, that she noticed because Helen was stretching up and trying to use all her height, the foot she was leaning on was starting to slip forwards, until it was a second too late.

Helen’s eyes widen as suddenly she slipped on the kitchen tiling and began to fall backwards, her one hand holding the glass and the other going back to possibly reduce the pain in the incoming fall.

But then she didn’t.

Gail saw the foot sliding before it even finished, and the exact second Helen started falling, Gail grabbed her wheelchair wheels and spun them around, zipping into the kitchen and scooping up Helen before she barely even went down.

Both ladies were breathless and beaten red. Both kind of in shock. Helen more than Gail, obviously.

“Y-you saved me!” Helen exclaimed.

“I-I wouldn’t say saved....”  She replied shyly, rubbing the back of her neck while the other held Helen’s thighs on her lap.

“I would.” Helen whispered, leaning closer and against Gail’s chest, then stroked her opposite cheek and pulled her head close, then she closed her eyes slowly and placed a soft chaste kiss upon the cheek closest to her, before letting her go and just smiling innocently upon Gail’s lap, watching the reaction with yet again the cutest of giggles.

As for Gail, her head basically exploded. Gail.exe has stopped working. Her face was completely red again, frozen in the spot. She had definitely stopped working. Was her heart still beating? 

“Um.. miss? Are you okay?” Helen asked, waving her hand in front of the face of the poor dazed lady. Oh dear. Helen broke her. In the best way.

Climbing off Gail’s lap and patting her thigh, she chuckled again, getting the glass of tap water since the sink was right there. Gail snapped back into reality when Helen got off, and again rubbed her neck sheepishly and cleared her throat. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.” Helen said again with a smirk, putting the cup in Gail’s left hand. 

“Y-you’re welcome..” She stammered, and took a drink, which oddly enough relaxed her a little bit.

Helen pushed the wheelchair back into the living room, and got the measuring tape again. 

“Can I measure your residual limbs?” Helen asked, once she was knelt down in front of the wheelchair, holding the measuring tape like a ring, and of course, that playful smile again. 

“Huh?” Gail asked, very confused by the unused term.

“Your... stumps.” It actually made Gail freeze up again, she just, stared, thinking with a blank but slightly surprised face. Nobody had touched them in a long time other than herself. So having Helen ask kind of took her off guard.

“Sure..” She muttered, giving a nod in case it wasn’t clear. Helen nodded back, being extra careful and delicate. She pulled the tape along till it pooled a lot on the floor, then her hands hovered over the limbs, she was nervous, before she gently placed her hand down, gently rubbing to ensure that everything was okay. Concerned eyes looked up, saying all they needed to as she stared.

“I’m okay.” She assured Helen, giving a nervous grin. That was before she was jolted with a completely shocking feeling. Helen’s hands were freezing! Gail’s eyes widened and she clenched her jaws and her fists, in which Helen noticed right away and yanked her arm back.

“Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?!” She yelled, standing up in fear that she’d reignited sharp pains. She definitely wasn’t expecting Gail’s answer though.

“Y-y-you h-have rreeeeeeaaaaaallllyyyyyy cold haaaaands...” Gail stretched out, wiggling her hips in her chair to try and shake off the shivers.

Helen just laughed. Really hard. She even wiped her eyes as she laughed. It was actually kinda cute. “I-I am so sorry!” She laughed, then took a deep breath and recomposed herself. Nope, a couple more giggles. “I’ll be quick.” She promised, brushing Gail’s thighs with her cold hands again, quickly taking measurements of the ends and the roundabout width, before writing the numbers down on her papers, and putting the measuring tape away. But of course, just for fun, she put her cold hand back on Gail’s thigh, giggling at the “Yeep!” that was the reaction. Oh my goodness. So cute. Kind of like a bird!

“Okay. I can start designing right away, but is there anything specific you want? Like a certain height? Any special design on the prosthetic pocket?” Helen asked, looking at Gail with calm but serious focus. Poor Gail got the dizzy eyes as she tried to process all the questions at once, even looking a little jumbled, but she blinked back when she felt Helen’s hand on her shorts, calming her.

“Hey, don’t worry. No rush. We’re taking it slow. Take your time. They are just questions I need to know for the designing.” She explained, and Gail wheeled a little closer to look over the blank page. Only little numbers and notes so far.

“So. We have multiple options, depending on what route you want to take. We could try a 3D printer, and I could actually just get you some super soft fabric and make a makeshift shrinker-sock rather than an actual sock...” Helen was going over multiple options and making poor Gail dizzy! Helen shut up when she realized giving her too many options, and let her have a chance to speak.

“I would just like something comfortable and functional.” She stated matter-of-factly, then thought over the options. “Let’s start with the first stuff first. Regular sock and 3D printing. Then we can go differently if we need to.” A good plan.

“Do you have any socks of your own on you, or should we order a specific custom elastic wrapping through the company?” Helen asked, writing down more notes on the graph paper she’d use to sketch the leg, and also on the lined piece of paper next to it that had bigger font and a lot more notes.

“I threw out all my socks..” Gail admitted sadly, but Helen waved her hands with wide eyes and a frantic look.

“Hey hey! It’s okay! How would you like it if you borrowed some of my socks?” She offered, and she’d never seen this girl get so frantic and embarrassed before! Well, to be fair they barely knew each other.

“If you don’t want to-”

“I’d love to!” She exclaimed, before literally slapping a hand over her mouth with the biggest look of embarrassment ever. Oh goodness. Poor Gail. She looked about to pass out.

“I’ll go get some for you to pick out that are clean and I don’t use.” Helen stood up and left the room for a minute, leaving poor gay Gail to her thoughts. Yikes.

So first off, love at first sight, and if she wasn’t totally crazy, maybe hopefully she felt Helen liked her too? Gosh. Just thinking about it made her blush again.

But someone as pretty as Helen probably had, well, hundreds of guys after her. Girls too she bet. Helen was only with her for the project. Nothing more.

When Helen came back, with multiple pairs, some still with tags on them, and she noticed Gail looked sad! What happened while she left?

“Are you okay?” Helen asked, kneeling down and resting her hand on Gail’s, which rested on her leg. They almost entwined fingers for a minute, before Gail pulled away.

“Let me tell you how it happened, Helen, a while ago. How I lost my legs.”

[dialline]

hahhaha story time but i wrote something good for ocs

under read more so uh

emjoy

A pale sky is seen above. A whisper of wind echoes through the forest, calling silently. Waking up in the clearing is so surreal. A light fog flows between the trees and the assortment of flowers around. I swear, the wind is calling me back to town. I don’t remember walking into the forest, I just took the train and then was back here. It’s a good question, about how I got here. I was miles away from this dreadful place, despite all the happy memories.  The ever infamous Whiteway. This town has quite the history. Between stories that I would love to believe aren’t true, to rumors I’ve seen to be real with my own eyes. That… dream eating, thing, ghosts, werewolves. This place has everything. But it gets so much worse. I knew all the people that came here with hope, and curiosity. But only to never come out of here. I have my ideas as to what happened here, actually. Rather I’ve witnessed what happened. 

Faltering into town, a smell of coins and candy fills the air. Hard telling what the coppery tang in the air is, but the smell of candy sure as hell shouldn’t be there. Poor Johnny died years ago. I still hate what happened. He was sweet as his candy, I swear. Johnny Amare, a compassionate candy shop owner. He practically raised me, along with who I think is his cousin. Hard telling, they look so much alike, him and Joey. He taught me many things, along with everybody else. 

Johnny told me his best secrets about candy making, as well as he gave me the ribbon on my hat, which I’ve made sure always looks brand new. Joey gave me the hat for my birthday, June 15. Luther, his husband was the one who made it, and Dove made the pattern. Dove. Out of everybody possible in this town, despite not raising me, he’s the one I want to see the most. It’s not that I don’t get along with Joey, or Luther. It’s just… I never got to say sorry to him. He never deserved his fate. Connor. I dread him. I really hope he’s kicked the bucket by now. Bastard killed people for fun, but mostly for money. You can get quite a bit of cash for trying to bring “justice” to the murderer. I don’t think he’d let himself get caught for his schemes. He poisoned Joey with cyanide, so at least he went.. Kind of quickly and mostly painlessly. I hope it was painless at least. Shove Norman into the lake, and he can’t swim. Johnny I’m not too sure, I think he was either stabbed or shot. My memory is pretty foggy. Then Luther got away, knowing Connor would never set foot into the sewers. Disgusting, but hey, at least he got to live.

Dove Couture. Lovely sewing, singing, and magic tricks. Well, the magic tricks are more ridiculous than anything but that’s beside the point. He’s the bartender at the good old theme park thing. He’s also the casino dealer there. It’s questionable who the park is trying to appeal too, but I think the owners just selected all of the above. Connor… bashed his head in, on the casino table during after hours. The town never found out, and Connor never told me. I only know because I was about to ask Dove a question, then I saw it. It was every bit of it, blood and all. Connor walking in, yelling at Dove. Dove saying something back, sounding nearly to tears. Connor ran out quickly after this little “accident” happened. I never got to talk to him. On his birthday, about to give him a gift. Ask him about how he was. 

That’s not even close to all the deaths in town, but that's the ones that hurt the most for me. I approaching the old park, past the candy shop, past the cafe. How I dread coming back. What if Connors hear? Out to see if I came back? In 20 years, like I said I ran away from his dull blade. I swear I heard shallow breaths over my shoulder, cold, and raspy. Probably from that dream eater. Nobody knows what the hell that thing is. I just like to believe that it’s not real. But oh. How I would love to encounter a horrific, rumored to be 12 feet tall shadow abomination. Or maybe it’s just a weird tree in the wind that caught the attention of a tired, paranoid sweater wearing kid that’s 7 years old, and in a forest. 

This is it, the casino. A metallic scraping interrupts my thoughts, coming from the hall of mirrors. The hell could it be?? Who knows. God knows why the owners of this hell bin made the hall of mirrors 4 floors. I’m going to check what that was out. I know myself that I'm not ready to see the interior. 

Empty. All of its empty. The floors are all missing. I can’t see the roof. No rubble, or anything. Where the hell did it all go? There is shattered glass everywhere, that’s for sure. Remnants of mirrors everywhere, and a bell chimes up above, and light radio static. Wait. There’s no music or speakers in here. What is here, new or broken? I hear a horrific scream echo through the room. A large creature crawls down from the ceiling. A bell on the end of its tail, and a speaker below their waist. Four arms, one of which mechanical, the one below seemingly solid shadow. The other two fused together, ending in large serrated claws. A TV welded to it’s chest, and a vinyl record in the shoulder. It slowly loomed down, closer and closer to me.  It grinned, showing sharp teeth from its pointed snout. A metal ear shifts downwards as it opens its only remaining eye, on a round glass screen where there once was a real one, the pupil shaped like a spade, like the playing cards. It finally spoke to me. “JacQUES?” It sounded horrific. Scratchy and hoarse, as if worn from screaming for nobody to even come. But how the hell did it know me? It couldn’t possibly be William. Could it? William, died in the hall of mirrors. But this thing wasn’t natural. “William? Is that you?” No answer. “William if that is you… What the hell happened?” It’s rusted joints creaked, and it lost its grin for just a moment before smiling wider. “dON’T YOu realize? mY BOY? I…?” It trailed off before continuing. “wHILE YOU SEEM TO REMEMBER ME, ARE YoU AWARE THAT? i’M THE coLLECtOr? I’M!! PERFECT!! DON’T YOU KNOW THAT?” 

I shake my head. “The collector huh?” He nods. It looks to be ready to speak again but I interrupt. “Listen, I. I don’t know what happened to you, but please know that I’m not here to harm you or anything of the sort. Got it? I want to help you, as you seem to um…” I look at the rusted limbs, that are made of scrap and barely functional, the obviously broken speakers. “Your not doing the best. Alright? Just, what can I help with?” He pauses, as if unsure how to take my kindness. Has nobody been kind to him like this? All 20 years? Or has he been all alone? That scratchy voice interrupts my thoughts. 

“YES YES YES!!! mY BOY!! A GOOD STEP WOULD BE A NEW ARM. OR LEG. MAYBE FinD THE KEY GOING TO THE SPEAKER. THAT USUALLY FIXES IT BUT I DROPPED A WHILE BACK :(“ I nodded, seeing how happy he is to get help. “Alright! I’ll be back as soon as I can to help!” I give a warm smile. He bounces back and forth in joy, waving what I presume is goodbye to me. “THANk you thank you!! IT'S SO NICE TO HAVE YOU BACK JACQUES!!” I give a small wave as I leave the building. An arm, a leg, and a key. An interesting list, but I can work with it. 

The casino door creaks open, having not been oiled in 2 decades. I’ve been dreading this moment as soon as I knew where I was. Well then. I walk up to the bar stools, but no smell of decay from… anything actually. That’s unexpected, but good at least. I walk behind the counter, careful to not disturb anything here. In the drawer, I remember him saying he wanted to give something to me. I open it, hesitantly. There’s a locket, and it’s painted wonderfully. It’s truly beautiful, with an odd glow. There’s a note inside, and I can see it’s written by Dove. I don’t have the willingness to read it right now, but I’ll put the box in my messenger bag for now. I put the locket on. It’s certainly warm for something that hasn’t been touched in who knows how long. 

I just realized something. This locket, it’s the one Dove has, the one he always wore. My head hurts. He gave it to me, before he died. He told me I could have it, hours prior. Did he know? Or feel that something was to go horribly wrong? I’m not even sure if my head hurts from the reality of Dove knowing he might have known he was to die, or the cup he just threw at me. 

Wait a second.

[bakugou-tm]

omggg!! I really like your Domestic Bakugou scenarios can I request a scenario where Bakugou’s s/o is at home with her kids and a villain attacks them because of revenge on ground zero? She’s fighting him even if she gets bruises and suddenly he shows up all worried LIKE THE GOOD DAD HE IS💕💕

ANGST ANGST ANGST, I mean yes of course I can write this for you. Love this request, enjoy! (Ps. Bakugou’s (s/o)’s quirk will be wind like an air bender)

“Eat your breakfast now alright? I promise your father is coming home with the milk soon.” You told your two kids, placing kisses on their foreheads.

Katsuhiko made an attempt to take a few bites of his dry cereal but Katsumi refused, shoving he plate in front of her.

“I am not eating this until daddy brings back the milk!”

Letting out a groan you returned to the kitchen, grabbing two bananas for the kids to snack on until your husband returned from the store.

Both of you had woken up later than usual since it was a Saturday but neither of you minded at all, since you were both off work you took advantage of this. You probably would’ve slept in even later if your two kids hadn’t run into your room demanding breakfast.

The only problem was they were out of milk, and while Katsuhiko didn’t mind cereal without milk your stubborn eldest child simply refused. Quickly you forced your husband out of the house before he lit her hair on fire to go get some milk.

“Don’t forget Katsumi is a copy of you!”

“Shut the hell up!”

You laughed to yourself at the memory of your fuming husband driving away as you returned to the dining room. 

“Well until your father comes back, how about these?” You offered, wiggling the bananas in your hand. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you saw your two kids face’s light up, both taking the bananas eagerly.

“Now both of you munch on those while mommy uses the restroom, alright?” 

Both children nodded in agreement, trying to see who could beat the other in un-peeling their banana as you headed upstairs to your bathroom.

Looking in the mirror you couldn’t help but laugh at your messy bed head, your (h/c) hair a wavy mess from your pillow. Of course Bakugou throwing the pillow in your face because you licked his back didn’t help either.

Running fingers to at least get the tangles out you froze when you heard the sound of a bowl smashing to the floor.

“Katumi? Katsuhiko? What happened?” You called out, expecting that one of them probably knocked it onto the floor on accident.

When you heard no response you raised an eyebrow, there would be crying from Katsuhiko at least by now, or bickering from the two on who did it.

“Kids? You’re not in trouble I promise.” You said rushing out of your bathroom and down the stairs, your kids being suspiciously quiet.

Once you reached the kitchen you blinked not seeing your kids anywhere, looking around you were ready to call for them assuming they were hiding until you heard a shout of pain from an unfamiliar male voice.

“Did you just fucking bite me-”

“Momma help! Bad guys are here!”

The shrieking sound of your daughter made your (e/c) eyes widen as you ran into the living room to see four large men dressed in black, two holding your two kid’s mouths.

“You little brat! Get his damn wife!” One of the men shouted, two men already using their quirks on you. 

The first man’s quirk appeared to be like your old high school friend Sero’s quirk, a sticky tape shot from his hands which you quickly flung your wrist in front of you to send the tape back to the man, wrapping all around him till he fell to the ground in a sticky mess.

“She has a quirk, proceed with caution!”

Narrowing your eyes to the next victim you noticed all of the metal objects in your house floating around him, of course he had a damn metal quirk.

Once he shot his arm in your direction the sharp objects came flying towards you at incredible speeds, luckily you shot your arm out in time to send a blast of wind to the objects stopping them in mid-air before you swung your arm backwards to turn the metal objects toward the man and sent them flying his way.

“Yay mommy! Kick their asses!” Katsumi shouted, causing the man holding her to punch her side to shut her up.

“Don’t you lay a finger on her!” You shouted, sending a blast of air towards the man but he dodged quickly, too quickly. He must’ve had a super speed quirk.

“You hold the two kids, I got the damn bitch.” The largest man growled, you could only assume he was the boss of the four of them.

The man grabbed Katsuhiko from him, holding both kid’s by the necks so they couldn’t get free, leaving the tall man to the two of them.

“Y’know, I did come in here with low expectations, you’re pretty good with your quirk.” The man said, chuckling lowly as he walked over to you, “I should’ve known that Ground Zero bastard would’ve married some annoying bitch.”

Narrowing your eyes you clenched your fists, “Why are you here? We haven’t done anything to you.”

The man chuckled darkly, his piercing red eyes narrowing into yours, “Oh no you three didn’t do anything to me, but that bastard of a husband sure did.”

The man lifted up his black shirt to reveal an ugly gash on his side, the burnt marks you could only assume from Katsumi.

“That fucker took down my entire staff, leaving me with these three idiots, and we lost our biggest client thanks to him.” He growled, your eyes narrowing.

“Well you probably deserved it, villains like you should be taken down.” You hissed, growing annoyed as the man kept laughing down to you.

“I like you brat, I guess that Ground Zero bastard does have good taste, not surprised he likes em fiesty.” Huffing you shot a blast of air to him, but he just moved out of the way effortlessly, “Maybe I won’t kill you right away, have a little fun before I make you watch your kids burn.”

Your (e/c) eyes widened at the threat, just the thought making your skin crawl, “You won’t lay a damn finger on my children!” You screamed firing a large blast of air towards his chest successfully until his hands began to light up in flames, making the air die down.

“You have a fire quirk… that means it’ll make my wind less effective.” You mumbled, hands beginning to shake nervously.

“Impressive, somebody paid attention in chemistry class.” The man said with a sinister smile before he sent large flames into your chest, sending you through your sliding glass doors and out into the back yard, the man stepping through the broken glass to your fallen body.

“Momma!” Katsumi screamed, while Katsuhiko began to sob. The angry daughter quickly gripped the man’s hand, using her quirk the best she could since she hadn’t trained with it much to burn the man’s hand.

“Fuck! Your quirk is manifested too you little brat?!” The man shouted causing him to let go of the girl.

“Die you fucker!” Katsumi shouted, using her father’s classic words before opening her palm in front of the man’s face and let of a small explosion, enough to blind the man temporarily.

“C’mon Katsuhiko, we gotta help momma!”

Your arms shook before you, the feeling of shards of glass in your skin wasn’t the best, but you had to protect you kids. Whimpering in pain you plucked the pieces of glass from your arms and side before shakily standing up to the man before you, “You g..gotta do more than that to keep me down.” 

The man grinned at your confident words, his hand lighting up for another blast until a small explosion was thrown his way, almost knocking him off his feet.

“What the fuck-”

Looking over you saw your daughter with a smirk on her face along with your son standing next to her with clenched fists, “Don’t you hurt our mommy shit head!”

A sense of pride rushed into you but the quirk worry washed it out once you saw the man running to them with fists lit up with flames, “If my goons can’t take you brats out then I will!”

Quickly you stood up and threw a punch foward sending a heavy blast of wind towards the man, his frame flying back into the side of your house.

“Kids get behind momma now!” You screamed, they quickly followed your orders when they noticed your serious tone.

“Hiromichi take the woman down, now!” The large man screamed to the man who was now getting up from Katsumi’s attack.

You curled your fists in a readied attack until a quick flash came before you, then followed by rapid punches to your gut then back sending causing you to shout in pain. This was the man with super speed quirk.

The man was rapidly running around the three of you in an attempt to distract you as his boss tried to pry himself from the wall, narrowing your eyes you commanded your children to duck down before you spun around and sent a wave of wind from all sides, catching the man off his balance as he fell into your fence knocking it over.

“Damn it, looks like I’m going to have to do everything myself.” The boss growled once he finally fell from the wall, walking towards the three of them.

Even with bruises covering your body, streams of blood coming from your arms and bleeding into your shirt, you still shakily stood in front of your kids, hands clenched. Nobody was going to get to your kids.

“You are powerful woman, I’ll give you that..” The man hissed, a smirk on his face as he walked to the three of you, “But someone needs to put you in your damn place.”

With that he jumped up, fists filled with flames before landing down to you firing his flames at his complete max. 

Shouting in pain you lifted your arms up in response, blasting as much air as you could up to the man to keep him from landing on you and burning your two kids. Every muscle in your body hurt when you sent as much wind as you could to hold him off, but when you saw the sinister smirk on the man’s face you knew he was far from done.

Once he came nearer his hands grasped yours stopping the wind and his flames shot from his hands sending you back into the fence before falling into the grass, your kids quickly running to your side.

Your head was spinning, slowly losing consciousness of reality. The only thing keeping you awake was the feeling of your kids trying to shake you awake.

“You can’t keep fighting forever Mrs. Bakugou, give in.” The man hissed, walking to the three of you slowly with flames ready to fire.

Shakily you used every bit of energy you had left to sit up from the ground, your arms shaking under you as you began to cough up blood before looking up to the man with weak eyes.

“I..I don’t submit to t..tyrants..” You hissed, wiping the dripping blood from your lips while attempting to stand up. 

The man only chuckled at your last fighting words, before taking his foot and stepping down on your back causing you to fall back into the ground.

“You will.”

_________________

When Bakugou pulled into the driveway, the first thing he noticed was the smoke behind his house.

Either (s/o) decided to grill something, or Katsumi was trying to use her quirk again; both options not very good since (s/o) couldn’t grill to save her life.

Grabbing the bag of milk and the other groceries he picked up since he was at the store, he blinked once he reached the door, noticing it was already open.

“Honey what did I tell you about leaving the fucking door open? Anyone can just waltz in here and-”

The ash blond’s words froze when he saw a man knocked out against the wall with sharp metal pieces holding his clothing up against it.

“Fuck.”

Dropping all of the bags the pro hero ran into the living room to see another man wrapped up in his own quirk on the floor and both of his sliding glass doors shattered, “How did they find my fucking home?” He thought to himself.

Running outside the scene that was being unfolded made his blood boil. One of Crimson Flame’s goons had both of his unconscious kids in his arms, walking them to what he assumed was the car on the side of the street. Then looking over he saw the head villain himself holding his half-unconscious wife over his shoulder.

“You fucker put her down!” Bakugou screamed running towards the large man, with wide eyes the villain turned around to the pro hero ready to fire but Bakugou had already sent a large explosion in his face, sending him and his wife flying across the back yard.

“Damn it, get Ground Zero!” Crimson Flame yelled to his goon who dropped his kids to attack the pro-hero.

The ash blond’s crimson eyes flicked over to the goon with super speed, grabbing his arm in mid run before swinging him over his body, sending the speedy villain over the fence and into the street.

“Shit..” Crimson Blood hissed, noticing his other goons unconscious inside the house he quickly snatched up your body and attempted to make a run for it.

“Oh no you fucking don’t!” Bakugou growled, blasting his way over to the man ready to light him up with another large explosion before the villain lifted your body in front of him as a shield.

“Not so fast you fucker, you wanna blast me you’re going to have to blast your precious wife too.” Crimson Blood hissed with a smirk, Bakugou growling as he slowly lowered his arm. “Y’know your wife held up for pretty long I’m impressed, it’s a shame I’ll have to kill her, she would be a nice mistress to have.”

Bakugou’s crimson eyes narrowed in fury, he grit his teeth so hard they were probably deformed by now, his fists clenched angrily, “You won’t get away with this you bastard.”

“Oh I think I already have Ground Zero, or should I call you Katsuki Bakugou.” 

The ash blond’s eyes widened when the villain called him by his proper name, concerned as to how he found out his real name and where he lived.

“Now you stand back like a good little boy, and your wife won’t get hurt-” The villain started before your leg swung as hard as you could into his crotch.

“You fucking bitch!” Crimson King shouted, dropping your body to the ground before his own body crouched forward in pain.

“K..Katsuki get him now!” You muttered in between coughs, your weak body falling back to the ground. 

Your husband waisted no time for his hands to begin sparking, a wicked smirk plastered across his face, “Now you’re dead you asshole.”

_________________

“Both of your children are fine Mr. Bakugou, as for your wife she has minor wounds but nothing critical.” The paramedic explained to the pro-hero, police authorities and medical help already showing up. 

“Thanks for the help.” Bakugou hissed as politely as he could in a situation like this, looking over to see his two children playing around with a paramedic and his wife sitting safely on the steps of their porch.

Letting out a sigh he walked over to the police official, interrupting his conversation with the detectives, “You make sure you lock that bastard up for good, no set bails for any of them.”

“We understand Mr. Bakugou, after we interrogate them all they will be locked up for life.” The officer reassured, turning to face the fuming pro-hero, as for your home luckily insurance is willing to cover everything in return for all you do to protect our city.”

The ash blond scoffed, looking back to his damaged house then back to the officer, “We aren’t staying here we have to move now, too many villains know where to find my family and I am never going to allow harm to them ever again.”

The officer nodded in understandment, after all Crimson Flames wasn’t the only villain set out for revenge on Ground Zero, “We understand, if you need any help at all the City of Musutafu and all of Japan stands by you.”

Bakugou nodded to the officer thankfully, both bowing to each other in respect before he walked off to his family.

“Daddy!” Katsumi and Katsuhiko shouted in unison, both running up to the father when they saw him walking towards them both.

“Hey kiddos, you both okay?” Bakugou asked with concerned eyes, both nodded with the same smiles they always had.

“Yeah! You missed it I kicked some bad guy butt with my quirk!” Katsumi said with wide eyes, her father smiling softly as she threw pretend punches to show him, “Y..Yeah and mommy fought all of the bad guys all by herself!” Katsuhiko said softly, Katsumi’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Oh yeah mommy was all like bam bam with her wind quirk and she knocked three bad guys out! I’m glad you came to help us with the big scary one.” Katsumi said, clearly impressed with her mother.

Bakugou looked over to his wife who was staring off into space on their steps before ruffling both of his kid’s hair, “I’m proud of you both, I knew I raised a bunch of fighters.”

Both of his kids beamed with excitement, hugging their father before going back to play with the paramedic while Bakugou walked over to his exhausted looking wife.

“How you holding up (s/o)?” 

Your (e/c) eyes flicked up to him, noticing him walk up to you before he sat down on the steps beside you.

“I..I’m okay, a bit exhausted.” You said softly, laughing bitterly as you ran a hand through your hair.

Bakugou frowned down to you, the bruises along your side that were clearly seen through your torn shirt and the gash along your cheek and arms made him grow angrier by the second, you didn’t deserve this.

“I am so sorry this happened (s/o), if I had been here none of this would’ve happened.” The ash blond said, his head ducking down as he bit his lip at the true reality, “If I hadn’t met you, you wouldn’t have to be in fucking danger like this.”

Lifting your head up your (e/c) eyes looked to his drooping figure, quickly you lifted his chin up so he could look at you.

“Hey don’t you ever think that you hear me? When I married you, when I decided to have your kids, I knew the consequences.” You said sternly, his crimson eyes looking down into your own intense ones, “I don’t care if I have to kick some bad guy’s ass everyday of my life, if that’s what it takes to be with my husband and children then I will do it.”

Bakugou smiled down to his wife, her words almost brought him to tears but he knew she needed him to be her rock more than ever right now.

“I love you so much (s/o)” Bakugou whispered into your ear, pulling you into a tight hug which you gladly accepted, wrapping your scratched up arms around his waist.

“You know your kids defended themselves half the time.” You said with a grin, Bakugou looking down to you with a proud smirk.

“Well they are Bakugou’s of course, I’m not surprised they were able to hold their own.” The ash blond said, pulling you into his side as the two of you watched your kids run around.

For once everything seemed calm, even after the horrific events that had played out just a few hours ago. You rested in his arms, feeling more safe than you ever had before.

“So what are we going to do with the house?” You asked, keeping your head resting on his chest.

“I’ll find a better house, in a private neighboorhood.” Bakugou said, rubbing your arm cautiously cause of all your wounds, “I’ll make sure the security is much better.”

Smiling you looked up to him and kissed his cheek, catching his attention, “While that all sounds wonderful, we don’t need all of that. We are the motherfucking Bakugou’s, nothing can stop us.”

The ash blond chuckled down to you, kissing your forehead before pulling you back into his chest, running his fingers through your (h/c) hair.

“The motherfucking Bakugou’s… that has a nice ring to it.”