#but i have been informed before that i have a weirdly strong sense of smell

[personasintro]

how love works | myg drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; your new colleague who ends up showing you around in your new job, finds his way to your broken heart

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; yoongi x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, nurse!yoongi, single mom!reader

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, making out, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by @hyacinthgrrls​, thank you for being so patient about this one! I'm sorry if this one seems to be messy, but I really tried to squeeze everything you wanted here!

...I'd be more than happy to show you around, but unfortunately, my shift already started and I need to be there before Dr. Jung throws a fit,” His words are unclear, barely audible as he rushes through a long hallway, greeting a few patients along the way.

It feels like all hospitals look the same – white walls with a little bit of different, but still nonchalant colors popping every now and then. This one is matched with beige color, visible thanks to the intensive white lightening. The omnipresent smell of antiseptic caries through the whole hospital.

“Yoongi is going to show you around.” Namjoon, as you've learned his name just five minutes ago, says and briefly looks over the shoulder to check up on you, making sure you're catching up with him.

It's tough, his long legs move quickly and you barely get to catch up with him, ushering behind him. He finally stops in front of the white door, the same ones like all those tens you've just passed by, before he pushes it open and walks in. Following him, you close the door with a soft thud as you try to get a glimpse behind Namjoon's tall figure. He moves away, allowing you to see the whole room. It's medium sized room with two wooden tables next to the windows, a small kitchen unit on the left side with a white fridge.

It must be a break room, but before you can look around, your attention is caught by Namjoon's voice and another person in the room.

“Great, you're here!” Namjoon calls out enthusiastically, smacking his hands together as the young man with dark hair stares at him. “You're going to show Y/N around.”

His eyes widen, before he frowns with his puffed cheeks as he holds a sandwich in his hands. “I'm on my lunch break!” he exclaims with his full mouth, visibly annoyed by the sudden interruption of his chance to finally eat and take a break.

“I know, but Jung needs me and you're the only one free.”

Namjoon doesn't seem to be surprised by the man's grumpy attitude, not even when he grunts in annoyance at him. You watch the dark haired man swallow, putting down his sandwich before he opens his mouth.

“I'm not free, I'm on my lunch break.” he reminds him, dusting off his blue scrubs that nicely contrasts with his pale skin.

Understandably, you get his reaction of having to show someone around when it's his time to finally eat. You don't take it personally, but it still leaves you awkwardly standing next to Namjoon with tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

“I can wait.” you speak up, their eyes snapping to you as the man opens his mouth before he can, Namjoon already interjects.

“No, someone needs to show you around. It's your first day but you need to get to work as soon as possible.” he dismisses your idea immediately, glancing at his colleague that fumbles with his eyes before he sighs.

“Fine.” he mutters, tossing his almost untouched sandwich down onto the table.

“Great!” Namjoon exclaims in excitement and claps his hands again. “See you guys later!”

Not even waiting for you response, he's already out of the room and leaves the two of you alone. You wonder if the man hates you for not being able to finish his sandwich, which doesn't even look like a proper lunch, because of you. He sighs, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with your handbag clutched in your hands.

“It's okay if you want to finish that,” you speak up, feeling like you need to do something rather than just staying in silence with awkward atmosphere in the air. “I can wait.”

You've heard Namjoon, so did he, but you just need to say something and you feel bad for being a burden to him. The man looks up, meeting your eyes properly this time, and you expect him to glare at you or at least show kind of irritation, but his gaze is soft.

“No, it's okay I can finish it later,” he says, speaking to you for the first time with much more relaxed tone than he spoke with to Namjoon. “It's your first day here, huh?” he chuckles, packing his sandwich and places it into the fridge.

“Yeah,” you answer with a mere smile, noticing the untouched cup of coffee on the counter which makes you feel even more bad.

“I'm Yoongi,” he tells you, stretching his arm towards you. You take it, glancing into his dark orbs as you tell him your name.

Something about him makes you want to observe him, maybe it's his interesting personality you got to see and even though you don't know him, he doesn't look as intimidating as you first thought now that you think about it.

“Very well then, let's go before Namjoon bursts through those door again,” he jokes, causing you to laugh at that, remembering how in rush he's been ever since he introduced himself to you. “Come on.” he walks up to the door and opens it, motioning for you to go first as you thank him, ushering back to the busy hallway.

If Yoongi ever felt annoyed by the sudden interruption of his lunch break, he definitely doesn't seem to be in a bad mood at all. He's very polite, showing you each floor and explains how it works there, answering your every question with friendliness and even briefly talks about himself when you ask how long he's been working here.

For some reason, you're surprised when a 'four years' as an answer resounds from his mouth, you don't even know why but it makes sense, judging how much he knows about their work ethic and other employees. He makes you chuckle couple of times, whispering about some of the older nurses, warning you to stay away from them because they're grumpy all the time. You're pleasantly surprised by his humor and thanks to him, the nerves you've been feeling the whole morning are eased up. He doesn't know it, nor you acknowledge it loudly but you're grateful for him being the one who shows you around.

When he tells you it's your time to get changed to your work attire, you can't help but feel disappointed over the fact that it's over. His presence is weirdly pleasing and nice, and you wonder if the rest of your colleagues are such nice people as him.

He leads you through the hallway which you recognize as the same where the break room is, before he stops in front of the identical door, just with the different sign next to it.

“This is the dressing room, obviously, women and men have separated rooms.” he informs you, opening the door as he lets you to walk inside first before he follows after you.

You don't expect anyone to be there, especially not a woman wearing jeans with a bra covering her breasts as she looks at the both of you. Your cheeks heat up, not at the sight of her not covered chest, but from the situation. She doesn't seem to be phased, and her smile spreads into a huge grin as she cocks her brow at Yoongi.

“If you wanted to see me naked, Yoongi, you know all you need to do is just tell me.” she speaks up, lips curving into a smirk as she pulls out a shirt out of the opened locker, putting it on.

“Well, see, I'm not here for you.” he says nonchalantly, not phased by her flirtatious attitude which makes her grin even more.

“Ah, what a shame,” she sings out, closing her locker with a loud thud as she collects her handbag. “And who's this?”

“Y/N, our new colleague.” Yoongi answers before you can even open your mouth, and somehow, you're grateful for that.

Maybe it's the way she eyes you, wiggling her brow at Yoongi which you don't miss. She's not an introvert, for sure.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Mishil but you can call me Misha.” she smiles, showing you a set of her white teeth in confident and cheerful smile.

You notice the dimple in her cheek and her sharp eyeliner, wondering if you might possibly look this good after the whole shift. She's beautiful, her strawberry blonde complimenting her soft skin and even though you can't see her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes, she can still pull it off.

“It's nice meeting you.” you smile at her.

“As much as I'd love to talk to you guys, I gotta go. The whole night shift was a nightmare,” she complains, rolling her eyes in exhaustion as she makes her way to the door. “Bye, bye!” she sings out, not waiting for the two of you to react, identical to the way Namjoon did it.

“...and she's gone.” Yoongi mutters, chuckling when he sees your widened eyes.

“She's... quite something.” you comment with a similar mutter.

“Yeah, you'll get used to her, it just takes some time.” he waves off his hand, assuring you.

“She's flirty.” you voice out your thoughts, causing him to chuckle once again.

You're not sure whether you said something funny, but once he opens his mouth it causes your mouth to drop open.

“She's married.” he tells you, laughing when he sees your opened mouth and bulged out eyes.

You're mesmerized by his smile, it instantly catches your attention as the way he shows his gums and his eyes crinkle in the ends. No, no, stop! This is your colleague, you remind yourself.

Gulping, you find words to ripple out of your throat. “Her husband doesn't mind it?”

“Wife,” Yoongi says, “She has a wife.”

“Oh,” you let out, “Doesn't her wife mind it?” you ask again, chuckling at your correction as he shrugs in response.

“I think she's used to her personality,”

You're not sure if you 'd liked it if your partner would flirt with other people, most likely not.

“Love works in a weird way.” he shrugs, opening one of the drawers besides the lockers as he pulls out the same blue scrubs as the ones he's wearing.

You thank him once he hands it to you, smiling lightly. “The size should be right, if not just pull out the correct one. I'll leave you to it, I'll be waiting outside.”

“Waiting?” you ask in confusion, watching him walking towards the door.

“It looks like your first shift is with me.” he smirks, opening the door as he leaves without any other word.

You stand there for a few minutes, surprised how fast your heart beats just from the single exchange of a few words and looks. This hasn't happened for a long time, it feels almost new and never experienced. Unfortunately, you've felt this way before and it brings nothing but sadness and anger.

Looking at the fresh clothes in your hands, your smile spreads into a wide grin before you even realize.

He got the right size.

“I'm scared,” The little boy murmurs, staring with wide eyes at the needle in your hand.

His eyes averts to his mother who's standing just a few meters behind you, giving you the space to work, while her son stares at her in a hope she'll take him away before the needle can even go through his skin.

“You don't have to be,” you tell him, eyes filled with sympathy as his bottom lip trembles. “It's probably going to be a little bit uncomfortable, but you're a big guy. I'm sure you can handle it.”

You search his eyes in question, which dance between the needle in your hand and your eyes. He thinks it through, wondering what his response will be before he inhales shakily.

“I'm a big guy.” he assures you, straightening himself to prove his point.

It makes you smile, looking over your shoulder to call his mother to hold his hand. Stitches aren't comfortable, he's lucky enough to end up with only two of them instead of more. He cries out as soon as you pierce the needle through the skin of his forehead, trying to work fast but precise. It breaks your heart, even though you're helping him by sewing his wound. He whines and cries, even when you're done and he looks almost mad.

“We're done, you did so good!” you cheer him up, ruffling his curly hair as he looks up at you with a mere glare but you don't take it personally. “Now you know it's better if you listen to your mom not to run on stairs.”

His mother chuckles, ruffling his hair the same way you did as she praises him for holding still. You fish out a lollipop which you hid into the pocket of your scrubs as soon as you've heard about an emergency with a kid and bleeding forehead. Candy always helps and you just happen to carry them in your bags ever since Em was little.

The boy's eyes shine as soon as he sees the lollipop in your hands, reaching for it almost immediately as he takes it from you.

“What do you say?” His mother chimes in, caressing the dark skin of his soft skin as he mumbles a cute 'thank you'. “Thank you so much.” she turns to you, a gratitude shining in her eyes as you give her a smile in return.

When they both leave, it's just you and Yoongi in the room, who made sure you're doing your job right. Instead of breathing down your neck, he started to sanitize equipment as soon as you started to take care of the poor boy.

It's your first day working as a nurse and thanks to your colleague, it's not as stressful as you thought it would be. He seems to be very chill and laid back, yet precise and skilled. You're glad he's the one training you.

“You're good with kids.” he comments, putting the disinfection back on its place, glancing at you.

“Yeah, I have a--”

“Hey, slackers. We need you here.” Namjoon walks into the room, rushing the two of you out of it before you can even response to Yoongi.

Sighing, you both follow Namjoon who keeps telling you to hurry.

Yeah, Yoongi is definitely much more chill than Namjoon is.

Two months in and you think everyone hates you.

Maybe it's just the sixth sense inside of you, or you're completely overthinking everyone's reaction. You wouldn't expect them to understand, nor you're shocked by the glares you receive on daily basis. In other situations, you wouldn't care about it that much, even though it's uncomfortable and some part of you feels bad. But what really bothers you is none other than your colleague, one of the first people you've met on your first day and was kind enough to show you around.

From what started as a great relationship between two colleagues, turned into brief greeting where he wouldn't even meet your eyes. It affects you more than you'd like to admit, especially when you started to cook more food, just to pack it and bring it to him during your shifts together. Those sandwiches from the vending machine are unhealthy, and just as Yoongi said, there's nothing which compares to the home-cooked meal.

It became a routine, you packing him a soup and meal every time you both had shift, no matter how many times he told you, you shouldn't bother. Everything went well, after you had to run home whenever you got a call from the babysitter or school, which led to someone else taking all of your shifts.

It ended up with almost every colleague glaring at you, for not coming into the hospital and not doing your job. Little did you know, it was mostly Yoongi who ended up taking most of your shifts causing him to sport a dark bags underneath his eyes.

If you haven't been through so much, you would probably cry somewhere in the corner at the thought of everyone hating you. But you don't. However, one particular person bothers your mind more often than it should. Deciding you're over with the cold shoulder he's been giving you, you ignore everyone's stares once you walk into the break room. The chatter quiets down as soon as they notice you. Without doubt, they were talking about you behind your back but you could care less about that.

Although, one pair of particular set of eyes catches your attention in the corner of the room, munching on that distasteful sandwich. If he weren't so stubborn, declining your lunch and attempt of feeding him with a home-cooked meal, he could have eat much better food now. It was just another sign of Yoongi's friendship fading away.

Their lunch break ends as most of them just go back to work, making you stare at the floor with a frown settled on your face. Do they hate you so much?

As if Namjoon could hear your thoughts, you met his soft smile but he doesn't say anything as he walks away. You watch Yoongi tossing the plastic package into the bin as he starts to clean the mess on the table, completely ignoring you.

With a sigh, you walk up to him feeling almost awkward that you're practically standing right next to him and he doesn't even spare you a glance. Once he's done he turns around but you don't allow him to walk away, standing right in front of him with a raised brow.

“Can we talk?” you ask softly, praying he's just going to drop this act full of ignorance.

When his eyes meet yours, for the first time in weeks from such a close proximity, you hate how fast your heart starts to hummer against your ribcage. Those dark orbs glaring at you seems to soften at the pleading look you give him, and you feel some kind of weird hope before he shutters it in a second.

“I gotta work.” he murmurs, shoulder slightly bumping into yours as he tries to make a way towards the door.

You don't move, watching his back as he leaves out of the room, with a pain in your chest.

You're done.

You're done sitting around, trying to catch Yoongi's attention who somehow always manages to avoid you before you can even open your mouth.

When you see him walking through the hallway, completely oblivious to your focused gaze, staring at him as if he was your prey, you won't let him get away. Not anymore. Before he can react, or even properly meet your eyes, you're pulling him into the room which happens to be janitor's closet. It's small, but it'll do.

His stutters of confusion are ignored, as you flick the light open and stare at him.

“What the hell?” he asks, confused that you just grabbed him and pulled him into the janitor's closet.

“We need to talk.” you tell him with a persistent tone, brows furrowed in concentration.

“What? Now? You can't just pull me here--” he looks around, glancing around before he continues. “I've a lot of work to do.”

It's just another attempt of avoiding you, which makes you want to loose your mind by this man. Before he can reach towards the door, dangerously stepping closer to you, your mind works on its own and you lock it. The doorknob digs into your lower back but you don't care, you're just trying to make him stay and talk. With your back pressed against the door, he looks at you in confusion before he sighs. It's clear he has no intentions talking to you, simply staring at you with a raised brow. The same look of ignorance he's been giving you for weeks.

“What's your problem? Why are you so distant and avoiding me all of a sudden?”

He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head at you before he looks down with a cold glare. “My problem? My problem is that I've been covering your shifts, saving your ass every time you haven't had the decency to come to work and do your actual job.”

Okay, you didn't expect him to be so vocal and straight forward. His tone is cold and bitter, surprising you which is evident on your face before you frown in hurt.

“No,” he deadpans, “don't look at me like that. I'm not a bad guy in this. I'm fucking exhausted, overworking myself because of--” he stops himself, and you almost push him to finish his sentence but you just dryly gulp.

“My daughter kept getting sick, and I had to be at home with her, there's nothing I could do. Her babysitter wouldn't look after her if she's sick and she couldn't go to kindergarten either. And you know what? If I got a call from her babysitter or her kindergarten saying she's sick again, I'll drop everything and go and take care of my daughter. So hate me all you want, but I'm a mother before I'm a nurse.”

The frustration has been built inside of you for so long, that you finally snap at the one person who made your shifts always more fun and bright. He seems to be caught off guard by the new information, slowly processing it as he widens his eyes.

“You've a daughter?” he breathes out.

“Yes.” you hold yourself back from exclaiming loudly.

“You've never told me that.” he murmurs, almost expression of hurt crossing his soft features.

It's not like you kept Em as a secret, but before you could talk about your private life in more depth and how her father cowardly left you before she was even born, you barely got enough time to go back to work and talk to him. You're surprised you haven't got fired yet. You can't get fired, you've got a family you need to support and Em relies on you.

“I was going to.” you admit, looking down at your feet with a puzzled look.

Who knows what would've happened if you just told him sooner. Would he be more acceptable? Isn't he saying it right now because he's trying to put a blame on you?

You almost jump when he cups your face, holding up your head so he can stare right into your eyes with the same look you've. They're filled with apology that spark in his dark orbs, slowly caressing your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I thought you just don't care about this job, or us.” he admits shamefully.

“It's okay.” you assure him with a soft voice, but he shakes his head in response.

“I was an asshole to you, I'm so sorry,” he says right back, still holding your face as his eyes drops down to your lips, eyeing your face. “I really want to kiss you.”

Your heart jumps, not that uncomfortable way whenever he would straight avoid you or glare at you. It's different this time and you react almost immediately.

“Then kiss me.”

Expect him to do it slow, he surprises you with his lips right on your own, not wasting a second as he starts kissing you. He deepens it, a touch of his lips full of emotions and regret and it's almost unbelievable how you can feel it just from the single kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as he hungrily kisses you, too stubborn to pull away for some oxygen. It's needy and you moan into his lips when he squeezes your ass in his palms. But you still need to pull away, lips attaching from one another but your foreheads stay leaned against each other as you both breathe heavily.

“Let me take you out.” he whispers, thumb tracing your cheekbone as he admires your make-up free face.

“A date?” you sound surprised, wondering if you've heard him right.

Is it too soon to jump with joy?

“Of course, I've been meaning to ask you since that time I saw you with that little boy, stitching him up.” he admits, causing you to giggle in shock.

“Really?”

He delivers a soft peck onto your nose, biting into his lower lip. “Uhm, you're an amazing woman. I wanna get to know you, and your daughter.”

He seems to be nervous, patiently waiting for your response but he doesn't move away from you, still wrapped in your embrace even though your frame is smaller.

He's the first man who doesn't run away knowing you've a daughter, but not just that. Yoongi is the first man who managed to make your heart flutter with the simplest acts. It's too soon to talk about him fixing your broken heart or him being the love of your life, but time with him seems nice. The thought of spending it outside of the hospital, trying to get to know him as something more makes you want to yell in excitement.

For now, you hold back your happiness and smile at him.

“I'd be more than happy to get to know you as well.” you admit, enough for him to envelope you even in a tighter hug that makes you squeak in surprise again, but you squeeze him back.

“Stop it,” you chuckle, sitting up from your bed as you watch your boyfriend trying to find his clothes that are scattered all around your room.

You thought sex would help him relax and it did, for twenty minutes that you were sucking him off and then bouncing on his cock. But now that you both reached your high, he's back to his quiet self with tensed muscles. As much as he tries to hide his nervousness and fear, he's doing an awful job with it and it's nothing than amusing to you.

“You're about to meet a four year old, not a monster that's gonna eat your head.” you joke, meeting his glare in response silently telling you he's not in the mood for joking.

“What if she doesn't like me?” he asks, setting on the edge of your bed completely naked, forgetting to find his clothes.

“She will. I told her about you so much, she's excited to meet you.” you assure him, slowly crawling to him as you hug him closer to you.

Both of your bodies are coated with sweat, and you could use a shower, but you can't let this go. He's been tensed from the moment you made plans on introducing Em to him. Of course, he wants to meet her. He was the one who kept being persistent, asking about her all the time and show him the pictures of her on your phone. The truth is, you were waiting for him to naturally set what's the right time to meet your daughter. You've been dating for the past two months, barely making any plans outside of the hospital since you've a child at home.

Your babysitter, which happens to be your neighbor, was kind enough to look after her in late nights while you went on a couple of dates with Yoongi. It's been tearing your heart apart knowing you've your little girl at home, but you still wanted to spend some time with Yoongi. It feels like the right time for them to meet.

“Now come on, let's shower before we have to pick her up,” you nudge him, kissing his cheek before you stand up. “If we're quick enough, we might have a round two.” you suggest, causing him to stand up abruptly, ushering you into your bathroom while you both start to laugh at his eagerness.  

When it's the right time to pick up your daughter, Yoongi decides to stay in the car while he tries to occupy himself by playing some games on his phone. His knee bounces even when you open the door to put Em into her car seat. She notices the stranger in your car right away, her words slowly fading away as she went off about her day.

Yoongi slowly turns around, his scared eyes meeting hers as he tries his best to muster a proper smile. You've never seen him being so nervous. This must be more important to him than it's to you. You know Em is going to love him, that's why you're not worried about it too much.

“Em, this is Yoongi. You remember him? I was telling you about him.” you tell her, putting on her seat belt as she slowly nods.

“Yoongs?” she asks, her eyes looking up at you as you nod with a smile.

When you make sure everything is secured, you go and sit in the driver's seat while Yoongi looks at you. “Yoongs?” he asks confusingly.

“Yeah, she made you a nickname.” you shrug, causing him to slowly nod and for the first time, you see one honest smile lightening up his face.

“Hey, Em, I brought you something.” Yoongi says, gaining her attention right away which causes him to chuckle.

“You did?” she asks, her eyes widening as he pulls out a pony plushie, the very one she has been begging you to buy her for a few weeks now. “Pony! Yes!” she starts to bounce in her car seat, already reaching for the toy that Yoongi gladly gives her.

“What do you say, Em?” you speak up, your eyes solely on the road, although you wish you could see their exchange better.

“Thank you, Yoongs! I love you!” she almost yells, the both of you erupting in laughter as your four year old daughter keeps happily squealing for the rest of the ride.

“See? She loves you.” you tell him quietly, a huge smile stretching on your lips as Yoongi joins you, looking back at Em to admire her and her happiness.

“So, he's just your friend, right?”

You hide your smile, slowly cutting the vegetable as you hear Em letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, dad!” she whines for the hundredth time, your heart tingling at the sound of the name leaving her mouth.

It's been almost a year since Yoongi officially adopted her and became her father, filled that empty spot that her heart was craving for. She wanted to have a father for so long and now she has to put up with overprotective Yoongi almost every day.

“Okay, okay. I'll be here while the two of you play.” he reminds her, causing her to groan but she doesn't say anything in response, coloring her drawings in silence.

Yoongi walks up to you, hugging you from the back while his chin is propped on your shoulder.

“She's seven years old. Don't you think it's too soon to worry about her dating life?” you tease him, giggling when he slightly bites onto your shoulder.

“I don't want someone to break her small heart. Have you seen those heart eyes whenever she talks about him? That is not just friend.” he informs you, causing you to laugh at him as he groans in annoyance at you.

You put all the vegetables into the pot and turns the stove on, as you turn to him. He takes your hand, twisting the wedding ring in his hold as he smiles down at it.

“I love you.” he tells you, your heart warming once again as if it's the first time he said it.

“I love you.” you tell him, kissing him on his small and plump lips.

You turn around, glancing at your daughter that stares at you with disgust on her face.

“See? You don't have to worry about her dating anytime soon.” you point out, causing him to roll his eyes at you before he's kissing you again, this time accompanied with your daughter's fake coughing in the background.

Indeed, love works in a weird way.

[imagineabrighterworld]

The Saint and the Prince pt.2

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾

You look at your mother through the mirror as she braids ribbons into your hair. Her hands flutter as they hold your locks of hair with infinite gentleness.

You were dressed in the color of persimmons and summer peaches, from the ribbons in your hair to the dye streaking your cheeks. You felt silly dressed so weirdly. It wasn't like your family to be so.. Colorful. Not on a day like this. Everyone was wearing black except for you.

You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat. Your mother was crying, and yet she was doing your hair.

“Mama?” You whisper, hating the way her hands began to tremble and lose hold of your hair. Why was she crying? What was making her so sad? “Mama you're scaring me.”

She sniffles, using the back of her palm to wipe away the wetness of her tears. “Forgive me..” The kohl lining her eyes is smeared, but she pays no mind to the smudges on her hands. “Forgive me.”

You want to comfort her but she coaxes you into staying still as she finishes with your hair. It is only when your father comes into the room that you begin to piece together what is happening. You were being taken away from her, but why? It was supposed to be a good day today. The Alshanun Iraziz, the Sun Saint was supposed to be coming to bring her blessings, just like your papa said.

Your mother’s cries of anguish grow louder now as your father guides you out of the room, his own sniffles paled in comparison to hers. The sound of shattering glass is your only goodbye from your mother.

“Papa? I'm afraid.”

He says nothing. His hand tightens around yours, the bones in your hand squeezing together, but you're too afraid to pull away from him. Afraid he might disappear, or go back home to mama, leaving you alone.

A crowd lays in front of you, the familiar black clothing of the Sun Saint’s day is before you. Why were you in color when they were in black? You felt like an ill beating heart in the crowd of bleakness.

Now, you stand in the center of your town.

The villagers around you murmur prayers as you pass them by. They reach out and kiss your palms. As if you were a saint in the books your grandmother had coveted so long ago. Whispers surround you, the sounds crawling on your skin uncomfortably.

𝓞 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝔂, 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼, 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓝𝓪𝓭𝓪

Your father left you behind somewhere in the crowd as he ushered you to the platform in the middle of the crowd. His face blurred among the people, but somewhere in the throng you swear you can hear his cries.

As you look down at the orangewood platform carved with prayers, you know why your mother was crying. You know why the people have to hold your father back as his cries turn to screams.

“Bueirikan kembali! Khadhnaa!”

Give her back. Take me.

“Ahfuz tifli!”

Save my child.

The high priest stands behind you as the sun begins to rise.

𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

The orange sky is the last thing you see as a knife is plunged into your back.

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼

---

Shoto returned to the others with his mind full of the color orange.

He mostly stayed quiet for the reminder of their tour around the town, his eyes constantly drifting to the blossoms covering every inch of the buildings. Their sweet scent was almost too much. Their flowers thick with nectar.

The town felt stifling, he didn't know why, but perhaps his talk with the mysterious woman would clear things up.

Bachar leads them back to his home and holds a feast with several of the neighboring lords as guests. Shoto isn't eager to converse, but he does his part as prince and answers their questions and occasionally offers up one of his own. They spoke of trade between the kingdoms and the benefits their people might have if they worked closely together. 

The Alshanun kingdom had bountiful amounts of herbal medicine, spices, and pastures full of cattle, while Todoroki’s kingdom had less greenlands. But where it lacked in greenery, it was full of libraries, a strong army to defend from invaders, gold deposits, and waterfalls that held water so clear you could see all the way to the bottom of their lakes.

A partnership could keep both of their people comfortable for years to come.

Night fell, and soon the group was off to their chambers.

“Todoroki?” Midoriya asks from behind him, his hand on the doorknob of his own room. “Where did you go? You know, earlier.”

Shoto remains quiet, his eyes shifting to his door. A phantom breeze brushes against his arm, eerily reminding him of a hand. “Nowhere.”

It wasn't in his place to question a prince, but it was in his place to question a friend. So Midoriya asks once more. “Are you sure?”

Shoto looks at his friend, his eyes roving over his face. He was worried, and it warmed his heart to know he had a friend who truly cared. But he didn't have answers yet. He couldn't reassure his friend without any information. All he had was the memory of a girl.

“I’m sure.” The corners of his lips tug upward. “Goodnight.”

Entering his room, Shoto looks at the wallpaper lining the walls and the stumpy candles lining the window sill. With a flick of his hand, he lights them, watching as the wax begins to melt at their center. The warm smell of vanilla fills the room as he changes and soon he is in bed, drifting off to sleep.

When he wakes, the sunlight is weakly filtering in, not yet a deep gold but a pale yellow that engulfs his room. He sits up slowly and looks at the window to where the candles had long been extinguished in their own wax. 

He listens for the sounds of life outside his door, but all there is is silence. Not even the servants were up yet.

Shoto sits up and pulls the sheets away from himself. He had half a mind to stay in bed and wait until the others were awake, maybe travel around the nearby towns and meet its lords. But he didn't listen to that half. 

Slipping out of his room, he quietly makes his way out of the mansion after dressing in simple black clothing. It wasn't what he was accustomed to wearing, not when it was the color of mourning. But it helped him blend in with the early risers already setting up shop, helped him not feel a fool when they waved good morning to him. 

Wending his way to the fountain from the day before, he sits at its edge, looking into its waters. Vaguely he could sense it, feel the way it would turn to ice beneath his touch. How its side would frost. 

He doesn't notice you as you look over his shoulder at the water. Doesn't see your reflection until you're smiling at him.

-

“Hello again princeling.” You step back just as the stranger in front of you whips his head back. His eyes widen before they narrow, his lips a flat line. 

“Hello.” He says warily, his eyes flickering to your orange and saffron clothing. “Why are you dressed like that?”

You sit next to him, undisturbed by how he looks at you. As if you were doing something out of line. He truly was a prince, one who obviously wasn't very social. “That’s the wrong question. I’ll grant you one answer.”

“Why do you speak like this? What are you hiding?” 

“Wrong again princeling.” 

Small ice crystals prick at his skin as a small pout forms on his face, a crease building between his brows. You hold in a smile as you see the gears turning in his head. You rarely got to have fun, and it was amusing seeing him so confused.

“Who are you?”

You let your smile show. Finally, he got it right. “I am the Alshanun Iraziz. The Sun Saint.”

“Were you always this way?”

Now he was asking the right questions, you muse as you inspect his hands that had folded themselves neatly on his lap, hiding the frost that was forming on his fingers. You could feel the power thrumming in his veins. The ice and the fire. If you were alive, you would have been concerned at how easily he might set you alight or freeze the blood in your veins. But you were an Iraziz, a Saint, and his gifts held no sway over you.

“No. I used to be just like you. Alive with a beating heart. I used to wear black, just like you. Now, all I ever wear is this.” You look at your silk slippers and the folds of your skirts embroidered with gold string. It was the most expensive thing you ever had in life. A gift from the High Priest that had ended your life, giving you this life in its place. 

“What is your name?”

So much for one answer, you think to yourself. But it had been so long since you've spoken with anyone. 

“I’ve forgotten my true one.” You dip your hand in the waters of the fountain, the cool waters soothing your warm skin. It was always so warm around this time of year, even when the sun was at its weakest. “I didn't know to hold it close, the day I became the Alshanun Iraziz was the same day I lost my name. I don't suppose I’ll ever get it back now.” It had been too long. Your people were long gone and replaced with their descendants. The faces you looked at now were watered down versions of your kin. 

“What is your name?” You ask him, looking at his face to find him staring at your hand and the waters that didn't shift with your touch. 

“Todoroki Shoto.”

You hum. “Todoroki. I’ve heard of it before. When your family was still only lords, not kings and queens.”

Todoroki’s face turns considering. “You've been alive a long time.”

“Alive is one way of putting it.” 

“Then how did you come to be? Is your gift to be an undead? A shadow?”

“I’m glad you still believe I’m some form of alive, but I assure you, my life was snuffed ages ago.” There was no bitterness in your voice, you had long ago come to accept your fate. “I was sacrificed to become the new Iraziz, my people decided my fate long before your kingdom was unified.”

You feel his ice before it crawls into the water, freezing the fountain as a look of diluted horror crosses his face. “Your own people let you die?”

You chuckle. “It’s not unlike parting your meal for your gods, or offering them a glass of wine. Or how you dedicate a moment of your day in prayer for good fortune. My people gave me to the Sun, praying for a miracle. When my life was taken, a new one was given.”

“Were you.. the first?” The ice behind you slowly melts, a hiss of steam telling you the prince was undoing his work.

Now you can feel the old ache. The ghostly touch of your mothers hands as she fixed your hair, the feeling of your fathers fingers curling around your own. 

“No. I wasn't.”

So many girls had gone through the same ritual. So many had their lives ripped away like pins in the hair. “I am, however, the last. After me, no other girls have been sacrificed.”

“Why?” What stopped them? You can see the unspoken question in his eyes.

“Each year, my spirit withers and turns weak, which is why they replaced the Iraziz each year with a new girl, a fresh spirit. But I’ve held onto this life, I’ve preformed miracles to show I’m still here. So no other girl has to die.”

The bubbling of the water fountain speaks for the both of you as you watch the people in their shops, readying their wares. No matter what their ancestors did to you, you held no hate for them in your heart. You could feel the remnants of rage that the girls before you held, but you had no such reservations. 

Todoroki watches your people with you, his eyes distant and unfeeling. You didn't understand what he was thinking, but you could feel. Feeling wasn't your gift, not like how his gift was ice and fire, but you were always open to others feelings. So susceptible. It was heightened now in death. 

“What is it you're thinking of princeling?” You ask. 

“You said something when we meant yesterday. That I needed you.”

“I did.”

“Why do you think I need you?”

“You're lonely. You feel lost, like a ghost in a living body. Something is holding you prisoner.”

He glances at you from the side. “I’m not lost.” 

“Then why do you have this look in your eyes, like you wish to be somewhere else. I felt a kindred spirit in you when I first crossed paths with you. Can you say you didn't feel the same?”

He doesn’t agree, but he doesn't disagree either. He simply stands up and begins to pace around the fountain, his hands clasped together behind him. 

You lay down on the stones of the fountain, watching his pacing. As a saint, you couldn't help but feel pulled to the needy. It was strange knowing he needed you. That a prince could be so deeply wounded that he needed a saint’s help. But you couldn't rest until he was happy, until that dark ache inside of him was soothed. 

“I.. I do not need you.” He says aloud, stopping across from you, the water fountain blocking your view of him. “I’ve already let go.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” You whisper, “I can feel you calling out. But I will be here for when you need me.”

“I don't-”

But you were already gone, and the sun was looming gold over the land. 

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - there is a fight scene included

I am not dead, just extremely busy. My summer lacrosse season just ended, so hopefully I get some inspiration to write some new chapters. In the meantime, I hope this will tide you over for some time.

Keep in mind, this was written weeks ago, so I am not in the mood to answer any weirdly specific questions about my artistic choices. In other words, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it! I know, it's a truly monumental realization.

For my kind & loyal readers, don't forget to comment, like, and follow!

- your author

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Avengers or PJO!

Ω ♆ Ω

By the grace of the gods, the group managed to pass the sirens without an issue. It seemed like the mortals had finally accepted that it was in their best interest to listen to the Seven. So, as soon as Percy warned everyone to fill their ears with wax, they filled their ears with wax. Of course there were a few complaints, but that was expected. Nobody was perfect (no matter what Narcissus insists).

From there on out, the nerves were building. Percy had informed the team that their next stop would be Polyphemus' island, and everybody, mortal and demigod alike, knew what that place was. It was where the most infamous cyclops lived, but most importantly, it was where Annabeth was being held, if Percy's father was to be trusted.

Since it would still be another two hours or so, according to the sea expert, until they reached the island, the group decided to try resting. Some tried to nap, while others sharpened their weapons or hung out on the deck. It was futile, but they were trying to prepare themselves for a situation that they had never before encountered, not even Percy.

It was safe to say that everyone was scared shitless.

Ω ♆ Ω

Leo had decided to go downstairs and tinker with some stuff from his belt as a distraction from their impending doom. It was working too! He was in his own little world that only machines could enter. That is, until Tony Stark walked up to him.

"Whatcha doing, kid?" he asked, peering over Leo's shoulder to catch a glimpse at the boy's creation.

"I'm making a mini automaton to help us find Annabeth when we get to the island," was the answer.

Taking a closer look, Tony started to see it. It was a very small machine, but if you looked closely, it was clear that it was made of metal. The automaton was about the size of a quarter, and looked like a celestial bronze spider. Leo was currently adding the last two legs to it when Tony walked up.

When Leo looked up, he held up his creation with a proud smile. "This baby can be our spy. It's eyes are tiny cameras, and it's made almost completely of celestial bronze. We can send this in, and then know where Annabeth is before we storm the place."

Tony nodded, "Yeah... Pretty good idea, kid."

And ok, so Leo was freaking out a little bit on the inside because one of his idols had just complimented his work. But on the outside, he just smiled a little wider.

"You haven't even seen the best part. You've gotta see it after I turn it on. I added stealth-mode so nobody should even be able to know it's there," Leo said, grabbing the spider and flipping it over to press a button.

As soon as he had, the spider flipped itself over in his hand and started crawling up his arm. Tony was a little creeped out, but it was blocked by the fascination for this new kind of science the demigods had. The spider should have to be controlled by a human, but it was moving like it was almost...thinking on its own. There was no way it had an AI, but that was the only solution his mortal brain could come up with.

"Is it an AI?" he asked.

"Nope. It's a greek automaton. They don't need AIs. I programmed it to listen to a few simple commands when needed, but if we don't order it around, it'll just stick around me waiting for orders. Pretty cool, right?"

"Awesome," Tony whispered, in awe of how smart this seventeen year old kid was.

"Thanks. I think I finished it just in time because I heard Percy calling us back upstairs," Leo said. Before he had even finished he was walking towards the deck, not a care in the world for the metal spider crawling around on him.

"Oh, I'm definitely becoming friends with this kid," Tony muttered to himself before following Leo.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Did you get it done, Leo?" Percy asked as soon as he had seen him.

"Yep. Here it is." Leo held up the automaton-spider.

Percy smirked. "Oh, Annabeth's gonna love that."

Leo shrugged, acting clueless. "I have no idea what you're talking about. The spider was just the first thing I could come up with."

"Sure it was," Piper snorted.

Leo fake-gasped. "Beauty Queen! How could you ever think I would lie?! I would never!"

Clint whispered to Natasha, "The kids clearly have a strong bond that only comes from fighting for their lives with each other."

Frank turned to them, surprising the spies that he had heard them, "No shit, Sherlock."

Before anything else could be said, Percy reclaimed the entire group's attention. "If you look to the right, you can see Polyphemus' island. We're going to dock on the south side of the island because that is the only way to get on without climbing a cliff and facing carnivorous sheep. Hazel should be able to disguise the ship until we invade the base, so don't worry about being seen. Leo will send in his spider to check things out and then we'll follow after we know where Annabeth is. Everybody got that?"

At the noises of affirmation, Percy nodded. "Good. Suit up if you're not already."

Of course, Tony had to break the calm solemnity by saying, "Cap, I thought that was your line?"

Everybody collectively rolled their eyes.

Ω ♆ Ω

After they docked, Leo released his spider with specific orders to find Annabeth Chase while staying hidden. That was working until Polyphemus' stupid super-senses could smell the celestial bronze. Leo hadn't known that a blind cyclops would be able to smell metal, but you learn something new everyday, right?

The spider lasted all of five minutes in the cave before Polyphemus smelled it and crushed it under his giant smelly foot. Percy had thought that the cyclops would take longer to reform, but when had he ever been that lucky? Something that completely baffled him was how the mortals got him to not eat them. The dude had been pretty desperate for food the last time Percy had run into him, so how had the weird boss guy gotten him to hold off?

The only thing he could think of for them to feed him would be...nope! He's not going there right now.

The last thing the spider had transmitted to the group was a picture of a mortal holding a gun to Annabeth's head while she was gagged and chained. It made his blood boil.

"I'm going to kill them," He growled, starting to get off the boat and storm the place.

Jason stepped in front of him before he could, "Easy, Perce. You don't know what you're walking into. They want you to go in half-cocked, so we can't give them that. You know Annabeth can handle herself, so just take a breath and we'll figure out a plan."

Percy took a shaky breath, but it did nothing to cool his anger.

"Jace, if you don't step out of my way in the next two seconds, I will be forced to move you, and trust me, you don't want me to do that."

The son of Jupiter stood his ground, "I'm not moving. I know you Percy. Hurting me would go against your fatal flaw. I'm your best friend; your family. I know you would never intentionally hurt me."

Jason glanced over at the rest of the group, who hadn't dared to move if it upset Percy even more. The guy was a ticking time bomb, and they needed to defuse it before it went off and destroyed any chance of getting Annabeth back safely.

Percy almost looked in pain as he spoke his next words, "Jason, I love you. You're my cousin, but Annabeth is my everything. I will hurt you to get to her."

Jason sighed, expecting that answer. "Then at least let us come with you on your suicide mission. I'm not letting you die without me."

"Fine, but hurry up. I'm leaving now," and Percy shoved past Jason and started the trek up to Polyphemus' cave.

Jason turned to the others, who were all staring after Percy with shocked expressions. "Well you heard him! Move your asses!"

That seemed to startle them awake. Everyone but Bruce started moving.

Ω ♆ Ω

By the time the team had been able to catch up to Percy's fast pace, he had already reached the nearest entrance to the cave. It was a dark, narrow path that had walls of rock on either side reaching up for hundreds of feet.

"This is the part in the horror movies where I start screaming at the tv to not go in there and they still go in there," Piper whispered.

They were all just staring at the darkness, and it was getting awkward. For someone who was so hasty to get to Annabeth, Percy was sure taking a long time to get there.

"Are we gonna go in or..." Tony said.

Percy sighed. "Yeah. We're going in. Just don't separate from the group."

He led the way into the cave with Steve right behind him. Percy appreciated having someone else who could take some of the responsibility off his shoulders. Almost his entire time in the godly world, he had been expected to be the leader because of his father, and he had stepped up, but that doesn't mean it didn't weigh on him. Annabeth was the only one who had been able to help him with the stress, and without her, he was losing it. He had already been barely hanging onto his control over his powers, but now without her, what he was doing could barely be called control. It was more like holding back a rampaging bull with a string.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves hiding behind the wall that led to the room where the gang was waiting. Just as the spider had shown them, Annabeth was kneeling under the gang leader's feet while he held a gun to her head.

She looked murderous, so at least something was still normal in the world.

Steve poked his head around and gave a quick scan of the room before turning back to them, "Ok so we've got at least ten humans, with five monsters. One of the monsters is as tall as a building so I think he's the largest threat. Tony, Clint, Nat, and I will deal with the humans if you guys handle the monsters. The main priority is getting Annabeth to safety. Percy, that's your job."

Saying that last bit was just to clarify for everyone else, though they looked like they didn't need to hear it. Percy had a determined look on his face, one that said he wasn't going to allow anyone else to have his assignment.

"You got it, boss," Tony remarked. "Do you just want to storm in there?"

Before he could get an answer, Percy charged into the room, leaving his friends entirely unshocked, but the Avengers were looking a little mad.

"Don't worry, plans aren't really his thing. Even if we do make them, they never go our way. It's better to go with the flow when fighting with Percy," Hazel reassured, and then turned to follow her godly cousin. The rest of the Seven followed, leaving the Avengers to just stare at each other in confusion.

"I like their style," Tony said before flying into the room.

Natasha sighed. "I'm really starting to regret meeting these kids."

Clint smirked at her before leaving, closely followed by Steve and the Black Widow herself. For all three of them, everything about this mission was against their nature, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They were in unknown territory with a group of newly-allied teens and no backup. It was a shitshow before they had even left.

Ω ♆ Ω

Frank was fighting a dracaena, and it was making it super annoying. The thing would not stop talking about grocery stores. It was quite distracting when trying to kill it.

"Seriously! Can you believe how nobody can see how bad those chains are?!" it exclaimed.

Frank sighed, ready for it to be over. Whenever he would try to stab it, it would just slither away right at the last second, all the while continuing to complain.

He decided to use his shapeshifting abilities to catch the thing off-guard. In reality, he could probably deal with it in seconds, but when he really used his inner son of Mars, it drained him. He needed to save his strength if he was going to fight Polyphemus.

Speaking of, so far, the cyclops had stayed out of the fighting. He was just sitting on his throne made of rock, picking at his teeth with what Frank really hoped wasn't a human bone.

Frank changed into a squirrel for a second, climbing up onto the back of the dracaena with the animal's speed and before the monster could react, he changed back into a human and stabbed it through the back with his spear.

"Huh. I guess you can shut up," he remarked as the monster turned into dust.

After, Frank turned to help Hazel take down an empousa. She had already defeated four before that, so it was a pretty easy fight. He had been keeping an eye on her throughout his fight. Sure, he trusted she could take care of herself, but it was also his job to watch her back.

"Thanks," Hazel told him with a quick peck on the cheek after they finished.

Believe it or not, that kiss on the cheek was a major improvement. It had been a real adjustment for Hazel to learn how couples expressed affection nowadays, and it had taken even longer to start showing it herself. It helped that Frank preferred words over touch, too.

"No problem."

Ω ♆ Ω

"Get some, térata!" Leo screamed, running up to the manticore and sending giant, continuous blasts of fire at it.

He had heard of Dr. Thorn from Nico, Percy, and Annabeth before, and had somehow retained the knowledge that it was extremely durable on the outside. That meant that he had to think smart in order to beat it.

So far, Leo was distracting it and holding it off with his fire while he thought of a plan. However, he could only hold it off for so long. He would eventually tire out.

Come on, Leo, THINK!

Then it hit him.

It was so simple! He had been told the story of how the Nemean lion was defeated at Camp. Now usually, he would totally ignore any schooling he was given, but the stuff they were taught at Camp was much more interesting than algebra. So yeah, he remembered some stuff.

So, he decided that his best shot at beating Dr. Thorn was landing a large enough hit inside of him. That meant he had to figure out a way to get him to open his mouth. That wasn't really the hard part, though. The hard part was figuring out how to not die when he had to get closer to the monster.

"Estoy jodido..." he muttered before taking a step forward, never once stopping his assault on the beast.

The Manticore didn't seem to be moving back from the intensity, but rather reveling in the fact that he hadn't gained one burn from the fight. He was just waiting out Leo.

That was not a fun revelation for the son of Hephaestus to have.

And that was when the thorns started attacking him. He should've been expecting it, really. The guy had a tail of poisonous thorns and he hadn't used it yet? Something should've registered in his mind. But that was past-Leo's mistake. Present-Leo had to deal with the super tall, scary, poisonous, and royally pissed-off greek monster in front of him.

Dr. Thorn let out a war cry and swung his tail around, releasing a line of spikes at Leo, who managed to just barely duck out of the way. He was not keen on becoming swiss cheese!

"Ok. It's time to end this." Leo sighed in annoyance, jumping back up and charging.

He swung his battle hammer up and lit it on fire, deciding that he might as well stick with the common theme of stupid ideas. He managed to keep dodging attacks all the way up until he was within ten feet of the manticore. Then, he threw his weapon at the monster, praying to Apollo for good aim. He had fixed the sun chariot plenty of times, so the god had to owe him at least one favor.

Once again, Leo's stupid demigod luck kicked in and the hammer somehow embedded itself in the monster's mouth, which had been opened in a prideful roar. Honestly, the son of Hephaestus didn't know HOW he did it, just that it worked.

With the distraction of having a flaming hammer in his mouth, Dr. Thorn didn't see Leo running up with his arms raised and prepared to fire. By the time he did, it was too late because long blasts of fire were flying straight towards his open mouth.

The monster was able to mutter a silent curse before he disintegrated into dust, once again sent to Tartarus.

"Take that, bitch."

Ω ♆ Ω

Piper was absolutely sure the Fates were laughing at her. They had to be. There was no way that she just happened to be stuck with the two empousa. It didn't help that Jason was struggling to not drool over the girls. She just had to keep chanting in her head that the monsters were using their charm powers on him, and he was not actually attracted to the disgusting things.

After the two monsters tried to both swipe at her at the same time, she growled and shouted, "Jason! Get your head in the game and come help me!"

He had been blinking and shaking his head for the past two minutes and it was getting quite frustrating to have these donkey-cyborg-vampires ganging up on her with no back-up. Once this was over, she was going to make Jason work to get back in her good graces.

With just a little bit of her charmspeak added into her order, Jason was finally able to break free from the empousai's spell. He quickly willed his gladius to be a javelin and launched it through one of the monsters, which made it explode into a shower of golden dust. A traitorous part of Piper's brain insisted on calling that move hot, but she was able to school her expression back into a scowl before her boyfriend could notice.

The other empousa let out a shriek and said, "You MONSTERS! That was my sister! I'll make you pay for that!"

They only had a second to appreciate the irony before she launched herself at them with even more fervor than before, fueled by the rage of losing her "sister."

Jason couldn't help but notice how she was wearing a cheerleading costume. It was very ripped and destroyed, but it was clearly a cheerleading uniform. And as he was deflecting her claws, the ADHD part of his brain realized that the logo on the uniform was for Goode High School, Percy's old school. He almost wanted to laugh when he remembered the story of Kelli, an empousa acting as a cheerleader during Percy's freshman orientation. Percy had always said the monster had a nasty habit of coming back quickly, but Jason had just thought it was an exaggeration. But no, he and Piper were really fighting Kelli, one of Percy's recurring monsters.

It would be hilarious later, truly. But for now, he had to actually kill the thing.

Kelli had backed off when she realized that attacking out of rage wasn't going to work against two experienced demigods, and that also gave Jason and Piper a chance to make a plan themselves.

"Got any ideas?" he asked Piper.

She grinned with a terrifying amount of murderous glee. "I thought you'd never ask."

And then she told him her plan, which was essentially just using him as bait while she got to do all the killing. The prideful Roman part of him wanted to insist on him killing it, but he managed to reign that in when he saw the look on Piper's face. She was not asking, she was telling. Who was he to say no, especially after he hadn't been able to fully resist the empousai's charm?

A scary thought told him he was turning into Percy. He brushed that off for later nightmares.

"Come get me, bloodsucker!" He shouted, raising his arms up in a taunting manner. If he was acting like Percy, might as well go all the way right?

With yet another shriek, Kelli stormed at Jason, completely disregarding the daughter of Aphrodite that was stepping back and preparing to literally stab the monster in the back with her dagger.

Sometimes Jason wonders how a creature could be so stupid. Their plan was so obvious!

It went off without a hitch, technically. Piper let the empousa get a little too close for comfort before she killed it, but he trusted her to get the job done and she came through. Kelli had been prepped and ready to bite into his neck right before she exploded into dust.

It was one Hades of a trust exercise, that's for sure.

"Please don't let it get that close next time, Pipes," he breathed out while he put away Juno's Gladius.

Piper gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Not a chance, Superman."

Ω ♆ Ω

Considering the circumstances, the Avengers weren't doing half-bad. They were actually fairing pretty well. They knew how to deal with humans, so their job wasn't that hard. The only difficulty was that there were four of them and ten of the bad guys. They were sorely outnumbered.

Currently, Steve was fighting two at once, with a third opponent already knocked out a few feet away. He was blocking one with his shield while punching the other in the face. He then switched roles, instead kicking the first attacker and driving his shield into the gut of the second. The one he gutted gasped and fell to the ground, and was knocked unconscious was a simple hit to the temple. While he was distracted with taking down his partner, the still-conscious bad guy recovered from the kick and was able to land a hit to the back of Steve's head. Clearly, the fighter had been prepared to have achieved some form of disorientation from the Captain, but all he got was a pissed-off Avenger.

"That tickled."

It took less than five seconds for Steve to take him down after that.

Natasha also started with three adversaries. Key word being 'started.' It had taken barely any time to take down the first two. And all she had to do for the third was a scissor kick and hold until he passed out. She had just finished doing that when a call from Clint got her attention.

"Nat!" he shouted.

She turned on instinct and threw a throwing knife at the person running up behind her straight into their chest. They stopped with shocked features before falling to the ground in a heap, dead weight pushing the knife even further in and no doubt killing them faster.

"Getting rusty, Clint?" she teased, throwing a look over at her friend.

"No," he defended. "I'm just making sure you're not getting rusty!"

The archer hadn't realised one of his two attackers had sneaked off to go after the "bigger threat." He would never let Nat know he thought she was the bigger threat, though. That would be fueling an ego he knew was somewhere deep down in her.

Tony had been given two people to fight as well, and he was doing pretty well. He had the obvious advantage of being in the air, so all the gang members he was fighting could do was try to shoot at him with their guns, and his armor was designed to withstand a nuclear bomb. Bullets weren't gonna do much damage.

"Guys, seriously, we should just talk this out. We both KNOW I'm going to be knocking you both out in five seconds, so why don't you surrender instead? It'll be so much easier for the both of us!" he said, raising his hands and readying his repulsors.

As expected, the bad guys didn't show any sign of slowing down their useless attack on him. With a roll of his eyes and an obnoxious sigh, Iron Man shot them both in the chest, knocking them out cold.

"That felt too easy. Did that feel too easy to you?" He asked the other Avengers as they gathered back together.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Tony," Natasha said, "That fight was too good to be true."

Now that the truth had been revealed to them, the Avengers could blame what happened next on the Fates.

Ω ♆ Ω

There it is! I hope you liked it

other chapters :)

[rose-demica]

My Superhero, Hamilfilm lyric Challenge Fic.

My entrance into @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ Hamilfilm Lyric Challenge, thank you so much for letting me join! I had fun with this. 

Lyric: We have seen each other through it all.

Character: Clint Barton

Pairing: Clint/Reader

Warnings: Angst, (maybe, I’m unsure of the definition of angst), Hopefully a mostly gender neutral reader. I try to be super ambiguous with all my reader characters. Female Reader (sorry I forgot he uses the pet name Princess) Mentions of Reader torture. Severe Dehydration, Gangs, Gang Violence, mentions of a few dead bad guys. Reader getting into tough situations. A DC reference - it makes sense, I promise. No beta reader because despite my best intentions I left this until the last minute again. (It’s 2am a day after due where I am :/ )Gunshot wounded good guy.

Credits: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ a-plan for the challenge, and @zombitch-cas​ for the divider.

5 times Clint saved you, and the 1 time you saved him.

You still remembered the first day you met Clinton Francis Barton, a memory you were sure had burnt itself into every corner of your brain. 

It hadn’t been a sunny day, nor a rainy one, yet it hovered somewhere in between, a damp mugginess that had the shipping container you were in heated to what you imagined hell to feel like. Sandpaper slipped out of your mouth, an attempt to moisten your cracked, bleeding lips, or maybe an attempt to catch a bit of the sweat dripping off your body, a drop or two of water, something to soothe the ache in your throat. You weren’t too sure anymore, all your brain could do was scream out for liquid, you’d take anything at all in that moment. 

It was an effort to open your eyes, the bright light they’d left on in the container burning into way too dry iris’, forcing yourself to focus, you searched for anything within reach that could quench your thirst, calm the raging heat racing through your veins, threatening to turn your body to ash. Your eyes fell shut, fighting your orders to open, to find something, anything. 

The creak of the doors had your eyes obeying once more, praying it was your tormentors, coming back to either give you water, or finally put you out of your misery. You hadn’t told them anything, you didn’t have the answers they wanted. 

It wasn’t your normal tormentors standing in the doorway, but instead a man in a navy blue costume. You struggled to stay focused on it, forcing yourself to note the little things. He was wearing what looked like a reinforced wetsuit, but the left hand sleeve had been cut off, revealing a strong muscular arm that flexed as he lowered his bow and unnotched an arrow. You ignored the stinging in your eyes to see a weirdly gloved hand running through sandy blonde hair as the man’s steel blue eyes scanned both you and the container that was your cell. The needles stabbing in your eyes prodded your brain, and they fell closed despite your attempts to keep them open. 

“How-” Your voice cracked, struggling to talk with how dry your throat was. “How you gonna torture me with that Aquaman?” You forced yourself to speak anyway, he had to know you weren’t afraid, you weren’t about to just give up, no matter what he was about to do to you.

“Aquaman?” Came the offended response, a pause, before you heard movement coming towards you, you braced yourself for a blow of some kind, revenge for your comment. But instead gloved hands softly grasped your bruised face, turning it. “I have water, can you open your mouth?” Your left eye cracked open, scanning him until they settled on a bottle of water, you licked your lips automatically, unable to take your eyes off it. “Only a few sips, if you drink too much you’ll be sick.” You felt something cool press to your lips, and you opened them, greedily taking the small amount he offered, unable to hide back a sigh of relief as you felt it moisten your mouth before rolling down your throat. The heat around your chest lessened as the cool water raced to settle in your stomach. You followed the bottle as it moved away, straining against both your shoulders and the chains that forced them to stay above your head.

“You can have more in a few minutes. I’m going to unbolt the chains around your feet okay?” You heard shuffling, before feeling hands brush along your ankles and feet. You felt the moment they fell off, ignoring the clunk of them falling to the floor, pulling each up close to your chest, relishing in the fact they were no longer pulled as tight as they could go. It had been so long that you were sure they’d stretched you at least a foot longer. 

“Will you be alright with my arm around your waist? I need to hold you against me so you don’t collapse when I release your wrists.” You opened an eye, watching as he stood up and shifted to stand behind you. “Kinda hard to rescue you if you’re chained to the roof there Princess.” He prompted when you hadn’t answered, waiting for your permission to touch you.

“They uh-” You wanted to motion at your stomach, at all the cuts and bruises that had been roughly bandaged up in an attempt not to kill you before you could tell them everything, but your hands were still bound. The strange man seemed to understand what you were hinting at regardless, lifting up your shirt and making a sound that reminded you of a wince. You were pretty sure at least two of your lower ribs were broken, and you would have the bruises to prove it. 

“I’ll try be gentle.” His arm wrapped around you, settling just under your bust where the least amount of cuts and bruising was. It was a gentle embrace for a moment, letting you adjust as he shifted around you, you felt him settle moments before he pulled you back against his chest. “Countdown from ten.” He ordered, 

“10, 9,” It hurt your vocal cords, but it had to be for a reason right? “8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3,” The arm around your chest tightened, lifting you up, and with it, took the weight off of your wrists. You heard his hand move, the chains rattling as he did so. “2, 1.”  Jelly arms instantly collapsed, weight coming off your shoulders as your hands crashed into your sides. The man shifted behind you, before you were lifted into a bridal hold. 

“Alright Princess, let’s get you back to your castle.”

To say you were screwed was the understatement of the century. Your employer had given you false information, everything they had on this job had been a lie. Whatever undercover informant they thought they had was clearly a double agent. Which meant this had been a suicide mission from the start. Something you would have loved to have known before you got to this point. 

In fact, maybe even before you wasted 3 months building a cover, and getting what you thought was real information out to your supposed handler. Or, even just 1 hour sooner, before you’d been sent to the basement to get files - a task you’d done several times before - except this time, they’d been waiting for you, and with a quick blow to the head, you were out. 

Which was why you were back here, strung up in a shipping container, and staring your former tormentor in the eyes as money changed hands behind him, one goon paying off your grinning employer, eyes gleaming as he stared into a duffle bag full of cash. 

“Everyone loved hearing about how a pretty little Shield Agent rolled in here and rescued you. Ruined that reputation you worked so hard to build.” Your tormentor reaches out to stroke your face, and you flinch away, only to feel the pull through your shoulders as the chains caught and kept you still. “Made it so much easier to get someone to turn you in. Give you back to me.”

“I thought they brought you all down.” You had heard your mystery rescuer talk about it over comms as he carried you out to where a medical team was waiting, returning to the building as soon as you were with the Doctors. 

“They didn't know how big we really are, the reach we have.” His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head to one side. “Their mistake.” You felt a knife press gently against your neck. “Mine was letting you escape, and I assure you, it won’t be one I make again.” You pull your hair free of his grasp, taking the briefest moment to glance at your supposed employer as they took the cash and left without a backwards glance and with it, your hope that you might be freed. 

~~~~ 3 weeks later ~~~~

Your head is heavy, static buzzing through it as you hung from your wrists, wait- your arms were down by your sides, no tension stretching your shoulders from above your head. Were you lying on a bed? There was something oddly soft beneath your back. What trick was your tormentor playing on you now?

“Hey Sleeping Beauty, it’s Aquaman, you’re safe.” You feel a calloused hand slide into yours. “You’re in a hospital room, the docs say you had a rough time, but you’ll make a full recovery. Go back to sleep, I’ll be here, nothing will happen to you.” You recognise his voice, your lips twitching upwards, stinging as it pulls at the cuts and bruises that you know cover your face. “Yeah, you’re due more pain meds, the nurse will be by soon.” You want to nod, to respond, to say thanks for rescuing me once more, but you couldn’t, not when you were being dragged back into the sweet release of sleep.

You take a deep breath in, glad to smell something other than the hauntingly clean smell of hospital. Even if it was just the hospital gardens you had escaped to, the nurse gave you permission to leave your room as long as you were in a wheelchair. An order you had obeyed, until you had found a quiet corner of the garden, until you were alone. Your first step up had been shaky, clinging onto the bench you’d decided to use for support. Your next was okay, hands outstretched as you tried to balance on shaky legs that screamed in pain.

“Princess.” You pause as the man you know as Aquaman jogged up to you, he was free of his wetsuit, wearing normal everyday clothes. Black ripped jeans, and a plain lilac shirt covered by a black leather jacket. He lifts his sunglasses when he reaches you, steel blue eyes giving you the once over, lingering on your injuries as he assesses if you should even be out by yourself. “What are you doing?”

“Going for a walk Aquaman, it’s what us surface dwellers do.” You tease, taking another shaky step. He instantly steps closer, one arm wrapping around your waist to support your weight. 

“It’s also something you aren’t supposed to do.” He sighs, shaking his head, but moving with you as you continue to take small steps along the path. 

“Where were you?” He had promised to not leave your side, and today was the first time you had woken up without him.

“Called up to work for a moment. Sorry Princess.” He sweeps an arm under your legs, scooping you into a bridal hold before you even notice your own legs buckling. “I want you to come work with me. We had a meeting to discuss how we could do it, if you’re willing.” He places you on the bench rather than in the wheelchair, sitting down beside you. 

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been looking after myself my whole life.” You knew you were ruined, if your tormentor had actually spread that you had been rescued by a government agent there was little chance of you ever working again. Not with the crowds of people that would hire someone with your talents. But you didn’t need this... Aquaman offering you a job out of pity.

“I know you have, and it's not pity. It’s my fault- our fault, that this happened. If we had done our jobs properly, if we hadn’t listened to that damned rat.” You reach out to take his hand as it clenches into a fist, his whole body stiffening with anger. “But you’ve been on our radar for a while now, not really in a good way, but you weren’t one of the kill on sight, so... anyway, bosses said yes, they’ll draw up a contract for you to look over and you can decide after that.” A smile tugs at your lips as he rambles, his other hand running through his hair.

“Will your bosses ever trust someone who once worked for the other side?” He barks out a laugh, looking down at you with a knowing smile.

“God I hope so, I was on the kill on sight list. So was my best friend, we’re the top agents now.” He sat down next to you, entangling his fingers through yours. You shift, turning towards him as he does the same. “All I know is I can never bear to see you in another container, strapped up and tortured. I need to know where you are, know you’re safe.” His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, leaning in closer. He moves slowly, giving you a chance to pull away, but you don't, leaning closer as your eyes fall closed. His lips are gentle on yours, brushing past and pausing, another chance for you to pull away, to stop him. 

But you don’t, you don’t want to. Your free hand moves to tangle in his shirt, leaning back against the bench as you tug his body to crash against yours, slipping your hand to his waist before it could be trapped in between you two. A smile rests on his lips as they press to yours, it disappears when a gentle pressure on your cheek tilts it, slotting your lips together. Your lips dance, both of you barely pulling away to gasp for air before leaning back into each other. 

“Breath Princess.” He pulls away first, despite your hand on his back trying to keep him close. Your lungs screaming for air, forcing you to concede. He chuckles, his forehead rests against yours, thumb stroking your cheek, his chest heaving as much as yours was. 

“I guess I should stop calling you Aquaman, and start calling you my knight in shining armour.” You whisper, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

“You can call me whatever you want Princess, but my name is Clint, Clint Barton.” He pulls back slightly, a wide smile on his face. “To be honest, Aquaman is starting to grow on me.” You laugh at the smirk and wink he gives you, before moving your hand to his head and pulling his lips back down to yours. “So does this mean you’ll consider coming to work with me?” He asked, pulling away from your lips. 

“I’ll think about it.” He groans and you laugh, you probably would take the job, it wasn’t like there was much of a choice, if your name really was ruined... you’d still need to work, earn money, and to have the government protecting you from the target on the back. But if your name wasn’t ruined, if you still had everything you’d worked for? 

Then again, if anyone learnt about your Aquaman you’d be screwed anyway. 

The least you could do was look at the contract and consider it. 

“Princess.” A hand waves in front of your face, you blink, turning to look at Clint. “I said we should head back up, if you’re ready?” He was offering you his hand, and it was so much more than just an offer of help to return to your hospital room. 

You hesitate, looking between him and his hand, wondering if you were really ready for all of this. 

But then he smiles at you, eyes dancing with glee and mischief, and you know your answer. 

“I swear to God Clint!” You raise your voice, yelling over the gunfire you were somehow surrounded by. You were both on a mission, your first solo mission since you had joined Shield, since you had started dating Clint. A test of how well you could work together in a professional situation. One you know he'd been bugging his bosses for since you started. The chance to be alone with you, away from Headquarters. Clint had tried to take time off, but hadn’t had much luck, always being sent to a new place, a new mission. Between that and the fact you were a new, barely trusted, recruit meant that you didn’t get much alone time yourself.

Here your job was to sow doubt in the minds of the two gangs in the area. Get them working against each other, as well as against themselves. Shield was worried they would combine forces, take over the city, then turn their sites on the entire country, making yet another Mafia-State. Your job was to stop it before it could get that far. 

Clint’s job was to have your back from a rooftop far too far away for your liking, but he swore up and down he was good for it, the distance wouldn’t be much of an issue. Stubbornly, he refused to move any closer, so you were forced to deal with it. 

Part of the plan had been to shoot a member of the Onyx Tribe in front of the others, blame it on the other gang, the Brotherhood of Shadows. Flames to fuel the fire you were slowly adding gas to, but not yet, things weren’t ready yet. Yes, there were members of the Onyx Tribe watching as you walked into the Brotherhood’s headquarters, you had planned it that way. You had not expected to watch one of their bodies fall as you exited, nor to be forced to run towards the nearest car and duck behind it as bullets started flying. Wishing more than ever that you could have taken a gun in with you, had something to defend yourself with.

“I am in your ear Princess, you don’t need to yell at me.” Comes his quick yet grumpy response, you can hear him shuffling in the background, clearly repositioning himself now that you were caught in the middle of it all.

“The plan was for me to get out before you started the turf war! And-” You look around, you need to get out of here, you weren’t aligned with either side, they both had seen you in each other's headquarters, it was the whole reason you were here. If things were going down, neither side was going to risk life and limb for you.

“I DIDN’T!” You recognise the stress in his voice, hearing more shuffling. “I’m looking, but I can’t find the shooter. You need to get out of there.” 

“Where? Nowhere is safe. I step out from behind this car and every bullet will be aimed at me.” You hear a tsk before the line falls silent, letting you concentrate on getting yourself out of there safely. 

Your eyes dart everywhere, seeing all the civilians that were cowering for safety, seemingly all too comfortable with what they should do when gunshots rang out. They were all slowly making their way into the nearest buildings, to safety. You needed to do the same, get out of there before you were one of the bodies that dropped.

“There’s a Brotherhood tango, coming up your right hand side, he may not be dangerous. I’m watching.” You turn to face the left, squaring yourself up so that you could dodge out of the way if a gun was aimed at you. If Clint took him out at least you’d have a weapon. 

“You okay Sweetheart?” You breathe a sigh of relief as one of the mobsters comes into view, his gun still in hand, but held down by his leg. He offers you a hand up and you take it, standing. “Seems like they sent a couple of thugs to watch you, and didn’t like what they saw.” You force a laugh, 

“Thanks for saving me.” You bat your eyes at him, flirting as if he was your hero. He smiles back, listening as the last gun shot rings out, voices yelling to each other instead. Around you, the civilians breathed a sigh of relief, all rushing out of the area before things could get worse.

“Excuse me?” Clint growls in your ear, “he didn’t do anything.” Neither did you Aquaman. You shake your head with a chuckle. It is best to flirt with the brotherhood thug, pretend to be weak and helpless, just caught in the crossfire. As long as the brotherhood doesn't suspect you a ‘traitor’ you would be safe with them.

“Let’s get you inside.” You take a step out from behind the car, back into the open. The thug behind you steps closer, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You offer him a smile in response, leaning back towards him. You need him to protect you, he had to believe he was. 

“GET DOWN!” You duck as soon as Clint yells at you, feeling a whoosh of air tug at your hair. You twirl back behind the car, turning to see the thug who had come to your rescue laying on the ground, blood seeping from a fresh hole in his torso. The wind must have been a bullet, narrowly missing you.

"Get me out of here!" You hear a dark chuckle from the other end of the line, before the unmistakable sound of a sniper rifle being fired. 

“Let me sweep for more. Stay there.” There was no laughter nor joking in his tone anymore, it had gone the moment you both realised you were the target. Something much bigger was at play than just the pair of you getting to spend some time together, while instigating a gang war. 

“How did the other Brotherhood members react?” Your fingers were itching to reach out for the gun on the sidewalk, but it was on the other side of the dead man, too far out from your hiding place. You would need the surprise element Clint offered you if you were to have any chance of defending yourself. 

“Busy.” Comes the muttered reply in your ear.

“Clint-” You need to know, your life depends on it, but you fall silent as he growls, clearly trying to concentrate. 

“Stay low, keep objects on your left, move quickly. I can’t see another sniper, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t. There may also be a ground team. I’ll call for an emergency evac, meet at the rendezvous point.” You waited for him to speak again, shifting your weight from foot to foot, ready to leap at someone before they could get the drop on you.

“Clint I’m unarmed and in the middle of a turf war. I can’t just-” There was no way there isn’t backup on the way. Even if it was just people to collect the bodies of their fellow gang mates. The danger hasn’t passed, even if the bullets stopped flying.

“Then you’ll come to me, and we’ll go together. I’ll cover your retreat to me.” You nod, sticking your hand out to the left, towards the sidewalk, waiting to see if anyone else was going to fire at you. “It’s clear.” You move quickly, staying doubled over as best as you can, pausing only to sweep up the thugs gun, at least now you have a weapon.

The gang members that remain alive call after you as soon as you step out from behind the car, but you ignore them, walking quickly towards the building you know Clint is set up in. The second you are clear of the block you break out into a run. It probably isn’t the smartest idea, but the more space you can put between you and them the better. 

“You’re clear so far. I’ll start packing down when you reach the next block. See you soon Princess.” You don’t pause as Clint speaks softly in your ear, nor do you reply, you have to keep going. It was already suspicious enough that you were fleeing the scene of a turf war with a gun in your hand, holding a conversation with someone that isn’t beside you could only make things look even worse for you. The sooner you get to Clint, the better.

You throw yourself through the revolving doors, barely pausing before running up the stairs, straight to the highest floor, where you know Clint would be. Where you had left him a few hours earlier. 

“Princess.” Clint breathes a sigh of relief, lowering the gun he had aimed at the door when it opened. You don’t waste any time, crossing the room and leaping into his arms, Clint catches you, wrapping his arms around you to both support your weight and hold you close to him. “I was so worried.” You press your lips to his, tangling a hand through his hair.

“We need to get out of here.” You whisper, moving your forehead to rest against his. His head follows yours, pressing another kiss to your lips.

‘Whoever is after you, I will stop them.” He shifts one hand up to grasp at the back of your head, pulling your lips into another bruising, desperate kiss. “I will protect you.” His breath rolls cross your lips as he whispers. 

“I know you will.” You whisper back, unwrapping your legs from around his waist. Clint understood, setting you down before going back to packing up his sniper. It gave you a chance to look around, the room isn’t as you had left it. There was a body on the floor, a man tied up, bound and only just breathing. 

“I’m fine Princess, a damn superhero.” Clint catches your gaze, reaching out with one hand to lift your face to his, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

“I know, but I’ve got your back too.” You whisper back, only to hear Clint chuckle. 

“I know you do Princess.”

You had promised to have his back, to protect him from the people who wanted you dead as well as the people who wanted him gone. The people who slipped through Shields cracks, or those you were assigned to investigate. 

But you hadn’t been there. No one had. You and Natasha had been sent on an undercover mission, radio silence with headquarters until your covers were established and it was safe. But they should have broken the rules, should have called you the moment their name came up. They should have never given Barton the case, not without proper backup, without anyone other than you or Natasha. It was personal for him, it always had been. 

It was why you were here. Why you and Natasha were both here. The two women Clint Barton loved more than anyone and anything else in the world. The two women who loved him more than anything else in the world.

It had started the second you had checked in, Agent Coulson had cut your handler off with two words that had sickening dread grasping on to your very soul. ‘They have him.’ Natasha needed more than that, but you knew, you knew. 

Coulson had given you a last known location, and nothing would stop you from finding him.

Nothing had stopped you from finding him. 

The things Shield had taught you meant that you were better, stronger, smarter than you were last time you were in this compound. Places you’d been dragged to while you were drugged and half-conscious were now places you recognised, directing teams with a silent flick of your hand, before it returned to the auto rifle you were carrying. 

It meant that things that used to scare you no longer did, taking down everyone and everything that got between you and the man who had saved you so many times before. The man who needed you now.

It wasn’t luck that you ended up here, alone. Everyone else split off at your order to follow down other paths. You knew the chance of Clint being where you sent them was low, but there would be others, information and back up that could be handled by them while you found Clint.

You fire two shots, each hitting the guards standing dead in the chest, ignoring the sound as their bodies slumped to the floor. Blank eyes staring up at you. 

You pause in front of the door, the one you knew Clint was behind, the one that had once held you as they shifted between bases. Here, a place you had never been able to name or describe, but now instinctively knew. 

You reach out with one hand, keeping the other on the trigger. You only twisted the door a little, enough to open it, before withdrawing your hand. You would need both on the gun if someone else was in there. The second your hand was on the gun you were kicking the door open. Trying to ignore the feeling of dread that was growing stronger and stronger in the pit of your stomach. The part of you that is screaming ’you’re too late’. 

Tears welled in your eyes. Clint was alone, the room mostly empty, aside from a table, then him, strung up by his wrists to the ceiling, more chains holding his ankles down to the ground. You could feel the stretch in your own shoulders, as if it were you strung up there once more. The cuts and bruises that litter his bare chest could easily be matched with the scars on yours. The only difference was that unlike you, dehydrated to the point of insanity, he was drenched in water.

“Clint, Clint baby I’m here.” You set the gun down on the table, moving past it to his side. You weren’t strong enough to lift him, not the way he had you. Hopefully, he would have the strength to help you help him. 

Your hands went to his face, one slipping down to his neck, checking for a pulse. A sob left your lips when you found one, slow, weak, barely there, but a pulse nonetheless. Your other hand taps on his cheek, an attempt to wake Clint, see some form of life within him. 

“I’m going to get your ankles, okay baby?” You speak softly, bending down to unshackle his ankles. You felt his feet twitch, and looked up just in time to see steel blue eyes sliding closed. A sigh of relief left your lips, he was okay, he was awake.

“I thought he was your Aquaman?” You jump, the door to the room slams closed, your gun grabbed off the table and pointed at you as you reach for it. “I told you I wasn’t going to make the mistake of letting you go again. You’ve delayed this long enough.” You raise your hands in the air, knowing it was what he wants from you. A part of you asked how he knew what you had originally called Clint, what you still call him on occasion. 

“You’ve got me, let him go.” You know better than to beg, know better than to think it would work, but you had to try. It was your fault Clint was here, strung up in your place. But he couldn’t save you from this, he was right, he had only managed to delay this moment. You always end up back here.  In a room like this, helpless and needing rescue.

“You know better than that, if I let him go he’ll just save you again. No, I realised a while ago that I had to take out your guardian angel to get to you. I was hoping you’d both take the bait, but lover boy here came alone. I knew you wouldn’t be too far behind.” 

“At least let me help him down, he isn’t conscious-” There was a pause, “You can’t string me up if he’s there.” Hopefully he hadn’t noticed Clint awake, maybe then you could lure him here, a ruse to help get him down, and you up. The two of you should be able to overpower him, all it would take was a brief moment of adrenaline from Clint, one last time he would need to save you, so that you could save him. 

“I do like seeing you strung up in front of me.” He kept the gun pointed on you as he moves closer, one hand coming off the gun to tangle in your hair and tug it to one side. It was Clint’s time to act, and he took it, somehow he found the strength to haul his whole body up, wrapping his thighs around your tormentor’s throat and squeezing. 

You go for the gun, hands wrapping around the muzzle as shots ring out, you feel the hot metal as it sears into your skin, but no pain comes of it, instead you wrench the weapon out of his grasp and toss it to the side. A hand coming down to your waist and grabbing a knife, plunging it in the chest of the man who was slowly turning blue. 

“He’s gone baby.” Clint’s body goes slack at your words, your tormentor falling to the ground, but you pay it no mind, how could you when at the same moment Clint’s eyes roll back in his head. “NO!” You reach out with a hand, only to find it covered in a warm sticky substance. Blood. Clint’s blood. 

You scramble to cover the bullet holes in his chest, reaching around the other side only to find matching exit wounds. Three lifting across his chest and two the right, the way the gun had been facing when the trigger had been pulled. You knew you were screaming and crying, words you couldn’t hear falling off your lips. 

Natasha was the first to find you, a whole strike team on her heels and medic’s on theirs. It didn’t take them long to cut Clint down, lay him on a stretcher, and start racing him off to the nearest quinjet. 

“Go.” Natasha’s voice was the first you heard, her hands guiding yours to the stretcher and making sure you were grasping on to it. The world spins back into focus within the next few seconds. 

“We’re losing him!” The medic’s cry grips your heart, they weren’t losing him, you were.

“Clint baby.” You speak softly, ignoring the way blood gargles in his throat as he gasps for air his lungs can’t feel. “We have seen each other through it all. You can’t leave me alone now. I need you.” I will always need you.

“Good job Agent, he’s fighting to hold on.” One of the medic’s encouraged you, making sure that you stayed with them the entire rush through the compound. You reach out, taking one of Clint’s hands in yours, trying to ignore the cold clamminess they emitted.

“He’ll be fine, right?” The medic smiled sadly at you, they couldn’t promise you anything. Not even as you all raced onto the quinjet and took off for the nearest hospital.

“I’ll be okay.” You look down, only to see steel blue eyes looking back up into yours. Clint turning his head and spitting out blood before turning back to you with a soft smile.

“Don’t talk, save your strength.” You scold quickly, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead. One hand running through his hair, getting the wet strands out of his face. “You owe me a whole lot for saving your arse this time.” A bark of laughter left Clint’s lips, quickly turning into a cough that had you helping him turn for, so he could spit out the blood that came up with it. 

“I think you’ll find I saved you Princess.” He forced himself to speak talking, but you could see the toll it was taking on him, his face was growing paler, a sweat breaking out over his body. 

“Whatever, Aquaman.” Another sob left your lips as his eyes rolled back in his head, the medic’s forcing you out of the way and yelling something you couldn’t hear, the world falling silent around you.

Bonus Epilogue! Because I couldn’t just leave it there. 

“You know, I am a superhero myself now, you don’t have to keep buying merchandise for the pretend ones.” You laugh as Clint comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. 

“I happen to like Aquaman thank you very much.” You reply, gently placing the extremely rare mug back onto your shelf of family treasures. 

“Oh, what’s he got that I don’t?” Clint starts to slide his hands away, but you turn to face him, looping yours around his neck. 

“Well-” Clint glares as you start to tease him, “He’s got this pretty awesome spouse.” Clint chuckles, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“I know I do. I love you Princess.” He whispers, pulling away only slightly.

“I love you too Aquaman.” You reply, tugging his lips back down to yours.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Melt I

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy

Next up for @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday, is the sense of Smell!  This was not the plan when I started writing, but when do things ever go to plan for IR?  As with Nothing (See), and Pulse (Touch) we’re going to be changing povs each chapter.  Probably.

Snowy rescues are always the worst.  Always.

A sea breeze had a distinctive scent.  The freshness of the air tinged with the slightest bit of salt combined to be one of Gordon’s favourite scents (another one was that on perfume Lady Penelope seemed to use whenever he was around, sweet and subtle just like her), but something told him he shouldn’t just be laying on this soft beach relaxing.

He wasn’t entirely sure what it was.  Maybe it was a sharp smell of burning metal, wafting his nostrils unpleasantly and stubbornly, or the dull pain in one of his legs informing him not-so-politely that it wasn’t happy with him.  His wrist was far from pleased with its current condition either, judging by the signals it was throwing at his brain.

Or maybe it was the rasping voice calling his name.

“Gordon?  Gordon!  Gordon!  Wake up!”

Did he have to? It was comfortable and warm here. The sand was pleasantly hot and as long as he didn’t move, his leg and wrist wouldn’t be too grumpy with him. What had even happened, anyway?

“Gordon!”

Raspy-voice sounded panicky. A heavy, hot hand crashed onto his shoulder clumsily and he groaned in protest.

“Don’t wanna,” he sulked, but the clumsy hand shook him and his wrist sent a stabbing pain up his arm. “Okay, fine, fine.”

He peeled his eyelids open slowly and squinted at the bright sun streaming down directly into his face. Ow.  He loved the sun, but did it have to be quite so intrusively bright and in his face?

Everything was bright, but as he turned his head to the side and blinked away vicious afterimages of brightness he realised something wasn’t quite right, not including the pain from his body.  The fresh sea breeze he’d been enjoying had vanished, replaced with a stillness that was almost stifling.  Nor was it warm – in fact, it was far, far too cold.  It wasn’t soft, either.

Hard, cold and wet.

Snow.

That thing none of them liked anymore, not even too-young-to-remember Alan.  That thing they’d ended up fleeing to the South Pacific to escape.  But missions called, and not liking snow was not a good enough reason for them to refuse to attend.

A mission.  He was on a mission.  It was also highly unlikely he’d been on a mission by himself, considering he never did anything other than a water rescue solo – and that the heavy, hot hand on his shoulder was still there.

He squinted against the bright.  Blue told him nothing – they all wore blue, it showed up very well against white – and he squinted further.  He just needed a flash of colour to remind him who it was, but there was blue, blue and more blue.  No green, no red.

Well, neither of those colours meant he was probably supposed to be looking at grey.

“Gordon!” raspy-voice demanded again, and this time Gordon managed to place it, and with identification came clarification.

That burning metal, unmistakable in its stench, was the remains of a HeliPod and sadly not a figment of his imagination.  He’d flown up with Scott – who had been told under no uncertain circumstances that a jetpack was not acceptable to go whizzing around snowy mountains by both Virgil and John – but something had gone wrong and he’d lost control of the HeliPod.  He didn’t remember what, but there was a very good chance that said HeliPod was never going to fly again.  Brains would be mad.

“Gordon!”  Scott’s repetitive rasping was getting annoying and Gordon moved his not-complaining wrist to flap in his direction.

“Yes, yes, I’m awake.” He should probably work on sitting up. Aside from the wrist there was no tell-tale pain in his torso.  “Move your hand so I can get up.”  Scott didn’t oblige, and he rolled his eyes.  Smother hen out in full force.  “Scott, I promise I can sit up just fine.  My leg and wrist hurt but otherwise I’m all good.”

“Gordon!” Scott insisted again, and he groaned even as something in the back of his head nagged that something wasn’t right.  He reached across his body and grasped Scott’s hot, too hot, hand, nudging it away from his shoulder before hauling himself upright.

Oh, well that explained why his leg didn’t seem too happy.  It was twisted weirdly, definitely broken.  Okay, no walking any time soon.  At least he had Scott for company while they waited for the second-best Thunderbird to appear overhead, scold them for being reckless, and yoink them back into blessed warmth.

Gordon was starting to feel very, very cold.  That wasn’t a good thing.

“Scott, I’m not going anywhere with this leg.  Can you come over here?  My suit isn’t dealing too well with the temperature.  I want a hug.”

The clumsy hand flopped on the snow where he’d just been laying.  Red and blistered fingers didn’t look too good, but as Gordon looked over at where the brother attached to said arm was, he realised they were in more trouble than he’d expected.

“Gordon!”

Scott was looking at him. That was good.  That meant he was conscious, and seemed to be aware of his surroundings.  Always a positive!

The burning HeliPod was closer than he’d realised, however.  Much closer.  Flaming-metal-on-neoprene closer.

There was a reason they had special fire-retardant versions of their suit if they ever had to enter a burning area.  Neoprene was fantastic, but it wasn’t designed to take much intense heat for long. Scott’s face was white, eyes screwing shut now Gordon was paying attention as he mouthed soundlessly for what looked suspiciously like help. Well, that wasn’t good.  Scott wasn’t wearing his space-rated uniform.  Exposed fingers plus burning metal did not a good time make.

Gordon’s deep-water-rated uniform had full cover gloves.

“I’m coming!” he promised immediately, a broken leg suddenly inconsequential in the face of his brother’s melting uniform.  With one hand he gripped Scott’s wrist, avoiding the angrily blistered fingers that told of a lost battle, while the other worked with his unbroken leg to propel him through the snow.  Agony shot through his leg, but Gordon had dealt with worse.  He grit his teeth and ignored it, reaching out as soon as he was close enough to shove at the burning metal.

Barring the full gloves, his own suit was no better designed to handle burning metal than Scott’s. The chill of the show was quickly overturned by burning, burning in his fingers as he gripped at it and pushed.

“Move!” he ground out through grit teeth, fumbling his hold for a moment before readjusting his grip. His uniform was screaming at him, alerts flashing up that heat parameters were being exceeded.  Well bully for them; from the state of it, Scott’s uniform had long since exceeded heat parameters.

Somewhere, he idly noticed John wasn’t telling him off for his recklessness.  He hadn’t heard John since the explosion, actually.  Hadn’t heard anything except the rasping voice of the big brother trapped by burning metal.  He could worry about that later.  Right now, he had to get Scott free and assess him for damage past burnt fingers from wresting with burning metal.

He pushed and pushed, but to no avail.  He just wasn’t strong enough.

The metal wouldn’t move.

Scott was trapped, and Gordon was powerless to free him.

He slapped his baldric, right over the familiar iR indentation.  No time for niceties, no time for anything except a single plea.

“HELP!”

Part 2

[narniagiftexchange]

                                      THE WINTER NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

                                   for @bexlynne  by  @luxaofhesperides .

DREAMING OF A GREENER GRASS.

 Jill wakes up with an apple in her hand.

 This is not the first time this has happened: she’ll dream and in those dreams pick up a variety of objects that somehow end up in her hands when she wakes up. The dreams themselves are vivid and feel real, as though she never fell asleep at all. The strangeness of it all forces her to keep quiet, but whenever her mind isn’t occupied by her studies, she wonders about it.

  At least this time it’s something mundane and easily forgotten. Food can easily be eaten or left on a table for someone else. It’s much harder to hide daggers and bear claws and gem-studded cups. She had a hard time hiding those ones, especially when Eustace asked if she had picked up anything recently with a strangely sharp look in his eyes.

 Sighing, she forces herself out of bed and sets the apple down on her bedside table. Lately, she’s become the first one to wake up in her dorm room, rather than the last. Sleep evades her the moment the sun rises, and Jill has given up on falling back asleep after the first week when she lay in bed, bored, for two hours.

 The new boarding school she goes to has separate buildings for girls and boys, and sticks four students per room. It’s a cramped space, and Jill is beginning to worry about where to hide things; sooner or later she’s going to run out of room under her mattress.

 It’s the last day of class, and Jill skips it because she’s not going to be doing anything in a stuffy old classroom, so she might as well do nothing outside. She’s a decent enough student that skipping a few classes means nothing to her, and no one cares enough to hunt her down. And whenever she chooses to spend her day hidden outside, laying on the grass, Eustace always stumbles upon her and keeps her company.

 He really has changed, she thinks, but then again, so has she. Narnia leaves quite the mark on people, even if it’s not so visible.

 “Fancy seeing you here, Pole,” Eustace says, dropping down into the grass beside her. “Never would have thought I’d see you skipping class.”

 “Ugh, spare me,” she groans, swatting his arm, “I’ve heard that joke too often. What’s brought you to my neck of the woods then?”

 He shrugs. “Just felt like it.”

 Jill hums, and lets the silence settle between them.

 “It’s… been quite some time since we came back, hasn’t it?” she muses, thinking out loud. Since the dreams started, her thoughts turn to Narnia more and more, and there’s only one person she knows who would understand what she speaks of.

 She expects Eustace to ask her why she’s bringing this up now, or not really answer at all. They haven’t spoken of Narnia since the first week back, when they arrived at this new school after the abrupt closing of Experiment House. He does neither of these things; instead, he says, a little quiet, a little melancholy, “It has been a while. Somehow, leaving a second time is worse.”

 Jill turns her head to look at him. He has his head tilted back, looking up at the sky in all it’s bright and blue glory. “In what way?”

 “It was much more abrupt this time. And Capsian…” He trails off. “Last time, we stood at the edge of the world, and had a chance to say goodbye. It was hard for my cousins, since it was the last time they’d ever be in Narnia. And they told me about how time flows differently there, how they lost a thousand years. But I guess I never expected to see him die of old age. Never really expected so much time to pass.”

 He’s much more open with his emotions now. It’s nice, Jill thinks, remembering back to Experiment House, just a year before, where he sneered at people who cried and vehemently avoided any talk of feelings. She couldn’t stand that Eustace. But this one, the Eustace besides her, is her dearest friend.

 She’s lucky to have him with her.

 Jill hopes that Tirian has someone like Eustace with him; a friend, someone to rely on. Someone to trust.

 “Do you think we’ll ever go back?” Jill asks, reaching out to hold his hand, offer a small comfort.

 He’s silent for a while. Just breathing, existing besides her.

 “No,” he says, “Not me, at least. Maybe you, but I think that was the last of Narnia I’ll ever see.”

 “I don’t want to be in Narnia without you. It’s you, Puddleglum, and Tirian that I was there for, after all.”

 Eustace smiles, and finally turns to face her. “How weirdly sweet of you. Did you eat something funny this morning?”

 Scowling, she slaps his arm again as he laughs, then pauses. “Actually…”

 “Wait, if you actually feel bad, go take some medicine.”

 “No, no, not that,” Jill reassures, “It’s just that. Lately, there’s been something…      strange     going on.”

 “Strange?” Eustace repeats.

 “Strange,” Jill says, “Very strange.”

 He eyes her for a moment, looking serious  as she lays sprawled on the grass, then slowly leans back until he lies on the ground as well.

 “Well, give it to me straight. Are we going to die?”

 “My dreams are real,” she bursts out, and Eustace blinks, trying to process her words.

 Pursing his lips, he says, “I’m not quite sure how to explain to you that that’s not how dreams work.”

 “I      mean    , I dream things and I wake up with them. I dreamed up an apple and I was holding it when I woke up.”

 “Are you sure you just haven’t been sleep walking and hungry at night?”

 "I dreamed up a sword and a jewel covered cup.”

 Eustace shots up as though he’s been shocked, and stares at her with wide eyes. “Does the cup have emeralds in it,” he says, growing louder with each word, “Is it made of gold?”

 Jill stares back, unsure of where this is going. “…Yes,” she slowly answers, “How could you possibly know that?”

 “I was a dragon.”

 “I need a little more explanation, Scrubb.”

 He waves his hand in the air. “You know.” Jill does not know. She stares.

 “Last summer, when I ended up in Narnia with my cousins, I became a dragon because I tried to steal gold from a dragon’s hoard. Aslan fixed me up, but I still carry some dragon traits.”

 “Like what?”

 “Well, I’m really good at finding things. And I know when someone has something valuable. That’s how I knew you had something with gold and emeralds a while back; it’s like a sense, or a certain smell. I can’t explain it, but it’s how I was when I was a dragon.”

 “Huh,” Jill says. “Well. That’s. Hmm.”

 Eustace shrugs. “Narnia leaves its mark on people. I just the dreams are your mark.”

 “Hmm,” she says, and files this new information away for later.

 That’s all they say of it that day, before Eustace turns the topic onto his newfound love of baking, and they say their goodbyes, promising to meet up during the summer despite the distance between their homes.

 It takes a few nights of testing. Jill dreams and tests the limits of her awareness; she’s practically awake, but there’s a haze covering everything, making it feel unreal. She supposes it      is     unreal, being a dream and all. Even so, she explores her dreamscapes, mostly neighborhoods and unfamiliar house and sometimes a forest filled with silence.

 She brings back an acorn and a blue mug to the waking world, then starts to test the limits of her dreams.

 Just like lucid dreaming, Jill can control her dreams, to a certain extent. It takes a great amount of focus to change the landscape, so great that she wakes up immediately after managing it. Every night it becomes easier, and that’s all Jill needs to keep going.

 She can also dream up certain things. She calls up flowers and candles and even a few birds. Jill begins to wake up more exhausted, but the thrill of controlling her dreams makes her push past it. She’s been successful in every one of her experiments so far, but the next is what she’s been looking forward to.

 Jill spends the day distracted, writing a letter to Eustace about spending a day together, and does her best to picture him as accurately as possible as she writes, She barely tastes any food she eats and can’t remember a single word her father has said; instead Jill is focused on the ticking of the clock, waiting for the hours to pass and the sun to go down.

 The nerves alone almost keep her from falling asleep. But the pull of it is too strong to be put off for long, and a few minutes after she’s laid down, staring at the sliver of moonlight that managed to slip past her curtains, Jill is falling into darkness and opening her eyes in a dream.

 “Okay,” she says to herself, psyching herself up, “Worst thing that can happen is that it doesn’t work.”

 Letting out a deep breath, Jill stands and surveys the landscape around her. The grounds of Experiment House greet her. She stands at the bushes where Eustace first told her of Narnia; perhaps her subconscious still has some say on what she dreams.

 She focuses, staring into the empty space in front of her, trying to pull Eustace in. The familiar drop of her stomach hits, and suddenly, he’s there, confused but undoubtedly Eustace.

 Jill laughs, giddy with excitement, and throws herself forwards to hug him.

 “What– Jill?” he says, patting her back. He’s shocked enough to use her first name, which makes Jill laugh even more. Perhaps it’s time for first names, anyways. They’ve already helped Narnia together. Surely being kidnapped into her dream is a good enough time to stop using their surnames.

 “Eustace! You’re in my dream!”

 “Oh, well, excuse me. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

 She rolls her eyes and pulls away from him to let him look around. “No, you dolt,” she says, “Don’t be so polite. I pulled you into my dream.”

 “Oh!” he says, “This is the dream thing you told me about a while ago!”

 “The very same.”

 “And you choose to dream about Experiment House?” Eustace sounds far too judgemental for someone who can’t control his dreams. Unacceptable.

 She tosses her head and says, “No! Well, not really. I don’t choose what my dreams look like when I first end up in them. But I can change the landscape! Takes a lot out of me, but I can do it.”

 Eustace hums in response, not bothering to say anything. He sounds disbelieving, which. Rude. Jill wants to change the landscape just to spite him, but she knows it’ll end her time in the dream rather quickly. Maybe some other time she’ll be able to show off and prove him wrong.

 For now, Jill focuses on another issue.

 “You’re properly Eustace, right?” she asks. “Not just a version of him my mind’s created, but you’re really you, right?”

 He frowns, and says, “Well, I hope so. I’m not sure how to tell if I’m not me.”

 “Well, we’ll know when we wake up and you remember this. Oh!” Jill stops, holds out her hand, and imagines an apple dropping into it. Once it’s in her hand, she tosses it to Eustace, who fumbles with the catch. “Assuming you are really Eustace, let me know when see each other in two days if you wake up with that apple in hand.”

 “Hey!” Eustace suddenly exclaims, “If this does work, then you can dream me up ingredients and I won’t have to go shopping for them!”

 Jill stares at Eustace, who grins as though he’s thought of something very clever, then sighs.

 “I can’t believe you,” she groans. “I can dream things up and pull them into reality, and you want to turn me into a grocery store?!”

 “Well, you’re not really a grocery store since I won’t be paying you.”

 “And why won’t you be paying me!”

 “Can’t you just dream up some money?”

 Jill pauses, then tilts her head, considering. “You know what? I      could    do that.” She shakes her head, turning back to the matter at hand. “Anyways, you have to let me know if it works! I still haven’t figured out everything with this whole dreaming business.”

 “I will, I will! Now, can you dream us somewhere else? I was really hoping I’d never see this place again.”

 “Pole!” Eustace waves at her from across the street, then quickly makes his way over, grinning. “Come on, my house is close by and my parents are out so we can talk about Narnia without anyone overhearing.”

 “Alright, lead the way,” she says, gesturing for him to go forth. “Say, have you had any strange dreams lately?”

 He turns back to grin at her as he pushes past people on the sidewalk. “I have actually. Dreamed we were back at Experiment House and you gave me an apple.”

 “So it worked!”

 “Well, the apple was gone when I woke up, but besides that, I’d say it did.”

 “Good. There’s one more thing I want to try, then.”

 Eustace turns the corner and Jill hurries to catch up, squeezing past people and bumping into quite a few more in her hurry. He laughs when she calls out to him to slow down, but waits for her at the end of the street. He doesn’t bother dodging when Jill punches his shoulder, so she calls it even and he slows down enough for her to keep up.

 “You’re always such a menace,” she grumbles ash she waits for him to unlock the door of his house and let her in.

 “You’re the one who came across town today, not me. You could have just stayed home.”

 “Shut up. It’s so I can know the results of the dream.”

 “And definitely not because we’re friends,” Eustace teases, opening the door..

 Jill elbows him as she steps inside, looking away to hide a smile. “Of course not, why would I ever have friends when I’m busy taking over the world?”

 “Then I guess you didn’t come for the cake either.”

 “Oh, no, the cake is the only reason I’m here, actually.”

 “Well!” Eustace says, clapping his hands together as he kicks the door shut. “Come on, let me get you a slice and you can tell me how it is.”

 He leads her to the kitchen and shoves a pile of letters and other papers to the side before pulling out plates and forks. The cake he takes out of the fridge actually looks nice, shaped by the placement of thin apple slices and lightly covered in caramel.

 Jill whistles. “Wow, that actually looks edible!”

 “We’ll see if it is once you eat it.”

 “Can’t believe I’m willing to die for this cake,” Jill grumbles as Eustace carefully cuts out a slice and lays it on a plate. He hands it to her and watches nervously as she takes a bite. Just to mess with him, Jill is careful to from being to expression, making him fidget more each second. Then she smiles and nods her head.

 “Alright,” she says, “That’s a damn good cake.”

 The grin Eustace gives her is bright and his shoulders slump as though a great weight were taken off of them. “I’m glad. I was worried it’d turn out bad.”

 “Keep baking like this and I’m sure you’ll be opening up your own shop soon enough.”

 “You think so?”

 “Yeah, so long as you give me a few discounts when I come by.”

 “That aside!” Eustace says, fighting off a blush, “The dreams!”

 Setting her empty plate down, Jill nods, leaning back against the counter. “The dreams,” she repeats. “Were you really there? How much do you remember?”

 “All of it. So it really works? You can really control your dreams?”

 “And bring other people into them, it seems. But I guess only I can bring things I dream up back into the real world.”

 “What are you going to do next?”

 Jill tugs on the hem of her shirt, and looks away, suddenly feeling anxious. “Well, I was going to try to bring Tirian into my dream.”

 “But he’s in Narnia,” Eustace says, shocked, “We don’t even know how much time has passed since we left.”

 “I want to try, at least. I keep wishing we were able to spend more time with him.”

 Eustace sighs, then nods. “Alright. But bring me into your dream if you’re going to try. I don’t want you to end up stuck in your dreams because some Narnian magic trapped you.”

 The relief she feels is overwhelming. While part of her anxiety came from worrying whether it was possible to bring Tirian into her dreams, another part was worrying about what she should do if she got stuck in Narnia through her dreams and couldn’t wake up. There was no one else she could ask her help, not in this world, but at least she wouldn’t have to go about it alone.

 How lucky she is to have Eustace as a friend.

 Maybe she should dream up ingredients to bring him next time.

 “So how’s this all work?”

 “Well,” Jill frowns, “I just kind of. Imagine what I want in my dreams and try to bring it to me. It takes more effort with anything larger than a chair, but it’s worked for me so far.”

 “It’s all very-” Eustace waves a hand in the air, “-vague. Magicky. You know.”

 “It’s a      dream    , of course it’s vague! It’s not like I got step by step instructions on this.”

 This time Jill dreams up her grandparent’s house out in the country, and old thing surrounded by green fields and wildflowers. Eustace is looking around, poking the wooden fence that is falling apart and inspecting the flowers beneath it as though he expects his hand to phase through them. But Jill’s dreams are always surprisingly real; the world around her is solid and both she and Eustace are able to interact with it as though they’re awake.

 “Alright,” Jill says, taking a deep breath, “Wish me luck.”

 “No,” Eustace says almost immediately, shooting her a grin.

 She sticks her tongue out at him, then concentrates on the space in front of her. She thinks back to Tirian, tied in the chair, helping them through the cave, returning to Narnia and turning back to them moments before Aslan returned them to Earth. She focuses, imagines him standing in front of her, and      pulls.  

 For a moment, nothing happens. The disappointment sinks like an anchor in her stomach, then the air in front of her warps, shimmers, shifts.

 Tirian slowly comes into focus, eyes closed and sleeping. He sways for a moment, suspended in the air, before he pitches forwards. Eustace rushes forwards and catches him just as Jill throws herself on the ground to cushion their fall.

 It’s only because this is a dream that she’s not feeling pain, but the impact knocks the breath out of her regardless.

 Carefully, Eustace sits up and pulls Tirian with him, allowing Jill to move and push herself off the ground. Tirian sleeps through this, too.

 As Eustace tries to shake him awake, Jill claps her hands in front of his face a few times, then frowns.

 “Maybe it’s because he’s in Narnia that he’s asleep?”

 “I mean… It’s a good a guess as any,” Eustace says, pinching Tirian’s cheeks. “Can’t you dream him awake?”

 An idea forms in her head that makes her grin. “Oh, I can do you one better,” she grins, then imagines a bucketful of cold water being dumped on their heads.

 Immediately, Eustace is jumping up, shocked and offended. Tirian sputters, rolling away and then sitting up to shake his head.

 “What?” he says, looking around panicked, “Hello? What? Where am I?”

 Jill quickly dreams the water off them both, then reaches down to grab Tirian’s hands and pull him up onto his feet.

 “Welcome to my dream, Tirian!”

 He stares at her for a long moment, eyes wide, shocked. He glances behind her at Eustace, then softens.

 “My friends!” he says, throwing his arms out, “I never thought I’d see you again!”

 Laughing, Eustace barrels into both of them, trapping them in a hug.

 They stay there together for a long time, just reveling in the feeling of being together again, without having to worry about being whisked away and forgotten. It feels so real, and for a moment, Jill is horribly heartbroken to know that when she wakes up, she will be alone. Eustace will be across the city and Tirian will be a world away.

 As though he knows what she’s thinking, Eustace tightens his grip on her, then pulls away. His eyes are bright with unshed tears, and Jill swears that, for a moment, they look golden.

 “How am I here?” Tirian asks, looking at them with wonder in his eyes.

 “It’s all her,” Eustace says, patting Jill’s shoulder. She flushes and shakes her head.

 “I don’t really know how it works, but I can control my dreams. Make bits of them reality. So I dreamed you here.”

 “Incredible!” Tirian beams. “I am glad to know you have not forgotten me.”

 She shrugs. “Yeah well, I thought it was a shame that we didn’t get to spend much time together. Eustace too, though he’s spent more time in Narnia that I.”

 “Yes, my father used to tell me stories about his voyage! I’m still having trouble remembering them, the memories come without warning, but you were a dragon, weren’t you?”

 “I was,” Eustace answers, “It didn’t last, obviously, and while it scared me at first, I have to admit that being a dragon was rather fun.”

 “How unfair,” Jill mopes, “You get to be a dragon and travel to different places, and I almost get eaten by giants!”

 “I also almost got eaten by giants. I was there too.”

 “Well, this isn’t about you.”

 Tirian laughs at their banter. “You must be very close. I can only hope I have a friendship as good as yours someday.”

 “You’re friends with us, aren’t you?” Jill asks, “We didn’t get much time together, but I think of you as my friend.”

 “Same here,” Eustace says, reaching out to sling an arm around Tirian’s shoulder. “Say, would you like some cake? I’ve taken to baking recently.”

 Jill imagines the apple cake she had the other day and carefully imagines it sliced, then imagines a table and a few chairs so they don’t have to eat on the ground. Tirian startles when they suddenly appear, then follows Eustace’s lead and takes a seat.

 “I hate to ask this,” Tirian starts, “But how long do we have? We have to wake up eventually, right?”

 “We do, but we can always meet again the next night.”

 “Say,” Eustace cuts in, “How long do we have left in here?”

 “I’ve decided: time isn’t real, so we’ll wake up when we want to.”

 Eustace throws a cake crumb at her. “That’s not how it works!”

 “Excuse me, but is this      your     dream? Thought not. Don’t tell me what to do.”

 Tirian watches them bicker as he eats his cake, and Jill is glad to see that he seems happier, lighter, compared to when they had rescued him. He was doing well in Narnia, and she decided that even if she can never see him in person, knowing he’s alright is more than enough for her.

 “Tirian, give me something,” she says suddenly, holding out a hand. “I want to make sure I can call you back.”

 Without question or hesitation, he slips a necklace off and drops it into her hand. It’s a simple coin engraved with a lion, and Eustace focuses on it intently, before nodding to himself and relaxing back into his seat.

 “You better not lose that, Jill. It’s high quality gold.”

 “Dragons should mind their own business,” she replies, then throws a crumb at him. “Enough of that now, tell me what you’ve been up to! Have you been well? What’s Narnia like now?”

 Jill wakes up, feeling lighter and happier than she has in years. All that dreaming and imagining did make that bone deep exhaustion settle in her, but after seeing Tirian again, it’s more than worth it. She sits up, prepared to look through maps and wander around London to dream it more accurately, when something falls off her chest into her lap.

 The gold coin of the necklace seems even brighter in the waking world, and for a moment, Jill can swear she sees the lion smile.

[buckyownsmyheart]

Duty [5/12]

CHAPTER 5: The Punchline

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Language, unbearable sexual tension (with some more smooching) and terribly choppy writing

Series Summary: Ex-army doctor, and now on-mission-for-the-Avengers doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), had prepared herself for anything. That was, of course, until she met a devastatingly charming Sergeant from Brooklyn with a quick wit and a kind smile. I wonder what will happen.

A/N: Have been back on placement so chaos has ensued, this isn't as good as I’d like it but hey! We’ll survive! Some terrible jokes are within it, and so I apologise

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

 “Hey Major,” Tony sang, rounding the corner into the kitchen, looking guilty,

You narrowed your eyes at him, peering over the top of your mug of fresh coffee, “What?”

“How do you feel about going undercover?”

“Very, very badly,” you cocked your head, “Why?”

“Oh, you and Barnes are going undercover.”

“You what? Tony!” you placed your cup onto the table and stared at him, “Why me! There are so many other people that would be so much better! You have literally hundreds of agents at your disposal if you don’t want anyone being recognised!”

“If I say amusement factor, will you hit me?” You looked at him warningly and pointed your finger at his chest. “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I need someone with boxing expertise who won’t turn a match into an MMA fight, get carried away and accidentally kill someone.” He sighed, “I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this. I know you hate it, but we have word that HYDRA is using this ring to scout fighters for Project Moonshine and it’s important we can gather as much information as we can. There won't be any violence.”

“Except for the whole underground boxing ring thing.”

“Yeah, aside from that,” he put his hand on your shoulder, “I’m not going to force you to do this, you know that.”

“I know,” you stood, “How can I say no to such a kind offer? Let me change and I’ll meet you in the briefing room in 15 minutes.”

“I owe you one!” Tony called out, as you made your way to the door.

“You bet your ass you do,” you looked back over your shoulder.

The briefing revealed that you and Bucky, Tony had become quite fond of putting you together on missions, would be joining the CUB ring, short for something a little more obscene than you had imagined. You were the fighter with Bucky as your ‘handler’, making sure no harm came to you and each fight was fair, he would step in whenever he needed and suspected that they wouldn’t pit you against anyone soon because the matches would already be planned for the length you were expected to stay there for.

-

A few days later, you found yourself standing in front of a man who was so tall that he rivalled Bucky, and so wide that when he walked through doors, his shoulders looked like they might get wedged in the frame. You felt like a show dog, wearing sports clothes that left a lot more skin on show than you would prefer, to be ‘assessed’. He eyes bore into you, unblinking. You found yourself pressing your arms against Bucky’s beside you for some comfort, but you clenched your jaw and looked ‘The Jack-saw’ in the eye. You were 80% sure that a jack-saw wasn’t a thing, but that wasn’t an opinion you were about to voice.

“Bellatrix, fight name Trixie,” you spoke, trying to fill some of the awkward silence that had arisen as the Jack-Saw loomed over you, eyeing you up and down. “Like Bellatrix Lestrange, but with more finesse,” you laughed a little at your own joke, but your face fell quickly and coughed the rest of your laughter as Jack-whatsit didn’t seem to appreciate your attempt at lightening the mood. Honestly though, you couldn’t tell. His face was like a brick wall. It looked like someone had sculpted it out of clay, with a wide-set, well-defined jaw, a high brow and a nose with a high arch, but then the sculptor had dropped the face on the floor, to give a now squashed and slightly uncomfortable looking result. He continued speaking as if you hadn’t said anything and boomed down to you.

“Our fighting is mixed, so you and your trainer here,” he eyed Bucky with suspicion, “Need to get prepared. We only have 1 other female fighter and she’s missed the past few matches so we’ll slot you in instead of her. Your first fight is tomorrow evening, 1:30, here.” And he strode out the door, leaving you and Bucky staring at each other.

“Well, that was easier than I was expecting,” you shrugged.

Bucky gently pulled your arm and turned to you to face him, he looked serious, “This is bigger and sooner than we expected, you don’t have to go up against these guys and risk getting hurt, we can send in other agents, it’s no big deal.”

“Careful Sarge, people will think you’re getting soft,”

“I’m serious.”

“I know, Buck, but I’m a big girl, if I can get a few punches on a super-soldier, I can hold my own out there.” You met his eyes and tried to abate his concern and assure him that this mission was going to be okay. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his blue eyes as he offered you his hoodie to try and ward off the chill that had settled in the room.

You gratefully accepted and pulled the hoodie over your head. You had to try very hard not to completely cocoon yourself inside it and never breathe any other air that didn’t contain Bucky’s scent. Because that would be weird. Instead you bumped his shoulder and walked towards your new living quarters.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re never getting this back.” You casually mentioned and grinned at him when he let out a laugh.

-

You and Bucky both stood, staring, looking between each other and the situation in front of you. This was definitely new, and typical of the universe to throw it at you both.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,”

“Bucky, you’re not going to sleep on the floor,”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind, I’ve slept on the floor before,”

“We are grown adults, and we can sleep in the same bed together without falling dramatically in love from each other.” Oh yeah, nice one. Like that won’t happen. You were still wearing his hoodie and would have 100% slept in it if you weren’t in this current position. “Alright, I’m gonna have a shower and change, you do your thing.”

After taking a cold shower and using your nice soap because of a certain reason that was currently in the room next door, you wandered back into the room and saw Bucky, shirtless, in tartan pyjama bottoms, reading a book.

“Didn’t know you could read?” you smirked at him, ignoring the flutters in your stomach, “Bathroom’s free if you want it,”

He chuckled, “Yes, ma’am,”

You got into bed, pulled the covers up to your chin and willed your heart to stop beating so wildly. The bed dipped down, and the smell of peppermint filled your senses.

“Night, Major,”

“Night, Sergeant. Remember no funny business. You’re in bed with the new underground boxing champion Trixie, and she takes no prisoners.”

He chuckled lightly and moved around under the covers, trying to get comfy. Sleep came surprisingly quickly considering there was a human sculpted by the gods lying there next to you.

-

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was that your cheek had stuck to your pillow. As you tried to unpeel it, you had to wiggle around to try and get comfortable again. Why was your pillow so high? And hard? And warm? Your eyes snapped open and you didn’t dare move another muscle. This was not your pillow.

“Morning Doc, didn’t quite picture you as a snuggler,”

“Barnes, if you dare move before I’m fully awake, I will strangle you and your imaginary dog for good measure.” But now you were very much aware of his flesh hand encircling your waist, his fingers resting on your hip and the heat radiating off him from where half your body was in contact with his.

“You know, you’re almost endearing when you’re half-asleep.” He gave a small chuckle.

“Shut up. Alright, where’s the coffee? I’m up, you can release me from your titanium clasp.” You rolled over, “Seriously though, do you work out your finger muscles? They’re weirdly strong.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked, suppressing a snort that caused you to jolt up,

“I didn’t mean it like that! You pervert!” You threw a pillow at him, with a look of disgust on your face. “I’m going to get ready, so I can train for this evening, whilst simultaneously removing those disgusting images from my head.” You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. Please god let this be over soon, because charming and flirtatious Bucky was way more than you could handle.

-

The morning had been spent planning and scheming. Paper, highlighters and files spread around every inch of the bedroom. You had laid out the mainframe of what was going to happen, with Bucky on the lookout for where they were taking people and asking other handlers about the girl who had gone missing, and you would be focussing on not getting your ass handed to you on a daily basis by the other fighters. Bucky had tried to convince you that a banana and mayo sandwich was normal, and it felt oddly domestic and comforting.

By late afternoon, you had gone to the gym, warming up and stretching a little, but before long, you were back in the ring, circling Bucky as he held out training focus pads. “I know you’re good at this, but these guys will be a lot bigger and heavier than you, so your main aim is not to get hit,” He coached.

You stood up, dropping your fists and deadpanning him, “Really Buck? You think my main play was going to be 'let them hit me as many times as they wanted'?

“Come on, you know what I meant, play to your strengths.” He motioned to the pads, and you jabbed and swung at them. Bucky continued, “They’re going to think you’ll be running them around in circles, so they'll be trying to pin you in a corner. Let them do this and hit them with the body shots. You’ve got a strong left hook, and hopefully your southpaw stance will throw them a little. Go left hook, right hook just above the belt and uppercut.”

“Like Tyson did to Boyd in 2015?”

“Yeah right, exactly. Okay, I need you to try it out on me.”

Without letting him rethink his decision, you immediately threw your entire weight behind your left punch, aiming it at his abdomen. You realised too late that this was a mistake. Bucky stepped you and swept his leg under yours. On the way down, your legs tangled in his as you tried to find a foothold. This managed to leave you both on the floor, panting heavily as Bucky tried to support his weight above you. Your faces were only inches apart and you could feel his breath fanning your face. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes flicked down to yours. Oh man. You were so screwed.

“That was an illegal move,” you whispered, trying to ignore his numbing gaze.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re seriously thinking about right now,” He practically growled at you,

“It’s one of the things, in there, somewhere...” You trailed off. You were really struggling to think straight given how quickly your mind was racing. It was wrong for this to happen and it would most likely lead to falling down the rabbit hole, but my god he was so tempting. His hand pushed a stray hair away from your forehead.

“Bucky…”

“Nope,” he interrupted you, “For once, don’t use your logic brain,” and his lips crashed into yours. This kiss seemed different from the one at the art gallery, it was needier, more desperate, and conveyed more emotion than words ever could. You pulled your gloves off and weaved your hands into his hair, pulling gently at the roots to try and ground yourself. As he gave a soft moan, the slight parting of his mouth allowed your tongue to slide over his lips and find his, deepening the kiss. Your bodies were now pressed so close together, you could feel every ridge on his body, every bump and curve. You had never felt so safe, so at home as you did now. You couldn’t deny your emotions and had to accept that he was everything to you.

A loud cough brought you back to reality, and a loud voice shouted, “Not here, use a room!” After hearing a door slam, you pulled away, looking a little sheepish. Bucky was scanning your face, the tips of his ears were tinted pink, and he gave a small laugh. Rolling off of you, he stood up, holding his hands out for you to take. He hauled you up, and you gripped him hard as your knees weren't quite ready to support you yet. You stood, chest-to-chest, your hands on his shoulders, and his on your waist, unable to move for a few seconds. Him? You could definitely get used to. This? Absolutely-bloody-terrified you.

-

After the small heated make-out session incident in the boxing ring, you had abandoned training and gone to have a shower in the changing rooms, not-so-subtly avoiding Bucky. You were now stood outside your door, trying to find some courage that had all but deserted you. You counted yourself down, took a deep breath and entered. Before you could say anything, Bucky turned to you, as if he had been expecting you, and started talking.

“I like you, Major. I like how you know already but won’t admit it to yourself. I like that you’re fierce and you stand up for what you believe in. I like how always wear odd socks, and especially how you keep them on when you know it annoys Tony. I like how you can read me like a book. I like your sarcastic comments and stupid jokes. I like how you squeeze my hand twice to reassure me. I like how you care about people above and beyond a normal human. I like how you make me hot chocolate after I’ve had a nightmare, and never push me to talk about it until I’m ready. I like everything about you, darling, I hope you know that.”

“You know I think the world of you, Buck, and I want to be with you, but the thought of someone knowing me intimately, and letting my walls down, showing people that I’m not always okay scares me. I wish more than anything that I could leap into your arms, but I don’t think I can. I need some more time to try and get my head sorted, I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked, and you glanced up, forcing yourself to look at him. As you did you were engulfed in a hug, his arms wrapping around you and his aroma entirely filled your senses. All you could do was fold yourself inside his embrace and will the tears to stay away.

“Don’t be silly, don’t apologise, I understand,” he murmured into your ear.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, and prevent any tears escaping, you choked out, “How long you been working on that speech, Sarge?”

He chuckled, his body reverberating around you, “Well I’ve had a few months to think about it.”

You squeezed him harder, trying to tell him how you felt, how much you appreciated him through this hug, and the returning squeeze he gave you made you hope he understood.

He lifted his arms from around you, and you immediately missed the comforting weight they had given you. “(Y/n), I’m going to give you some space and I'll work on...” he paused, his eyes flicked to the side, “This excuse. I’ll be back in an hour or so for your fight.”

He grabbed his coat and walked out of the door, leaving you to flop dramatically onto the bed. You were so close to swearing off any emotion and becoming a hermit in the south of France with a goat named Gilbert. Or Godfrey. That was undecided.

You knew that, for you, at this moment in time, you had made the right decision. It would be unfair on Bucky to initiate something that you both might regret. You had spent so long relying on yourself and being your own support that you had forgotten what it was like to lean on someone else, and you hated that you struggled to do it, but you needed an adjustment period.

-

A few hours later, you found yourself heading towards the changing rooms again, headphones plugged in and turned up loud, tuning in your senses to prepare yourself for the match. As you sat down on the bench, Bucky entered, looking tall, broody and devastatingly handsome. Come on, get it together you thought, now was not the time.

“You okay?” He mouthed, knowing your music was far too loud for voices to be heard, his ever-piercing blue eyes searched your face as he rested his hand on your shoulder, concern lacing through his features. You nodded in response and held out your hands to him for him to wrap. You were thankful he didn’t mention them shaking. Although you had boxed throughout university, and sparred at the compound, you hadn’t properly fought a boxing match in a few years. You were also used to sparring with you opponents before the match to see what their level was and gauge their moves, but apparently that wasn’t a thing in the illegal underground boxing scene. You didn’t even know who you were fighting. Bucky gently pulled out your earbuds and you realised he had been trying to say something to you.

“Come on Trixie,” he said, using your fight name, “We’ve got a fight to win and underground schemes to mess with.”

You nodded, sliding your hands into the gloves he was holding out and touching them together a couple of times. He pulled the hood up of the kimono you were wearing and lead you to the door.

The cheering of the crowd was deafening as they called out the name of your opponent, Dave “The Cleaner” O’Neill. He was shorter than you had expected, and a lot slimmer. It seemed they did take weight classes into some consideration. As your name was called out Bucky led you to the red corner, and a surprising number of cheers went up. I guess they were all pretty excited about the prospect of violence.

In your corner, Bucky pulled off your kimono and put in your gumshield. He cupped your cheek and moved to speak in your ear, “Just like we practiced, you’ve got this, I believe in you.” You leaned into his hand, closed your eyes for a brief second before turning and taking a few strides into the centre where your opponent waited.

The ref said a short, “Let’s keep it entertaining,” before blowing his whistle. You and Dave (you had decided to call him this because it was a little less intimidating than ‘The Cleaner’, not that that was much better), tapped gloves and darted back, on the defensive. He immediately started circling and jabbing out, trying to ascertain how experienced you were, and whether his reach was an advantage, but you kept back, dodging and watching for any tells. He was throwing a lot of his weight into his punches already, I guess he was used to fighting bigger guys, but it meant his footwork was sloppy.

Trying to draw him into his mistakes some more you took a few left swings at his face, seeing whether it would unbalance him, but he seemed pretty steady. Thinking back to your session with Bucky earlier you tried to remember what he had done to take advantage of you making the same mistake that Dave was doing, but that only brought back the memory of him pressed up against you. This distraction earnt you a punch in the face. Yep, should have seen that coming. Man, he could punch hard. Luckily, he had only hit the side of your mouth, your lip probably wasn’t bleeding, but you might have some funky colouration in the next few days. You were now, however, extremely pissed off. Leering forward, leading with your left, you snuck some body punches in with your right, but the bell went off, signalling the end of the first round.

You moved back to the red corner, opening your mouth for some water and panting hard. Bucky looked at you seriously, but you just shook your head, don’t, and he got the message.

In the next round, Dave had a stupid cocky look on his face. This did nothing for your mood. You tried to keep a level head, because that was what you had always been taught, in any situation, keep a level head and you can worm your way out of it. Stretching your neck as the whistle blew, you prepared yourself. You leaped forward, ducking under his obvious first right hook and delivered a blow with your left to his now exposed side. As he instinctively tried to cover it, but you dropped under his arms and executed a right hook to his other side. As he moved back, you seized your opportunity. Bringing your right fist upward in a decisive uppercut, Dave’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground. Knock-out. You were in a daze as your hand was held up and you were ushered out of the ring, down a corridor. Before you had fully processed what was happening, you were in an unknown room, handcuffed to a chair, with an aching jaw and ‘The Jack-saw’ standing in front of you.

“Usually when I’m handcuffed somewhere, I know the person a little better.” You joked, but he, again, didn’t seem to appreciate it. “Come on, smile a little, it won’t hurt. Why don’t we play 20 questions? I’ll start first, if there was a song that embodied your life, what would it be? Mine would be ‘I Don’t Care’, you know the new Ed Sheeran one? I feel like he understands me on a whole new level.” You were trying to delay him, either talk him to death or distract him long enough to work the pin that had previously been holding your shorts up into the handcuffs.

“You talk too much.”

If it was possible, you would have said he looked even stonier than before.

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” You made a thinking face before continuing, “I feel like you’re a Taylor Swift man. You seem like the type. It’s always the unexpected ones you know, I had the scariest boss ever, but he was never so scary after I walked in on him singing ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’. Kind of takes the terror out of a person.”

“We’re taking you on a little road trip, somewhere that will permanently freeze your mouth closed.” But before he could continue there was a commotion outside the door. He looked back at you, “Don’t move.”

“Bit difficult in handcuffs!” You shouted after him as he walked out the door. Wiggling the pin around the lock wildly, a delightful ‘click’ sounded and you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from yelling out in joy. You made quick work of the other handcuff before flattening yourself against the wall, the chair outstretched in front of you to use as a weapon. As the door barged open, you swung the chair at them. They dodged it easily and looked at you in surprise.

“Really? A chair? Thought you were trained better than that, Major.” Amusement laced in his voice, and his signature cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“Oh my god, Tony,” you ran up and hurled yourself at him, “How the hell did you get here so quickly?”

“Tin-man called us to standby a few hours ago, I guess he sensed something was up.” He patted your back, “Quite a few bad guys out there, kind of need you to unhand me.”

“Right. Sorry. Got a spare gun?”

“And your med backpack,” he said, holding out both to you.

“You’re the best, I take back any bad thing I said to you,”

“You’ve actually never said anything that bad to me,”

“In that case, I take back any bad thing I said behind your back.” You replied, and luckily, he laughed in response. You took your backpack and gun and ran through the door.

Most of the thugs had been rounded up by the Avengers and other agents. It seemed they had gone a little overkill with the personnel on this mission. You wondered vaguely what exactly Bucky had said to get this many people here so quickly, and an unwanted but pleasant warm feeling spread through your chest. The journey back was filled with closing some scrapes and replacing a dislocated limb. It wasn’t until you got back into the compound that you were able to go and find Bucky. F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted you that he was in his room, and so chucking on his hoodie, you went straight for his room and knocked twice on the door. A quick “I’m through here!” call from Bucky and you wandered through to his bathroom. The sight at the other side was something to behold. Bucky was lying in the bath, his metal arm glinted as he made a movement to cover himself. You immediately averted your eyes, until you realised that the bath was full of bubbles.

“Didn’t peg you for a bubble bath type of guy, Sergeant,” you raised an eyebrow and laughed. Your laughter immediately stopped when you saw a huge cut across his cheek facing you and one from the end of his collarbone to the middle of his chest. “Bucky!” You exclaimed, reaching in your pocket for some surgical glue, “Why didn’t you come to me about these!”

“Figured you were busy,” he mumbled unconvincingly. You shook your head, whilst muttering something along the lines of ‘stupid fucking idiot’. You dipped a flannel in the water and dragged it across his cheek, trying to be as gentle as you could and removing the dirt and muck that had accumulated inside the wound. His jaw tensed each time you put the damp cloth on his injured skin, and you guessed it hurt a lot more than he was playing on. You put your other hand on his other cheek, trying to steady yourself, and you moved your thumb in a soothing motion. As you sealed it with the glue, Bucky’s wet flesh hand found its way to the hand that was on his cheeky, drawing your eyes to his. The look on his face broke your heart, sadness dulled his bright eyes, and drew the corners of his mouth down.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there," He began, "I promised to protect you, and you shouldn’t have had to be alone. I should have been there. I don’t know what I would have done if something worse had happened to you.” You cut him off with a kiss but broke it off before your self-control gave up all together and made you jump into the bath with him. Instead, you rested your forehead against his.

“Before you say anything else, I need to say something. And I wrote it down beforehand, so don’t interrupt me because it'll throw me off.” You said quietly, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in. “I like you Bucky. I like how you never push me to do anything I’m not comfortable with. I like how you wring your hands when you’re nervous. I like your electricity and how you light up every room you walk into. I like the scar under your chin from when you fell over getting into the pool. I like how you always choose pancake house when it’s your turn to decide a restaurant. I like your sweet tooth, even if it means you steal all of my hidden cookies. I like your compassion, and how you’ll do anything to make someone happy. I like your unwavering faith in me and the rest of the world that things will be okay. I like how you feel like home, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. If you want me, I’m yours. All in.”

You opened your eyes and leaned back, looking into Bucky’s in search of an answer. He grinned at you, and you found your lips curving in an involuntary response. Warmth was emanating out of him and filling your chest. His hands held your face, and he gently kissed you again.

“I’ve been all in since the very beginning.”

“Careful, Sarge,” You grinned, “People will think you’re getting soft.”

“Shut your mouth,” he smiled coyly at you, and gave you another peck before continuing. “Now, you pervert, I’m getting out the bath so unless you want the full Monty you should probably leave,”

“And what if I am a pervert?” Bucky splashed you, and you laughed, “Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” As you closed his bathroom door tried to contain your smile. Yes, you were scared, but you had realised that there was always going to be a time when you had to take a leap of faith, and there was no one else you’d rather take that with.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist and Bucky rested his head on your shoulder, gently kissing the crook of your neck. You hummed in contentment and turned around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I could definitely get used to this,” you said as you pressed yourself against him. You walked your fingers up his bare chest and putting on your most flirtatious voice. “We still might need a little time to figure things out though, potentially an entire night, that okay with you, Sergeant?” You looked up at him through your lashes. However, before either of you could do anything about the growing sexual tension, Tony burst through the door. His eyes widened at the scene in front of him, and he gave a yell behind him.

“Hey Nat! The double bed worked! You owe me $10!” He looked back to the both of you, who had frozen in shock. “You ladies enjoy yourselves.” He slowly backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. As you turned back to Bucky, you heard a muffled shout, “I’m putting a sock on the door!”

You burst out in giggles, hiding your face against his chest, as Bucky grumbled, “Those meddling motherfuckers.”

 Chapter 6

 tags (message me if you want to be added!):

@broco8​ @nerd-without-a-cause​ @sebbbystaaan​ @mcubuckyandsteve @cutiepiemimi13​ @velvetwonderbucky​ @livylou3333​ @cap-just-said-language​

[wendronwitch]

a lot of people have expressed annoyance at syrah’s arc in canon, and i feel like i might just be repeating things that @septimusheapheadcanons , @theheaps & other people have said but like. i wanna talk about that anyway 

syrah’s really interesting and important i feel because of how significant her character is in syren, right from her entry. you have these 3 kids (yeah, they’re all very smart kids with official designations and whatnot but they’re still kids) stuck on an island, and septimus’s dragon is dying and he doesn’t know what to do, and then he sees this girl and we’ve witnessed enough sep POV to be able to assess that this is likely his first crush ever?? and she’s 19 but she’s also over 500 years old, and she knows a very particular type of magyk/alchemy that has been lost to time & that nobody else knows, and she saves spit fyre and shows septimus things he’s never seen before and like, 

she’s so cool? and not to sound like a commerce student on here (lmao any commerce kids reading this bless y’all) but like..... she’s such a valuable human resource??? 

syrah likely knows things that marcia does not know. you know how there’s some point in some book (i think it’s darke????) where marcia and marcellus team up to keep the balance between light + darke magyk or whatevr it was called??? well?? syrah could probably have done that shit herself. 

then there’s also the fact that when angie describes syrah, she mentions that she has “brown arms” or something, which she probably meant like tanned white girl or whatever but a lot of us decided to interpret as CANONICALLY BROWN GIRL SYRAH. idk it’s just really lovely (dont wanna add a link b’cause then this post will Not Show In Search but it’s on my blog under my #syrah syara tag, u wont have to look long)

septimus heap as a series is like. valued & cherished for its strong female characters, so given this, it’s like, angie really did our girl dirty. syrah’s so wise and well-informed, and she’s also incredibly mentally strong to have survived the syren that long and to have been coherent enough to give septimus that diary imo. she has so much trauma and whatnot but she is still so kind, and as a character she was so intriguing + focused on in syren, which was really nice and interesting to see.

and then??? in darke & in fyre?? nothing? not much??? she becomes as sidelined as someone like hildegarde pigeon

which. i mean. hildegarde doesn’t actually do anything you know? she’s very much a secondary character all through and that’s FINE. syrah was actually significant before angie went “yeah we don’t need her anymore” and demoted her, which is........ ouch. 

syrah had so much potential to do things in both darke and fyre. she had a skillset unlike anyone else’s, and she was a genuinely good person. this entire ‘mental instability’ thing feels weird and infantilizing, and as someone who is mentally ill (not formally diagnosed but i am so depressed you can smell it on me, and i definitely need a therapist, more on that later) it also feels..... idk. weirdly wrong.

oh, so septimus can have a character development arc that fleshes out his trauma and his recovery and hints at his ptsd in a respectful way, but syrah’s just confined to hospital rooms and everyone treating her weirdly? make it make sense, please 

[dumbjocksub]

I don't know what was happening to me.

It was the third night I was on night guard duty. I was standing at the corner of an empty room and sitting in the middle was ‘Snow Lion’, one of the high ranking personnel of ‘Zarthos’, a rebel group.

This country is an authoritarian one where male runs everything. Not all men though. Our leader believes in the ‘Alpha’ theory. Basically, you're considered as an ‘Alpha' if you have a big or muscular build. The bigger and muscular you are, no matter if you're smart or dumb, the more privilege you get. The men who are not an ‘Alpha', called the ‘Beta' – mostly men with small built  – will be sent to the labor camp located all across the country. A couple of years ago, riots broke out in all of the labor camps and thousands of ‘Betas’ were escaped. These ‘Betas’ then formed ‘Zarthos’ and vowed to overthrow the current government. They carried out a lot of attacks in vital facilities all over the country, like the oil field or the seaport. Weirdly, more and more alphas were defecting to the Zarthos, making the government reacted by stepping up the security – deploying as many soldiers as they can.

‘Snow Lion' was captured 3 days ago, ambushed while he was scouting the locations for their next attack. He was immediately brought to the ‘Black site', a secret military compound in an uninhabited island where I was on duty that month. Just like most of the Betas, he has a slim build, approximately only half my size. To my surprise, he was pretty strong and resilient. He has been interrogated (and tortured) for 3 days yet not a single information comes out of his mouth.

That night - just like 2 nights before - after the interrogation session was done, I was asked to guard the room alone. I was shirtless at the time, which is a pretty common practice for the soldiers at the black site since the temperature there is pretty hot.

‘Snow Lion’ was strapped to the chair in the middle of the room, naked. Like usual, after the interrogation session, his entire body was drenched in sweat, making his bronze smooth body glistened. He might be small, but his body was pretty fit with his toned six-pack abs displayed for everyone to see.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I always considered myself straight. I am married to a beautiful wife and have 2 amazing children yet I find his body... beautiful. Since the first night, I couldn’t stop looking at him. At first, it was just a couple of quick glances but over time, I couldn’t help myself staring at him. That third night, I feel like I lost control of myself. I found it very difficult to keep my attention away from his body, It felt like I was hypnotized by how beautiful it was.

“You like what you see?” Snow Lion finally spoke for the first time, startling me. Panicked, I immediately diverted my attention away from him.

"Oh, come on, it's okay to stare at me. You're not the first Alpha that does that." I tried not to pay attention to him. But I couldn't help thinking about what he said that I was not the first alpha.

“I know you’ve been staring at me for three days. It’s okay. It’s natural.” He continued to talk. “It’s natural for the inferior to be in awe of the superior.”

I was shocked by his remark. "Pfft! Have you looked at yourself? You? Superior? This is what a superior man supposed to look like.” I flexed my arms, Showing my huge biceps to him.

He just laughed. Hard.

“It’s all about the mind, soldier. No matter how big you are, when the inferior meets a superior man, They always secretly worship them and even lusting over them, just like you do.” He explained.

“Lusting after a sub-human degenerate like you? You’re out of your mind.”

“Well, your dick seems to disagree with you.” I looked down and to my horror, my pants were tenting. I didn’t realize I was having a hard-on just from looking at him.

I was mad. To him and to myself. I don’t know why, but deep down I knew what he said was true. But I shook my head to shed my thought and decided to confront him. I put my gun down and approached him, standing right in front of him.

Suddenly, a strong odor of his sweaty, unwashed slim body hit my nostrils. Some people might be grossed out by the smell but I found it very... intoxicating. I took a couple of deep breaths - trying to inhale it as much as I could.

"L-Listen to me, y-you fucking piece of shit," I said to him, stuttered as I was losing my focus. “Y-you... You are a traitor! Y-You are lower than dirt! Y-You have no idea what this country already planned for... for you and your little group! The Alpha will...” At this point, I couldn’t focus anymore as my whole attention was on his body. The sweet smell and the sight of his wet, slim body were taking over my mind. I was trying really hard to continue my rant.

“The Alpha and the country will... We will-”

“Kneel.” He suddenly cut me off. I looked at him in the eyes and met his threatening look.

“I SAID KNEEL!” He yelled.

Just like a puppet, I fell down to my knee. At that point, I knew what he said was true. I was defeated.

“Good boy!” He said, smiling.

Shame filled my mind. He was much smaller than me, with his hand tied behind his back and legs strapped to the chair. He was weaker than me and it was impossible for him to hurt me, yet I found myself following his command – kneeling in front of him with my hand behind my back. I could’ve easily hurt and left him. Nobody would give a fuck. But I didn't want to. Somehow I felt like kneeling in front of him – a traitor to the country I love - was the right thing to do.

“I see that you like my smell.” He said as he caught me taking another deep breath, inhaling more of his scent. Now that I was closer to him, his smell became more pungent. “You want to smell more?”

I knew I wanted more, but I was too ashamed to say it out loud.

“You see my balls?” I saw that he tried to spread his thighs, but he was unsuccessful since his legs were strapped to the chair. "I bet they smell good."

I look at the sweaty set of testicles in front of me. As I mentioned before, I considered myself straight. I never find guys sexually attractive at all. But his balls – and his half-hard penis – looked so delicious and inviting. I couldn't help but gulp.

“You can smell it if you want, soldier.”

At this point, I couldn’t hold my urge anymore. I immediately dove my face to his crotch – taking deep breaths over and over as I rubbed my face all over his wet, damp crotch.

“Smells good isn’t it?”

“Y-Yessss...” I continued to inhale his strong crotch musk. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

“Yes what, soldier?”

"Y-Yeess... S-sir..." I gave in, completely surrendering myself to him.

I ended up spending a long time with my face buried in his sweaty crotch as he was taunting me – telling me how inferior I and the rest of the Alphas are. I should be mad. But the reality was, every time derogatory words come out of his mouth, my hard cock was twitching and my pre-cum was leaking. Just hearing him humiliated me literally made me wet. Strangely, the more he talked, the more it made sense to me – the more I accept myself as someone who's inferior than him.

"Stop!" He commanded after a while. I immediately complied, pulling my face away from his crotch.

After all his talk, I felt smaller than him. I couldn’t dare to look at him in the eyes anymore. I didn’t even feel worthy to be in his presence.

“You enjoyed that, soldier?” He asked me a rhetorical question since he definitely already knew the answer.

“Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” I barked without hesitation.

“Of course you do! Now I want to give you a chance to taste the essence of a superior man. I want you to lick all my sweat."

“YES, SIR!”

“Go on, then. Start with my chest.” I Instantly got up and started to lick every single bead of sweat on his chest.

His sweat tastes phenomenal! It was the greatest thing I’ve ever tasted! Before this, I never thought I would lick somebody sweat. I wouldn't even lick my own sweat. But I was glad he let me did that. I felt some kind of pride that he let an inferior like me lick all his superior man-sweat.

My tongue was exploring every single inch of his small chest. I even licked the sweat in his neck and pits before eventually moving to his abs. As I thoroughly licked all the sweats from his abs, I felt something poking my chin. It was his hard cock, pointing up like a missile ready to be launched.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked as I looked at his cock in amazement. It was smaller than mine but it looked so glorious and beautiful. I couldn’t look away.

“Yes, sir!” I licked my lips, thinking how would it taste. I had a really strong urge to put it in my mouth but I didn’t want to do it before he asked me to. I didn’t want him to be mad and disappointed in me.

“You want to taste it?” He offered as if he could read my mind.

“It would be an honor, sir!”

“Beg for it, then!” he ordered.

“C-Can I taste your cock, sir?" I asked, looking at him in the eyes like a puppy. "Please, Let me taste your superior cock. It would be an honor for me even if it’s just one lick, sir! Please, sir!” I pleaded to him.

He laughed again. “Good boy! Suck my dick you piece of shit!”

I immediately grabbed his shaft and licked his cock-head like a lollipop. It tasted so good! I could taste the combination of his sweat, piss, and cum and it drove me crazy! Couldn't wait any longer, I slid his cock into my mouth, pushing it deeper and deeper until it was entirely buried in my mouth before moving my head up and down on his stiff hard cock - sucking it. I was choking, coughing, and gagging but he couldn't care less.

As I was sucking his dick, he continued to degrade me. Telling me how the Alpha and the current government will lose. How all the Alpha will make a good slave to the Betas. Again, my cock was twitching uncontrollably listening to him talk. I don't know why listening to him about the downfall of the country I love was really arousing.

“Stop!” He ordered again and I quickly complied, pulling out his cock from my mouth. My face was wet, covered by my own spit. "Take off your pants!"

I pulled down my pants and my jockstrap in one move, revealing my wet, throbbing cock to him. My cock-head was red and swollen, ready to burst at any moment. After I threw my pants to the side, I stood in front of him with my hands behind my back, awaiting the next command.

“Look at that thing! You didn’t even touch yourself!” He commented on my hard, throbbing cock. “Don’t worry. That’s a natural reaction of an inferior when they worship the superior.” He added. "Now put your hand behind your head and turn around slowly." He commanded.

“Yes, sir!” I barked and did what he told, displaying my big, muscular body to him. As I spun, I noticed that he was focusing on my big, round ass.

“Shit! I want to fuck you!” He said to me. I suddenly stopped my spin - hesitating. I wanted to do anything to please him, but getting fucked? I was not ready for that. “Have you been fucked before?”

“N-No, sir!” I stammered. He threw me an evil grin as he heard my answer.

“Get over here!” He barked, looking at me with hunger and lust. Seeing him looking at me with such an intense glare made my hesitation gone and gave me a moment of clarity. He was truly the superior one and inferior should do what the superior wants. I shook my head to clear any remaining doubt and stepped closer to him.  

“I want you to straddle my thighs, grab my dick, and slowly slide it into your ass.” He commanded.

“Yes, sir!” I quickly did what he ordered – straddling his small thighs, grabbing his warm hard cock that was still wet from the sucking I did, and slowly slipped it into my ass. I moan loudly as his cock-head was ripping open my sphincter. It was really hurt but I wanted to keep going. More and more of his shaft was swallowed by my ass and I couldn’t help but closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and clenched my fist trying to hold the pain until eventually, his cock was entirely buried in my ass.

"Good boy! You're officially not a virgin anymore!" He laughed. “Now ride my fucking cock, you big bitch!"

I started to move my hips, sliding his cock in and out of my ass. Gradually, the pain slowly subsided and turned into pleasure. The feeling was so overwhelming. At that moment, I wanted nothing but his cock. The room was filled with our moans and sweat was dripping from our bodies. I was in heaven.

Over time, his moan turned into another verbal abuse. This time, not just taunting me, he was also telling me what the Zarthos would do when they succeeded overthrowing the current government. Telling me that all of the alpha soldiers will be brainwashed to become the slave to the Betas, serving them unconditionally. He also told me that some government official has been brainwashed and the fall of the country is imminent.

Hearing him talking about the fall of the country I serve and love, and thinking about the future of me and all my comrades when we all serving superior men like him made my mind went crazy. It was fueling the lust within me. I began to move my hips faster, riding his cock like my life depended on it.

Then, as I rode him like crazy, I could hear his breathing became faster and unexpectedly, he began to chant.

"All hail Zarthos... All hail Zarthos..." He repeated it over and over until eventually...

"ALL HAIL ZARTHOS!!" I could feel his cock pulsating like crazy as I felt something warm was filling my guts.

That was when the realization really hit me. I was fucked by a much smaller man which happen to be a traitor to that tried to bring this country down. I continue to move my hips before eventually the thought and sensation pushed me over the edge.

"ALL... HAIL... ZARTHOS!" I yelled as finally, my cock exploded without me touching it. Thick ropes of cum were shooting from my cock and landed on my chest and abs. It was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

"ALL HAIL ZARTHOS!"

Suddenly, I heard 2 people yelled from behind me in unison. Since I was too focused on getting fucked, I didn't realize that other people came into the room. I was shocked to learn that 2 of them were my comrades that in the last 3 days has been interrogating and torturing the 'Snow Lion'. They were on their knee doing the Zarthos salute – putting their fist on their chest – while their other hand was pumping their cock.

I looked at ‘Snow Lion’ in disbelief, and he just threw me an evil smirk in response.

"ALL HAIL ZARTHOS!!!" Both of them roared in unison as they finally shot their load all over the floor.

Apparently, just like me, they just learned who they really are these past few days and finally, earlier today they were accepting themselves as an inferior being with the purpose of serving the superior one.

That night, the three of us pledge our allegiance to Zarthos and our lives were changed forever.

[aleafofinspiration]

Banana pancakes

Saturday morning. She woke up to the sound of a sizzling pan and the smell of something delicious. Someone was cooking? The kitchen is quite far away from her own room, so how could she hear it so crystal clear as if she was in the kitchen? She turned around, burying her face in the blanket. The bed was comfy and warm... much comfier. The blanket smelled different than usual..? Panic taking over her mind completely, she opened her eyes immediately and shot right up straight in the unfamiliar bed.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you sleep well?”

Kohane turned her head to see Gabriel standing just around the tiny corner. He was standing there a few meters away, apparently cooking something in the small open kitchen.

Her eyes darted around the room she found herself in. It was a small studio with a kitchen. She was on a single person bed against the wall. At the end of the bed was a wardrobe in the corner. At the opposite wall was a flatscreen television above a cupboard. She could recognise some game consoles and games laying upon it. Between the tv and the bed was a low coffee table with a carpet underneath and with her height of vision, sitting on the bed, she could see a thin yoga mattress spread out with a blanket and a pillow. The room had a floor to ceiling window on one side. She could see an empty balcony and beyond that, a not so height sight over the city. She guessed she must be on a floor between the 5th and 10th of a flat.

“Well, that certainly is a sight I wouldn’t mind to wake up to every morning.” Gabe nodded and gave her a grin before turning his eyes back to the food in the pan.

Her eyes moved to herself on the bed. She was... half naked only in her underwear?! Quickly did she cover up herself with the blanket. Oh no... did they..? Did he..? She couldn’t remember anything. She remembered going to the school prom, being bored and having Gabe stick to her like glue while the rest of the students tried to distance themselves as much as possible with her. Desperately did she dig through her brain to find the remaining memories of last night, of how she ended up here, but nothing came to mind alas. There’s only one way to find out the how, why and what...

“... Say... did we... do anything last night...?” was her first question.

There was a bit of silence, only the sound of sizzling from the cooking, that could be heard before he hesitantly answered her. “... you don’t remember..?”

She turned her head to Gabe, concern in her serious eyes. “Just tell me.”

He pondered for a bit. Sure, he could mess with her like he would usually do. He would say something like of course, you were amazing! But he also knew this was something that shouldn’t be joked about. Especially not with her. He turned off the heat, before meeting her eyes. “No, we did not. I didn’t think it would be comfy to sleep in that fancy dress, which is why I helped you out of it. Also, I slept over there.” His head nodding at the improvised bed on the floor.

He could see the relief washing over her. The girl still held onto the blanket tightly, her eyes looking at the bed on the floor. It made sense for her to BE still in her underwear then... Probably if they did do it, she wouldn’t be wearing anything...

Gabriel walked over to what he would call his living / bedroom, and grabbed a hoodie and a pair of shorts from the wardrobe at the end of his bed. Gabe handed them to Kohane. “You can take a shower if you’d like to, while I finish making breakfast. Just grab a new towel from the cupboard in the bathroom.”

While with one hand covering herself, she took the clothing from Gabe with the other. Was that a slight blush on her cheeks? Hmm… “The bathroom is over there, the door next to the kitchen.”

“… Can you look away?” Yep, that’s definitely a blush. He chuckled to himself. He had already seen most of it last night anyhow… Of course, he wouldn’t mind seeing more… and more often. but he’ll keep that remark to himself for now.

“Sure.” Gabe walked off to the kitchen again, intentionally taking his time to grab some fruit from the fridge. As the fridge door covered most of his sight, he could hear her footsteps behind him and feel her presence walking past. The door to the bathroom opened, the light switch was being flicked on and then the door closed again. And then the door was locked. And soon after, he could hear the water streaming down from the shower.

If she just knew what happened last night… He sighed as he put the banana pancakes on two plates. After cutting and adding some fresh blueberries and banana to the pancakes and drizzling some maple syrup on them, he took them to the coffee table along with some cutlery. He then returned to the kitchen to pour and grab two mugs of hot tea to accompany the meal. Gabe sat down on his “new” bed and scrolled through his social media, waiting for Kohane to join him for breakfast. It only took a few minutes before he could hear the door unlock. He looked at the girl appearing in his hoodie, obviously a bit oversized for her, and his barely visible shorts sticking out underneath it. Her hair was tied up in a knot. No matter what she was wearing though, she somehow seemed to rock it in Gabe’s eyes. There was something undeniably charming about her.

“They are somewhat big.” She stated.

“Can’t help it that I don’t have your clothing here. You can leave some here next time you come over… but I doubt you’d be needing any clothing the next time hehe.” Gabe joked.

And… she was already done with his jokes. Kohane sighed mentally.

“Here, let’s have breakfast. I made banana pancakes.” He gestured her over to join him. “You can sit on the carpet. I do it all the time.”

She sat down opposite of him and eyed the breakfast he made. She didn’t take Gabe for someone that could cook very well, but the meal in front of her looked amazing.

“Hey, I cook for myself. I know how to cook.” He said, reading her mind. “Anyway, let’s eat. Itadakimasu!” He picked up his fork and knife to eat after clapping his hands once. She followed suit, being grateful for the meal.

“Bananas are supposed to be good for hangovers. How do you feel?” the guy asked before he brought a piece of pancake to his mouth.

“… Ah right…” she mumbled as if remembering that she had drunk last night, while cutting the pancake with her cutlery. “I actually feel quite okay. So… what exactly happened last night…?”

Almost finishing the first of his three pancakes, he looked up for a second at her. He finished chewing his bite, then proceeded to tell her about last night while cutting up his second pancake.

“You have probably realised it by now, but someone - or rather someones in plural - had been putting alcohol in your drinks last night. Aniki realised it later that night, after seeing some people sneakily hiding empty bottles of strong liquor under the tables. He warned me and asked me to watch you more closely. By then, you already had quite a lot… so I decided to take you home, before the teachers notice that you had had alcohol. This place was closer to the venue than your home.” Gabe took another bite. He felt her eyes staring at him intently. Her hands were holding the cutlery, but she didn’t move them. “You were already half asleep as you arrived here. I helped you out of your dress and had you drink a gallon of water, before you really passed out. Then I tucked you into bed and went to sleep myself. And then they lived happily ever after. Fin.”

“… I see.” She nodded slowly, processing the information. “… Did I do anything weird…?”

Gabe finished his second pancake. “Well… depends on what you find weird. Hmm…” He thought for a bit, then chuckled. “There maybe was one thing… It’s weirdly cute to see you ask me to help unzipping your dress. That was quite exciting.”

“… Never mind.” She rolled her eyes and started eating her breakfast. It was surprisingly really really good.

Soon, the guy finished his breakfast. Gabriel had always been a quick eater. He took a sip of tea, as he observed the girl eating. It would go unnoticed by others, but it didn’t escape Gabe’s observant nature: there was a shimmer of happiness in her face as she ate the meal he prepared. Gabe made a mental note for himself that Kohane loved pancakes.

“So… now I’ve practically saved your life, you owe me one~” Gabriel chimed happily.

Kohane sighed and continued eating, not even sparing a look at the probably ridiculous grin on Gabe’s face. Let’s just get it over with, she said to herself. “So what do you want this time?”  

“Easy.” Gabe stood up from his seat and walked around the coffee table.

Now, she looked up to meet his eyes. To look at the guy towering over her, as she sat on the carpet. She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Gabe sat down behind her on the bed, then shoved off the bed to sit directly behind her on the carpet. “… To let me sit and hold you from behind like this while you eat.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“…” she couldn’t really refuse his request. It was not nearly as bad for a request. A weird one for sure, but not a bad or hard one. She could feel him against her back. It was somewhat embarrassing and uncomfortable, but after all he had done last night… and these godly pancakes? She couldn’t reject him.

Gabriel could feel her body temperature through his hoodie. At first when he sat down, he sensed her tensing up. Yet, slowly he felt her becoming more comfortable with him. He sat there silently in the comfort of her presence and her warmth. The scent of his own bodywash had mixed with her own scent.

And to be honest? As uncomfortable the close contact was to Kohane, she slowly but surely got accustomed to it, finding it a rather pleasant feeling as well. As she started to notice the change, she blushed slightly, hoping Gabriel wouldn’t notice it from behind.

“… I’m done eating.” the girl whispered after she finished her plate.

He rested his head on her shoulder. “… Can we stay like this for a little longer?” he whispered back. He could feel the rhythm of her breathing. She felt so close and so alive in his arms.

She could feel his somewhat muscular arms embracing her a bit tighter. Her mind was a mess. Her heart skipped a beat. She reached for her cup of tea to take a few sips.

They sat there for quite a while in silence. Gabe lifted his head off her shoulder, guessing time was over. Kohane looked over her shoulder, her emerald eyes looking at his dark brown ones. Her eyes locked him in place.

She was so close. He was so close. Their lips were only three inches away.  They were breathing the same air. Both of their hearts skipped another few beats.

She didn’t move away. Could that mean she was okay with it? She did realise what would come next in such a shoujo manga scene, no? So Gabe decided to test the waters and tried closing the distance slowly. Carefully observing her face, he moved in closer. Her cheeks were a velvet red.

Just before their lips touched, a loud melody rang through the room, startling both of them. Annoyed, Gabriel let go of Kohane and got up from his seat. “Sorry, my phone.”

The guy grabbed his phone from the television cupboard, glancing at the name of the caller. Visibly and audibly agitated, he picked up, stopping the source of the loud noise of his ringtone. “Ya Aniki. Yea. She fine.”

Never had she seen Gabe annoyed with Nick before. He always appears to be quite fond of his cousin. She giggled silently at the odd sight. It felt like she had discovered new sides to Gabriel today.

And just in that moment, Gabe saw a glimpse of Suzuki in Kohane. They indeed were twins after all. It felt like he had discovered Kohane is just a girl like any other after all.

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines Chapter 31 - Armande

writing mood has taken me so here we go with another chapter. I’ve been super excited to write this one for a while (warning strong language)

Ash wakes up after their sudden slumber

Ash could hear a faint murmuring as she awoke, she kept her eyes closed making sure not to arouse suspicion. When unsure of her situation it was best to be cautious, what had just happened? they were talking to Amy then she... oh yeah she drugged their drinks. She was furious she’d let her guard down around her this never normally happened, the murmuring got louder as Ash got her bearings, the accent sounded clipped and noble with a similar twinge to the noble they met on Nar Shaddaa. Damn it Ash knew they wouldn’t give up that easily, why was she always right to be paranoid.

As Ash opened her eyes just a slit she could see he was talking into a holocommunicator he seemed gaunt and hunched with messy grey hair covering his head and chin. “yes your highness we have them captured and the information shall come shortly” The man on the holo seemed to be sitting in some sort of throne Ash could only guess this was the current ruler of what was it Dubrillion? He was bald with a stern frown, wearing some form of ridiculous robes, that’s all she could make out from her view.

As he responded Ash could hear his grating voice pierce the chamber like a knife “very good Armande once your done send them here” with that the imposing figure’s holo dissipated and ‘Armande’ began talking to the guards. Ash began to assess the room it looked unlike any interrogation chamber she’d ever been in, a bed a closet this almost looked like... oh they were still at the hotel. These guys were clearly amateurs Ash had counted 4 guards total none of which carried electro shock sticks, if she wasn’t stuck to this chair they would all already be on the floor. It felt like zip ties holding her to the chair but they were definitely breakable, just noticeable she needed to be subtle. She saw Gacen slumped next to her seemingly still asleep which was probably for the best he would make a scene when he woke she had to assess their chances of escape. She saw three possible exits, the obvious door but that seemed like more trouble than it’s worth with more guards probably outside, the window which Ash didn’t want to repeat because they got extremely lucky last time and third was a vent she could see leading into the room seemed covert and possible. But none of that mattered if she couldn’t get past these five, they still seemingly hadn’t noticed she was awake so she still had a chance. Armande seemed to be preparing some interrogation tools, all pretty basic stuff tweezers to pull out nails, small drills and a number of liquid syringes she’d have to watch out for those. She looked to Gacen who was still sound asleep she would have to take her chance soon. 

The guard to the right of her seemed unenthused and bored seems he’d be the easiest to take advantage of she just had to get out of the zip ties. She slowly turned her hands forward tensing them into fists, then a quick turn back and relaxing of her muscles and her thumbs were out. Ash shook them off honestly using zip ties was embarrassing it wasn’t that hard to get handcuffs, she kept her hands behind the chair as she looked to the guard next to her. He held a knife in his side pocket perfect, quickly she went to grab it then proceeding to stab it into his leg. He screamed out in pain alerting the rest of the room, three guards two left one right but she knew who she needed to go for. The guards on the right would go for their blasters aiming them at her the one on the right would try to grab her. She ducked immediately avoiding the volley of fire from the guards then slid under the left guard sweeping his legs as she went, she stood up quickly ready to assess her next move. Armande stood in the corner surprisingly unfazed by the commotion, the guard next to her would get up try to stop her and the other two would continue firing. Easy way to solve that she grabbed the guard lifting him up and throwing him in the firing line of the other two guards, she had to tense as she did it but nonetheless his body flew in the way of the blaster fire and knocked the guards to the ground. She proceeded to grab Armande putting the knife to his throat. He would try to wriggle free but Ash held him in a grip where that wasn’t possible too easy

Armande seemed to chuckle to himself “he he well my dear that was very impressive what amazing anticipation” he seemed strangely calm for someone who had lost which was never a good sign. 

Ash could smell a musk coming from the man which was fairly off-putting “you move you’re dead” Ash unfortunately didn’t mean it but only because they could get information from him, they could still maim him though.

“oh yes of course but I think you’ve put yourself in a bit of a bad situation” she completely had the upper hand this guy was full of it “because you seem the best at anticipating but you can’t let go of me to stop this” As he said that she realised he was going to stab something into her leg but she would have to let him go to stop him. Before she could decide she felt the sharp prick in her upper thigh, instinctively she sliced with the knife but as she started she began to feel very woozy and gave up as she stumbled away for Armande. The room began to spin she could see people shifting from their positions very weirdly, she turned back to Armande who seemed to be covering his throat hah she had got him. She turned to see the guards coming towards her let’s see there was 3 wait no 5 wait no 4 wait, she felt herself grabbed by the guards and she was suddenly back in her seat, what the fuck she should’ve anticipated that. Wait she got stabbed with something was she drugged? she didn’t feel drugged? just kinda woozy, Armande came over still holding his throat. “well that was a regrettable decision now wasn’t it Ash” Armande spoke rather raspy all of a sudden that cut must’ve got him. Ash spat in his face causing him to flinch back

Ash was confused she totally got him “how are you even alive I just sliced your throat like so bad” that wasn’t what she meant to say that was weird

Armande laughed as he wiped the spit from his face “My dear that was an hour ago the drugs have kicked in” she waass drugged she totally knew it. Ash snorted to herself giggling loudly “am I missing something my dear?”were was that coming from she never giggled

what an idiot “this is by far the worst truth serum I have ever had I’m gonna be too loco to answer you, stupid moron” it was true this truth serum sucked

Armande raised his eyebrow “well good news it’s not truth serum I knew your skills and knew my guys wouldn’t be able to stop you so I inhibited your ability” aw that was so not cool she was gonna beat this guy into the ground

“so what you’re saying is that you’re a big baby coward pants” Ash giggled to herself, woah hold on why was his face all swirly no wait the room was swirly no wait she was swirly maybe they all were swirly.

Armande let out a long sigh as Ash began to stare into space “wake the other one up he’s the one we’re after” this prick just because his eyes were like bigger than hers he thinks he’s hot shit

Ash turned to see Gacen being jostled awake “ugh wha where am I” he looked around the room and spotted Ash looking at him quizzically

Ash waved “ good morning sleepy head we’ve totally been captured by this lizard” Ash gestured to the lizard where Armande was sitting, Gacen frowned at her looking ever so confused

Gacen looked deep in thought for a second “well still not the weirdest place I’ve woken up in the last week” had Gacen always had that many horns? had Gacen even had horns to begin with? oh my god Gacen was being attacked by horns!!! wait no he’d always had horns “who’s this smelly prick” he gestured to the lizard man in front of them

“oh that’s Armande captain of the cowardice ship he turned into a lizard a fe...” she looked at him that’s not a lizard that’s a human “never mind he’s back”

Gacen turned to Armande “ok I know you guys are the bad guys but what the fuck is up with Ash” Armande let out a very long sigh

“we drugged her to stop her from attacking us” he grimaced as Gacen began laughing to himself 

“that actually makes a lot of sense” Gacen seemed like he didn’t have a plan

Ash leant over to Gacen and shouted “hey have you got a plan to get out of here I totally got the guards covered” Gacen turned to her giving her a long stern look

“I dunno Ash but maybe don’t shout it in front of the enemy” oh yeah Ash nodded in agreement winking

Armande interrupted them before they could say any more “ENOUGH look tell us what you know about Risha Drayen” Gacen nodded taking in a long sigh

“ok I’ll tell you just get in really close” no Gacen we were doing so well

“Gacen no don’t tell them” Ash pleaded he was gonna give it all up but Gacen put his hand up 

Armande sighed and leant in Gacen grinned as he said “nothing” Ash let out a series of giggles as Armande’s face dropped into a grimace.

Armande got up “ok hit him” he began striding around the bed as a resounding whack hit Gacen square in the jaw. Gacen just smiled it off but Ash could feel a boiling rage build up inside her she would totally crack their skulls if moving wasn’t so hard right now. 

A few loud punches later and Gacen’s face was full of bruises he spat blood onto the floor breathing heavily. Armande returned with some assorted tools “are we ready to talk now Captain” he held a blade of some kind

Gacen laughed “nah mate you can punch me as many times as you want that’s pretty much what I feel on a daily basis” Ash took a look at the tools on the desk seemed like your average setup bonesaw, drills more syringes wait she felt like she knew that already.

Ash chuckled to herself “yeah trust me it took me years to get him to open up you’d have better chances with the drugs” oops that may have been bad to say, Gacen turned to her slowly with wide eyes “Um never mind disregard that I’m drugged” Armande smiled picking up the syringe and jamming it into Gacen’s neck 

Gacen’s pupils dilated instantly “ahhhhh woah Ash you weren’t kidding this stuff is bananas B A N A N A S” Gacen cracked up at his own joke and began laughing to himself

Ash joined in as Armande tried to speak over them “Ok I’ll ask again what do you know about Risha Drayen” Gacen began grinning, Ash thought she spotted an Ortolan in the corner and needed to find it

“She’s pretty awesome in bed Mr flying spaghetti oh also also also she’s really pretty” where was this spaghetti she couldn’t see it. 

Armande gritted his teeth “fine let’s be more specific where is Risha Drayen” Ash snorted to herself

“your mothers butt!!!” Ash shouted out, Gacen quickly began dying of laughter as Ash followed suit 

After he stopped laughing Gacen leant close in “nah but for real I dunno that’s what we’re finding out dumbass, it’s been like a day give my lady a little more credit.” Armande looked like all his anger was about to come out as Gacen made a kissy face at him

“you are very lucky I’ve been ordered to keep you alive, but I still need to know what your relation was to Risha, we are unclear on your previous statement on Nar Shaddaa” Gacen leant back and took a long sigh, that did seem pretty unavoidable phrasing, stupid truthy druggy serum.

“ugh fine I was her husband and her business partner, you know where it says the voidhound was Skavak well that’s a load of bs to throw you cucks off I don’t know who changed it but hey it got me off the hook from you guys for years” Gacen looked at the floor pursing his lips “is that enough can we go now”

Armande began to chuckle to himself “oh no I’m afraid King Actavarus III asked for you personally so don’t think we’re letting your little conquest continue” Gacen’s anger was visible now which was pretty rare for him, he tensed up snarling at Armande

“oh that giant pompus cunt wants to see me well we’ll see about that” He began to try and wriggle out of zip-ties but after about 30 seconds gave up panting “damn it Ash how do you do this? you make it looks so easy” 

Ash had been completely somewhere else and when she snapped back she tried to stand up again. Summing up all her effort she stood up and looked ready to fight, as she did she saw a little canister enter the room from the vent and suddenly a searing white light filled the chamber causing her to reel back in pain. She could hear some muffled noises around her and when the white light cleared she could see all of the guards and Armande unconscious on the floor and a familiar zabrak form standing there.

Amy threw a gun in her direction “sorry I took so long they were really clingy with the money” Ash went to catch the gun but missed it fumbling as it fell onto the floor

Ash frowned at Amy as she began to untie Gacen “but you totally betrayed us why would you help us” Gacen was still swaying lightly clearly rattled from the beating, the drugs and the white light.

Amy finished untying Gacen who slumped to the floor “I was always gonna save you I just wanted a bit of money in the process” Ash frowned that seemed kinda unnecessary and still selfish if a bit less “is Gacen ok?”

Gacen grumbled on the floor “yeah he’s just been beaten up and drugged” Ash went to pick him up and even while still drugged it was an easy task

Amy sighed deeply “are you both drugged” Ash nodded wide eyed 

Gacen lifted his arm up “I knew you’d come and saaaave us Amy I always had faith” he slumped back over Ash’s shoulder as he finished speaking

Ash didn’t believe that for a second “you did not” Gacen struggled limply as Ash began moving him towards the door

“I did so she’s always been loyal, anyway you’re the one with a crush on her” Ash felt her skin flush going a deep shade of purple 

“i do not Gacen” Ash looked back to Amy who was checking a holopad “shut up she might’ve heard you” Gacen chuckled to himself as he gave in and let Ash carry him

Amy looked at them agitated “Guys we gotta get out of here it’s gonna be crawling with guards soon enough” Ash nodded as they left the hotel room, in the corridor things were conveniently quiet so they easily made their way to an elevator. 

As they arrived in the elevator Ash stumbled nearly dropping Gacen “ok buddy you hold yourself up my arm is tired” she awkwardly laid Gacen down on the floor

Gacen lay there not moving “fine I guess I’ll just walk myself I’m fine now see look at what I can do” Gacen continued to lie still while his eyes darted around

Amy frowned at him “what are you doing” she had been loading some form of gadget on her arm with canisters Ash wondered if she had a air gun

Gacen’s eyes widened “crazy backflips and frontflips can’t you see them” Gacen continued to lie flat

“no we can’t” Amy let out an exasperated sigh, Ash had gotten distracted by the view from the elevator she could see the whole planet it was so shiny “damn it looks like they already got guards out looking for you we’re gonna have to hide you guys”

Gacen giggled “we’re great at hiding no problems Amamamamy” Gacen sat up looking out the window “ooooo we can go to the pool” Ash liked the sound of that idea

Amy didn’t seem to however “ok no there is no quicker way to get found out than hanging out at the pool in normal clothes, go hang out at the Pazaak tables you’ll fit in there” Gacen beamed at the idea and began to get out a credit chip “BUT do not play” Amy said with an exasperated sigh.

The elevator arrived and they headed to the Pazaak tables it smelled weird here Ash thought it might be a mix of like alcohol and oil? maybe, woah why were they on the ceiling, wait no the floor was on the ceiling.

Amy grabbed both their wrists “ok stay here lay low I’ll be back once it’s safe” Gacen nodded not looking away from the Pazaak table

Ash was already bored “fiiiine mom I’ll stay at the gambling tables” she didn’t know how families worked, Amy gave her a disapproving frown and ran off

Ash turned to the game maybe it could be interesting, she could see all sorts of aliens quickly placing cards with little numbers on them but some were red and blue or green? Ash leant in to Gacen’s shoulder “Gacen I don’t understand what’s going on?” 

Gacen jumped seemingly surprised she was there “how long have you been there?” Ash shrugged she wasn’t actually very sure how long. Gacen nodded and began to explain “well Pazaak is a simple game really you need to get 21 and the dealer deals cards with numbers on them, then you choose to fold or stay in you can go ov...” Ash stopped listening she had seen a sign that said ‘observation deck’ and it sounded cool she’d always loved seeing planets close up all those people down there doing things while she could see them all well sort of they were there but so small in her vision but they were there. “and that is why minus cards rock and plus cards are stupid?” Ash suddenly snapped back to the conversation what was he talking about

“oh yeah sure totally pluses suck” that wasn’t convincing at all 

Gacen frowned “you weren’t even listening were you” Ash reluctantly nodded

Ash quickly forgot about the pazaak grabbed his arm “hey look there’s an observation deck wanna see the planet” she smiled at him as he considered the idea

“I feel like we’re supposed to be here but I don’t remember why” he paused “sure lets go” they rushed over to a lift and within a minute they entered a private viewing booth

Ash looked up seeing the planet in all it’s glory, the whispy clouds covering the sparkling blue oceans and lush green grasslands so pretty and very hypnotic. She felt herself getting very dizzy and suddenly realised she was lying on the floor, she looked up and saw Gacen also lying down, they both started laughing “I think the drugs are still in our systems” 

Gacen sat up leaning against a sofa “ok let’s test tell me something you wouldn’t tell me normally” Ash squinted for a second trying to think of something

her eyes widened as she thought of something “oh I’ve got it Ash isn’t my real name” she had never told anyone that not that it was very important

Gacen looked super taken aback “what do you mean?” Ash also sat up opposite him “are you a spy?”

“no dummy, my full name is Ash’shen’tor right and my equivalent of a first name is in the middle bit so Shen, Ash is my family name” Gacen looked off dizzily for a second

“what?” Gacen looked entirely confused, Ash began giggling to herself

“it’s like my family name like yours is Zandar but when I was abandoned people didn’t know that so they called me Ash” Gacen leaned back comprehending what he just heard

“huh, should I call you Shen then” Ash burst out laughing not sure why it was so funny

“no please I like Ash fine, anyway you tell me something you wouldn’t normally tell me it’s only fair” she never cared for chiss customs anyway

Gacen rubbed his chin for a second “ok sure” he paused “I have a sister that I am estranged from” Ash’s eyes widened she had a hunch it was something like that but was never sure

Gacen seemed pretty serious she shouldn’t press it “oh wow I can’t even imagine there being two of you” they both snorted with laughter

“hey how dare you two of me would be wonderful” he paused lowering his smile “she’s uh not that much like me anyway” Ash nodded 

“I think one of you is enough for me, even that is excessive” Ash joked as Gacen’s smile returned as he began to laugh quietly

Suddenly the elevator opened and Ash could see the form of Amy stride into the room “ok what the fuck did you think I meant when I said stay put” Ash and Gacen both laughed, Ash slipped back onto the floor

Gacen perked up wobbling as he stood up “hey that’s what you get for trying to make money out of me Ames” Amy gave him a reluctant nod and they headed out...

[edales-drabbles]

Hive is Home Drabble 3 pt 2

Summary: Espers are people with powers. Some are good and some are not so good. Ervin is from a family of adopted Espers who work as heroes but lives in his own city attending university. Then he gets hurt on a mission and the 'villains' are now going to have to deal with his family. Including the guy he actually likes. Joys.

Follows directly after three, so I called it Pt 2

Previous

---

In the middle of the night, Smiles started coughing. Waking up both Ervin who was in the same bed and Nelson who had made himself a chest on the floor next to it. Nelson didn’t want to leave Ervin with a hive member while the others didn’t know he was here. The coughing got worse and the two crows quickly got Smiles to the bathroom before he started to throw up. Nelson rubbing his back gently and Ervin looked on concerned.

“When I said I didn’t want to tell them you caught pneumonia, I was serious, you know,” Ervin half teased.

Smiles glared at him from the toilet bowl, dark sudden bags under his eyes. Like this, it was easy to see how slight Smiles actually was. Without his makeup and signature outfit, it looked human. He even acted like it. “This is not good,” he rasped, his voice not quite ready for him to speak.

“Who’s this?” Kane asked, appearing next to the door. “And why are they throwing up?”

“Smiles. The Hive subconscious sent him to complain about the state of things and he got stuck hanging outside my window into the rain. Now he’s ill,” Ervin explained calmly as Smiles hacked into the toilet again, Nelson making reassuring noises. “I was hoping he could leave today but I’m not sure we can send him off in this state,” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Their father was not going to be happy with this.

“Ah,” Kane nodded. “I’ll tell the others. Rue is grabbing the first aid kit at the moment. We’ll avoid Dad knowing for now,” he promised, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe confidently.

“Thank you,” Ervin smiled gratefully at Kane. It happened from time to time that an enemy or a friend needed their assistance and bringing Darkstalker it would only make the matters worse. The crows were used to hiding strays in their rooms. Sometimes it even worked. Most of the time it was more an exercise in keep-away as Darkstalker got more suspicious with them.

“Hear that, Smiles? You’re safe here for now. Until Dad sniffs you out at least,” Nelson said cheerfully as Smiles groaned in pain, clutching his rib. Ervin grimaced in sympathy. Throwing up that hard like that had to sting.

“And I found the supples,” Rue declared, pushing through Ervin and Kane into the room with a large box. He knelt down by the ill man and stuck a thermometer in his mouth. “Who am I treating today?” He asked as he flushed the toilet and took Smiles wrist to check his pulse. Smiles didn’t fight the treatment, looking about to collapse. He was sweating and his skin was quickly starting to look more green than white.

“I thought you two fought?” Ervin frowned.

“It’s Smiles,” Nelson added. “To be fair, they met once and Smiles was all done up, Dimshit” He added giving Ervin the side-eye. “Most people don’t know what their enemies look like without their masks.”

“Ah, I see,” Rue said cheerfully. He checked the thermometer as it beeped and frowned. “Not good. Any higher and I’d be taking you down to the hospital. Ok. Let’s get you back to the bedroom. Nel, grab a bucket. Kane, go start the vine and Ervin, go connect hive before they get worried,” Rue ordered sharply. All three men jumped into action and Ervin quickly scurried away to Rue’s room. It was the one with the most privacy and less likely to be overheard.

The phone barely rung two beats before Torleif was answering. “Blackbird!” He called in his normal gusto. “Please tell me you’re calling to discuss terms for coming back? Grace is lonely with you gone and Kerrim is being mopey too.”

“Not yet,” Ervin said calmly, pushing away his feelings regarding Kerrim. If Kerrim wanted to talk to him, he was only a phone call away. He still had Ervin’s phone number after all. Not to mention his email. There were ways to contact him. He pushed it all away, focusing on the slightly desperate question regarding his return. “Dad’s still upset but said he will consider it. Soon hopefully. Give it a week? Just, if he contacts you don’t mention the condition you originally gave me. He won’t like it.”

“Frustrating but fair,” Torleif sighed. “The Hive accepts waiting a week. We will avoid talking about terms and conditions to him. Why have you called then?” He asked, slipping in and out of the hive network fluidly.

“Smiles,” Ervin said in one word.

“Was an accident,” the Hive winced.

“I know,” Ervin reassured. “I got that from the whining. Thing is, he got stuck outside in a rainstorm and now is ill. We are going to hide him from Dad for now but his temperature is high. We’ll look after him, of course. If it gets too high, we’ll take him to a hospital. Are there any side effects from being Hive we should know about?” He asked as it suddenly occurred to him.

“Damn. Right. Er,” Torleif and the hive merging in panic and then separating in the same voice. “No side effects from hive normally. May feel more with no Queen to focus on to. Please don’t take him to a hospital. Smiles hates hospitals. Keep us informed?”

“Feel more?” Ervin questioned, frowning.

“Emotionally,” Torleif clarified. “The net has a calming effect for the most part. When we are hurt or ill, it keeps us grounded but Smiles won’t have that. Ah, here she is. Have Grace,” he said cheerfully.

“Hello?” Grace’s voice said uncertainly on the phone, not sure who was about to speak to on the phone. Ervin rolled his eyes.

“Hey Gracie, how you doing?” He said gently sitting on Rue’s bed lightly.

“Ervin!” She said surprised and very happy to hear his voice. “Weirdly? I’m struggling with some things and not with others. The other Wasps are nice. It’s easy to see how you made a working relationship with them. How’s Dad reacting?” She added in a low voice like she didn’t want Torleif to hear her asking. He would. Wasps had enchanted hearing.

Ervin made an unhappy noise, not sure what to tell her. “Better than when Kane went off the rails. You’re still considered family,” he reassured.

“Well that’s one good thing,” she mused unhappily. Ervin could practically hear tears welling up in her eyes and he smiled sadly, wishing he could do more for her. Darkstalker had always been very clear that he would do everything he could to protect them but if they got captured by something like hive, they were on their own.

“You know Dad’s temper. I’m working on getting back out there as soon as possible, I promise. Alger is helping too. Nelson is being Nelson but hopefully, I’ll convince him soon. We aren’t going to abandon you. I promise.” Ervin reassured.

“I know,” Grace murmured. “I have to go. I’m being tested at the moment. They want me to go to university while I’m in my adjustment period,” she frowned. Grace had never seen the point of going to higher learning. The job they did was not one that allowed for a stable job and in her eyes was more important than that. “I explained that I’m no academic by nature but they seem to think they can find something for me.”

“There is always something,” Ervin chuckled. She made an uncertain noise and he laughed loudly. “We love you, Gracie. Stay strong,” he murmured warmly to her.

“That was part of the problem,” she said mournfully.

“Hey Blackbird,” a familiar voice came on next. Kerrim. Ervin shifted, pulling Rue’s blanket close and wrapping himself up in the smell of his brothers. He was safe here. He was at home. Kerrim was back with the Hive.

“Hey, since when do you call me blackbird?” Ervin asked, unhappily. Blackbird was not his alias, as much as Torleif and Smiles seemed to think so. Kerrim had never called him by that name. He didn’t like it from Kerrim. It felt wrong. That wasn’t their relationship, that was something being forced.

There was a snort. “Since the hive is investing in us patching up,” Kerrim said unhappily. “They are sure that me calling you by pet names will help.”

“I’d prefer not. I don’t actually like the nickname, ignoring from Tor and Smiles. They are fond with how they say it. Most use it insulting. You never did,” Ervin trailed off. “Don’t.”

“We need to talk,” Kerrim stated.

“When I get back,” Ervin said firmly. “We are not doing this over the phone.” Not with so many people listening in, he added mentally. Kane was nearby, he could sense it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Nelson was also hiding somewhere. The Hive was unavoidable but Torleif didn’t have to be there for the play by play. Jayiana wouldn’t care one way or another.

“The Hive would prefer…”

‘“I’m sure the Hive would but I’d prefer not. Either wait or come here and book a place we can meet up. Not over the phone,” Ervin said firmly. “This is between you and me, Kerrim, not the Crows and the Hive.”

“Everyone listening in?”

“Would it be surprising?”

“I suppose not,” Kerrim said sounding bemused. Ervin smiled as he heard Torleif complaining in the background. The line between a Wasp and the Hive was a bit grey at times but it was there. The Hive couldn’t force a relationship. Kerrim had upset Ervin, Kerrim was the one who had to make it up to him. “In-person then,” he murmured. “I’ll see what I can do. We don’t want Kerrim to be independent for something emotional.”

“He needs to be if you are going to prove his feelings are his own and not Hive,” Ervin pointed out.

“There is no difference.”

“Once the Hive has what you wish from me, you will put me aside. He will not if he has his own feelings,” Ervin challenged. “And no, I don’t think you will abandon me. I think you will treat me like a contractor. He will stop being a friend because he does not need to be. I don’t want that.”

“We disagree but accept the premise,” the Hive declared unhappily before pulling away. Kerrim breathing harder for a moment. “My feelings are my own, I can separate them,” he murmured softly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Talk to you soon,” Ervin said back before switching off his phone and falling back in the covers. He didn’t have to wait long for Kane and Nelson to surround him. Rue was guarding slash treating Smiles. It was safe to fall apart for a moment and let his brothers look after him. He closed his eyes and buried his face into Kane’s chest as Nelson hugged him from behind. 

[yourknightingale]

Shower one shot

I was waiting for a much better writer than I am to actually make a fic based on this since I’m not good with these kinds of scenes. But I tried and it’s 3am so I should just post this. Uhm, enjoy?

She’s calling it now. This naked lady with her red hair loosely up on a bun is crazy. Weird. Creepy. Who on their normal state of mind would bust into some stranger’s shower?

And she’s saying she’s pretty confident with her banging body? Like, yeah, but.

“You should be,” Beca finds herself admitting, although true in her statement is also not remotely close to any sort of social convention. This is not how you meet people. This is not something you talk about in your first meeting. No weather talks or something along the lines? This can’t be legal.

The redhead turns and reaches out for the towel, then hands it to Beca with a playful smile.

“Still need to shower.” The brunette almost whispers to herself because really, this is the most awkward encounter she’s ever experienced to date.

“I see that.” Ginger speaks. She sees Beca’s toiletries, picks up the shower gel bottle (without asking or any warning), and reads the label. “Oh, how creative. Find someone you really like and invite them into the shower with you to demonstrate, it says.”

There’s that playful smile again. Wider. Not-so-subtle. A lot of innuendos.

If Beca’s not sure before, this is a confirmation. This woman is crazy, and knows no boundaries, and doesn’t respect people’s personal bubble, and what if Beca turns out to be a psycho? This could’ve been a gruesome scene. Beca is not a psycho, thank goodness. So is the redhead a freaking psycho? This is overbearing amiability. This is abuse of charisma. This is debauchery wrapped in boldness.

Weirdly enough, Beca likes it. Not that she would want this to be a recurring event. It’s just now, she can’t help but be so turned on. A beautiful girl is in front of her. A confident beautiful naked girl is standing literally just inches from her. How much control can one petite brunette have?

“If you need a demonstration partner,” the redhead moves closer, “I could,” extends her arm behind Beca, “show you how,” and taps the shower on. “Right now is perfect.”

The atmosphere steams quicker than usual and it’s definitely not just the water coming out of the shower head. There’s strong connection. There’s attraction. There’s lust.

Beca swallows hard. The first few sprinkles hit her back and catches her off guard. She flinches for a brief second, then she feels the pressure is on. It hits her on the back of her neck. Trickles down her shoulders. Drips fall along her collarbone, down to her bare chest.

Ginger pours some gel onto her palm and throws the bottle behind her like her disregarding it means she already has what she wants. She puts her hands together, slowly, just sufficient for a lather rub, and gently applies it to Beca’s shoulders first. There’s no hint of hesitation in the way her fingers trace Beca’s skin and the brunette closes her eyes in the sensation. She tilts her head slightly to allow the right hand to roam, to wander up, until said hand finds the curve of her neck. She senses some warmth closing in on that area and hears (feels) a long intake of breath.

“Smells so good.” The voice is lost, evident are the seductive undertones. Beca can only inhale in response.

The tip of her nose touches Beca’s left earlobe and the warmth again is closing in on that area. Beca’s mouth hangs open as if she’s gone with the moment, not stopping the girl from nibbling her ear. It’s sensual in its own way and she shivers even though the shower temperature can’t be any warmer than she prefers.

There’s some dampness too, although Beca isn’t certain if it’s H2O or if it’s from the tongue that slips and glides, but is now leaving her ear. She can still feel the tip of her nose travelling down her cheeks and nuzzling along her jawline.

“I’m Chloe.” The girl breathes out. “You are?”

She fights the urge to say “wet” so opts to say her name (that she momentarily forgets due to this steamy situation), “Beca.”

Chloe’s left hand is still cupping her neck but somehow, her right hand has journeyed south. First, it’s passing ever so slowly down the side of her front, a lather of soap trails behind. Then, it’s stopping on her waist all the while her business on Beca’s face continues.

They’re nose to nose, water dripping off the length so Beca can tell the other girl’s soaked, too. This is a true definition of conservation by sharing the shower together. How they can breathe properly, no one knows. Chloe isn’t stopping as she replaces her nose with her closed lips. But neither is Beca. Not now. This is too physical not to end up having a taste of what should really happen.

Beca ultimately goes for it, any trace of reasoning and rationality thrown out the window.

She leans up, switching her nose with her mouth, briefly brushing it against Chloe’s. The redhead immediately tilts her head to the right and presses harder. The hand on her waist doing the same, pressing harder on skin. Beca notes how perfectly accommodating Chloe’s lips are, like they’re puzzle pieces that fit together, and a soft sound of pleasure escape from the back of her throat.

Chloe pulls back a little and this could be the time when Beca’s senses come back to her and she should probably talk and get to know this girl better before they do something more than what strangers (they’re acquainted with names in that brief second earlier, so they’re acquaintances perhaps?) usually conventionally normally do. She doesn’t even get the chance to open her eyes before Chloe dives right back in. This time, more open. This time, it’s more passionate. This time, Beca initiates the tongue, finally putting it to good use since talking is out of the equation.

From singing a duet of Titanium to a make-out session, how? The brunette can’t believe this is happening. She has gained some courage to also explore Chloe’s body —her hands flying to Chloe’s hips, and cheeks, and back of her neck, to her shoulder— as their kisses become more heated and frenzied.

The noises they make is straight out not PG-13 any longer. Not when Chloe bites and sucks on Beca’s lower lip when the latter tries to pull back for a breather. Her lip lingers longer in between Chloe’s lips and that’s the hottest thing to ever happen to her in college. She’s only been here, what, two months? It’s just going to be downhill from there. Timing’s working out on their side, too, since nobody else is in there.

Wait, isn’t pizza guy supposed to be here? What’s his name? Tony. Tori. Tommy? Whatever, it’s irrelevant now.

Beca can taste a little blood and boy, Chloe’s amazing. That she can say is relevant information.

“Beca.”

“Hmm?”

She’s biting her own lip, a distinct flavour of iron is present.

“I said, it’s a shame these Lush products are limited edition. They only come around Christmas time. I should just buy like 5 sets, right? What do you think? Practical? I’ll share it with you and Amy if you want.” Chloe stands beside her, fully clothed, and unaware of what Beca just had in mind.

They’re in a store together. Shopping for some apartment essentials, in retrospect, but Chloe “needs” to stop for her bath items. Of course.

Beca mentally slaps herself, thinking she’s such an evil person, a monster, for perving on her best friend. Of all people! She looks down and remembers she’s holding that bottle with very specific instructions on how to use it.

“I know, right? It’s funny whoever thought of that. Very clever marketing.” Chloe laughs, after peaking over her shoulder to see Beca reading the label.

“They probably got a raise, at least.” She finally finds a comeback and herself, albeit still feeling guilty for zoning out like that.

Chloe smirks. “Yeah, you enjoyed reading that. You were out for like a minute. Are you considering buying that?”

She’s teasing. Beca knows. But after picturing a very visual reimagine of how they first met, it’s not innocent on Beca’s part anymore.

Chloe doesn’t catch on it though because her teasing continues, “ Bec, we already had a shower moment. Right now, we share a bed. What’s another shower sharing?”

The brunette manages to look at her in an expressionless and hard to read face but Chloe keeps winking at her. “Nope. Not happening.”

[camsthisky]

The Ache for Home

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: Dick goes missing, and Jason looks for him. He wonders, though, why he's the only one looking.

Happy Birthday to @laquilasse! Thanks for being a wonderful friend <3 (Also, this is only part one. Part two will come along sometime soon)

“Let me go!” Dick cries into the emptiness, straining against his restraints.

His gloves and boots are halfway across the room, and that’s the only reason that Dick hasn’t managed to break out of the leather straps holding him to this table. If his gear hadn’t been taken he’d probably be halfway out of the joint by now. But he’s trapped. He can’t do anything except wriggle uselessly and yell obscenities into the darkness.

He doesn’t even know where he is, right now. Somewhere under the city, maybe in the sewers by the feel of the air and smell of the place. He doesn’t remember how he got here, or even why he’s here. He doesn’t know who has him, or for what reason they’re keeping him here.

The only thing that he really knows for sure is that his mask hasn’t been taken off. The spirit gum is still holding strong, and he knows he’d feel it if the mask had been peeled off and the replaced. It doesn’t make any sense, but Dick’s not an expert on criminals—okay. Well, so he is a little bit. But he doesn’t even know who snatched him this time. The Joker’s never been interested in identities, so maybe this guy isn’t, either.

Still, he needs to get out of here. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here or if anybody’s on their way because he didn’t check in, but even if someone’s coming for him, he needs to at least try to meet them halfway.

Dick pulls against the restraints again, desperate to find a weak spot, but it’s useless. Dick can’t maneuver his wrists far enough either way to find something sharp to cut them with. All he can do is pull, and all that’s doing is rubbing his wrists raw.

Dick yells incoherently, and the sound echoes around him. He lets himself slump back against the table he’s strapped to and wonders what he’s supposed to do now.

“Well, well,” a voice says, and the sound of it sends a chill up Dick’s spine. He strains to see the person in the shadows, but they’re hiding too well. All he hears is a voice. A hoarse, creepy voice that reminds Dick of the nights he used to spend under the covers recovering from fear toxin. “You’re awake.”

“What do you want from me?” Dick demands, pulling at the leather straps again.

“Information,” the voice says, echoing around the dark cavern-sewer place they’re in. “You see, Bat Brat, you’ve got something in that brain of yours that I need. And you’re going to give it to me.”

“Like hell I will,” Dick snarls.

“I didn’t plan for the information to come voluntarily,” the voice tells him, and Dick’s blood runs cold at the implications. Torture. Dick’s going to get tortured for information. Good thing he’s had so much practice, that little voice in his head chimes in

He politely tells it to shut the hell up.

“Even if you could get it from me,” Dick says, “Batman knows I’m missing. You won’t have enough time to find whatever you’re looking for before somebody comes for me.”

“Except,” the voice whispers into his ear, and Dick tenses. He hadn’t even heard them move, and yet they’re so close. Close and fast enough to rival Wally, and silent enough to rival Batman. That’s more terrifying than Dick is willing to admit. “Except, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve, Bat Brat.”

Dick shivers. “What trick?”

There’s a definite in the voice’s tone as they sing-song, “No one is coming for you. No one even knows you’re missing.” And then the voice is gone, their cackle the only thing that’s left behind as it echoes around him.

Dick tries to stay calm, but whatever cool he’d had before—which, it really hadn’t been much—has left him, and he thinks he’s this close to a panic attack. He doesn’t know what the voice had meant by any of that “trick” stuff, but Dick thinks that he should be preparing himself to escape on his own, because it really hadn’t sounded like the voice had been lying.

Jason’s pissed off. Incredibly pissed off. He wants to hit something, and he’d prefer it if it were Dick’s face.

The bastard was supposed to meet up with him to drop off some information he needed for a case last night, but Dick had never showed. Dick won’t even answer his phone or his comm. And since Jason actually needs the information and can’t do anything without it, he’s been hunting the Dick-headed moron down all day, to no avail.

Seriously. The guy hadn’t been at his apartment, the penthouse, or any of the safehouses. Roy and Wally haven’t heard from him, and Jason had even had to try Clark. No, the last possible place that Jason can try is the one place he absolutely does not want to be. But it’s the only option.

Maybe he’d been hurt or something. Or maybe there’d been an emergency. Jason doesn’t know. Tim, the only person Jason even has a number for besides Dick, isn’t answering his phone, either, so it’s possible. But still, whatever the case, it doesn’t change the fact that Jason’s fucking pissed.

So when Jason pulls up on his motorcycle in the Cave to see Bruce and Tim and Alfred not in the middle of any emergency, it’s understandable why his mood darkens even further.

“Where is he?” Jason demands the moment the engine cute, and he throws his helmet aside because he’s really fucking angry. And Bruce can look at him all disapproving as much as he wants, but it’s not going to change that Jason’s regretting letting Dick help him this one time instead of gathering the info himself like he should have done.

“Where is who?” Tim asks, looking kind of annoyed. “And why did you call me twelve billion times?”

“Because I can’t get a hold of that fucking Dickhead!” Jason seethes, doing the stupid thing and ignoring the look Alfred throw his way. Whatever. Jason’ll make it up to the butler later, when he’s not pissed ten ways to hell. “He was supposed to have info for me last night, and he didn’t show up.”

“Jason—” Bruce says, but unless it’s a damn good excuse, Jason doesn’t want to hear it.

So he cuts in, “Did Damian scrape his elbow and the bastard come running like the overprotective mother hen he is? Or does he actually have a good reason for narrowing my window of opportunity on this case?”

Throughout his rant, though, all three faces before him only grow more and more confused, and Jason’s honestly about to say screw it and start searching the manor himself. Except—

“Jason,” Bruce says again, brow furrowed. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who am I—You’re kidding, right?”

Jason seriously can’t believe this is happening right now. Tim and Alfred might play dumb sometimes, but Bruce never does. It’s against whatever code he runs on, or whatever. The same code that orders him to brood all the damn time. But all he’s getting right now are blank looks from all three of them.

“No?” Tim says, leaning forward. “But if you needed info for a case, you should have just texted me or something. You didn’t have to—”

“Dick,” Jason yells, throwing his hands up in the air, and the room goes silent. “I’m talking about Dick Grayson. Nightwing? Wears ridiculous crap and pretends it’s fashion? The same guy that was supposed to meet me in Robbinsville last night?”

Bruce’s face hardens, and he swivels his chair around so that the back is facing Jason. Tim winces and sucks down into whatever the hell he’s working on. And Alfred—Alfred looks at Jason just like he had when Jason had first shown up back at the manor for the first time since coming back from the dead. Like he sometimes still does when he sees that damn case and thinks no one is watching.

Only, this time it’s not for Jason.

“The fuck is wrong with all of you?” Jason asks. “Did Dick—Did something happen to Dick last night or something?”

“Get out, Jason,” Bruce says, and his voice, it’s—it’s full of grief.

“The hell I will!” Jason cries, getting angry again. There’s something tight in his chest, and he can’t help but glance towards the cases—but there’s no memorial. Not like Jason’s. Nightwing’s costume isn’t even there. Jason turns back to Bruce. “If something happened, I deserve to know just as much as everyone else!”

“For god’s sake, Jason,” Tim says, shooting him a wild look. “What are you even—”

“Enough,” Bruce hisses, standing up from his chair. “That’s enough. We’re not talking about this anymore.”

“Newsflash, Bruce,” Jason sneers. “We haven’t talked about it. It’s just been you pushing me to the side. Again. Whatever happened, I’m not going to take being sidelined like this.”

Alfred even looks troubled now. “Master Jason, really—”

“Did you have Dick fake his death again? Or is Dick actually dead?” Jason asks, his heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to pay for cutting Alfred off later, but he can’t focus on it right now. “And why won’t you look me in the dam eye?! What happened?!”

Jason’s hands are trembling. He knows he’s automatically jumping to the worst-case scenario, but all of them are acting like Dick’s name is taboo or something, and with Bruce being so evasive, Jason doesn’t have any choice but to guess or search the manor himself.

And if Dick is dead, well. Jason doesn’t want to think about that. Last time Dick had been dead, Damian was dead, too, and Bruce hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eyes, and Tim had been crushed. And Jason? Jason had had two choices. Stay and take Dick’s place as big brother, or run.

He’d chosen the cowardly option. He’d run. He wonders if this time will be the same.

“Jason, why are you—” Tim says, his face twisting up weirdly, but Bruce cuts him off again.

“Dick is dead,” Bruce tells him, and Jason’s breath catches in his throat. But before Jason can say anything, Bruce is talking again. “He’s been dead for years. I know you two didn’t get along very well, but that’s no excuse for you to play game like these again. We’re done. Get out.” And with that, Bruce storms out of the Cave and up into the manor, and Jason can only watch him go.

Years? Dick’s been dead for years? That doesn’t—That makes absolutely no sense. Jason had just talked to Dick a few days ago to make sure Dick was getting that info. Wally and Roy hadn’t acted like Jason was crazy for asking. Not, it was just—just Bruce, Tim, and Alfred.

And a part of him, the part that watched that movie with Dick a few days ago and actually had a good time, breathes a sigh of relief against whatever grief had built up during that conversation. Jason’s not wrong, but he is missing something, and if he can get answers, he can prove that whatever grief is left is completely unfounded.

He turns a sharp gaze to Tim. “Do you want to explain what that—” he gestures towards the stairs leading to the manor, “—was about?”

Tim shoots him a glare. “Just give it up, Jason. I don’t know if you’re trying to get back at Bruce or whatever, but—”

“What in the hell,” Jason says. “What the actual fuck are you talking about? Get Bruce back for what? And if Dick were dead for the past couple years do you really think that I’d pull something like this?”

“Maybe you—”

Jason ruffles his hair with one hand. “For fuck’s sake, I literally talked to Dick on Wednesday. And Wally talked to him like Saturday or something. The hell are you all on?”

“Dick’s dead,” Tim says. “He died before you did. Did you finally snap or something?”

Jason drops his head into his hands and tries just to breathe. Whatever’s going on, something’s not adding up. Drugs? Big elaborate prank? Fake death? Fear Toxin? None of those seem plausible for the kind of reaction Tim and Bruce are giving him, and Alfred had looked so sad. They genuinely seem to think that Dick has been dead for years.

But Jason spoke to him a few days ago. He remembers punching Dick in his stupid face for daring to fake his death however long ago it was. He knows Dick’s still alive—or he’d been alive recently, at least. Jason has to dig. He’s a detective. He’s going to figure this out, with or without Tim’s help.

Marginally calmer, Jason looks back up, looks Tim dead in the eye and says, “I snapped a long time ago. But this time, I think it’s you guys that need to seriously evaluate what’s going on in those heads of yours. Dick’s alive, and I don’t care what I have to do to prove it.”

And with that, he picks up his helmet, slings a leg over his bike, and leaves crazy town to continue life without him.

Alfred’s spent years in the manor, cleaning, cooking, and raising unruly children.

It had started with Bruce, a child so deeply caught up in his own trauma he’d shut himself off to the point nothing seemed to get through that wall of his. Not until he’d become Batman and brought home a young child one night, and Alfred suddenly had another charge to look after.

Not that he minded. In fact, he’d been more than happy to help Bruce raise the ray of sunshine that had been Richard Grayson. He’d been almost Bruce’s opposite. Open, bright, and determined to be happy, no matter how much of his own trauma he had on his own shoulders. Sometimes Alfred was afraid that that determination would turn into something deadly. Something that would get him or Bruce killed at some point.

He had only been a boy, after all, and boys aren’t known for their caution.

And of course, Alfred had been right.

The details are fuzzy all these years later, especially after Jason’s untimely passing and subsequent resurrection took the forefront of worry in his mind.

However, Alfred knows that he can never forget someone like Richard Grayson.

Bruce, he knows, will never forget Richard, either, though perhaps different reasons. Where Alfred will remember a hyperactive child running through the halls of the manor, sliding down the banisters, swinging from the chandeliers, Bruce will remember the first Robin, the soldier he’d help create, Nightwing, the fights.

Bruce will remember what he thinks is his own failings.

The odd thing, though, is the way Bruce is acting. Alfred notices the moment they enter the study that it’s not grief sitting heavy upon Bruce’s shoulders, it’s anger. And while that’s not an emotion Alfred is unfamiliar with when it comes to Bruce, it’s odd that whenever Richard is mentioned in his memories, Bruce reacts the same way as he does when Jason’s death is mentioned.

And yet, it’s different now.

And Alfred himself, he feels sad, but not impossibly sad. He remembers what it feels like, to have a weight sitting on his chest, crushing his lungs and making it hard to breathe. But when Alfred thinks of Richard’s grinning face, all he has is the urge to bake a batch of chocolate cookies and wait in the kitchen for a boy who will never come home again.

“I’m going out,” Bruce announces, and Alfred follows him to the door, helping Bruce into a coat. There’s no need to ask where Bruce is going on such short notice, seeing as he goes up to the top of the hill to stare at a grave every time he grieves, but Bruce is agitated, and this isn’t a normal visit.

Alfred hopes, as Bruce walks out the door without a word over his shoulder, that whatever it is that’s happening, it is resolved sooner rather than later.

And something is happening, of that he has no doubt. But for now, he’ll stay here, in the manor, and wait for his children to come home. And he barely dares to think it, but he’ll even wait for all of them, no matter how much heartbreak he’s setting himself up for.

Something’s wrong, Tim thinks.

At first, he’d written off Jason’s ramblings as getting dosed with fear toxin or trying to get back at Bruce or something. Jason’s tried to kill all of them before, so it’s not like it’s hard to imagine Jason doing something horrible.

But it’s also been months since Jason had finally stopped all of that, and for the life of him, Tim can’t remember why. He also can’t get, did Dick fake his death again? out of his head, because there’s something in his chest, and it twists every single time he thinks of those words.

So Tim does what he always does when he’s looking at a particularly hard case: fills a thermos with freshly made coffee and starts breaking things down.

It’s hours later that Damian comes down to the Cave and immediately zeroes in on him. Which is perfect, because despite wanting literally nothing to do with the brat, he’s just what Tim needs right now.

“What are you working on now, Drake?” Damian drawls, seemingly uninterested. But there’s that glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that Tim is actually glad to see for once. But he doesn’t speak, knowing that if he answers now, Damian will refuse to even stay in the room. Damian’s eyebrows scrunch up as he watches Tim type. “Why are you looking into old case files from fifteen years ago?”

Tim spins his chair around and looks Damian in the eye. “This is top secret.”

Damian scoffs. “Everything we do is top secret, Drake. I’d have thought that you’d have known that by now.”

“I mean secret from Bruce.”

Damian straightens, his shoulders tense up. “What warrants the secrecy?”

Tim leans back and rubs a hand over his face. He’s been staring at the screen too long. “Lots of things. The biggest being that I think Jason’s right and Bruce isn’t, no matter how sure he seems.”

“What are you going on about?” Damian asks. “And what does Todd have to do with it?”

“Who made you Robin?” Tim decides to throw out.

“Father,” Damian tells him automatically, looking irritated. And then his expression turns vicious. “If you think you’re taking back the position—”

“Shut up for a second and just answer my questions, okay?” Tim snaps. “This is actually important, and I only have a little bit of time before Bruce realizes I hacked the cameras.”

Damian, amazingly, shuts up.

“Okay, Bruce was lost in time when you became Robin,” Tim tells him seriously. “So that means it couldn’t have been Bruce that gave you the uniform, because as soon as it was given to you, I left Gotham to go find Bruce.”

Damian opens his mouth, and then shuts it, staring at the floor in some cross of contemplation, confusion, and realization.

“So someone else gave it to you,” Tim says, feeling breathless as that thing in his chest twists again. “Do you know who it was?”

Damian shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet. “No. I can’t remember.”

“You mean you have gaps in your memory,” Tim confirms his hypothesis. “Someone looked out for Gotham with you while I was looking for Bruce and Cass was in Hong Kong and Jason was still having his identity crisis. Someone else was there, and we’re missing him.”

“Who?”

Tim licks his lips and stares at the ground, barely daring to believe that he’s about to say this aloud. “Jason came in here earlier screaming his head off about—well. About the first Robin. Richard Grayson. I thought he was having a mental breakdown or something, but now—"

“He died,” Damian says, his eyes on the cases in the corner when Tim looks back up. His brows are furrowed and there’s a quiet horror in his voice. “Richard Grayson is dead, but there’s no memorial for him. But there’s one for Todd. Todd has been revived and Father still won’t take it down.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, his heart fluttering in his chest as he thinks about it and the pieces start to come together. There’s something in him that hurts, and it shouldn’t, and he thinks that’s what solidifies this. It’s not supposed to hurt like this when he’s never even met the guy “Combine all of it together, it points to one thing.”

Damian looks him in the eye, and Tim can barely breathe anymore.

“It means Jason’s right,” Tim whispers. “Dick Grayson is alive.”

“Are you sure?” Wally asks from the other end of the line for the fifth damn time. “I mean, why would they forget and not us?”

Jason makes an irritated noise into his phone, cradling it between his shoulder and his cheek as he looks through his case files for clues. For something he might have missed. “They didn’t forget. They think he’s dead. Two different things here, West.”

“But still,” Wally says, and Jason can hear the frown in his voice, “that doesn’t make any sense. Especially if they’re saying he died before even you did.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jason snaps. He grabs the phone with one hand and straightens up, the other hand ruffling his own hair in his irritation. “Dick’s not showing up anywhere and suddenly the whole damn family thinks he’s dead? You think I don’t know that’s weird?!”

“Calm down, Jason. I’m just saying—”

“It’s insane!” Jason yells, pushing himself to his feet. “And for some reason it’s only them! If I hadn’t gone over there, no one would even…be….”

Jason freezes, the gears in his head turning over and over as he tries to think through this. If Jason hadn’t needed Dick last night, it might have been days before someone had realized that the Waynes thought Dick was dead. Meaning no one would be out looking for him until it was too late.

“Oh god,” Jason says, horror twisting his stomach painfully. “Someone took him.”

“What?” Wally asks, his voice actually quiet for once in his life. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about it,” Jason tells him. “Someone went through the trouble of altering the memories of the people that Dick are publicly connected to, and only the people he’s publicly connected to. You, me, Roy, Clark. We weren’t affected by whatever it was, but we’re not in constant contact with him, either. Bruce and Tim are.”

“So what are you saying?” Wally wonders. There’s some kind of murmuring and rustling in the background, but Jason is barley paying attention.

“I’m saying that Tim and Bruce and Alfred didn’t just happen to think Dick was dead, and they’re the ones that Dick has constant public contact with,” Jason tells him. “Which means that someone did this, and they’re probably just buying time to get something from Dick. They took him.”

Wally’s silent for almost a moment, and Jason feels a flutter of irritation rise up in his gut again. If he’s right, if someone’s just trying to stall for time, that means that they don’t have much of it to find Dick. From the way this is set up, this isn’t supposed to be a permanent situation. Not everyone was brain-washed into thinking Dick’s dead, which probably can mean two things.

One, it’s like Jason told Wally. Whoever took Dick is stalling for time, which would suggest that they want information and Dick isn’t giving it up easily. It’d make sense, given the circumstances and who Dick was trained by.

Two, the person didn’t have the juice. Whatever mind melding powers they have might not be powerful enough to affect the entire world.

Jason’s money is on both.

“Okay,” Wally says, and Jason startles back to the present. “Okay, I’m on my way over.”

“You’re what?” Jason asks, but before he can really even blink, Wally’s there. In the middle of his apartment. Making half the papers on his table fly up into the air from the force of his speed. Jason jams the end call button on his phone harder than necessary. “How the hell do you even know where I live?!”

“Dick,” Wally says, pulling out his own phone. He scrolls through his contacts, settles on a name, and puts it on speaker.

“Who are you calling?” Jason asks, his brow crumpling, making a mental note to chew Dick out later for giving Wally his address if they find him.

When, he chastises himself. When they find him.

But Wally doesn’t answer. Instead, the person on the other end picks up, and it’s Barbara who says a in a soft and somewhat confused voice, “Hello?”

“Hey, Barbara,” Wally says easily.

But his shoulders are tense and his eyes are troubled, and he kind of looks like Dick does sometimes, when he wants to make it seem like nothing’s bothering him because he’s a giant masochist. Wally’s doesn’t seem to be doing it for that, though. Jason thinks that Wally doesn’t want to give away just how much shit they’re actually in. At least, that’s what Jason would do.

“Wally. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Wally says, setting the phone down on the table and leaning on the back of a chair. “He was in Gotham last night, and he was wearing a Nightwing suit.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Babs says, “Is this some kind of sick joke? Because if it is—”

“It’s not,” Jason cuts in. “Honest, Barbara. We’re telling the truth.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Come on, Babs,” Wally says, his voice soft. “You know what the suit means to me. To all of us. Will you please help us?”

“Fine,” Barbara tells them, her voice steely. “I’ll look. But if this turns into some prank, I’m setting Cass on the both of you and you can forget about any support from me for an entire year.”

The three of them fall quiet, and for a long time, almost two or three minutes, Jason thinks, there’s absolutely no noise beside the small clicks of the keyboard on Barbara’s end of the line. A sharp intake of breath breaks the silence, though, and Jason finds himself leaning over the phone.

“What?” he demands. “What is it?”

“You guys were right,” Barbara says. “Corner of Fourth and Main, 2:17 am.”

“Is he doing anything weird?”

“He’s just…sitting on the roof.” Jason ignores the quiet waver to Barbara’s voice, but he appreciates when she takes a deep breath and seems to find her calm. Good. Jason’s not sure he can handle anything like a break down from her, right now. He’s already so close to the edge himself, being one of the only people to believe that Dick is even alive.

Barbara takes another breath, and then there’s more typing.

Jason’s fists clench. “What’s going on now?”

“Do you have your laptop open?” Barbara asks. “And on?”

Jason swivels around, looking over at his coffee table, where his laptop’s plugged in and open to his desktop screen. He doesn’t use it for much since it’s a cheap old thing he got for a couple hundred bucks and sucks at running more than three programs at once. “Yes? Why?”

“I’m sending you the video footage from last night,” Barbara says. “I’ll help you take this guy down, but I need you two to figure this out where he is by yourself. I can’t—that uniform is—”

“Got it,” Wally says. “Thanks, Barbara.”

“Just figure this out, West,” Barbara says, and then there’s a click, and the line goes dead. She hung up.

At the same time, Jason’s email pings annoyingly, and he plops down on the couch, opens his browser up to access his account, and clicks on the new email from Babs. It’s a few videos, different angles of Dick sitting on a rooftop last night, the same rooftop that he and Jason were supposed to meet at. Dick was almost an hour early, though, and Jason thinks that maybe that had been his downfall.

It’s as they’re watching the first video, though, that something weird happens. One minute, Dick is sitting on the ledge of the roof, and the next, he’s crumpling backwards, like a puppet with his strings cut.

“What the—” Jason starts to say, but Wally leans over his shoulder from the back of the couch, and when Jason turns to look at him, his green eyes are wide.

“Play it back.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I thought I saw something.”

Jason plays it back, and they watch Dick crumple again, and this time, even though Jason knows it’s coming, he barley holds back a wince as he watches Dick fall unconscious seemingly unprompted. He pauses it afterwards, and turns to Wally.

“Well?” he asks.

Wally shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Wally breathes. “I thought I saw a person, but it’s not there anymore.”

Jason unpauses the video, and they keep watching.

Nothing else happens for a few minutes, just Dick unconscious on the rooftop, and then the camera goes black for almost ten seconds, and when it cuts back in, Dick’s gone. Checking the other videos reveal the exact same thing, and Jason shuts his laptop in frustration, scrubbing at his hair.

“That was absolutely no help,” Jason snaps.

Wally sighs, forearms resting on the back of the couch. “I mean, it gives us a place to look, right?”

“I guess,” Jason says, but he feels sort of sick. He’d told Tim that he was going to prove that Dick was alive, and all he has to go on are a couple of tampered videos and the fact that only the people closest to him seem to think he’s dead. “God, this is so messed up.”

“Yeah,” Wally agrees, and he looks as tired as Jason feels. “So what do we do now? Do we go out and look for him?”

“It’s like three in the afternoon,” Jason snorts. “I don’t know how it works in Keystone, but we don’t go in the daytime, West.”

“I know that but—”

Jason’s phone rings, then, and Wally cuts off. One glance at his caller ID, though, has Jason furrowing his brow in confusion. He answers with a hesitant, “Tim?”

“I believe you,” Tim says immediately. “Dick’s alive. I believe you.”

Jason sags back into the couch. “What made you change your mind.”

“Things aren’t adding up.” Tim pauses, and there’s some murmuring on Tim’s side. Sounds kind of like arguing, and Jason thinks that Tim might be there with Damian of all people, calling Jason. Geez, when Dick disappears, the Bats go to crazy town, don’t they? Tim blows out a breath. “Okay, meet me and Damian on that rooftop where Dick disappeared in an hour.”

Tim hangs up, then, and knowing Tim, Jason thinks he probably hacked his way into the cameras, too. From what Jason knows about him, Tim’s almost as good as Barbara is when it comes to technology.

So Jason saves the question for later, looks up at Wally, and says, “Suit up,”

It looks like they’ve got a stray bird to rescue.

Dick’s been here for a while. Long enough that someone should have noticed by now that he’s been gone too long and come looking for him.

During his stay down here in Sewerville, Dick’s pretty sure the voice has managed to half kill him without even letting Dick seem them. There’s blood pouring from every part of his body, he’s bruised and beaten, and his voice is wrecked from constantly screaming. He feels like he’s about to die, and he thinks that the only two reasons he’s even still alive is because one, his captor hasn’t gotten their information, and two, he still has that little bit of faith that someone will find him. That Bruce will find him. No matter what the voice keeps telling him.

But after the first few hours of mouthing off, Dick’s wrist gets crushed and he’s half-strangled to death, and his words become few and far apart, until he finally stops talking altogether. After that time passes by in bits and pieces. One minute he’s alone, the next he’s getting electrocuted. One minute he’s getting stabbed with a knife, the next he’s by himself again. It skips and pauses, like an old record, and Dick can’t seem to hold onto it for more than maybe an hour at a time.

That’s bad, he thinks, but he can’t remember why.

Right now, though, there’s a bigger problem to worry about. Namely, the syringe being plunged into his arm. Dick cries out as it breaks the needle breaks the skin and the contents injected into his veins.

“What was that?” Dick calls out hoarsely. “What did you just give me?”

“Tell me what you know,” the voice demands for the millionth time. “Tell me what you know and I’ll let you go. This will all be over with.”

Dick chest heaves for precious, precious air as he stares up at the ceiling, and he’s not going to cry, but he can’t help it when his voice cracks a little when he says, “I already told you, I don’t know.”

“You must know something.”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“I don’t believe that the first Robin doesn’t know where the Justice League Headquarters are. You must know.” The syringe clatters to the ground. “And that serum will help you waggle your tongue.”

Dick shivers. “I don’t know where it is. I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” the voice hisses, and Dick flinches away from the voice. “You’re lying. Because I’ve seen you in it. I just need to know how to access it. That’s all you have to tell me and you’ll be free.”

“Even if I did know,” Dick says, trying his best to keep his voice calm and steady, “I would never tell you.”

“We’ll see how you feel after the serum runs its course,” the voice cackles. “Have a nice sleep, Bat Brat.”

Dick’s vision wavers, and his last thought before everything goes dark is, Please let Bruce find me. Please.

[fae-fucker]

Shatter Me: Chapter 10-11

Chapter 10

Last time we were in this heck hole of a book, Adam had been revealed to be a soldier and we were introduced to Warner Bros., the resident sexy bad boy who has offered Juliette a job as his personal weapon. 

Adam leads Juliette through some hallways and she’s like totally hot for him still.

I feel him shift in the darkness and soon his body is too close so disarmingly close to mine. His hand is on my lower back and he’s guiding me through the corridors toward an unknown destination. Every inch of my skin is blushing. I have to hold myself upright to keep from falling backward into his arms.

“I’m 100% convinced this man wants to kill me but hotdamn I’d still tap that.”

I can’t even start explaining how much sense this all just makes, you know?

I’m painfully excited but I haven’t felt natural light on my skin in so long I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.

This is why people hate first person narration. Fucking look at this garbage.

The air hits me first.

It’s my phantom fist.

Juliette is in awe of all the outside that she’s feeling right now before Adam stuffs her into a tank. A TANK. She also mentions soldiers looking at them and I have to wonder what kind of facility this actually is.

They drive off and Juliette angsts about how shitty everything is and how the world is dead. We also get more information -- if you can call it that -- about how the Reestablishment came into power and became the Establishment, if you will.

I remember there were rules. No more dangerous imaginations, no more prescription medications. A new generation comprised of only healthy individuals would sustain us. The sick must be locked away. The old must be discarded. The troubled must be given up to the asylums. Only the strong should survive.

Ok, so this sounds like good ole fascism right there, so this could theoretically be a thing (because it kind of is right now). It’s got that proper us-vs-them mentality that’s at the core of most authoritarian governments. But then Tahereh gets greedy:

No more stupid languages and stupid stories and stupid paintings placed above stupid mantels. No more Christmas, no more Hanukkah, no more Ramadan and Diwali. No talk of religion, of belief, of personal convictions. Personal convictions were what nearly killed us all, is what they said.

This is just dumb. People in power often use religion to justify their toxic views, and I’m having a hard time seeing humanity (which has gone to war over religion over and over again) giving up all of their religions just because some dingdongs claimed it would help.

Now, I’m not shitting on religious people here, I’m just stating the facts that I do not see humanity accepting this new hardcore atheist government that says that being a person with beliefs and convictions is bad.

Usually dictatorships and authoritarian governments are based on an us-vs-them mentality. The people in power pick a target that they label as “other” and create propaganda to “unite” the people against a common “threat”. “Our” group is presented as strong, righteous, and good to reinforce the love for their own group while strengthening the hate for the “other”.

Forcing the population to war against ... itself? Convincing a population that they’re all terrible to the point where they’ll all just go “yeah I guess we are, please control us”? I don’t see it. Many YA dystopias are based on this idea and I honestly don’t see how this could ever work. 

A potential leader telling you that you’re the best, better than that guy over there, let’s go kill him? That clearly works on a population. A potential leader telling you that you suck and that you should give them the power over you so they can fix you? That’s suspicious as fuck. This sounds more like a cult than a government, and sure, cult tactics do work, but cults target very specific individuals that they slowly groom into accepting their views, and they’re often small as a result of this and the fact that they isolate their members from society. Doing this to a whole population? Nah.

I think this kind of is a side-effect of YA authors being afraid of taking a side? You don’t wanna write about a nasty white dude taking power and making everyone believe that everyone other than a white dude is a piece of dirt because that might upset the white dudes, so you just kind of write governments that are weirdly diverse but are “evil” because they hate ... humanity in general? And we’re all humans, so clearly we’ll think they’re evil! Easy! 

This is also why YA dystopias often create worlds that are super hardcore and oppressive, but conveniently never racist or misogynistic or homophobic, so they’re somehow more advanced than we are when it comes to equality but also more barbaric. *insert I’m not [thing], I hate everyone equally joke here*

And I get it. Writing about real-life oppression mirrored in a fake world is hard and icky and uncomfortable. But if you’ve set out to write a proper dystopia and you end up with this, you do kind of cheapen it all by making your dark-haired white girl oppressed because of her cool superpower/rebel spirit while the government is made up of a diverse cast of bad guys who are all bad because the narrative said so.

I think I went off on a tangent. What I’m trying to say is: people take elements from 1984 even though the parts they take from it don’t make any dingdang sense in the context of their worlds.

Anyway, Juliette tells us that there is, in fact, an underground rebel movement that’s waiting for the right moment to strike. I don’t know how she knows that and I don’t know why they’re waiting, but whatever.

We pull up to a structure 10 times larger than the asylum and suspiciously central to civilization. From the outside it looks like a bland building, inconspicuous in every way but its size, gray steel slabs comprising 4 flat walls, windows cracked and slammed into the 15 stories. It’s bleak and bears no marking, no insignia, no proof of its true identity. 

Political headquarters camouflaged among the masses.

How bad is this camouflage that Juliette, who presumably has never been inside, is able to figure out what it is? I can’t accept the idea that she’s supposed to be super insightful, for obvious reasons. 

Chapter 11

Dirty money is dripping from the walls, a year’s supply of food wasted on marble floors, hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical aid poured into fancy furniture and Persian rugs. I feel the artificial heat pouring in through air vents and think of children screaming for clean water. I squint through crystal chandeliers and hear mothers begging for mercy. I see a superficial world existing in the midst of a terrorizing reality and I can’t move.

[...]

They filled our world with weapons aimed at our foreheads and smiled as they shot 16 candles right through our future. They killed those strong enough to fight back and locked up the freaks who failed to live up to their utopian expectations.

Ok so um. I see the point you’re trying to make here and I agree that rich people are the devil and that we should eat them, but in this world that you’ve created, this kind of makes no sense.

How ... How exactly are they “stealing” or “wasting” money if they’re in charge of the economy and the production of everything? Who exactly are they stealing from if they’ve murdered most of the population anyway? Are they paying people to have those Persian rugs made? Isn’t it more logical to assume they’ve just taken stuff that has already existed, since nobody else was using it? 

Like, you have real-life examples of how politicians and corporations get rich, and this ... this isn’t one of those ways. You don’t blast a population to death and then start producing wealth out of nowhere. New wealth doesn’t just magically appear once you’ve stolen “everything” from the population.

You know for someone who was complaining about how evil the eestablishment are for taking away art and fancy things, she sure doesn’t want any of this art or fancy things. The Reestablishment was also established (hueh) to promote a “simple” lifestyle, and yeah, usually dictatorships do that to the population while they live like kings, but Juliette hasn’t noted this hypocrisy yet, she’s just cringing at the fancy things so far.

Let’s hope she does.

Whatever. Juliette is all disgusted with the luxury around her and sees blood all over (See because she thinks people have been sacrificed to Big Corporate for all this fancy stuff. It’s poetic you see because poor people have uuuuh died for all this stuff and all that.), so much so that she has a breakdown.

I’m in the air. I’m a bag of feathers in [Adam’s] arms and he’s breaking through soldiers crowding around for a glimpse of the commotion and for a moment I don’t want to care that I shouldn’t want this so much. I want to forget that I’m supposed to hate him, that he betrayed me, that he’s working for the same people who are trying to destroy the very little that’s left of humanity and my face is buried in the soft material of his shirt and my cheek is pressed against his chest and he smells like strength and courage and the world drowning in rain. I don’t want him to ever ever ever ever let go of my body. I wish I could touch his skin, I wish there were no barriers between us.

Ok so first you get all upset over how these guys are evil for having all this stuff, and the next second you’re creaming yourself about how you totally wanna bang this dude you don’t know and who you’re convinced wants to kill or otherwise hurt you?

Makes that whole previous freakout seem a bit cheap now, dontcha think?

Juliette begs Adam to kill her because she just can’t handle how horny she is for him how rich and evil these people are, but he’s like naw dawg, can’t kill the protagonist in a trilogy this early. 

Adam takes her to a room and Juliette complains about how pretty and luxurious it is.

Listen. I don’t care how strong her ess-joo spirit is. Girl has been locked up in a cell all alone for 200+ days. Justice for the poor should be at the very back of her head, not her main concern. She should be shitting herself with joy right now.

“Please don’t let go of me put me down,” I tell him.

Tahereh ... sweetie. You can’t do this in dialogue. That’s not ... that’s not how anything works. Did she actually say this and then quickly correct herself? I should be enchanted by this riveting dialogue, not be taken out of the experience trying to figure out if this girl has two voices like she’s possessed by Pazuzu.

Juliette asks Adam to leave her alone, which he says isn’t an option, since Warner Bros. considers her a threat and has thus decided that Adam must watch her at all times. Which means he’ll be moving in.

Yikes. I know it’s all a (rather fanfiction-y) setup for their “romance”, but still, how creepy and uncomfortable is that?

I want to hate him and judge him and scream forever but I’m failing because all I see is an 8-year-old boy who doesn’t remember that he used to be the kindest person I ever knew.

Yeah, can’t wait until he’s suddenly written to be super evil so Warner Bros. can swoop in and save you. 

And, really? “I know he’ll be invading my privacy for who knows how long and I’m pretty sure he wants me harm or at least wouldn’t mind inflicting it if ordered, but he was a nice kid back in school, so I can’t bring myself to hate him!” Great.

Adam tells her that she has to change into less icky clothes and says that there’s a bathroom. 

I see a door connected to the room and I’m suddenly curious. I’ve heard stories about people with bathrooms in their bedrooms. I guess they’re not exactly in the bedroom, but they’re close enough.

1) This narration is completely OOC for Juliette, and also really dumb.

2) So we went from “fuck all this rich people crap!!” to “ooh, my own bathroom? sweet!!” Consistency who?

 Adam says that there are no cameras in the bathroom, which means that there are cameras in the bedroom. Juliette is only mildly concerned with this.

Adam says that Warner Bros. will be expecting her for dinner, and then goes to show her how the stuff in the bathroom works. 

He then acts a bit weird, looking around and putting his finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet, and Juliette assumes he’s about to rape her and wishes she could kill herself.

He of course isn’t and leaves when he realizes why she’s freaking out.

So uh. This suddenly got dark.