#cause I traced actual photos to get the correct face shapes

[arsonistechnicallyillegal]

A friend today reminded me I am an artist. And can draw ✨ANYTHING✨ I want. So enjoy Mpreg, omega verse, BidenxTrump. Yes there will be more as now my friends and I are working on a fanfic for it. This took 2 and a half hours of my life, so, Enjoy! (There is already a Pinterest board and Spotify playlist for this)

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 10

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  Neither you nor Din are handling your capture well.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,978

Warnings: captured reader, surprises, plot plot plot, violence, Din goes a bit dark side

Author Note: So sorry this is coming out late 😳 Between making YouTube videos and New Years everything got hectic, but here it is. I attempted writing from Din’s perspective this time so bear with me cuz he’s having a rough time😬 

Links to Part 1 and Part 9 and Part 11

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

When you wake up, you’re lying facedown on a pallet in a dark and cold room. You groan, head pounding, and try to sit up, but your weak muscles protest, resulting in you rolling awkwardly onto your backside. Squinting up at the ceiling, you notice it is made of rock, as is the wall to the right of you.

Your head lolls to the left, granting you a lovely view of a red laser gate trapping you inside this strange cell. The faint glow it gives off produces barely enough light to reveal more rocky walls curving off to the side. You’re in a cave, you realize, processing everything at the rate of a snail’s pace, or some kind of underground tunnel.

At first you can’t remember how you ended up here, or what happened to you, but then everything hits you all at once.

“Finally,” a voice declares from beyond your cell. The purple twi’lek from earlier steps out of the shadows and leers at you from the other side of the laser gate. “I was beginning to think I misjudged the dosage.”

With monumental effort, you push yourself onto your knees, dizziness slamming into your skull with the brutal intensity of a hammer, and reach a hand out to summon your bow.

Nothing happens.

“What—why isn’t it—” The words are thick and clumsy, slurring together as if your tongue has forgotten how to form them individually. Closing your eyes to stop the room from spinning, you feel nothing but unbalanced and vulnerable. You try to speak again, taking a steadying breath. “What is wrong with me?”

“You’ve been collared. All the pets in the Moff’s collection wear one,” she answers, as casually as if she’s discussing the weather outside. “Keeps you from using your abilities and causing trouble.”

She has no reason to lie, but you still gasp when your trembling hand brushes against the metal band encircling your neck. Panicking, you pull on it without thinking, only for a responding jolt of electricity to shock your fingertips and fry every nerve ending in your body. You cry out at the pain, but the sound is drowned out by the twi’lek’s screech-like laughter.

“That never gets old,” she says, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.

“Death,” you mutter hoarsely, closing your eyes again and breathing shallowly through your mouth. “Death is going to slaughter all of you.”

“Oh, pet, you just don’t get it, do you?“ Her voice is practically dripping with condescension as she coos at you, “The Moff wants you here because you’re precious to Death.”

Against your better judgement, you open your eyes to look at her, confused by the wide smile you see stretching across her face. At headquarters, Gideon and your superiors had seemed far more concerned about the fact you had a second soulmate rather than who it was you matched with. If Gideon is punishing you for being Din’s soulmate (a fate which you had no control over whatsoever), you can’t help thinking he must be insane or have a legitimate desire to have his body dismembered piece by bloody piece. There is no denying that Din will do anything he can to get you back. Even break the rules of the universe.

You freeze.

Kriff. The puzzle pieces begin fitting together and you loathe the hideous picture they form.

“You are Death’s weakness. And anyone with a weakness can be taken advantage of if the right strings are pulled,” the twi’lek says, confirming your fears. She then winks at you coyly. “Congratulations, pet, you’ve just become Moff Gideon’s favorite puppet.”

You barely refrain from shouting curses at her as she walks away, leaving you alone with your chaotic thoughts.

Lying back down on the pallet, you press your hands over your eyes, tuning out the coldness of your surroundings and seeking out the warmth of your soulmate bond. You call out Din’s name within your mind, a repetitive chant increasing in urgency as you pray against all odds he hears you. But as the silence continues and you start to feel a phantom sensation of pain emanating from your throat, as if you have actually scraped it raw by how loudly you call, your heart breaks as it accepts the bitter truth: he can’t hear you.

You touch the collar again, every internal instinct you have screaming it is to blame for the invisible wall blocking you from reaching out to Din. How long have you been collared? How much time has passed since you were drugged at headquarters? Regardless, you don’t have any doubt Din is losing his mind right now. And his temper.

A few tears leak from the corners of your eyes, but you do not sob or sniffle. Gideon and his minions will not have the satisfaction of hearing you crying. Din wouldn’t like it either, you think, remembering his reaction on the Razor Crest when he’d found you panicking. He had held your hand, offering you any support he could to end your sorrows. Even offering to kill for you.

It’s funny, though, because few people seem to realize the feeling is mutual. You would do anything in the galaxy to spare Din a second’s worth of pain. If Gideon is under the impression you’ll just silently let him use you in order to exploit Din to do his bidding, then he’s going to be thoroughly pissed to learn just how stubborn you can be. Taking away your Cupid abilities might have weakened you, but you’re not going to be a helpless kriffing damsel.

Although, you correct yourself ruefully as you lower your hands and look around your confines, you might currently be a little helpless. You take in the high ceiling above you, thinking you’ll be able to stand at full height once the effects of the drug wear off and still not be able to touch the top. It scares you to think how far your cell has been dug beneath the surface of whichever planet Gideon has imprisoned you on. The twi’lek had referenced he had a collection of others hidden away in these tunnels. How many have died here with no one up above being any the wiser?

Pushing the morbid thoughts aside, your gaze drifts along the walls, noting the varying shapes and sizes of the rocks. They are all different shades of brown except for one odd green one in the corner. You look at the laser gate, knowing it can’t be shut off unless you have access to the generator which severely limits your plans of escaping since—

Your thoughts screech to a halt as your eyes snap back to the corner.

A rock does not have a little green body clothed in brown wool or long pointed ears. Nor does it peer back at you with large, innocent eyes as it clutches a piece of dirty black fabric with tiny three-fingered hands. And it certainly doesn’t waddle up to you and coo curiously in your stunned face.

You rub at your eyes, half-convinced you have now begun hallucinating things.

Nope. That little green face is still there when you open them again. It’s official, your brain isn’t screwing with you.

Your cellmate is a kriffing baby.

~~

Decades ago Din was approached by a man who begged to be killed. He had been separated from his soulmate against his will and compared the pain he felt to the sensation of a thousand needles injecting acid straight into his bloodstream. However, Din had sensed the man’s lifetime was far from over and ignored his pleas.

Thinking about that incident now, Din has determined the man’s comparison to be a gross understatement. Being forcefully separated from his angel is as if an invisible force is holding him underwater, wishing him to drown. His brain is on the verge of exploding, torn between thoughts of bloodthirsty savagery and the overwhelming agony of not being able to breathe without her in his sight. Every hour they remain apart threatens to rob him of his sanity and transform his outward appearance from man to monster.

 Already he has experienced a lapse in control of his powers the moment he’d first felt their bond had been blocked. He’d been forced to teleport away from Kuiil’s farm, lest he risk reaping the Ugnaught’s soul before its destined time, and unleashed his wrath upon an uninhabitable Outer Rim planet. His powers had pierced its core in the same effortless manner a vibroblade cuts through flesh, killing its essence instantaneously. In a matter of minutes, the planet would be nothing more than scattered dust particles floating through the vastness of space, though he did not linger to witness the destruction.

Instead, he returned to his ship and sent a holographic message to his most trusted reapers, assigning them the critical task of searching the galaxy for one specific target: Valin Hess. While they hunted down the bastard, he dedicated his time to searching for his better half. He extended his powers to each individual planet and moon in every region, tendrils of darkness looking through homes and alleyways for even the faintest trace of her vibrant aura amongst trillions of souls.

Now, ten hours later, he is interrupted by the chime of an incoming call.

“Come to Trask,” Bo-Katan says bluntly, not one to waste crucial time with excess words. “I've got him ready for you.”

“Good,” Din says. His own voice sounds strange even to himself. As he reaches for his helmet, his reflection in its visor reveals his eyes have changed from brown to solid black, his true form beginning to break through the human facade he cloaks himself in. 

He had been warned in the past of the grievous consequences that will ripple across the galaxy should he ever lose control of his internal darkness. But if unleashing that force brings him even one step closer to reuniting with his angel?

He won’t even hesitate a heartbeat.

~~

You are quick to learn three important facts about your cellmate.

First and foremost, the baby adores attention. Within minutes of discovering him, he climbs into your lap and snuggles against your stomach, making a strange purring sound of happiness. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when you notice the tiny collar around his neck, identical to yours. Why would Gideon be keeping a child in his collection? Any potential answer that comes to mind makes you feel sick.

“You’re safe with me,” you tell him gently, stroking your fingertips over his wrinkly brow and the sparse amount of fuzzy hair on top of his head. He coos as if he understands you, ears perking up. “We’ll get through this together.”

Secondly, he is extremely possessive of his belongings. You learn this the hard way when you reach for the torn piece of black fabric he has gripped in his hands, intending to get a closer look at it because it doesn’t resemble a usual child’s blanket, but instead more so a torn bit of clothing—only for surprisingly sharp teeth to nip at your fingers.

You pull your hand away and hold it up, showing you mean no harm. “I’m sorry, bud. I should have asked permission first.”

Brown eyes stare back at you for a silent beat, painfully reminding you so much of Din you almost can’t bear to look at them, before the baby bobs his head with a low grunt. You chuckle at his cuteness. Although you hate the unfairness of the situation, you’re grateful for his presence as it stops you from worrying incessantly about your disconnected bond. As long as you wear the collar, you remind yourself, there isn’t anything you can do to reach Din. So you’ll just have to continue being patient and live with the uncomfortable hollow sensation until you can determine the best opportunity of freeing yourself.

And the baby now, too, you can’t help but silently add, looking down at him.

It is impossible for you within your cell to tell how much time passes as there are not any nearby clocks or windows providing a glimpse of the sky. As a Cupid, nourishment isn’t a necessity like it is for mortals, so you’re unsurprised no one has come by to offer you food or water. However, the same apparently can’t be said for the baby whose stomach growls unexpectedly, startling you both with its loudness.

He looks down at himself then at the laser gate. His ears twitch, as if he hears something, before he lets out a quiet whine. You open your mouth, wanting to console him, only for him to push himself out of your lap and waddle quicker than you anticipate towards the corner you initially spotted him in.

Thirdly, he is a master escape artist.

“What—” you start to ask, only for your jaw to drop when he squeezes himself through a small hole you failed to notice earlier, no bigger in diameter than a womp rat’s body, and disappears from view.

You stare at the corner, a million questions swirling inside your brain, each one focused on the baby. Where the kriff did he go? What is on the other side of the wall? Will he be okay?

The laser gate abruptly vanishes, plunging your cell into total darkness. You immediately press your back against the wall, blinking rapidly to try to adjust your vision, but you can’t even see your own hands in front of you. There is a distinct clicking sound of a button being pressed and then a glowing black blade lights up mere inches away from the side of your face, nearly singing your hair. You’re unable to stop yourself from crying out in terror, flinching backwards and hitting your head hard enough you see stars.

Over the pounding of your heartbeat and the eerie humming of the weapon next to your ear, you hear a familiar chuckle.

You freeze. Dank farrik.

“Believe it or not,” Gideon begins, looming ominously in the darkness. “I remember our first meeting when you awoke after your transformation. You weren’t special by any means, not one detail even remotely suggesting you would become such an invaluable asset to my plans. I’ve come to realize your unmemorable appearance was the universe’s attempt of concealing you from me. It might have worked, too, except the universe is a hopeless romantic, unable to help itself from matching soulmates. How else can it be explained why you were chosen out of all potential Cupids to monitor Death each month, thus increasing your affections for each other, if not for fate’s divine intervention?”

Gideon lifts the blade away from your personal space and holds it in front of him, outlining his features enough you’re able to see him peering down at you, expression blank and giving you no hints as to what is going on inside his head right now. “Your capture has driven Death into quite a frenzy. His influence can be felt in each region of space. Even his reapers have become involved.”

He pauses, as if he’s expecting a response from you, but you’re unable to look away from the laser sword in his grip. You wonder if all seraphs possess them, such as all Cupids wield bows, or if he had it specially crafted for his own pleasure. Regardless, the negative energy it radiates is strong enough that you feel as if dozens of spiders are crawling over every inch of your entire body.

“Your soulmate has no notion of my involvement, but even if it were revealed to him you are being kept here I thoroughly warded this location to hide myself from those intending me harm. Your presence will continue to remain invisible to his powers as long as he desires bloodshed. So I suggest you better make yourself comfortable because this cell shall be your home for the foreseeable future.”

Swallowing against your suddenly dry throat, you ask, “Do you honestly think keeping me hostage will grant you control over him?”

Gideon inclines his head. “I think you underestimate his willingness to guarantee your safety. He’ll commit any sin imaginable if it means not one hair harmed on your head.”

“Death won’t listen to a single word unless he has proof I’m okay,” you say, the beginnings of a risky plan forming in your head. “Which means you have to let me talk to him.”

“I’m not the fool you think I am,” he replies, shaking his head in a reproachful manner, as if you are no older than a child. But your hopes rise when you notice there is the smallest glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

You position yourself on your knees, eyes wide and brimming with tears, clasping your hands together as you start to beg. “Please, sir, the separation is tearing me apart. I can’t handle the pain anymore. I must see him. I’ll convince Death to kill whoever in the galaxy you want. He’ll do it without question if I’m the one who asks.”

Gideon considers you wordlessly for a long moment. The hum of the weapon and your heavy, anxious breathing are the only audible sounds. And in that moment you pray harder than you’ve ever prayed in your entire lifetime.

Let this work. Please, please let this work.

You know the exact second he gives in to your begging because a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, teeth bared almost predatorily.

“Very well then. Tomorrow I will make preparations for you to contact Death. Think carefully until then about what you will say in order to convince him to be agreeable with me. It would be a shame to use this ,” his sword hovers in front of your face once more, the tip nearly touching your chin, “to cut off your tongue should you fail or if you attempt to be clever and alert him of your whereabouts.”

Step one complete, you think to yourself after he has departed and the laser gate returns. Wiping away the lingering tears, you begin to plan step two.

Getting this kriffing collar off your neck.

~~

Valin Hess is every bit the smug bastard Din predicted him to be. Despite the binders securing his wrists to a pipe high above his head and his bleeding split lip, the high-ranking Cupid still has enough arrogance to smirk at Din when he arrives at the abandoned warehouse Bo-Katan chose as the setting for the interrogation.

“Tell me where she is,” Din demands through clenched teeth as he marches up to the pompous prick without sparing a glance towards the red-haired reaper silently leaning against the nearby wall. He knows Bo-Katan is smart enough not to intervene.

“Just who would you be referring to?” Hess blinks innocently back at him.

His nose crumples beneath the knuckles of Din’s fist, blood bursting from his nostrils and staining Din’s gloves crimson.

“I am not known for my patience,” Din says. “Your suffering will only worsen the longer you keep me from my soulmate. I know you are aware of where she’s being kept. So tell. Me. Now.”

Untamed fury burns hotly beneath his skin, threatening to incinerate his mortal guise and his armor as if both were made of paper. It takes all of Din’s self-control not to give into the wicked desire to break each one of the Cupid’s bones, to peel off his skin layer by layer, to twist and carve and scar his body until there is not a single identifiable feature left.

“I haven’t the faintest notion nor care where she wound up.” Hess’ naturally gruff voice has changed to a nasally sounding one due to his broken nose. If the response hadn’t further stirred Din’s annoyance, he might have smirked beneath his helmet instead of snarled. “As soon as that twi’lek dragged her unconscious body out of headquarters, she became a nonentity to me.”

Din places his gloved hands over the other immortal’s shoulders, resting them there long enough Hess starts to twitch, unable to hide his increasing panic, and then Din squeezes until both clavicles shatter at the same time with a resounding crack . Hess tosses his head back, howling like a wounded animal, but Din is not yet finished.

He slams his fists against Hess’ torso, growling loud enough to be heard over the merciless snapping of each individual rib, “Give me a name.”

When the only answer he receives is agonized screaming, Din decides another approach is necessary to produce the desired results. He rips his gloves off, this time unable to resist smirking when Hess immediately starts to choke on his tongue and blood as he shakes his head emphatically, eyes blown wide with fear.

Din’s fingers reach out towards the Cupid’s temples, the veins in his hands ominously black in color.

“Xi’an!” Hess shouts, blood spraying from his mouth and painting Din’s visor. He doesn’t even notice, already planning the hunt for his next target. “The twi’lek that took your whore is named Xi’an!”

Din stills. “My... whore?”

Every lightbulb within the warehouse shatters, glass and sparks raining down upon them and the concrete floor. Hess starts babbling, a litany of apologetic words, but Din is beyond reasoning. Something sinister and feral has awakened within him, intertwining itself with his powers and enhancing their strength beyond what he ever imagined possible.

Din has reaped countless souls over the span of his existence. He has mastered the precise method of coaxing a soul out of a corpse, persuading them gently with his powers. Once the essence is held within his grip, the universe judges it, deciding either eternal damnation or a glorious afterlife. Most people tend to think Din is who chooses their fates, one of the many reasons why they fear him, but he has never been powerful enough to personally influence anyone’s destiny.

Until now.

He lowers one hand to hover over the center of Hess’ sternum, sensing the soul living deep within. It is a little battered from Din’s assault, but otherwise it resembles every other soul he’s ever reaped: a glowing, fidgety, amorphous bundle of energy.

Usually, he’d patiently guide the soul towards the corpse’s esophagus. But Hess is undeserving of such kindness. Din’s powers sink into the essence like sharpened claws, yanking it into Hess’ throat. The soul puts up a valiant fight, recognizing its host is still alive and thus should not be prematurely abandoned. But Din will not yield to its struggles, his powers manifesting dark tendrils to wrap around it in an unbreakable hold.

“You’re killing him!” Din hears someone call out over the harsh choking sounds Hess is making. Their voice is familiar and feminine sounding. “It’s not his time, you have to stop!”

Stop? No. He can’t. Not now when he’s on the verge of fulfilling the oath he’d sworn to his angel.

With one forceful twist of his wrist, the soul is helplessly torn from Hess’ bloodstained mouth and ensnared by Din’s awaiting hand. Without the essence of life, the light fades from the Cupid’s eyes and his broken body hangs limply from the binders.

The afterlife was never going to be an option as the soul’s final destination. However, Din has decided damnation is also too kind a place for vermin like Hess. There must be a third fate, he thinks.

Din squeezes his fist tighter and tighter, generating a cacophony of anguished shrieks from the soul. Ignoring the near-deafening cries, he gradually increases the pressure until at last it lets out one final high-pitched wail before disintegrating into dust that forms an unsuspecting pile on the floor when he uncurls his fingers.

A sharp gasp has Din turning, forgetting he has a witness present, and he finds Bo-Katan staring back at him with blatant horror. “What have you done?”

“What was necessary.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @oh-no-a-whovian​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[batarella]

The Bullet: A Sequel to The Commander - Part 7 *FINALE* (Jason Todd x Reader)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH THIS FUCKING FINALE I SWEAR. HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY BECAUSE THIS IS THE MOST ACTION PACKED FINALE I’VE EVER WRITTEN.

WORDS: 14349 WARNINGS: FIREARMS, VIOLENCE, DEATH

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

Strapped onto the wheel chair like a rabid circus freak, Y/N knew exactly where she was headed. She just didn’t know what for.

With her neck being held back she could only look at the bulbs of white fluorescent light that continually passed by her and couldn’t do so much as look at the ground. Plenty of guards were around her as well. She didn’t bother struggling, nor did she speak. But there were even more armed guards lining up, going to wherever she was going as well. All the way up to a white room.

A mission. Her first mission with the squad. Just delightful.

“Deadshot?” the guard near the door asked. When the ones carrying her wheelchair gave him her files, she was let in.

She was the last one to arrive. Because everyone had their eyes on her the moment she graced them with her presence.

The first one that caught Y/N’s eye was, of course, Amanda Waller. With the room littered with her goons and guards, the woman stood at the very front, against a blank wall with her hands behind her back and her eyebrow quirked up right at Y/N. Y/N squinted her eyes back at her, some sort of a decline to her superiority, and Waller looked amused.

Then when the guards parted to make way for her, she was brought to the very center of the room, where there were five rather familiar faces giggling and snarling at the newest member of the squad. The one at the center, Rick Flag, ordered his men to place Y/N on the leftmost side.

Those faces, the ones she’s seen more often than she wished she had. Some already knew her. Some hated her. And some simply didn’t care.

Harley Quinn. Of course, out of everyone else in the room, was the only one bubbling with laughter and other nonsense spurting out of her mouth. She was waving her legs around the wheelchair like a little girl would on a swing. And she was staring at her, laughing. “WE GOT A NEW GIRL ON THE SQUAD!!!” she bellowed out. “WHAT?! DEADSHOT’S NEICE. THAT’S NEPOTISM RIGHT THERE.” Y/N ignored her.

The one beside her was someone she didn’t know personally, someone she’s never even met. They said this guy came from Australia and robbed almost every bank there was. Captain Boomerang. He, too, was strapped to a chair, though he wasn’t as loud as Harley. Y/N saw him eye her head to toe while he bit his lip, and she shot Boomerang a knife-like scowl before his eyes got too comfortable.

The next one. Killer Frost. A beautiful woman with ice-white skin and the hair of an arctic fox. She didn’t give Y/N so much as a glance. Most probably because they had her stored in a coffin-like chamber with only a glass window where her head could be seen. On the inside, she could see the glass covered in frost, and the chamber looked cold to touch. She was calm, reserved. And looked on at Waller’s direction.

The creature beside Frost was the one she really wouldn’t want to mess with the most. The largest in the room, with blue skin and a body ten times the mass of any human being possibly could be. He had the head of a shark, eyes red like her optics. He even had a fin sticking out his back. and he was muzzled and strapped standing upright with five more guards around him. Y/N could hear him growl, wordless, and when she caught his eye, he snarled at her.

Finally, El Diablo. The quietest out of the bunch. His wheelchair looked just like hers, except his hands were completely covered by iron cylinders, probably filled with ice cold water. The man was covered in tattoos, and he didn’t have a shirt on. His face looked like a skull’s, which made the way he looked at everyone else look more menacing than his supposed behaved demeanor.

These were the dangerous people she’s stuck with, most probably for the rest of her life if all else fails and she’ll never be able to get out. The people that Floyd had worked with. And they were a few of the most maniacal villains there were in the whole country. She wished she could tell herself she didn’t belong. But she actually did. In fact, she had no business going about pretending to be better than all these people. When it came to how much blood they’ve shed, she probably wasn’t too far off from Harley. Maybe even more.  

Y/N was right where she truly belonged. Today, she is welcomed as the newest member of the Suicide Squad.

Waller stepped out to the front. “Y/N, your team. Let’s cut to the chase. We don’t have much time. Bring out the files.”

These files were then projected onto a holographic screen against the wall behind Waller. It was a photo of Scarecrow.

“Some of you probably have heard. Just yesterday, Dr. Jonathan Crane released his new toxin in the National Bank of Gotham.”

The screen started to show footage of what went on in the Bank.

“Our first mistake was thinking Scarecrow had launched the same kind of toxin as the last time, but as the surviving victims were brought out to the stations, they continued to showed the side effects of the toxin, including mania, hallucinations, homicidal tendencies, unnatural human strength, and even cannibalism. Even after being held for observations for more than twenty-four hours, they, unfortunately, could not be brought back.

“Which means that Crane had finally developed a fear toxin that causes permanent effects to anyone who does so much as inhale the gas…”

She heard guards shuffle and hold their guns tighter.

“I have a question!” Harley screamed, holding her hand up despite it being strapped to the chair.

“Flag. Muffle her.”

“Muffle me!? What do you-MMMMM!”

“As I was saying. The victims were forced to be euthanized when none of the doctors could bring them back. One hundred-twenty people died in the incident and the whole country is in a state of panic.”

“MMM MMM MMM?!” Harley asked.

“Yes. The whole country. Months ago, Dr. Crane had blackmailed the crime syndicate Carmine Falcone, who he instructed to forge buy outs of several other Gotham businessmen, stole almost all their money before hiring a certain hitman-“ she stared at Y/N. “-To assassinate them all one by one before his shortcomings are detected. That placed Falcone’s total net worth to be almost two hundred billion dollars. Or so we thought.

“After Falcone’s death, Crane had already taken all the money for himself and had used to build what might be the end to all of mankind. A new Cloudburst weapon. This time large enough to engulf the whole country in his new toxin, as well as a brand-new militia army of hundreds of men guarding his device. Mankind as we know it will be haunted with his obsession with fear and we will all be nothing but goddamn zombies.”

“MMMM!” Harley thrashed about in her chair, then she spat out her gag. “Yuck! That was disgusting! I was about to say that gag had a bug and it crawled down to my throat but it actually wasn’t that bad!”

“Harley!” Rick Flag screamed. Harley pouted and stuck out her tongue.

“And what is it you want us to do, Waller?” Boomerang asked with his heavy accent. “You want us to go there and possibly inhale this bloody toxin!?”

The screen turned to a helicopter’s sight. “Last night, we managed to tracked down a dome-shaped building in the deserted areas outside New Jersey with more than five hundred men guarding it inside and out. It is suspected that the weapon might be hidden somewhere in its center. Your job is to go there, eliminate Dr. Crane and his army, and destroy that weapon with whatever means necessary.

“And as for your concern, our teams have developed a mask for you all to wear. It has the filter to go against the toxin. We found it on one of the Arkham Knight Militia’s men and developed our own.”

Oh. Shit. That. She totally forgot. Man, how time flies.

“Let’s not waste anymore time. Flag. Take them to the airport and give them their gear.”

“Weeeeee!” Harley squealed as they started wheeling her out of the room.

Y/N had no idea where to start, if she even had a place to start.

Everything Waller mentioned, it could all be traced back to her. In so many ways. And she knew it. Everyone in the room probably knew it. It was only fair that she be involved in trying to correct it at all. She had no business complaining or thinking she should be somewhere else. This was Waller’s way, hell, this was the whole goddamn world’s way of handing to her what she truly deserved. And she was so tired of constantly being the cause of hurt and pain. So many mistakes, costing her everything she’s ever known to love. She really, truly belonged here. More than Harley. More than Killer Frost. More than anyone else in the squad.

Because without her even knowing, she’d been involved in this mess before any of Scarecrow’s plans were even thought of. With the militia, the Cloudburst, Falcone’s assassinations. In so many ways, none of this would have happened if not for her.

But did she even have the time to blame herself? When it would barely do her any good?

As Y/N was taken to the plane, beside the other members of the squad, she focused on the buzzing and Boomerang’s rants and Harley’s cackles. She even caught the eye of King Shark and didn’t budge.

Because of course, in a way, she was to blame. She knew Crane had something planned when he almost had her killed that one, terrible night trying to lessen the odds of her ruining his plan once more. And another one of her stupid mistakes was to completely forget about it.

They arrived a few hours later. On the military base somewhere in the interstate, even more soldiers and guards waited for them in the barren grounds surrounded by their tents.

She was the farthest behind, the last one to be wheeled out of the plane. When Rick Flag met them at the center where suitcases and crates were being brought out. He waited until most of the squad members had settled.

“Everyone. Stand your ground. Unlock them and give them their gear. If you idiots do so much as look at me differently, I will detonate the bombs.”

“We know the drill, mate,” Boomerang spat at him.

“I know. I was talking to the new girl.”

Y/N’s wheelchair stopped. Then, they were all released from their straps, from their chairs. Harley hopped up and stretched out her arms, then took out her clothes from the crates and her enormous hammer. Boomerang fixed his coat, then he had a single boomerang from his case. He threw it in the air, and a few seconds later, it came flying back.

Killer Frost, with the air suddenly becoming a little chillier when the chamber opened, walked out and grabbed her icy-blue suit. She didn’t have any more weapons. El Diablo was slow to move, but when the chains were unlocked, he got a single hoodie jacket and hid himself from everyone else.

King Shark, on the other hand, put up most of a fight. Terrified soldiers had their shields up when they released him from his confines and he roared directly at Flag’s face. Flag didn’t budge.

Y/N stood up from her chair, stretched her neck, then cracked her knuckles.

As an entire arsenal of guns was brought to her, she stared vacantly at her red and gray suit and the white mask at the bottom of the crate.

That wasn’t her. It didn’t call out to her anymore the way it did just a few days ago. It was a layer of skin laid over her flesh that wasn’t hers at all. She wasn’t Deadshot anymore.

She can't wear this suit.

Y/N eyed another crate nearby. It must have belonged to the other gunmen in their army.

She can make something out of these.

Nobody batted an eye when she started scavenging for parts.

Black body armor, covering her chest, shoulders, and knees. Dark pants covered in straps and holsters on her hips and thighs. Boots that went up to her knees, covered with the pads. And underneath the armor was a dark blue body suit, making her look completely different from her uncle’s red one. Her wrist gun, spray painted blue. And lastly, a black hood with a mask that covered her nose and mouth.

Around her neck was a small silver chain with the diamond ring through its loop. Y/N longingly stared into its crystal, looking back at everything Jason had promised her. How she believed them even when they weren’t so possible. How much she missed him.

She stuffed it under her suit and placed the hood over her head.

Already, she’d shed off that foreign skin. This was her. This was Y/N.

When everyone was ready, Flag came up to the crowd.

“No longer Deadshot, are you?”

“No,” she said.

“Then what do we call you?”

She simpered.

“The Bullet.”

-----

This had to be all theatrics. Not to mention completely unnecessary. Jason got off his motorcycle and parked it right outside the gate.

Somehow, they kept it. Even the fence. And it still had ‘Wayne Manor’ on its wrought iron bars even when the field behind it had been completely emptied out. The ruins and everything left behind after the manor exploded had been cleared out and demolished. Still, they chose not to do anything with the land, even when millionaires fought over it and maybe a few intruders with metal detectors breaking in to look for the Batcave.

Dick told him to meet him and the rest of the family there. He had no idea where, but when he stepped into the gate, Dick was there leaning against the vine-covered fence behind it. Jason wasn’t so sure how to greet him. the last time they saw each other, they were at each other’s throats. Literally. Now at their mercy, he wasn’t so sure what was the quickest way to let his pride down without looking too much of a desperate asshole.

“Uhm. Hi,” Dick said.

“Hey.”

They stared at the grass.

“Are Babs and Tim coming?”

“Yeah. They just got out of their honeymoon.”

“Oh yeah. Congratulations to them.”

“You can tell Tim when we get to them.”

Of course. Tim. The replacement. He can totally congratulate him on his wedding without it sounding too awkward.

“We talk here?”

Dick wrinkled his forehead and laughed. “You thought we were gonna plan this whole thing out on an empty field?”

“This place sure looks like one.”

He threw his head back. “Come on. Follow me.”

Hands in his pockets, he trailed behind Dick. All the way over to the center of the field where there wasn’t so much as a porta potty for them to go into.

Then Dick pulled out his watch, which wasn’t a watch at all, and started to press onto its buttons.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason sighed when the ground underneath them suddenly started to rumble.

“What? You thought the cave went out with the explosion, too? Bruce wouldn’t let it go to waste.”

Then the grass, which turned out to be fake, had split into a large, rectangular shaped ramp that slowly descended down onto the undergrounds for them to walk onto. When it stopped, Jason pressed on his nose. “I can't believe I didn’t know about this.”

“Come on.”

They started walking down. “Barbara’s the one in charge. She practically runs the place.”

“I can see that.”

When they reached below ground, the Batcave was exactly as they had left it. The last time he was here, he was with Y/N, the Commander. And although they’d changed its entryway, the Batmobile and the Batwing were still there, the computers were still up and running. How massive it was and how bats were still up on the rocky ceiling looking down on them with their beady little eyes. Jason and Dick walked down the driveway and he let his hand run onto the batmobile’s surface.

Barbara and Tim were at the computers. They turned to the two and the way they looked at Jason wasn’t something he particularly liked being stared at.

“Hey, Babs.”

Barbara was the first to smile at him. “Hi, Jason.”

Then when he looked at Tim, who didn’t share the same smile, he stopped himself from scratching an itch on his head.

“Hi… Tim…”

“Jason…” he coughed.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Babs said, then she reached out to Jason’s hand. He took it, for a while, then he pulled away.

“Sorry to hear about her,” Tim said.

“I know. But if you help me… and I thank you for helping me now… we can break her out.”

“Did you come up with a plan?” Dick asked him. Jason, arms crossed, turned over to the computer. Barbara had already gone ahead with looking up Scarecrow.

“If the squad is being sent out to deal with Crane, they might be going after that new weapon of his. We can go after them there and get her out before anyone sees.”

He stared at his hands. “I was hoping Babs could come up with some sort of devise that can disable the bomb in her neck.”

“Dick already told me. Don’t worry. I came up with something this morning.”

The three men followed behind her as she wheeled over to the table next to the keyboards.

“This,” she held out a device shaped like a thick pen. “If you can get her to settle down, you stick this thing to the back of her neck and it will send shocks right up to the nanite bomb. It should give it the voltage it needs to be disabled. It’s going to hurt. But it can save her.”

She was an angel. A literal angel. Just the thought of it gave him that little flutter of hope he definitely needed.

“Babs, I don’t know how to thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re here to help you.”

Two years ago, he had this woman kidnapped and sent to Crane, gave her the death scare of a lifetime and almost had Tim killed when Scarecrow had him captured.

It was too much. How none of their faces looked the least bit bothered. Dick held the pen and took off the needle cap, flinching, then he gave it to Jason.

Jason looked down on it, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry…”

Dick, with his arms crossed, Tim leaning against the table, and Babs looking down at her hands, they all didn’t have much to say.

“I’m sorry for everything I did to you. All of you.”

“Jason…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “We used to be brothers-“

“No, I… I couldn’t. When this is over, I’ll be out of your way. And I owe you. All of you… But I shouldn’t stay…”

“You can. And you will. No matter how much you push yourself away… We’re here for you…”

Tim never looked up. But Jason knew, that if he were in his place right now, he’d be all over him with the ‘I told you so’s’ and the snide remarks. But the younger man was silent, didn’t even look at him the wrong way.

And that’s when he really felt like shit.

“We’re happy you came to us for help,” Babs said.

Jason hadn’t figured this part out when he reached for their help, but he knew something like this was about to happen. It was the entire reason why he didn’t want to. Because somehow, when it did, these guys won't hate him anymore, and he’ll end up hating himself instead.

Dick placed his hand on his shoulder. For a moment. Then when Jason’s body tensed, Dick pulled away.

“Now,” Babs went over to the computer. “Time to hack into the government.”

-----

The helicopter landed some distance away from the dome. The Bullet still had no idea why it was shaped that way. Just that it was new and humungous and completely littered with army men guarding every inch of it.

She, Harley, Boomerang, Killer Frost, King Shark, and El Diablo stepped out at the front lines, with Rick Flag right behind them, followed by their own army of men, though a number considerably less than what they were going up against. They had to be smart with this and break in.

They went into the forest, out on the fields. The dome was in a level ground lower than the lands around it, shaped in a circle, much like it was on a pit that was about two or three stories below ground. They crouched down on the bushes when they started reaching the edges of the pit and Flag looked out on his scopes.

“They’ve completely covered the perimeter.”

“Do we just attack?”

Flag put down his binoculars. “We are. To keep them distracted. When everyone’s backs are turned you six go in there and finish the job.”

“You say it like it’s so fucking easy,” Boomerang snarled. King Shark gritted his sharp teeth and growled staring at the armed men around the building.

A hand grenade. Right at one of the trees. It got their attention enough, especially when Flag started firing at the guards stationed just outside the entrance. Crowds of Scarecrow’s men, armed to the teeth, ran the outside grounds to go after Flag’s men. They drifted down the pit, outstretched their legs, and handled them at close range, while some stayed at the trees firing from afar.

The Squad, on the other hand, were all the way over to the other side. Almost all of them had ran off, except for two who stayed behind guarding the backside.

“Bullet,” Frost placed her frosted hand on her shoulder. It made her shiver. “You're up.”

The Bullet took out her sniper and shot down those two men almost at the same time. Then they slid down the side, King Shark rolling down with his immense weight. When another of Scarecrow’s men ran out the door, a boomerang landed on his head.

The door was locked. “I’ll take care of it,” Frost said. Boomerang scoffed, “Fucking metas.”

Holding out her hands, fumes of ice shot out from Frost’s palms and froze down the locks. King Shark kicked the iced hinges down, then the door fell to the ground.

“That was easy!” Harley skipped inside with her mallet over her shoulders. Diablo was still silent, still with his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t jinx it, Harls.”

It looked more like a warehouse by the entryway. And there was absolutely nothing inside save for a few cylinders and water tanks and a whole lot of pipes being guarded.

“We should probably sneak inside.”

“Sneak!?” Harley snorted at the Bullet. “Honey, we don’t do that here.”

King Shark growled at her, then he walked straight up to the center of the room.

“Intruder! Open fire!” the soldiers screamed.

“What is that thing!?”

“Just shoot!”

King Shark walked slowly towards those men, and the bullets just bounced off his incredibly thick skin. He held out his hand, stopped the bullets from reaching his face. Then when the soldiers had backed too much away and reached the wall, Shark grabbed them by the face and actually hurled them all the way across the room.

“Time to play!!!” Harley screamed, then she held out her mallet and started swinging it over at the guards.

Killer Frost had the ground frozen over, slipping the guards off balance, then shards of ice rose up from the ground to impale them. Boomerang had a more melee approach but had his trusty weapon to go around when he needed it.

The Bullet. The new, almighty Bullet. She pulled up her hood and mask and took out her AK.

She fired at the dozens of men going after her. Jumping on top of the cylinders, standing on the highest ground, she shot down anyone who came remotely close to her and had their bodies on the floor before they could even touch her feet. Over and over, she changed the magazines, took out more ammo. She let the gun take charge of her hands and head. A lot of the were swarming her, from different directions. Eventually too many of the soldiers were surrounding the pile of crates she stood on and the others started climbing up.

She couldn’t escape. Even if she were able to take them all down.

Until a raging fire shot out like a car-sized flame thrower and took out the guards that were climbing up. The water tank didn’t seem to have been damaged, but the men on it were burnt like a crisp, and they all started to run away. “Jump!” Diablo screamed.

She did, and she landed on the fire as well. She rolled on the floor to put it out before it got to her skin and Diablo helped her up. “Thank you.”

“Just go.”

She nodded, then with her pistol and wrist gun, went on to keep firing.  Frost had a wall of the men being stuck to the block of ice, some completely frozen inside it, then King Shark let out an animalistic shriek before he punched the glass, destroying it into shards and impaling everyone inside.

Harley, on the other hand, just went on spinning around with her mallet, screaming, manically laughing. The bitch was insane.

“A little help here!” Boomerang called out. He was being held back by two men while another was punching at his chest. The Bullet pointed her wrist gun and fired at his attacker.

Even more men were coming. From the doors to the inside.

“We have to keep moving!” The Bullet cried out to them. To the door where the reinforcements kept coming from, she kept firing as she backed away. The whole squad moved, onwards towards the door. Then when they’d all reached it, Frost froze over the door with more than five layers of ice.

There were sounds of bashing and hitting against the icy door, but it should be enough to hold them back. Before them was a long, seemingly endless hallway. It should probably be leading them to the inside of the dome, where the weapon is.

“Ahhh. The Suicide Squad…”

“WOAH WOAH WOAH where the hell is that comin’ from!?” Harley screamed.

The intercoms. Scarecrow was watching them. The Bullet put on her optics, now shining blue light, and looked around.

A camera. Right at the corner. She shot it with her wrist gun.

“And you have the Commander with you.”

“FUCKING SHUT UP!” The Bullet shot another camera hidden away.

“The Commander, huh,” Killer Frost looking at her head to toe. “You work with him before?”

“Shut up.”

“OH MY MOLLY,” Harley placed her hands on her mouth. “YOU'RE the Commander of the freakin’ Arkham Knight!! I remember you!”

“We should go-“

“I have so many questions. Huge fan. HUGE fan. Ya know she’s drove the first Cloudburst?”

Boomerang crossed his arms. “And they sent her to help us? The fuckin’ nerve of this scumbag coming up here actin’ all hero.”

“You watch your mouth, kangaroo.”

Diablo snorted and chuckled. Boomerang held out his weapon. “You want a piece of this?”

“A kid’s toy?”

“Don’t you fuckin-“

King Shark roared at the two with his mouth wide open for a good ten seconds and deafened their ears. The Bullet wiped his spit off her face and scoffed.

Frost led the way, all the way down its halls. When they reached a large gate, she froze it over once more and Shark beat it down with his fists and his foot.

They didn’t know they’d reach the center of the large dome. They thought they had more rooms to cover.

With the building so big, they thought it would have taken so much more time to reach the core.

But already, they were met with a cylindrical glass tank that was almost as thick as an entire building in itself, and it lit up the room in a menacing red light, all around. It was swirling, even boiling inside. And it shot all the way up to the roof, three stories high.

It was the fucking toxin.

The squad backed away.

Dozens of men surrounded them, all around the dimly lit room. And it was larger than any of them could have expected. It was circular, and there was only a suspended walkway that went all around the sides. There was a runway to the center, where there were controls. A man stood by them. A man with a rag on his head.  

All of them with their hands up.

Scarecrow’s voice was on the intercom, and it echoed all throughout the dome loud enough to rattle their eardrums.

“I assume this wasn’t what you’d expected?”

No. Not even a little. This wasn’t what they expected at all.

They didn’t expect to already reach the weapon.

Or rather. Stand on top of the weapon.

The weapon wasn’t a ray gun or a tank or even a satellite. It wasn’t something so small that it would have been easily taken down by a tank or even King Shark’s fist. Even when it was to engulf the whole of America in its toxin.

No. it was none of that.

The Bullet trailed her eyes down the numerous pipes going up and around the walls, through the floor and over to the room where they just came from, where even more of the toxin was stored in tanks and the pipes that went around it.

The Cloudburst wasn’t inside the dome.

The Cloudburst was the dome.

-----

It didn’t take too much time. It wasn’t the first time Barbara had to hack into the American Government. In fact, it was the easier to hack into than some people’s private accounts.

She went into Amanda Waller’s files.

“Here. Finally.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim stood behind her.

“It looks like they’ve already sent out the squad. Just a few hours ago.”

“Who are in the squad?”

The files on Task Force X. Babs took out the profiles on all their subjects.

Harley’s picture was first to come up. Her blonde hair and vicious eyes staring at the screen. “Harley Quinn, of course. We got Louise Lincoln, also known as Killer Frost.”

The boys watched on.

“El Diablo. Captain Boomerang. King Shark. Rick Flag’s being sent out there as well.”

Then she stopped scrolling when Y/N’s picture and profile came up.

Jason’s heart broke. It did every time he does so much as look at a photo of her. And with that one, a mug shot, the mug shot that was going around every news station in town, the brokenness in her face, the darkness in what used to be the brightness in her eyes, how much rage she had for everything around the world, he hitched his breath.

‘Y/FN Y/LN

Age: 23

Alias: The Bullet’

He smiled at her new name. A sad smile. The most painful kind.

He missed her so much.

Setting his head to the side so they couldn’t see the tear that had seeped out, Jason swallowed and shut his eyes.

“Jason…”

“I’m alright. Can you find out where they were headed?”

Babs smiled at him, then went back to her keyboard.

Zooming in on the helicopter footage on the dome, she traced its coordinates.

“Is that-“

“Scarecrow’s base? Most probably.”

“Jesus,” Jason sighed. “I used to work with that guy.”

“This is the weapon, alright. The sensors are through the roof. We should be heading out there.”

“Do we have a plan?”

“Not exactly. We’ll know when we get there,” Dick said.

“We have to hurry. Who knows when that mad man actually detonates his bomb?”

“How? It’s two hours away.”

“Man,” Dick pat his back. “You really have to get used to working with us now that we’ve got Bruce’s old toys.”

Of course.

What else could he have possibly thought? Get there on his bike?

The Batwing was staring right at their faces, almost taunting them with its silent growl. Dick, Tim, and Jason walked up to it side by side.

“You think he’ll be happy with that?” Jason said.

“Not at all. He even threatens to kill us if we get anywhere near the wheel-“

“Which is why I’m here to drive, Master Dick.”

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

The sweet old butler, came up from behind the computers where there must have been a room for him to stay in, he held out a tray of four glasses of water for them to take. Setting it down on the table, he gave Jason the sincerest smile.

“I’ve missed you, dear boy.”

“Alfred.”

He wanted desperately to go up to him, give him the biggest bear hug until his bones crack, but Alfred held his hand up to him and just handed him his water.

“It’s better if we skip the ol’ reunion. We catch up after we’ve saved your girl.”

Everything was here. Everyone was here.

Clearly, it wasn’t the time to get emotional. And goddamn, he wasn’t the one to get emotional.

And all the more did they look like a family when the three boys suited up. Dick with his black and blue Nightwing suit and domino mask, Tim with his bo staff and red and yellow suit and cape. And Jason, with his hooded jacket and red visor.

Facing each other in a circle, Nightwing, Robin, and Red Hood took in how they were all now in one team, possibly for the rest of their career. No longer will they fight. No longer will they run.

Oracle smiled at the three. “You all look great together when you're not at each other’s throats.”

“You sure you won't let me drive, Alfred?” Robin said to the butler.

“I had specific instructions from Master Bruce that if you were to inherit the cave, no one was to drive the Batwing but me. You have until I die, Master Dick.”

“Awe. Even in his death, Bruce still doesn’t trust us.”

Laughing as they went in, Alfred had the Batwing soaring into the sky. Silently.

They were going to save her. Them. His family. The one he’d left. The one he thought he hated. The one he almost got killed.

He couldn’t possibly have done anything to deserve this.

With his visor up, he went up to Dick.

“Dick…” he choked.

His older brother turned to him, smiling. He knew what Jason was thinking.

And he didn’t let him speak to make things unnecessarily dramatic. He knew he had his brother back. Dick pulled him into a hug. A sweet, sincere hug that tore out every part of him that wasn’t already consumed by that string of humanity he once had left inside him.

“Thank you,” Jason said to him. Dick patted his back.

“We missed you, Jaybird…”

Jason closed his eyes.

When they pulled away, with Tim watching, he never actually got the change to get to know him. But one of these days, he will. And he’ll be a brother to him, too.

Jason nodded at him, smiling. Tim nodded back.

He never, ever would have thought they’d accept him like this, to help him like this.

And if Bruce were here, he’d have no idea what to tell him. But Jason did forgive him. He forgave him before he even knew he did. Maybe, if Bruce were anything like Dick and Tim, he would have accepted Jason back into his house. He would have helped him, as well.

He let himself think that. For his own sake. For his own peace.  

Not long after, they reached the site.

Nightwing, Robin, and Red Hood stood at the Batwing’s exit doors.

-----

Harley must have had the worst of issues for her to be laughing this off, whistling as she marveled over the room. “I have to admit, Ragdoll, you cer’ainly out did yourself than the last time! I remember when all it took was Ivy’s tree to get rid of your toxin!”

Boomerang scoffed. “A tree?!”

“Gag her.”

“Awe, come on! What is it with you people and the gaggi- MMMMMM!”

Held back by a dozen of Scarecrow’s gunmen, with so many of their guns pointed right at their heads, they stood on their knees, hands tied to their backs. They watched Scarecrow walk over to them from his place near the glass. He chuckled, that low, dark, breathy, and utterly disgusting laugh when he went over the squad.

“MMM! MMM? Mmm…” Harley said to him when he passed by her. All he did was glare. When he passed by Frost, he eyed her body and how icy smoke was coming out of her pores.

“Ya know, this ain’t personal. I’d totally be into this. But we got an explosive stuck to me spine here, mate, and I really just don’t want to die,” Boomerang said. Scarecrow ignored him and walked over to Diablo.

She looked over. Diablo had melted away the ropes on his wrists and no one even noticed. He stood still, watching Scarecrow, then the rag-headed man went over to the next one.

The Bullet. The only one who actually hated this man to the bloody core.

Scarecrow looked amused at the darkness of her glower. He leaned over, pulled down her hood and mask with his disgusting fingers before she flinched away.

“Lovely to see you once more, Commander.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I thought I left you for dead. Turns out you survived your own bullets. Perhaps you're not as good as you thought you are-“

“Go to hell-“

“This is hell, Commander. At least, it will be.” When he stood back, he eyed the creature next to her.

“An animal? They brought an animal to the squad?” Scarecrow laughed.

King Shark roared. The loudest, more nightmarish roar. Then he charged after him with his large mouth littered with almost three rows of teeth on each side. The guards pulled him back, shot a taser to his arm, but it didn’t do much damage.

Scarecrow backed off and immediately he was guarded by his men.

“Kill him.”

“No!” Killer Frost screamed, but even she was held back by three guards.

And it was the most cruel thing they’ve ever seen. The Bullet watched on, as her fellow squad member was shot with three tranquilizer darts. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

Then Scarecrow’s men took out a grenade.

Shit.

They stuffed it into King Shark’s mouth.

And the squad looked away when it detonated not even two seconds later.

His head was blown off. Much like it would have been if Flag had done it himself.

Five of them left.

Against an army of hundreds.

“Now. You all get to watch as the entire country slowly descends into their deepest, darkest nightmares…”

Scarecrow went over to the center, over to the controls where she saw a bright, beeping light coming from one of the screens. She didn’t have so much as an idea about how this was going to blow. Will the building be going along with it? Is everyone going to live through it?

She should know. She was the one who detonated the first Cloudburst.

They were two hours away from the city. And the government already had most of the people in the area evacuate to shelters underground. They didn’t have much else to hide.

The guards around them had masks as well. They were going to sit it through, fight even with the gas all around them.

She had no idea what was going to happen. But all she could do was sit and watch.

Scarecrow pressed the final button, and on the screen, it showed a minute’s countdown

The Bullet closed her eyes.

There was a heat coming to her wrists. Out of view from the guards. A little flame, floating about. It melted away the chains that were around their hands, and suddenly, she could move them around. She looked over at Diablo and thanked him with a nod. Harley and Boomerang were free as well. Frost, on the other hand, rejected that fire and instead froze over the chains herself. They could charge.

But the guards were too many. She couldn’t just attack.

Time was running out. There was nothing they could do.

But they can shield themselves. At the last second when the guards couldn’t react.

“This is… the Cloudburst!!!”

Three.

Two.

One.

BOOM!!!

“EVERYBODY, GET YOUR FUCKING MASKS!” Boomerang screamed. The five of them grabbed their filter masks from their suits and held it against their mouths. Everything was shaking, an explosion large enough to almost take down its walls, then the glass started to break. The gas was leaking on the inside.

Scarecrow didn’t move. He just stood there, amused, all the while his guards started to panic, panting and coughing and tearing the masks off their faces like it only hurt their skin. She ran out of the way before a guard fell to her body, clutching his throat, before he started screaming the ghostliest noises a human could possibly make.

Then their skins. No longer did they look remotely human. They looked like they were burnt out. Their whole body turning into scabs and burnt flesh. The toxin was eating them from the inside. And their eyes. She’s never seen the look on someone’s face like that when they were looking straight at their deepest, darkest fears. Not even when she’d imagine it.

No.

He couldn’t possibly-

No.

These men. These trained soldiers promised with almost million dollars each.

Scarecrow didn’t hire them here to defend the Cloudburst.

They were here to serve as victims for his horrible toxin that turned them into vicious, mindless zombies. And they looked exactly like they would have in their visions of fear, the ones you’d merely hallucinate with his old toxin. This time, they weren’t hallucinations. The nightmarish creatures of the dark, Scarecrow had turned the people’s fears into something real.

The squad, with their masks on, held tightly onto their weapons, watching the horror in front of them unfold.

One of the creatures ran after Harley, so she swung at it with her mallet, crushing his body against the wall. It didn’t even look like it had human bones that cracked when it was hit.

No. No. No.

Everyone started firing at the creatures coming after them. At their heads, at their animalistic mouths. Frost on one side, freezing the incoming animals into an ice block, and on the other, El Diablo, firing at them with an enormous raging fire. They had to get out of here. There was no possible way they could win this here. Not with the Cloudburst looking like it was about to break.

The Bullet fired at everything she could see. With her AK on one hand and her pistol on the other. But the seemingly endless array of lifeless minions came crawling and pouncing right at her. One of them scratched her arm. She hoped this fucking toxin didn’t work through cross contamination.

Scarecrow, he was still at the center, watching it all unfold.

Scarecrow.

Scarecrow.

Fucking Scarecrow.

The Bullet screamed out, even with her mask, then opened fire as she made her way into the center walkway. She ran to him and pushed everything out of her way, blowing their brains out, jumping onto the railing and running on top of it. She took out a grenade and threw it at a crowd.

Jonathan Crane caught her eye. And with the deathly look on her face, he lost his amusement.

Then the coward started to back away.

She growled and tore through everything, running after Crane. He didn’t have much else to go.

So in a split second, she fired at his leg. The Bullet could have easily fired at his head.

But she wanted him to die from a bullet right between his eyes, that were to look right into hers in the last few moments of his life.

Scarecrow was on the ground, crawling. The Bullet walked right up to him and grabbed him by the collar. Then she aggressively slammed him against the glass where his horrible red toxin was leaking out.

“You killed my son…”

“You did that yourself-“

“No,” she tightened her hand around his neck. “No, I didn’t.”

A pistol. Right against his head. She ends this now. His story ends now. His reign on earth. His madness. His nightmare.

She couldn’t hear the bullet fire out of her hand.

But she did feel the blood spatter when it entered Jonathan Crane’s skull. She heard the crack, and the impact against the glass. She saw the look on his eyes, staring right into her. Taunting her. Waiting for her to pull the trigger until it stayed that way until the worms eat up his body.

The Bullet threw the body on the floor.

She was never, ever going to kill another human being again. She made that promise. To Jason and his family.

But if she were to kill just one last time…

She wanted to make it count.

-----

“Holy…”

“Shit…”

“We were too late.”

“Or the squad failed…”

“No,” Red Hood choked. “No, they can't be dead.”

“They might still be alive. Get your masks on. Come on.”

They put on their masks, Red Hood’s under his visor. As they ran towards the enormous mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke that was spewing violently out of the dome. The ground was quaking enough to feel like it would eventually erupt. And if they were to stay, it might actually split open. They ran towards the center.

And before they could go down the pit. They saw them. Right when they stepped into the are completely engulfed in the horrible red toxin.

They saw the creatures.

In army uniforms of what used to be humans, the creatures were screaming, running and clawing their way around the grass and bushes like they were rabid wolves under a full moon. The bodies, or what used to be bodies, looked like undead carcasses that were walking on their hands and feet. When they caught sight of the three, they started going after them.

Someone grabbed Nightwing’s shoulder.

Rick fucking Flag. He had a mask on.

“You kids better stay away. This is our mission.”

“You really want your boss’s goddamn pride to get in the way of actually saving the world? We’re here to help!”

Flag fired at one of the monsters coming right for them.

“Scarecrow’s baited his own men and turned them into these fucking shitbags.”

“Then let us help,” Robin said. Red Hood, on the other hand, was already shooting at the creatures with his two pistols.

“Red Hood!”

“Oh, don’t give me that! These guys aren’t human!” He fired at one almost flying for his visor. “They never will be again even if we destroy this thing! So get your asses here and KILL THESE GUYS!”

Rick Flag had went on to shoot them with his AK. Nightwing and Robin stared at each other, holding onto their escrima sticks and bo staff.

Flag, despite his guns, didn’t see one of the zombie-like monsters that had grabbed him from behind. It started tearing at its face, claws sharper than a cat’s. Robin and Nightwing went over to get it off him, but it was too late.

Rick Flag’s mask had fallen off.

He stared at the two, with his eyes glowing red and bloodshot from how he was desperately trying to hold his breath. He started clutching at his throat, and his mouth looked like it was about to blow up.

Flag couldn’t handle it. He gasped for air.

Then he turned into one of them. Right in front of their eyes. Nightwing gripped on his escrima sticks.

Then he slammed it against Flag’s head, destroying what was left of his skull. The guilt started to eat him away, but Red Hood was right. He wasn’t human anymore.

“Come on,” Robin said.

Then they attacked everything that came their way. They had to go into the dome. Find the Squad. Hope for the best. But the creatures were running out of the doors like they were in need of air. Hundreds of them in a stampede going out into the field. The trees had cleared, blown off from the explosion. Everything was barren and had fallen under a thick red cloud of his fucking toxin.

Red Hood managed to run all the way to the center. He shot one that had wrestled Nightwing to the ground before he slid down the pit, hands and legs outstretched, and even then, he continued to fire. He reloaded his guns and started firing at the ones going out of the dome.

----

They couldn’t possibly take them all.

So as the Squad rushed down the hallways, out into the first level where it had gone complete barren and destroyed, El Diablo continued to shoot his flames from his hands at all the incoming creatures.

Finally, they reached the door and they all raced outside.

Frost barred the door with her ice, as much as she could, and the monsters were pounding themselves against it with their own bodies and heads. The Bullet, facing behind them, fired at the incoming creatures that must have been the reinforcements waiting to be called. Fuck, there were a lot of them.

Killer Frost couldn’t handle it and the creatures had broken her wall of ice. Unnatural strength. One of the side effects of the toxin. Harley screamed her battle cry and started swinging her mallet around. El Diablo with his flames. And Captain Boomerang with, well, his boomerang.

The Bullet, with her machine gun, fired at ten of the creatures in under a second. She flew in the air. She dodged their incoming attacks. She fired directly at their heads and took out more of them than anyone else with a gun. She fired relentlessly until their heads were blown off, their bodies exploding onto the floor.

She climbed on top of a nearby truck, dropped her carbine, then used her wrist gun and pistol to fire at everything that moved.

“WOOHOO! GO NEW GIRL!” Harley screamed. The Bullet smiled, then went on with her alternating shots until she’d taken down dozens of them.

Everything that moved. Everything that moved. Everything that-

A red hood. Red visor. Gray jacket. And a red bat symbol on his chest.

Oh God.

The asshole.

“Jason!!!”

Red Hood turned around.

A wave that had crashed on the shore, violent and forceful, a wave that tore through everything in its way. Every tree. Every bush. Every doubting thought. The Bullet jumped off the truck, ignored the sting up her knees. She ran to him. She ran to him so fast that two of the monsters smashed into each other when they were going after her. Red Hood recognized her and dropped everything he had on him and sprinted to her way.

The wave was there. A crashing, powerful wave. When they landed in each other’s arms so painfully tight she could have almost fallen over if she hadn’t already clung to him with all her might. All that was left of it.

Yes.

Yes…

Everything lit up. Everything was here again. He was everything. He will always be everything.

It was a miracle they lived through it. Red Hood, with his arms shaking as much as the ground was, buried himself into her and didn’t let go until they heard the world calling out to them, demanding that they give them their attention back. But even then, they held on. Not when they thought it could have been the last. Not after they’ve just been apart. Jason pulled away, raised his visor so she could look into his eyes. He wore a filter mask underneath. And if he could see her smile right then, she was sure he was grinning his face off as well. She could tell with the way his beautiful eyes crinkled up.

“I fucking love the suit-“

Then she held out her arm and shot one of the monsters coming for them.

“We should move.”

“Yeah.”

Side by side, having each other’s backs. She knew something felt wrong fighting with the squad. No, she didn’t belong there. She never fought as well as she possibly could when she was with her partner. Now the Bullet and Red Hood, they fired and shot at everything that came their way.

“Throw me!” She screamed at Red Hood. She run up to him, and he grabbed her legs. Red Hood flung her up at the air and she fired relentlessly at twenty creatures hidden behind the truck. She got to the ground.

Then the fucking Batwing flew in and started firing.

“Woah!” The Bullet yelled.

“How cool is our butler!?”

The monsters started running towards the Batwing, and their attentions were slowly taken away from Red Hood and Bullet. Alfred had them covered.

“We have to get that bomb off you.”

“Where’s Flag? He’ll blow up the bomb if he sees me-“

“He’s dead. He can't blow it up. But we still need to get that off of you before Waller does it herself-”

The Cloudburst dome exploded once again, this time a thicker cloud of smoke blew out of it like a bomb. They held onto the ground, eyes shut. Red Hood grabbed onto her and she swore by her life that she was never going to let go.

When it subsided, they stood back up. “Come on.”

The Bullet stared at him dumbfounded, then the Red Hood grabbed her wrist, pulled her to the back where they could find Nightwing.

“Dick!!!”

Nightwing saw them, slammed his sticks into the creature’s guts, then ran towards them.

“I found a chair at the back. She needs to sit down.”

They moved fast. Waller will find out Flag is dead and detonate all their bombs before they’ll have a chance at escaping.

So they put her into a chair, and she gripped onto the arm rests. The Bullet watched Red Hood give Nightwing a pen-shaped device that had a needle on its end. She swallowed. “Hey, hey…” Red Hood leaned in and held her face. “You're gonna be okay… Scream if you have to… It won't take too long.”

She wished she could see his face. It was the only way she could ever be comforted. But his touch was enough. She held his hand, squeezed it, then Nightwing held her neck.

“Ready.”

Alfred kept firing at all the creatures coming after them. They had a few good minutes.

Y/N screamed out into the air as the needle went into the back of her neck and electrified that one spot by her spine. She gripped onto the wood. She forced her eyes shut. She never felt so much pain from being tased down but with it came the relief feeling that bomb actually stop beeping in the inside of her flesh. The shocks were excruciatingly painful, and it made every agonizing second pass by as long as a minute would have taken. Red Hood turned his head away before the look on her face broke his heart even more.

But the moment it stopped, with her body up in light smokes, she felt everything inside her calm.

It was gone. The bomb was gone. She could actually feel it. Red Hood grabbed her and pulled her to a hug immediately.

“You're safe now…”

“I love you.”

“I love you…”

Robin suddenly jumped at them and took out three incoming creatures with his staff. “Come on guys, Alfred can't handle all this by himself!”

Nightwing. Robin. Red Hood. Bullet.

Like they were all made to fight by each other’s side.

Nightwing smashed his weapons against a monster’s head, threw its body up in the air with his knee, then the Bullet fired at it with her wrist gun all the way down to the ground. He helped her up, gain higher ground, then she fought at Nightwing’s side when he took out the ones coming for her back. Robin, with his bo staff, slammed one right at the gut and let it fly through the air until Red Hood slammed its torso with his elbow, before shooting it in the head.

Red Hood shot three with his pistols, but one of them grabbed him by the head. And man, was it inhumanely strong. Nightwing slammed his stick right through its skull, just inches away from Red Hood’s head. Red Hood elbowed it away, then shot it. The Bullet kept covering them, now with her machine gun. She fired at one going after Robin, at another that had Nightwing in a headlock, and another two that were about to surround Red Hood.

So many were coming to surround her. And as the boys fought them off, she fired at them relentlessly with her gun. She jumped to the ground and fired at them with her wrist gun.

The Batwing was above them, swerving around as it took out everything that stood their way.

The Bullet looked back out at the pit, where the squad was. “We have to help them!” she said.

“What?!” Red Hood screamed. “Are you insane?”

“They just want to live! We all want this nightmare to end! You can go back to being enemies after we’ve saved the world!”

The world. Of course. By now the gas should have dispersed out of the state. They had to move.

The Bullet shot off a creature coming for Harley. And another coming for Boomerang. The man was barely holding up. El Diablo, now a raging monster completely made of fire, tore through everything in its way and burnt down all the monsters to a bloody crisp. Frost was still holding up, doing whatever she could with her ice. And the look on her face when Nightwing came along and hit one of them in the head before it could grab her, she couldn’t describe it.

And it was that way for hours on end. The creatures kept on coming. The fires started raging. The Batwing had landed on the ground but kept its bullets spewing out of its guns in a frenzied attack against the hundreds that were still around them.

But somehow, the dome acted as some sort of beacon. Because there were more incoming. From far away. She had no idea if they were still Scarecrow’s men or if they were people from the countryside that weren’t so lucky…

As far as everybody knew, they were dead.

And they were all going after the dome like flies surrounding a light.

Frost had them in a block of ice, then Diablo fried them up like fish. Harley kept with her hammer and almost hit Nightwing in the head. “Harley!”

“Sorry, handsome! Kinda got used to aiming for your pretty head!”

Jason, standing with his back right up against the Y/N’s side. They shot at the creatures with their guns not knowing if their ammo was going to take it.

“Y/N! You think we’re gonna make this!?”

She shot down a foot, an arm, then eventually a head. Y/N screamed. “It’s not looking good but I sure fucking hope so!”

Red Hood grabbed her shoulder and turned her around, firing at one she didn’t see. Y/N got a circular lid off one of the manholes and flung it into three bodies.

“Y/N! MARRY ME!!!”

She could have been grabbed by the head if she didn’t hear it coming from behind. She held out her wrist gun and fired directly behind her.

“I THINK I’VE ALREADY ANSWERED THAT QUESTION!!!”

Y/N used Jason’s body to haul herself up, swinging her leg in a circle around her before she shot all of them on the ground. Jason grabbed a creature’s head with his bare hands and squished it into its bloody bits.

“NO. I MEAN MARRY ME. RIGHT NOW!!!!”

“WHAT?!”

Almost losing her arm, she slammed her fist against its head, throwing it to the grass and slamming her boot onto its face. Jason kept firing with his two guns, faster than he ever could have fired.

“IF WE’RE GONNA DIE, WE’RE DYING TOGETHER!!”

“WHAT?!?!”

Jason grabbed her arms, flung her around him so she could repeatedly kick them down before they got anywhere near them. She fired her wrist gun and cursed when she almost missed. He started handling them by hand, punching, swerving, kicking them down with his awfully strong thighs.

“YOU EVER SEEN PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN!?” He smashed drove his gun into a skull and kicked him off. “THE THIRD ONE???”

“JASON, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!??”

Y/N pressed her back against Jason, and they didn’t stop firing.

“THEY GOT MARRIED IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT. IT WAS FUCKING EPIC.”

“WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE-“

“EXACTLY MY POINT. I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS WITH YOU AS MY WIFE. DEAD OR ALIVE. I DON’T WANNA WASTE ANYMORE TIME.”

She leapt up in a backflip over Jason and they switched places.

“THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF WALLER COULDN’T LEGALLY FORCE ME TO TESTIFY AGAINST YOU. I’M NOT ABOUT TO LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN. IF ANYONE WANTS TO KEEP US APART, THEY’LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH THE FUCKING LAW!”

“JASON, YOU'RE INSANE!!!”

Five down in a single shot. Y/N kicked them down, grabbed her grappling gun, then shot it at a crate to haul it over to the monsters incoming. Jason went through the whole row of creatures climbing down the pit, and when he had the slightest window, he raised his visor.

“IS THAT A YES?!”

Y/N faced him. and Jason faced her.

It wasn’t even a fucking question. The beautiful asshole.

“YES!”

As they kept firing, Jason pressed on his communicator. “ALFRED!!!”

He tossed Y/N a communicator so they’d both be able to hear him. The butler was still in the batwing, needless to say still firing at all the monsters that have made a mountain coming after it hovering in the air.

“Yes, sir?”

“YOU STILL AN ORDAINED MINISTER?!”

He could hear Alfred sound confused.

“I do believe that is a lifelong thing-“

“MARRY US. RIGHT NOW!!!”

Alfred took out a bazooka gun on the Batwing, a new one no doubt. He didn’t remember Bruce having that when he was still alive, then stook out a crowd of twenty coming after him.

“I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment, Master Jason.”

“THEN MAKE IT QUICK. PLEASE, MARRY US!”

“TIM, YOU HEARING THIS?” Dick cried out into the comms. Everyone could hear it.

“I KNOW. IT’S FUCKING ROMANTIC.”

Alfred kept his calm. Then they heard a sigh.

“Alright. Do try not to get yourselves killed, Master Jason.”

“CAN DO!”

Y/N grabbed Jason’s arm, held onto him as tightly as she could, then they turned to meet each other’s eyes. Not after shooting a zombie coming for his back.

“Dearly beloved we are gathered here today…” Alfred fired another bazooka at the crowd. “To join this man, and this woman, in holy matrimony.”

Her wrist gun on a frenzy, she shot at the surrounding monsters and helped Jason kick one down with his knee. They stuck to each other’s backs, firing with their pistols.

“Jason Todd, Red Hood, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Jason’s pistol ran out of ammo, so Y/N threw him a magazine.

“I DO!!!”

She grabbed him, hurled him to the side so they’d switch places, then she started firing at a gun powder barrel she found and it immediately exploded.

“Y/FN Y/LN, Deadsh-“

“THE BULLET! I’M THE BULLET!”

Jason smiled at her with his eyes.

“Ah yes, I do apologize. Y/FN Y/LN, the Bullet, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Alfred fired at the creatures coming up to her just as she spoke. “I DO!”

Endless bullets, flying out of their hands, they fired at everything that came their way, protecting each other, shielding each other from harm’s way.

Alfred cleared his throat.

“Then with the power vested in me by the city of Gotham, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

“DICK, COVER US!”

“I GOT YOU!” Dick screamed.

“You may now kiss the bride…”

Before they’d die. Before it all ends.

They only had a minute before their lungs would give out.

So they ran into each other’s arms, taking off their masks and held their breaths to the best capacity.

Jason grabbed Y/N’s face, pulling her to his lips. Then an explosion happened in the far-off distance that blew off almost everything around them in the air. All except them.

They were one. They were together. Forever. She was his. And he was hers. For as long as they both shall live.

“IS THIS A FUCKIN’ WEDDING?!” Boomerang screamed.

Harley smashed her hammer. “I LOVE WEDDINGS!!!”

Jason leaned down and kissed her despite his chest starting to twist. She grabbed the back of his neck, pushed him back as well. Never has a kiss been more powerful, more meaningful. As far as they knew, they were alone. They were themselves. They were together. And nothing, not even the world, was ever going to pull them apart ever again.

From their first kiss in the meeting room, to the one at the Batcave, to the kiss in her quarters that one rainy night, to the kiss they shared up on that bridge. Everything had boiled down to now. Finally. Finally.

They were fucking married.

They pulled away, stared at each other, and finally they could see the largest smiles on their faces. The places the masks back on and gasped to breathe.

“Shall we?”

“We shall…”

Not a lot more to cover. The fucking monsters were finally starting to run out. And they moved in a dance only they knew. On each other’s side. Never leaving.

They shot, kicked, slammed, tore through the lifeless bodies coming after them and she cried out as another bomb exploded that she threw from her hand. She fought with her fucking husband and man, did it sound like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Nightwing and Robin came up to them.

“CONGRATULATIONS!!!” they both screamed.

“THANK YOU!”

Then Y/N handed them both guns and they started firing at the creatures.

It worked so well.

Finally.

Twenty left. Then there were fifteen. Then another ten died.

Finally.

Gone. All of the monsters. Wiped out.

The Squad was intact. Thankfully, they smiled at the Bullet and they all gathered to the center.

“I can't believe this,” Nightwing said. “But thank you for having our backs.”

“Don’t get used to it, pretty boy, when we wake up tomorrow mornin’ I’m back to slicing your head off with a-“

“Okay,” Red Hood stopped them. “Now we have to figure out a way to stop this.” He pointed up at the beacon.

“Hood,” the Bullet gulped.

“Yes, wife?”

A few of them groaned at that. Red Hood ignored them.

But the Bullet, Y/N, she didn’t look to happy.

She was staring right up at the top of the pit, shivering.

Everyone looked back to what she was looking at.

No.

No…

It wasn’t possible.

Hundreds more. Hundreds of the creatures. From all over the city. Ones with long, blonde hair. Ones that were as tiny as a small child.

It had reached civilization.

No. they couldn’t possibly handle all of them.

Robin looked at Nightwing, whose look on his eyes definitely lost that glimmering enthusiasm that sparked the hope they needed to go on.

And Red Hood.

Well, he made the right choice marrying her.

Jason held Y/N’s hand, and she took it so tightly between her fingers.

The look on their eyes, watching each other, memorizing the looks on their eyes before they go on to their inevitable deaths.

They couldn’t even see each other’s faces.

Harley slumped to the ground. “Well, this is it, ladies and gents.”

Frost screamed in frustration, releasing a large block of ice and slamming it onto the pit.

The monsters had surrounded them now. All in a complete circle. Trapping them.

And they took their time watching them squirm like worms in a tank full of fish.

This is how they die.

Y/N tightened her grip on Jason’s hand when one of the monsters roared and they all started crawling down to the dome.

“T-Tim?”

Their communicators. It sounded like Barbara.

“Yeah?”

“I hope you weren’t saving that favor for anything special,” Oracle said.

“Favor?”

“You know. That favor with Bruce’s friends…”

“What do you mea-“

Like a lightning bolt striking a tree, their eyes shot up at the brightest flash of light.

A golden, glimmering lasso, coming down from something they hadn’t seen flying in the air. The lasso grabbed onto five of the incoming beings and hauled them up.

Y/N’s never seen her up close.

But goddamn, she was nothing like the pictures.

Wonder Woman slammed against the ground on her knee and her balled up fist, letting the soil ripple at her impact. She didn’t have on a mask, but it barely wrinkled her nose. Her striking beauty was made even more obvious when she smirked up at the four, standing up, then took out her shield and sword from her back. She winked at them.

The four were too dumbfounded to move. As victims exhausted or as fanboys and fangirls watching it all unfold right in front of their eyes. Boom tubes coming from different parts in the air, and out of those circles came the heroes they’ve looked up to their whole lives.

Superman tore through a whole row of that were crawling after them with his powerful laser vision, flying through the sky faster than any of Y/N’s bullets could speed through. He grabbed one by the head, flew up to the sky, then threw it against the ground so hard that dozens of others blew up along with it.

Green Lantern made his own machine gun with his ring. He fired at everything that came close to the dome.

The Flash couldn’t even be seen. All they could see was a buzzing red light, powering all around them in circles and taking down everything that was in his path.

Green Arrow started raining down more than five arrows at a time. Ones from above. Ones from the ground. Black Canary ran up from behind them and let out that famous ear-piercing scream that took out everything that was in front of her. Even the grass.

Aquaman came up with his trident, and with Mera following behind, she let a stream of water pierce through the air like shards and a fucking shark was in it eating the heads of everything the water passed through.

Hawkgirl held her mace up in front of her and let her wings force her through the hundreds in the crowd, smashing their brains out with a single hit.

Shazam slammed on the ground, with sparks coming out of his body, then he screamed at the sky and let the biggest lightning bolt they’ve ever seen clear out a whole patch of the land the beings were standing on.

Martian Manhunter transformed into his true alien form then grabbed the monsters with his bare hands, threw them out of the way, and stomped on them with his feet. Or what looked like feet.

Cyborg. Supergirl. Zatanna. Doctor Fate. Huntress. Hawkman. Vixen. The Atom.

They were all here.

They were all going to live.

The fucking Justice League had come to save them.

Never have they seen them all in action. To them, it might have just been another day. But to them? To Batman’s wards. It was everything they ever wished to become.

It was the best, most beautiful thing they could possibly see their whole lives.

Bruce. How much he would have loved this.

Then the ground started to shake once again. The Cloudburst. It let out another load of the toxin.

They had to destroy it now.

Alfred hovered the Batwing above them and opened up the entry way. He waved his hands for them to come in. Robin, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Bullet ran into the Batwing and took their masks off.

“We can't just run off.”

“We have to go help them.”

“Actually,” Alfred said. “I’ve taken instruction from Ms. Prince.”

“She wanted us to leave?”

“No.” Alfred lead them to the windows and the looked out.

Superman, Green Lantern, Cyborg, and Supergirl were all facing the top of the dome, firing their lasers at the concentrated spot at the center. The heart of the Cloudburst. The whole building had gone up in flames, but it continued to fire up in the toxin.

“The Batwing has one more rocket bomb in its ammunition. When the League has the Cloudburst’s core exposed, we only have one shot at firing right at its center, destroying the Cloudburst for good.”

“I’ll do it,” Dick said.

“No I will!” Tim cried.

“Who said it was your turn!?”

“Who said it was yours?!”

“This isn’t a fucking argument, this is the world’s fate in our hands!”

“Exactly, which means I get to fire the Batwing.”

“Well, who exactly has the best aim in this fucking ship-“

Every pair of eyes stopped wandering around. Then they turned to the woman they called the Bullet.

No.

Fucking no.

“I can't-“

“Y/N-“

“Jason, I can't do this-“

“You can.”

“I don’t trust myself-“

“You never miss-“

“Jason.”

She grabbed his hands that were holding her face, finally she could look up at his eyes and see his lips in a smile.

“The last time I handled a tank, it was the Cloudburst… and I missed.”

“It doesn’t matter. That wasn’t your fault. You have no idea how sorry I am for being upset at that, but I know you can do this. Besides, this isn’t a tank. This is the fucking Batwing.”

“Jay…”

“Please. You're the only one who can do this.”

“I’ve never handled anything like this before.”

“You. Can. Do this.”

Looking up at Jason’s eyes, she saw just how much hope he had for her. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

“Man, is he dramatic today,” Tim said.

“Shut up, they just got married.”

When Jason pulled away, the heaviness in Y/N’s chest had slowly started to fade.

Yeah. He was right.

Her husband was right.

She does have the best aim in the room.

Alfred gestured for her to take the seat at the cockpit.  And with Jason holding her hand, leading her to the front, she slowly took the front seat.

Everything was at her control. It didn’t look too intimidating. She pressed onto the buttons and breathed in. Really breathed in.

Breathe. Breathe.

Jason stood back, but not without squeezing her shoulder.

Breathe.

She opened her eyes.

Flying the Batwing over to the top of the dome, right alongside Superman and Supergirl with their lasers still pointing at the center. It won't be long now.

Everything looked brighter. Everything felt hotter. The center of the Cloudburst, at the dome that was once its protective shield.

Irony. She always thought it was what’s going to get her.

Driving the Cloudburst, using it to take down the Batmobile.

Now she was driving the Batwing to take down the Cloudburst.

Yes. Irony certainly did come out to bite her.

But it was in the fucking best way possible.

Doctor Fate and Zatanna had joined in and fired their magical beams at the same spot at the center. Slowly, after each second that passed, she could see its shield slowly start to fade away. A ball around the glass tank of the toxin collapsed. And finally, it was seconds away from its very heart exposed.

Breathe.

The Bullet turned on her optics.

Further. Closer. Brighter.

NOW.

The rocket shot through the Batwing’s bazooka and it came flying out into the air. She waited for that half a millisecond watching it fall to the very spot she aimed at.

Everyone flew out of the sky before it landed on the Cloudburst.

Then the entire dome exploded like a massive nuclear bomb tearing out into the sky with its violently flying debris. The Justice League and the Suicide Squad had cleared out, and with the explosion it took away all the remaining nightmare creatures, dissolving them into the air as nothing but ash.

Everything was loud. Everything was bright. They shielded their eyes away before it blinded them and hid as the dome continued to explode.

They were so high up in the air that they could see the stars up in space despite it already the morning.

And as the bombing sounds had faded…

So did the toxin.

The once red cloud that had covered the sky had dwindled away to its natural white. Everything fell down in beautiful pink ashes. The same ones from when Ivy destroyed the first Cloudburst. They looked up at the sky, and with tears down their faces, everyone leapt in joy and cheered when everything looked as peaceful as it once was.

On the ground where the dome used to be, a crater of soil was left behind. No more creatures. No more darkness. No more Scarecrow.

Everyone took off their domino masks and visors. Dick took Tim and they screamed in happiness, jumped in the air, hugged each other until it hurt like girls at a sleepover. They took Alfred in as well and gave him the biggest bear hug there was.

“DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT, BABE!?” Tim said into his comms.

Babs was just as ecstatic as they were. “I’M SO PROUD OF ALL OF YOU!!”

“WE FUCKING SAVED THE WORLD!!!” Dick leapt for joy.

“I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA DIE OUT THERE.”

“I KNOW. THEN FUCKING WONDER WOMAN CAME IN AND DESTROYED EVERYTHING I MEAN HOW CAN ANYONE GET AS AWESOME AS THAT?!”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE,” Tim screamed. “IT’S LIKE YOU SAW HER AT FUCKING COMIC CON.”

“ALFRED.” They pulled him in. “TELL ME. DID BRUCE EVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT IN HIS LIFE?!”

“Well, other than the ten times he’s defeated Darkseid over at outer space, no I don’t think he has.”

“ WE STILL WIN. WE FUCKING DID IT!!!”

“JASON, DID YOU SEE IT WHEN GREEN LANTER- Jason?!”

They looked around. Jason hadn’t joined them in their little celebration.

Jason and Y/N were over at the back, kissing for what seemed to have been the last ten minutes and completely ignoring everything that went on around them. She was holding his face, and he was hugging her waist. Didn’t even stop when Tim cleared his throat.

Dick, on the other hand, had went up to one of the compartments and had grabbed a bottle of champagne they had stored there for purposes like this.

“Can't believe we almost forgot. CONGRATULATIONS TO THE NEWLYWEDS !!!”

Everyone in the Batwing clapped for joy and the couple finally stopped kissing, turning their heads over to smile at them.

“THIS CALLS FOR A CELEBRATION!”

“CHAMPAGNE FOR EVERYONE.”

Jason thumbed her cheek. “You alright with our reception being held in the Batwing?”

Y/N shrugged. “I mean, I wanted to book a caterer, but-“

Jason pulled her face again and kissed her with their hearts light and their spirits so high up in the sky.

A future. She could see it. It was all flashing in front of her eyes now.

Finally, something good had happened out of the series of darkness.

They drank, cheered, partied in the Batwing while it went in a really slow autopilot on its way back to the cave. They hung out like any group of friends would have. Like any family would have.

Jason held her hand the whole time. And Y/N held it even tighter.

This was the end. And it was beautiful, peaceful, promising.

And above all else, it was fucking epic.

-----

EPILOGUE

As if the world hadn’t already stopped surprising them, they continued to go through that very same day bringing them almost to the brink of a heart attack.

When the grounds to the Batcave descended, when the Batwing parked itself in its spot, when its entryway folded down for them all to walk down to, everyone was still in their high, laughing, skipping when they walked down the ramp and out into the walkway.

“Babs!”

Barbara wheeled right towards them and Tim held her in his arms, pulling her up to his level so he could carry her. They all cheered.

“I can't believe you thought of calling the League!”

Babs laughed. “Obviously, you needed help.”

Everyone started talking at the same time, each of them telling Babs one side of the story and how it happened. Explaining in detail how Wonder Woman did this and how Aquaman did that. Even Y/N was so excited she couldn’t stop talking about how Green Arrow’s aim was something she’d admired for so long. A bubble of noise, happy noise. Kids being together.

Like no time even passed. They continued on and on about everything that happened.

Then Jason looked behind at the computers. He stopped talking. His smile faded away. His heart stopped. His whole body stopped.

Everyone saw the look on his face and turned to look at what he was seeing.

At first, he looked just about as regular as any tall man.

And if you hadn’t been expecting it, like practically everyone in the room didn’t, no one would believe it at first glance.

Black shirt. Basic jeans. A jacket over his shoulders. Hair so long it had gone down to his neck pushed back.

But it was him. So undeniably him.

“Oh my god…” Babs whispered.

Bruce Wayne smiled at all their faces. Jaws on the ground. Eyes so incredibly wideset. He didn’t look the least bit bothered.

He walked on over closer to them, hands in his pockets. He stood a few yards away so as to not startle them.

His children.

“Dick…” he greeted.

The eldest choked on his breath. “Bruce…”

Bruce looked over at the girl with fiery red hair.

“Barbara…”

“Oh. My. God.”

Bruce grinned, then he looked over at the man beside her.

“Tim…”

“You're alive…” Tim breathed.

Then when Bruce met Jason’s eyes, everyone parted to give him his way. Bruce started walking towards him, and Jason swallowed on his tongue.

He hadn’t prepared for this.

Not by a long shot.

He thought he was never, ever going to see him again.

He never thought he’d have the chance to make things right.

And now, he did.

Bruce stood in front of Jason.

“Welcome back…” Bruce said. “My son…”

Jason pulled him into a hug, much to Bruce’s surprise. Much to everyone’s surprise.

But he wanted to skip all the thinking and the doubts and the holding back to everything he’s ever wanted to say to him.

Jason forgave him. Already after two years. And it meant so much that Bruce had forgiven him too.

Bruce hugged him back.

Bruce never hugs anyone back.

But he patted Jason’s shoulder and held him as tightly as any father could possibly hold his son. Jason was crying. Hell, everyone in the room was crying. Even Alfred was shedding a tear. Everyone watched on as they fell into each other’s embrace longer than they’ve had with anyone else.

Eventually, Bruce had to pull away.

“I’m so sorry…” Jason cried.

Bruce held his shoulders.

“Jason…” he said. “You have no idea how proud I am of you…”

Jason realized he’s never heard those words before.

He hugged him again, just because he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Y/N dried her tears with her shirt and met Jason’s eyes from over Bruce’s shoulder.

“Bruce…” Jason pulled away. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Y/N stood straight up. She dusted off her suit. She straightened her neck.

“This is Y/N,” Jason said with his hand on her back. She stretched out her hand, and Bruce took it.

“I’ve heard of you. Your girlfriend-“

“Wife.”

Her smile was so beautiful when he said it.

“My wife.”

Bruce shot up his eyebrows. “I see. Well, it would have been better if we had a talk-“

“Don’t. Do that.”

“I’m kidding,” Bruce laughed.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Such a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Y/N… I know who you are and who you were…”

“Bruce…”

He nodded at Dick.

“You were the Commander of the militia army. You were Deadshot. You took over your uncle’s old jobs.”

“Bruce, you don’t have to-“

He didn’t even look at Jason’s direction.

“And you drove the Batwing today…”

Y/N was scared shitless shivering on her own two feet. It wasn’t because she was talking to Batman, someone she almost had killed. It was because she was talking to her freaking father in law.

Jason swallowed.

“And I also happen to know… that you worked with my sons like a perfectly trained team and singlehandedly saved thousands of lives…”

Everyone’s eyes lit up. Especially hers.

“What do we call you now?”

“The Bullet,” she swallowed. “I’m the Bullet.”

“Well, Y/N,” he smiled. “The Bullet.”

Then he stretched out his hand.

“Welcome to the family.”

 -----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

TAGLIST

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@sarcasmismyfirstlove

@damned-queen-of-gotham

@idkmanicantenglish

@wunderstell

@birdy-bat-writes

@get-loki

@everyday-imfangirling

@comic-nerd-dc

@multifandoms916

@icequeen208

@offendedfishnoises

@egdolan

@xemiefx

@arkhamtoddler

@elsenthal

@mythicbitchx

@supremehaunter

@lucy-roo

@roseangel013bf

@loxbbg

@reclusive-chicken-nugget

@l-inkage

@http-cherries

@shadowsndaisies

@river9noble

@zphilophobiaz

@annoylinglyaries

@knightfall05x

@flowersgirl02

@hyp-oh-critical

@satan-s-ass

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 12: Quidditch

The office was so bare, that at first they thought they'd landed in an abandoned one. Yet the desk was filled with papers for markings, the curtains were well worn as if someone regularly pulled them back to view the Quidditch stadium beyond, and the chair was not the one from their time, but slightly modified into a more comfortable recliner. Still, there were no personal touches, and even those teachers who had no plans to stay longer than a year carried photos, or remnants of every human practice to somehow mark their space. No splash of color dominated, even the bedroom adjacent to the office held only standard bed sheets.

"We must be in Quirrell's office," Sirius decided. The feeling would never grow comfortable, but he was at least used to by now of shaking off the dizzying feeling of being somewhere he wasn't a second before so that he could step up to the desk and start rifling through drawers which were as bare as the walls, only filled with extra quills and ink.

"Bloke needs a personal decorator," Peter muttered, he'd never seen anything so bare bones, and he'd been to a DA teacher's office every year to know this wasn't common.

"What do you think happened here?" Frank asked as he stepped up to a corner of the room. There was an empty shelf that could have held any number of things from books to nicknacks, but it was as dusty as everything else. However, there was a small burn mark in the wall, with just the tips of a few feathers showing on the edge indicating it might once have been a bird implanted there, but now it was just a smoky, twisted shape like he'd tried to blast it off the wall instead.

Lupin stepped up beside him with a perplexed look as well, scratching his nail against this curiously. "I think it used to be an eagle," tracing his finger now across the lone visible feather, "maybe he used to be in Ravenclaw house?"

"Then why would he blast it off?" Franks brows only rose higher with such an odd form of an answer.

There was no explanation for this peculiar place, but that was the pattern of this whole journey so far. So Remus stepped up next to Sirius and plopped down in the seat, scooping up the book where it had landed first and reclining leisurely as he began the next part. He cheered with joy the moment he read the chapter title, and Sirius sat on the arm of the chair at once to lean in and see why. Remus automatically pushed his face away, but by the time he read it out to the others Sirius was already whooping with his own joy they were going to be reading about Harry's first Quidditch game, finally!

James was beside himself with joy at once, clutching Peter to him in ecstatic excitement before they even got to details, they were all aware of who the match was going to be against. Peter was being just as bad, squealing and wriggling around just as much, watching James carefully to make sure he'd stay upright even when he was released to start all but bouncing off the walls.

Alice watched them and couldn't help but laugh at the show, remembering the two times she'd actually sat near them in the stands during their younger years and knowing they could possibly get worse, so choosing to follow as Frank went into the adjacent room to find some lower level of noise.

Regulus just stood awkwardly at opposite ends of the room from Evans, admittedly more ecstatic for this but honestly still unsure of how much he should bother trying to interact with Sirius. His parents had been making it increasingly clear during his holiday visits Sirius may not even be around much longer if he didn't change up his act this summer, and no matter what crazy world they were flying through now, he should still honor his parents wishes and keep himself separate from the stain of his older brother. Just because his friends still managed to amuse him, and honestly he still couldn't help but look to what Sirius did and react the same way, didn't mean he was actually expected to hang around him.

Lily declined following Frank and Alice for once, but that just left her more uncomfortable than ever in this room full of boys who she couldn't claim to see eye to eye with about anything. They held no interest as Lupin went through the whole chapter leading up to the game, wasn't going to bother with any defense for what Sev did even if that was a rule he made up on the spot. The way they were reacting was even how she would have predicted, still making crude jokes at each other and reminiscing about all they'd done to Snape and wishing they could do more now while he continued to bully Harry.

Not that she even knew for a fact that's what this was. She more than anyone could understand why Sev was singling Harry out, not that she in any way approved of why he was for such petty revenge, but she wouldn't deny she could see in his eyes lashing out at someone who so reminded him of Potter just as much as her. She wished he'd be more of an adult about it, but there was just no point saying any of this to anyone present, it's not as if they'd understand.

Her fury at the situation only grew when Harry went on to accuse Severus of being after whatever that deranged dog was guarding. Honestly, one incident of an injury, an overheard conversation, and the kid just automatically blamed it on the person he didn't like. It was a miracle he wasn't adding Malfoy into the mix as an accomplice already, as if life didn't happen outside of teachers who yelled at him.

The build up to the game held no interest to her, it only set her teeth grinding back on edge and all she could do now was be grateful he didn't use any build up to blow off steam like the Potter in this room would. In fact she honesty couldn't admit to even listening to what happened up until the moment Harry mentioned his broom lurching beneath him. Something inside of her lurched as well.

She certainly didn't like Potter, but she'd never actually wished him irreparable harm, let alone death! That's what was going to happen when Harry fell though, so she looked on at Lupin stuttering through words in a panic, actually understood the look of fear on all of his friends, and met Potter's eyes with a dry mouth that honestly could have released a scream of fear any second.

"Evans!" James startled them all out of the vivid mental nightmare as he went to her side. She fell against the wall the moment that little Hermione girl claimed to have seen what was really going on, but remained just out of arm's reach of Potter when her focus snapped back to him still on a glare.

"It wasn't him," her voice crackled with force that would surely have stopped that bucking broom in place, it wasn't a wonder why James froze. "Severus isn't the one doing this."

Far from looking as if to check on her, the muscle going in his jaw made it clear he was holding himself back from doing something more than shouting now when his hand twitched for his wand. "Are you really so daft women? You can't look past, for one bleeding second of protecting and defending him against everything! What possible explanation do you have for this one?!"

"Why don't you try opening your mind for once Potter!" She snarled right back, off the wall in the same breath and glaring daggers at him, her hand in the same position. "Pull your fat head out of your arse and think! Or is that too difficult, with all the empty space up there?"

"Glory those two are the most self centered birks I've ever met," Frank muttered, staying happily on the other side of the door to mutter this to Alice. "Can't they have this row for the millionth time after they find out if the kid survived. I swear this went down last week about who it was causing the toilets to snap shut on people."

"Wasn't it Avery caught doing that yesterday?" Alice asked in surprise.

"Exactly," Frank finished with a snort.

"How long do you think they can keep going when neither really has the ability to walk away?" Alice asked in honest concern when the two just kept exchanging insults.

"You mean when Evans can't storm off," Frank corrected. "Ever seen Potter? I think he lives for this."

Alice huffed in disgust if this was really how he thought was the best way to keep her attention, and honestly just grew sick of it herself finally. She went back through the door, Frank following reluctantly, and right over to Lupin. Black was sitting on the arm of the chair and watching along with Pettigrew like a show, but the last Marauder was pretending nothing was even happening as he kept his eyes down on the passage, though clearly reading nothing as no words had been uttered since they'd started.

"You lot just planning on staying in here forever?" She demanded.

"That's an interesting question," Black looked to her and said conversationally. "Wonder if time's frozen forever, we'll never get old, never get hungry again, actually wait, that could get really boring."

"Whatever point you take from this," she said in exasperation.

He nodded and nudged Moony, muttering, "best go on then, you've studied in the common room with louder things going on."

Remus hesitated an extra moment before indeed choosing to ignore the pair and continuing. It certainly made the Marauders who were paying attention a new level of interest none had ever seen, setting a teacher on fire and all. That was something they'd never dare to do, and Hermione just became their new idol for that act alone, the reason that she was doing it just made her as solid a friend as Ron only made it all the better.

It was honestly sad to the three of them James took no glory in this, didn't even seem to mention it as he was still busy over there where apparently only he and Evans existed. He even missed Harry spitting up the Snitch in victory, and in fact only came back to realizing what was going on when Evans snapped her head in their direction upon Hagrid defending Snape.

"Finally, a sensible human being," she seethed, snapping away from him and storming into the room for any way to escape while still listening attentively now. Hagrid just became her new favorite person in this castle for finally seeing past singling out a person for this happening, something that childish idiot could never understand.

"Wait, what happened to Harry? Who won the game?" James asked with a ruffled brow, his eyes still on the door and for all the world still unaware when Peter answered he'd fill him in on the details.

"Fluffy?" Frank said into the awkward silence. "I can not for the life of me picture a three headed dog, fluffy."

"Thought you had more imagination than that love," Alice honestly giggled at her boyfriend's perplexed look.

"I'll take that scrap of information if the dog has pink fur on top of it all," Lupin said with honest interest, his eyes now alight as he kept going at finally getting more information no matter how unintentional Hagrid gave it.

"Why do I know that name, Flamel," Regulus muttered to himself, though he alone felt invested in this mystery. Everyone else still seemed far more involved with Harry, even Evans no matter how much she denied it. She certainly hadn't, in all her shouting, come up with any alternatives to who could be trying to kill the young Potter, unlike him, who was still chewing over all the information given as Lupin finished.

[illfoandillfie]

would love to see another fluffy/smutty addition to the seaside rendevous verse with joe and reader, am quite fond of that series

It’s been so long since I revisited these two but I had a lot of fun with it! Big thanks to @johndeaconshands​ for the suggestion to take them back to where they first met. I didn’t do the whole revenge tease thing exactly and it might have ended up a little more angsty than originally intended but the idea of them going back to the hotel sparked some ideas! Mostly it’s fluffy and smutty and hopefully you guys like it!  Also it’s like 3k because I am terrible at keeping things short skfjskfjlskf

warnings: smut but it’s not particularly kinky. Mentions of choking but that’s about it.

Seaside Rendezvous Series

Blurb Advent: Day 19 

Things had felt different between you and Joe since the ski trip. Of course, since then you’d started talking more, calls on the phone at night, video chats while you were studying, sharing memes and random thoughts in each other’s Instagram DMs, and of course, a lot of explicit pictures and the like. But neither of you had repeated the sentiments you’d said in front of the fire as you tried to stay warm. It was scary. It felt like saying it would jinx you or something. Like if you admitted it, you’d have to label what you had and the only label available was one that would fuck everything up. Long distance never worked. But not saying anything left you floating in this weird limbo. You weren’t exactly together but you weren’t exactly single either. It was like friends with benefits but all the benefits were just teasing hints of what could possibly be. You’d probably have admitted some things out loud if it had seemed that Joe was ready to say them but he kept quiet so you did too. Your laid back approach to the relationship pissed off your friends and they all at one time or other tried to push you to tell Joe how deeply you cared for him, but you made your excuses and ignored them. Being so far away from the romantic atmosphere of a snow dusted cabin with a roaring fire, as well as so far away from the man you’d spent the time with, made you second guess if what you’d said had been real. Surely it was an exaggeration brought on by nostalgia and hormones. Yes, you felt something for Joe, yes you found him attractive, yes you’d love to have sex with him in the 3D world again, but maybe it wasn’t love. So you kept things in their limbo bubble. When other guys asked you out you turned them down and said you were kind of seeing someone already, you sent Joe steamy pictures of you in the shower and videos of you touching yourself and moaning his name (nearly always receiving something in return), but you never called him your boyfriend and you never really committed. Once or twice you thought that maybe Joe was trying to push things further but you couldn’t bring yourself to discuss it in case you were wrong so you didn’t know for sure. You didn’t even know if he was hooking up with anyone else or if you were right to feel jealous or upset at the thought that he might be.

But with the approach of the Summer break, Joe got some ideas. A break meant there was no classes to go to, no assignments due, no college to worry about. You were free to get on a plane and fly to another part of the country without worrying about missing something important. And that was exactly what Joe suggested.

“We should go somewhere, together. Chatting like this is great but I’d really like to see you again. In the flesh.” He laughed as he potted about his kitchen, one hand holding the phone up so you could see him.

“Going somewhere sounds fun,”

“Yeah, you’re in?”

“Depends where you had in mind.”

“I don’t know yet, still thinking. I’ll give you some ideas as soon as I have them though,”

 It was a few nights later, during one of your regular calls that Joe suggested you go back to where you first met, Hawaii. You readily agreed and began looking for flights, already composing an email to your parents in your head, telling them that you’d been invited to stay with a friend so wouldn’t be going home for the break. Joe sorted out your accommodation and by the time the last day of term rolled around you were packed and ready to go, mostly excited. There was a little apprehension, especially once you’d said goodbye to your friends and were on the road to the airport. They were obnoxiously condescending, telling you that seeing Joe again would be good for you and that you’d sort everything out. Most of the flight was spent trying not to worry about where you stood with Joe, or what to expect from the trip. Was it just about sex or was there more to it? But, in the second you saw him waiting at the airport in Honolulu, all you felt was relief. Joe was quick to pull you into a hug, wrapping you up tightly in his arms as he breathed out how much he’d missed you into your hair. And you squeezed him back just as hard.

Joe had managed to get a room at the same resort as the last time you’d been there. The room you were shown to after checking in was on a higher floor than you’d previously been, decorated with tropical pinks and yellows and featuring art of palm trees and flowers. It’s bathroom had two sinks and a bath big enough for you both, and the main room was largely taken up by a queen sized bed with soft pillows and complementary chocolates in the shape of shells. As soon as you put your bags down you threw yourself onto the bed.

“So much comfier than the one in my dorm room,” you laughed as Joe took the spot next to you, turning onto his side to face you.

“God yeah. I don’t know how I’m going to go back, I think this bed might ruin me for other beds.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that for a few weeks at least,”

Joe yawned and nodded.

“Long day?”

“Kinda. Just finished everything up and getting to the airport and everything. How was your last day?”

“Yeah, the same really. Got a reply from mum trying to find out where I was going and with who,”

“Why does that not surprise me?” he laughed, “Did you tell her?”

“God no. If she knew I was here with you she’d either fly out to spy on us or tell everyone I’d run off to elope,”

“And we wouldn’t want either to happen,”

“Exactly.”

“So, I take it your family doesn’t know we’ve been…talking,”

“You are correct. I wasn’t going to tell them when I don’t- when we don’t see each other except over breaks.”

Joe nodded, “Yeah. But, hey, at least we don’t have to worry about sneaking around this time. We can make out on the beach as much as we want,”

You laughed and gently pushed him away but Joe caught your hand and kept it pinned to his chest as he leaned over to kiss you. The rest of the evening was spent in much the same way, laying on the bed talking between kisses until you both fell asleep.

When you woke in the morning it was with Joe’s arm around you and his chest against your back. It was comfortable and comforting to sleep beside him again and you began to wonder if maybe you hadn’t been exaggerating last time. Maybe you’re friends had been right. You wriggled out from under his arm so you could go to the bathroom but when you returned you snuggled back in against him, burying your face in his chest to sleep a little longer.

Waking up the second time was just as good, or better even since Joe was already awake.

“Morning, gorgeous,”

“Morning,” you smiled, pressing your lips to his quickly, “sleep okay?”

“Really well.”

“Me too. Kinda don’t wanna move,”

“We don’t have to,” he shrugged, shuffling around to press himself closer to you, his fingers beginning to trace lazy patterns on your side, “could just stay here all day.”

“Like the sound of that,” you purred. With your bodies so close you could feel what you had to assume was his morning wood though his pants, and you couldn’t deny that sex was definitely one of the big reasons going away together had seemed like such a good idea. Even if there was confusion about what exactly was happening, you knew the sex would be clear and simple. And, after all of the photos and videos and live chats you’d teased each other with, you wanted it to happen sooner rather than later. “Did you remember to pack enough condoms this time?”

“Hey, if you’ll remember correctly, I had enough last time. It was just that during our first time I was so wound up and pissed off that I forgot where I put them.”

“Didn’t answer my question,”

“Yes, I bought enough. Like…fifty of them.”

“Is that an actual figure or just an expression?”

“An actual figure.”

“Well then we have seventy all up cause I also brought a couple of boxes. That should be enough, right?”

“I think so,” Joe laughed.

“You wanna start using them now?”

“Definitely,”

You giggled as Joe rolled you onto your back and kissed you, his legs settling between yours. Kissing was very nice but you wanted more so you rolled your hips against his, hoping he’d get the message.

“Someone’s a bit needy,” he teased, letting you sit up so he could pull your shirt off, “miss me did you?”

“Joe, I’ve been celibate since winter, you don’t have to tease me to get me worked up, I’m already there.”

“Thank god.” He laughed, the sound muffled as you pulled his shirt over his head, “I’ve been trying not to jump you since you got off the plane.”

“So, you didn’t sleep with anyone else?”

Joe paused in his mission to get your pants off, “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t I just…wasn’t sure.”

“Well I haven’t,” Joe held your gaze to try and reassure you but he quickly slipped back into the demeanour he’d had before the interruption, “And I think the proof will be in how quickly I finish. Just the sight of your bra has got me dangerously close. I mean, do you know how good it is to see your boobs in real life again?” he placed his hands on your breasts and squeezed them.

“Better hurry up and get your pants off then,” you laughed, reaching forward to pull them down, “wouldn’t want you to make a mess in them,”

“Alright, alright,” he batted your hand away so he could roll off the bed and kick his pants off his ankles, “I’m going to grab a condom and the lube from my bag, you just lie there and look pretty. And stay horny,”

“No danger of losing that,” you muttered which made Joe laugh again. You pulled off your underwear, both your bra and panties flung out of sight, and settled back against the pillows. Letting your legs spread you trailed your hand down between them, lightly stroking yourself. You were already wet, just the promise of sex with Joe enough to get you going after so long without anyone else’s touch. But you didn’t want to wait too much longer so you slowly sank your middle finger into your pussy.

“Jesus,” you said, swallowing hard, when he turned and saw you, “What are you doing that for?”

“Figured I’d, ah, save you the trouble, since you’re so close. Wouldn’t want you to touch me and end things before they began,”

“Gonna need more than one finger then, aren’t you,”

You nodded, your hips rising as you added a second. You bit your lip as you met Joe’s eyes, dark with lust, as he climbed onto the end of the bed and settled there on his knees. He watched you as he opened the condom and put it on, softly complementing you, telling you how incredible you looked and how long he’d been waiting for this and how badly he wanted you. He kept egging you on, his voice studded with sharp intakes of breath hissed though his teeth as he spread the lube along his shaft.

“You ready for me?” he asked, walking forward on his knees.

“Mmhmm, so ready,” you almost whined, removing your fingers and holding them out for him.

Joe grabbed your wrist with one hand, his other resting on your knee as he took your fingers between his lips, humming around them. When he was done you let your hand fall to the bed as he settled between your legs and lined himself up, pushing into you slowly. You gasped at the sensation, a slight sting accompanying the pleasurable fullness, though it faded as you adjusted. Joe paused once he’d bottomed out, his eyes closed and browns furrowed.

“Fuck,” was all he said but you knew what he meant. He took a few moments to collect himself before he pulled back a little and eased in again. “God, I was joking before about being close but I actually don’t know that I’ll last that long. You feel fucking amazing.”

You chuckled and pulled him down to kiss you, “Don’t care, just fuck me okay?”

He nodded and drew his hips back before snapping them forward again, finding a rhythm that worked for you both.

Joe was right in saying he wouldn’t last long but he held off as long as he could, trying to get you to the same point, his fingers on your clit and his lips on your neck. It didn’t work though you could feel the orgasm creeping up on you when he groaned and stilled.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, kissing you again.

“S’alright,”

“Hang on, I can still – ” he readjusted himself, shuffling down the bed, “do this.”

Your back arched as he licked along your slit, “Yeah, that’ll work,” you breathed out, falling into a moan as he sucked your clit into his mouth, replacing his cock with his fingers.

“Missed your pussy,” he said against you, his voice rough, as he worked you towards the edge, “Been thinking about doing this for so long,”

You moaned again, managing to choke out his name as he focused on your cunt, his lips tight around your clit, his fingers pounding into you. You came like that, his face buried between your legs as you cried out your release and he worked you through it.

“How was that?” he asked, wiping his mouth on his arm, and crawling back up the bed so he could wrap his arms around you again.

“Give me a minute,”

“Alright,” he dropped a small kiss to your temple, “actually, hang on I have something for you,”

You looked around confusedly as he got off the bed and, pulling his underwear on, rummaged through his bag again. When he came back to the bed he handed you a long, thin package, wrapped up in shiny wrapping paper.

“What is it?”

“You do know what a surprise is, don’t you?”

“Shut up, I mean’t what’s it for?”

“Well, I don’t know if you realised this but, it’s been a year since we met. Figured I’d get you something to mark the occasion.”

You looked down at the gift and then back at Joe, “I didn’t get you anything,”

“That’s alright, I wasn’t expecting anything,”

You shook your head, “No, I should have thought. I just wasn’t sure what was going on between us.”

“Yeah, I know,”

“I thought things would be different after the ski trip and I guess they were because we were like talking regularly and all that but…what are we Joe?”

“Just open the present, Y/N.”

You frowned at being blown off when you’d finally actually voiced what had been playing on your mind for so long but turned your attention to the item in your hands anyway. Inside the wrapping paper was a box and inside that was a bracelet chain.

Joe lifted it from the box delicately and wrapped it around your wrist, “I know things have been kind of weird and uncertain but I meant everything I said on that ski trip. We’ve known each other for a year and, even though there was time in there where we weren’t in contact, I still think that’s long enough to fall in love. And I guess this is my way of trying to say that and to make up for all the times I haven’t said it lately. After we went back to school last time I started to worry that if I said it again it would jinx things. But that was stupid. I should have told you I love you every time we talked. Even if we couldn’t be together in person.”

You looked at the bracelet closely as he closed the clasp, taking in the charms dangling from the chain. A Christmas tree, a snow globe, a plumeria flower and a heart.

“Most of the charms are to represent moments we’ve had together but the heart is so that, even while we’re apart, you know you have mine. Also the snow globe was as close as I could get to anything skiing related.”

You chuckled softly, “it’s perfect,”

“Good. You’ll also notice that there is a room for a lot more charms to fit on there and I intend to help you fill it. We don’t have much longer left at college so the next one will probably be a graduation cap or something and then we can talk about where to go next. LA or New York or wherever. We can figure things out, actually date, maybe move in together if we wanted. I can introduce you to my family who are just as weird as yours but in a different way. My folks already know about you and are very keen to meet you by the way. And then we can give your mum a heart attack by telling her we’re together. And we’ll make it work. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded, too choked up to speak, and kissed him.

 Joe ordered room service while you got cleaned up and dressed which you took onto the balcony to eat before heading back to bed. In the afternoon you left the room to walk along the beach, hand in hand, leaning on each other as the sun began to set. Joe wrapped his arms around your stomach and leaned his chin on your shoulder as you looked out over the ocean.

“I have a good feeling about this vacation,” he said softly, rocking you gently.

“Me too.” You turned to face Joe, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

When the sun had sufficiently set you began to pull Joe back up to your room, “Y’know,” you said as you pressed the button for the elevator, “I still feel bad that you got me such a thoughtful present and I got you shit all,”

“I told you it’s fine,”

“I know, but I thought of something I could give you,”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” You led Joe into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor.

“Well what is it?”

“Anything you want,”

“What?”

“I was thinking we’d start with a bath together, and then you could have me however you wanted,” you pulled Joe’s hand up towards your throat, “you could choke me out, I know you enjoy doing that, or I could blow you or I don’t know. Whatever you’d imagined doing to me, you can do it.”

Joe growled, his grip on your throat tightening, “I’ve imagined a lot of things,”

“Good thing we’ve got so many condoms then.”

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

AN EXCHANGE OF MEAT

Late valentines day ZADR drabble, extremely nsfw, takes place in the #izspacetrash universe NSFW 18+ Warning: Petplay, Zussy, Choking, Power play, Power theft, Over-stimulation, flirtatious bullying 

Back on Irk, coupling is illegal. It’s a big deal for humans because they can’t name a rock without forming an emotional attachment, for Irkens however, there’s no reason for the law to even be in place. As a species we have evolved past the need to interact with others. Every individual in the empire has the potential to be a sturdy, self sustaining island unto themselves. We’re built better than every sentient stain in all the known everything!! We have YET to encounter anything that even compares to our size and MIGHT. The last fertile cluster of Irkens died out a thousand decades ago. Every irken is cloned and easily replaced if not functioning at maximum capacity.

So, the desire to do more than indulge yourself is...low. There’s no reason to involve another irken in the matters of ones…..self congratulation.The practice of an EMOTIONAL and spiritual coupling fell out of favor long before we learned to control our natural impulses. 

If this is all true (and it is), how can I feel so much for the vicious neanderthal that calls me his? Dib was working on one of his drones as I sat in the dark pocket of the lower bunk bed, the bed itself built into the wall of a home on wheels. Dibs white rectangular fat assed Arr Vee was parked behind a dunky doughnuts so that we could stay out of the sightline of main roads and siphon power to recharge the vehicles battery. See, the outside of Dibs roaming home looks like any other shitty old caravan. In fact, it is more like Dib’s own mobile base. The battered shell outside the chrome and black and blue innards of the crisp sterile mobile lab are no more than a clever disguise. An infuriatingly smart trick. It’s a trick wrapped around stolen Irken technology and it’s to our collective benefit that everything stays hidden. It’s more comfortable being a prisoner, knowing that Dib has become secretive of his most prized belongings. Legs crossed, back pressed to the wall, chin in hand I was thinking my thoughts. 

My hand drifted down my neck to trace the soft top edge of the lined matte black metal collar locked around my neck. I felt at the difference in texture between the soft barely there fuzz on my skin and the smooth cool metal. It had been locked there for thirty one days, ten hours, six minuets and eleven seconds. It’s some fluke of nature that Dib is as smart as he is. At one point in my career as an invader I theorized that as  humans grew taller, their brain shrunk to make up for the increase in body mass. With Dibs lineage, this is less so. As an adult he is only more cunning, more dangerous, more cloyingly obsessive, more driven. He neglects his sleep to work. He works with the single minded diligence of an Irken researcher. His drive to excel in his field transcends the greasy smelly differences between our kinds. The efficiency he commands my own technology with rivals that of a practiced PAK technician. He’s studied the things I left behind on earth for 14 of his years, and it shows. With a single steady bare claw I traced the shape of the emblem embossed onto my collar tag. Dibs skull shaped symbol, displayed in shiny silver across the front of my neck at all times. An unnecessary humiliation that marks me as one of many stolen treasures. I feel its shape on the bare pad of my finger and silently kiss my teeth, stung by the reality that Dib thought of it first. If the world was just, if things made sense, things would have been flipped, things should have been different. If I really am the more advanced life form, I have no excuse for his subjugation. Thirty one days, ten hours, seven minutes and forty fucking seconds.

From my dark hideaway I could see him, hunched over his desk with the posture of a scoliosis king. A bright white desk light illuminates the front of him and reflects off the cobalt blue shine of his protective eyewear. The blue strips of emergency LED light that mark out the floor area catch the underside of his form, and stripe the wrinkles of his sloppy mechanics smock in toxic blue slivers. Through the gap in the curtains in front of him, I could make out a flickering yellow street light. Dibs sigh broke through the silence. He set down his tool and leaned back in his chair, away from the open shell of the drone he’d been repairing. I watched him drag a long fingered skeletal hand back through his greasy weird hair, and watched the unruly sprig of bone and black people fur spring back up as his hand passed it. “You’re quiet.” The human announced, obviously. Before he could twist the rotating chair around to face me I let my hand fall into my lap and folded both hands neatly together. “My brain is loud.” It needed no explanation, but Dib had demanded the cause. Slouched back in his chair, I watched him copy how I had my fingers folded into each other. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead and crinkled his sweaty brow. “You’re thinking? You’re capable of thought?” He’d lick his loathsome incisors and grin. “Damn, I’ll have to correct my notes. I thought the metal parasite on your back did all that for you.” “IT’S NOT A PARASITE! I TOLD YOU! It’s as ME as the rest of ME!” The corners of Dibs eyes crinkled with delight as he watched me retrace the fact. “MY PAK stores the thoughts of my brain jelly- it’s not responsible for my depthy, nuanced original thoughts. It’s all to my benefit. Your simple animal mind can’t BEGIN to perceive the archives of information, understanding and theorizing, locked away between my two magnificent thought centers.” On my knees at the side of the bed, I pointed to my skull, illustrating the thing Dib wished to understand but could never fully unravel. He reached up to peel the lenses of the goggles from the hollows of his eye sockets. As Dib deftly replaced them with the large circular frames of his glasses, he spat noise at me. “You’ve beaten that dead horse to a pulp, Zim. I don’t think your PAK is any different than a circuit board hardwired to the brain of a roach. You’re just as animal as I am. Only, your issues stem from being part evil cyborg, and mine stem from trauma.” Sunny as a blistering summers day, he grinned at me. Smugness radiates from him like pulsar blips, and my innards are assaulted by tight gripping trembles. I tense my core muscles to keep my tymbal from rattling at the slightest provocation. With my antenna pitched slightly forwards, I can smell the pheromones on his sweat. I crossed my arms over my chest, raised my chin, curled my lip at him to flash fangs. “Tch. Zim is no creature. You’re the animal here. You have the technology to advance yourselves into a race of space faring monstrosities, and yet all you want to occupy yourselves with is the pursuit of earthly pleasure. Your kind construct elaborate rituals just to try and rutt against each other. It could be so much simpler!!!” Dib scratched his chin, nonplussed. “Yeah, I never really got all that either. We do have dating apps and that can simplify things if you don’t account for catfishing, and people who straight up lie about themselves just to get their dick wet.” I grimaced at the mental image of a wet human phallus. I re-contextualized the image in my head and imagined the organ as Dibs. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sooooo… what? As you get older you stop exchanging meats, and instead swap false personal information?” Dib laughed, quick and dry, brimming with unearned superiority. “Oh, fuck- what you mean like what we did back in grade school?” He sat up, leaned in closer to me. Elbows folded on his knees he hunched closer. I could smell his breath on my antenna. Coffee and sugar and bacteria filled my senses and the stalks flicked quickly backwards at the olfactory intrusion. “Yeah I don’t really know why we did that. I have a theory it’s all metaphorical, some kind of mind manipulation game the government was playing with kids to get them to associate “love” with “flesh”. I mean, you know what “meat” alludes to, right?” My face screwed up as I searched my brain for obvious answers. “MMHhn. HHHMN. Pain? Obviously, pain. Emotional...badness.Maybe hormone tampering. Disease?” Dib was already getting out his phone, snickering to himself as he does when he knows something I do not. I kept going. “Death? Blood? Salt? Disgust? The inevitability of the cycle of consumption? How you’re all doomed to be slaughtered by a greater predatory force?” “No. No- what?” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back up at me. I wanted to rip the piercing out of it. “No. Shut up and look at these.” Dib held out his portable telephone slab to me and on it I saw a digital gallery of meat related memes. The phrase “beat my meat” was prevalent. There were photos of hammers pounding sickly off grey slabs of deceased pig muscle, and a man dusting a sprinkling of salt or spice over a carved rib of bovine corpse.

My head pulled back, giving me the appearance of multiple chins of disgust. My gut churned as I turned my head away. “Why would you show me those??! THEY’RE REVOLTING!!”  

Dib frowned, irritated, and put his phone away. “The “meat” those memes are talking about? It references human JUNK- y’know, genitalia? The memes aren’t talking about actual dead farm animals. And, that’s what I’m saying.” He put his large warm hand on my shoulder and continued, sure to hold my eye contact as he put the curl of his thick broad thumb against my cloth covered collar bone. I tensed my guts to keep my tymbal from rattling. “The government has skool children trade literal meat, so we get the idea early on that we’re supposed to exchange our "meat" with people we're attracted to. So that way, we learn to breed, and the men in power get more workers and soldiers and grease for the wheels of their self destructing machine.” My eyes flicked to look at his hand- the long pale olive fingers, the beaten fight scarred knuckles. My gaze then returned to Dibs humorless expression. “That’s a… problem?” Dib groaned, he rolled his eyes, he took his hand off my shoulder. 

It slid down to my hip, his free hand mirrored the motion  and I was lifted up from the bed and onto my humans lap. He held me there and growled at me in frustration. “YEAh! Zim! It’s a problem! If people are going to have sex it should be their own choice to do so, it isn’t something we should be culturally brainwashed into accepting! And we don’t NEED to do it! Some people are asexual- some people don’t want children and-” Dib rambled, on and on, laying out the injustices of an archaic capitalist system reliant on the breeding whims of its workers. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the argument was fueled by Dibs xenophilic leanings and revulsion towards his own kind. I gave less than a quarter of a shit about the very political tangent my human was going off on, but I did like how Dibs lap made for a nice sitting surface, and how the heat of his angry body felt against my skin. As Dib spoke I smoothed out the front of his damp black wife beater absentmindedly, my expression unmoved. As my hand rested in the center of Dibs chest, I patted him, I then mock pouted at him. “Poor Dib, how he’s been rejected by his own kind at every turn. How hard it must’ve been for you! Brainwashed into needing the fuck, harassed by the need for fuck with noooo options for how to obtain it!!”

That got him to glare at me, and my spine tingled for it. I grinned as he countered; “You’re missing the point.” And I kept going. “Addicted to the unknown feeling he can never hope to attain, his vile monster meat might have shriveled up without the wetness- like an unwatered flower! Like a rotting length of carrot! Like a bundle of seaweed on a beach, growing drier and nastier the longer it’s left alone, collecting nothing but mold and botfly eggs and-” Dib grabbed me by the throat. His hand closed around my throat. He gave a warning squeeze as he told me to shut up and I peeped in response. 

Lowly, my tymbal rattled. 

Dibs narrowed angry eyes softened as he caught the surprised chirp of arousal. 

The words on my tongue stalled at the tight curling of his long fingers as they overlapped my neck.

“Even if that was how things worked, I’m not at risk of that anymore, am I?” 

Dib looked at me with a gaze that implored an answer, and I shrugged coyly. As he frowned and squeezed harder I gagged, my stomach fluttered and a chirp rattled out of me far clearer than the first. 

"Mhhn. That's what I thought."

Dib hummed, his human purr was deep and infuriating. He used his free hand to shift my placement on his long thigh, so that I straddled his thigh as he choked me. My eyes began to water as he raised up his knee and gently bounced my vent against his leg. 

There is nothing playmates can do for eachother that a squidgyblit cannot also achieve the end goal of. However, being choked while your nemesis grinds your pleasure center against his leg hits differently. 

I moaned with a grimace. I scowled at him as he drew another choked out squirm from my body. Unpleasant as the sensation of constriction around my throat was, we both knew the short term strangulation wouldn't kill me. It was a comfortable routine and Dib continued his gloating games. 

"You think you can resist all this? You think you can resist the urge to get absolutely wrecked- by someone who's going to lovingly put all your pieces back together when he's done? You need me as bad as I need you, you fucking moron."

He’s wrong. I don’t need him. But, his games are so amusing, they’re so entertaining. It’s such a thrill to be obsessed over. If he ever knew that, it would all go to his head. As bad as he already was, there was ample room for things to get worse. Dib pressed his fingers up underneath my jaw and held my mouth shut. My growl came out as a choking sound, I tried to open my mouth wider and he put his free hand on my shoulder as a threat. “Shhh. You don’t need to talk right now. Why don’t you show me what you want?” I glared, I tried to hack out a rebuttal, but he didn’t want that. Pink heat spread across the skin of my face plate, I chirped and ground my slick vent slowly against the black jean fabric of his thigh.  In doing so, I inspired an unhinged smile to pull across his gaunt snout.

He released my throat and my posture bent, towards him as I gasped. My throat opened back up, and my PAK hummed softly as it began to replenish its oxygen reserves.

Dib patted my warm cheek with his hand. “That’s a good boy.” He mocked softly. I was well within my right to bite him. His hands settled on the bone of my hips, I watched his eyes pass over my head and point towards the bunk behind me. The curious gentle twitching of my antenna caught the heat of his words as they stood on end, and I lifted my chin to glare up at him. “Is that really what your brain was being so “loud” over? You’re still angry about our arrangement?” My lip twitched, it’s downwards arch could not have been more dramatic. “HOW could I not be mad about it? You know better than ANYONE what a powerful beacon of mayhem my existence is- that I can be controlled by someone as misshapen and weasley as you is a blistering amount of shame for Zim- full offense.” As I spoke his fingers laid over the small of my back, he rubbed along my tense lower spine and his gentle ministrations forced my aggressively postured antenna to lower. “Oh, full offense taken. But I know you’re happy about it. Deep down, somewhere in your cold blooded brain, there’s a tiny Zim just glowing over how it feels to be fully appreciated. You’re a hideously evil space terror, I can’t take that away from you by loving you. And I wouldn’t want to.” The heat in my face wouldn’t stop, the fluttering sickly feeling in my guts wouldn’t go away. Like knotted strings being unwound or spider web being gently tugged by a trapped fruit fly, the vibrations of his words unwound my nerves. I had to look away from him to speak, the weight of his useless human affection was too heavy to bare the brunt of head on. It was blasphemy that something a horny ugly alien said to me could mean more than the approval of any tallest. “MMMhhNNG. Stop making words.” I growled politely. Dib chuckled without malice, he curled in over me to press his lips to the crest of my skull. “You love serving me.” “Phheh. Zim loves nothing.” “You love what I’ve done to you, Zim. And I can prove it.” Dib lifted me up to move us onto the bunk bed, and bumped the front of his proportionally massive head against the shelf of the top bunk. “Fuck-ow,” “HAH!”

I reached up to hit the button on the bottom of the shelf, and the top bunk folded up against the wall behind it. As the mechanical components hissed, Dib rubbed his five head. “Yeah? That’s funny? You think your master getting brain damage is just hilarious don’t you?”

“If my “master” (I used my fingers to make mock air quotes) is dumb enough to turn his brain to garbage when we aren’t even under attack, he’s not showing mastery over anything, is he?” Dib dropped me out of his arms and onto the bed, I landed with a yelp of surprise though the impact came painlessly. “HEY!”

With his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed Dibs hands flew over my body, grabbing and groping, pulling off boots and leggings, striping me of the new uniform I’d been given, replacing dark blue cloth with an expanse of green skin. There was ample evidence to suggest Dibs need was as urgent as my own, from his feverish actions to the telltale tenting at the front of his tight emo boy pants. He needed me. I gave a quick shiver twitch at the feeling of air on my exposed skin, and hissed at him. He pinned my chest down with one hand, and sneered at me as the other cupped over my pelvis. “Your standards are way too fucking high for someone who screws up constantly.” I grinned at him with challenging eyes as my legs folded up and opened. “Where would your challenge be if I lowered them, Dib?” His middle finger split the wet slit of my vent open. He traced the sensitive pink interior and I had no choice but to draw in an afflicted breath. The finger slid deeper, he brushed the base of my wriggling dwarf ovipositor, and the distraction sent my antenna fully back. “You, crave conquest.” I crooned, distracted. Sensations continued. I felt the shivers of pleasure in the back of my teeth, my tymbal rattled with quick twitching clicks each time his middle finger teased the inch length of my pink wiggly hot button. “You don’t know what I crave, Zim.” I cackled, light and airy and I gripped the blankets beside my face. I bit my lip and looked at him. His thumb slid into my slit and he gently pinched his fingers around my “dick”. I gasped sharply. I kicked out a heel as he pressed firmly enough to make me whine. I could not help how my eyes wanted to roll back into my skull at the continued friction, but I swear I caught the reddening of his cheeks before vision became meaningless. I do know. I chirped, I moaned, I rubbed my cheek into the soft blankets stained with floral detergent as the tingling feeling of goodness rolled from my loins up the rest of my body. I felt good, and I made it LOOK good. Dib likes to watch me writhe, and in return he  rubbed over and over, again and again he rubbed, till it seemed I was breaching a new level of tingly bliss with every passing second. “But, I know what you want, don’t I?” I groaned in disagreement, his fingers stalled on my sex, then his thumb rubbed small twitching strokes at it’s base. I trembled all over at the teasing agitation, and breathed out hard. “MHn, you’ve… got AN idea, of it.” Dibs motions were less practiced as he set out to release his tube steak from it’s denim cage, but he didn’t move his hand from the source of my sultry keening sounds. He wouldn’t, I had been so SO fucking good to him. Letting him work uninterrupted without a single complaint of boredom. I hadn’t tried to attack him in DAYS. It was a personal best record at the time. I was overdue for a reward.

“UHM, EXCUSE YOU??” Dib took his hand out of my vent and I sat bolt upright on my elbows, glaring at him in a sex flushed daze as I watched him inch the clothing down his nearly non-existent ass. “I WAS BUSY. Who said you could STOP?”

He pushed me back down, grabbed my leg and sharply fixed himself between my open thighs. “I’m not stopping, you know I’m not stopping you shrill shitty bedbug.” It spiraled into more routine. In the act of copulation I could always count on the sensation of his fingers sliding into my orifice to pull it’s tight walls steadily open. I could feel all the bumps and ridges, the rough calluses, the finger pad curling around my core and pulling delicious sensation from the thing inside me that made my guts twitch and tremble and rattle like a sack of angry crickets. It didn’t take much. I didn’t need long, and he wasn’t willing to hold off from indulging in the ambrosial clutch of a wanting Irken tunnel. I groaned as he withdrew three of his fingers from me, pulling with them a thin strand of pinkish slick that broke and collapsed over my cleft. I trembled, I hissed in disgust with myself as Dib aligned the head of his extraterrestrial shaft with it’s destination. As he looked down on me, he commanded. “Beg.” “What?” My head cocked, one antenna lifted while the other lowered, my hand reached up to wipe the pearling sweat from my brow. “Really???” He ground his length into the gooey mess he’d left my vent in, I grit my teeth as my tymbal rumbled. “Yeah. Really Zim.” “Mhgghh.” Eyes closed I tensed as the friction of dick on dick action swayed my compliance. “ Plleeeeeaaaase.” “Please what?~” I tried to scowl at Dibs goading, but his grinding made me bite my own tongue. “You have to say it, pet. I won’t give it to you unless you ask properly.” The nickname is a scorning stinging wound that burbles and pops like a pollution born wound, it feels like a hot sudden burn, it catches me the way his fingers do when they clamp around my most intimate points. In the most pathetic of tones and volumes, I answer my mate; “Please, please fill me with your cum, master Dib.” I was rewarded by a hand coming to stroke across my skull. He cradled the dome of my head and caught one of my antenna stalks between his fingers. With the same care he gave my cock, he gently strokes the black hairs to reward me. “Good boy. Good bug.” When the rutting commences sense tumbles out the window in a broken screeching fury, like an escaped chimp on meth, like a rat on fire making a break for water. I lose my fucking mind to the reactions of my body. The vehicle rocks under us with the power of Dibs mighty  thrusts.He fills me so deeply with his oversized ovipositor, I can feel his pulsing want bulging against the skin of my stomach at full hilt. When he finally spills in me I am so wound up that I have already hit my climax twice over. I snarl, I lean into him and the lips I have put to his salty skin part so I can taste his sweat on my tongue. My jaws open wider, and as Dib grunts, at the height of his peak, I bite hard enough to puncture his fragile skin on the edge of my teeth. The red taste of metal is smeared over my lips, on my tongue, over the pasty tan palette of his shoulder muscle. Dib hisses air in through his teeth. “You couldn’t- you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His panting breath stalls his words, a red tinted smile spread across my fuck drunk face. I licked my lips as I replied, and watched a thin trail of human red meet up with the black fabric of his shirt and diffuse into it. 

“No, no I couldn’t.” I hummed back at him. In the state of high endorphine swing I am not fully myself. Everything was brighter, lighter, more exciting. A hazy happy drugged exisence takes hold of me and sways me to Dibs whims. As he pulls out of me, he sighs with a shivering buzz. “Then, you’re not done yet.” In a matter of minutes Dib is redressed while I remain naked, wrists and ankles shackled to the four rectangular points of the bunk via metal shackles that the walls of the Arr Vee spat out. I was only just beginning to come out of my fogy mental state when my human retrieved a black blunt vibration wand from a drawer of tormenting devices. Over the following hour I grew more and more delirious as Dib wrung my body out for increasingly mind crushing orgasms. Things stopped having meaning, Dibs taunting words lost their sense, and I rattled straight through to my bones. That I could not pull my limbs in towards myself and protect my body from the assault of sensation had at one point been disquieting, but then and there, it encouraged me to let go of my resistance. I had let go of my fruitless delusions, I had given myself up to Dib, and Dib did not stop till I was crying with the intensity of multiple peaks.

It made up for everything else that had happened. The blinding beacon of his smothering affections absorbed me in it’s garish embrace as he unshackled me from the walls. He cleaned me, he held me in a folded blanket  till the shaking of my overwhelmed body stopped. My prickly insults bounced off him like harmless pebbles of sand.  The Dib stroked over my antenna, groomed them with the sex scented oils of his fingers, the Arr Vee reaked of the smell of our sins. Accepting Dibs terms of affection is illegal, but I’m defective anyways, aren’t I?

[tales-unique]

THIEF

Chapter 1

         DATE          NOV 14TH, 2042

         TIME          PM 05:17:08                          :09                          :10…

Deviancy had given Connor a new perspective on Detroit, one that he would forever be indebted to Markus for allowing him to achieve. As he entered the Detroit City Police Departments headquarters and ascended in the elevator to where the police offices were, now frequented by both human and android officers, he pondered various topics while deftly flicking his coin from one hand to the other.

To clarify, it had been four years since Markus had led his revolt in pursuit of freedom and equality for androids, both deviant and otherwise, and ultimately won the favour of those who had once been their oppressors. It had been an arduous journey, with many casualties, but ultimately their goal was achieved; androids were now a recognized people and were finally free. There was still much work to be done and in the years since those fated days, Markus had worked tirelessly to bridge a gap that many had deemed impossible to completely fill. So far it had all be favourable due to the determination of Markus to lead a peaceful revolution, one that had brought many humans around to their cause. Their plight had resonated with many who themselves had felt downtrodden and outcast, and Connor felt himself comparing it to other accounts in history where humans had turned on their own kind just as easily; it was in their nature to be this way, he would often remind himself, to keep any negativity in check. With a flick of his wrist, he captured the smooth metal coin in between his fingers, brow creasing briefly. A report had been filed; an altercation between two humans and an android with another human having been caught fleeing the scene. As the words flitted in his cybernetic brain he felt a small frown tug at his lips. Although there was much positive progress in the way of equal rights and liberties for androids there were still those who feared the changes, both human and androids alike. It was inevitable that there would still be clashes, as Markus himself had informed the people of Jericho, and soon the peoples of the world, but Connor felt somewhat calmer knowing that there was a conscious effort now to limit these instances. Especially as he was able to return to his previous occupation within the Detroit Police Force. Now a fully-fledged Detective, no longer attached to Cyberlife since its collapse, Connor now focused on being able to help Markus in the best way he knew how; by ensuring that androids contributed to society in a positive way. Pulling himself from his reverie as the metallic ding of the elevator doors opening sounded, Connor politely nodding his head to a pair of other detectives that entered the elevator as he left, his feet carrying him swiftly to the bright, open room where he worked. The layout and the design were still the same, with tables lined out neatly with each lieutenant’s name presented on a plaque, but now there was one more decorated desk— his own. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” Connor smiled as he strode to his desk, situated opposite the decorated, yet grizzled, detective and his partner of some time. “Hey Connor,” came a somewhat exasperated sigh, to which Connor’s brows furrowed once more, his head tilting a fraction as he assessed the situation. Hank looked tired, far more so than usual, and Connor noted with some shock that there were no traces of whiskey in the cooled coffee that sat forgotten in his mug. Ceasing his analysis Connor settled at the edge of Hank’s desk, glancing at a report the older man had been staring at for what he imagined to have been a while, judging by the way he seemed to have no focus on it whatsoever. “You look tired, is it a rough case?” Connor spoke out, inclining a hand to the report Hank possessed, expression becoming more perplexed when a gruff laugh was his response and a shake of the head. “No, no, actually, it’s pretty shit. Fowler thinks I ought to take it easy every once in a while, the bastard,” Hank almost snarled, soon tossing the report onto his desk without a care. He glanced up at Connor, who looked at it expectantly. Still something of a poodle, that boy was, and Hank almost missed the motion of his hand already waving to allow Connor a read. “Go for it,” he huffed, turning his eyes to his terminal, “just some burglary attempt, nothing major, he just wanted my input since the witness is— Hmph .” The way Hank abruptly ended his sentence didn’t go unnoticed by Connor as he took the report in hand to read what little had already been documented, eyes scanning over it wordlessly. He looked sour, like in those first meetings between them when all of this began, and it worried Connor. In truth, human emotion was still somewhat new for the android, though he was more at peace with it than some. Slipping from his perched position, Connor gave a small nod, setting the report back down. In seconds he had already gained the knowledge, the rest was a mere formality. “I believe the fact than an android is involved may be a reason why Captain Fowler assigned you the case,” he gave a small shrug, locking gazes with Hank. The older man only hummed in response, leaning back in his chair, giving the non-verbal hint for him to continue. “After all, we are still, technically, the best team for handling any deviant behaviour, isn’t that correct Lieutenant?” A small, chipper smile was given, and he could see Hank’s shoulder slack in acceptance. Connor could more often than not bring the old detective around to his way, in that same way a child always gets what they want in one capacity or another. With a grin Connor straightened his tie, falling into step with Hank as the two made their way to the interrogation rooms.

Connor had initially been indifferent to interrogating the woman that had been caught fleeing the scene. He concluded that she was a criminal, albeit not as dangerous as the android they were investigating who had been present, and thus deemed it another step towards completing the mission. He did find it interesting to note that it was statistically higher for men to be caught attempting burglary than women, but he still held the conviction that she was just a criminal. However it soon became clear to him as they continued that she was no ordinary burglar or indeed no ordinary woman. It had taken mere seconds, perhaps even less if that were possible, to hear her audible growl as her eyes narrowed on the mirror before her, one that she outed as being two-way and no doubt concealing the detectives within, an iciness to her tone that caused even him to stiffen. She spoke out harshly, daring them to come back and try to make her talk. It was this statement that caused Hank to groan as he stood at Connors side, hand dragging down his face; no doubt this was why he seemed so drained earlier— he’d already attempted to speak to her before. Before any other words were uttered Connor initiated a scan, one that turned his LED a consistent spinning circle of yellow. In truth he had been reluctant to remove it, becoming almost fond of the light at his temple, viewing it as part of his still-forming identity. Connor the android sent by Cyberlife still remained, he simply had evolved, but like other androids and even humans he wanted to still resemble some small part of the life that led him to this point. Instantly there came a mugshot photo of the suspect before him, her name suspended in neat lettering beneath it. VERONICA VORNE. The name intrigued him, mostly because of the alliteration of her name and its ease when being pronounced. He continued to sift through the walls of text, briefing himself on the basic demographics and the like that had been catalogued for her file before coming to her criminal history. Predominantly she was known for serial burglary, though one account of public assault coupled with resisting arrest had resulted in a two year sentence. Having ascertained such information he then moved on to the young woman herself. Shrouded in the typical dark attire of a thief she looked so stark against the white background, like a concise Rorschach inkblot. The clothes were thick, black sleeved shirt and denim jeans, designed to keep her well insulated and warm in the cold November weather, just as the solid boots on her feet did. As she lifted her wrists to flex them, testing the range of movement she had with the handcuffs, Connor noticed her fingerless gloves. He then moved to her leather coat, which was still zipped and dappled with wet patches from where snow had melted upon it. It seemed fitted to her shape, and Connor couldn’t help but wonder how she was able to evade capture long enough to have made it outside while wearing it. He noticed no hood nor cap on her person that would have obscured her face. It was then he recalled an officer with a black balaclava in hand, speckled with moisture in places, which was most likely hers. No doubt it was taken upon her arrest so they could identify her. It was in this moment that Connor took a moment to survey her face, taking in her features. Everything about her seemed to resemble the stark contrast between dark and light. Deep-coloured eyes, glowing a rich brown in the fluorescent of the lights were set against the bright whites of her eyes, though he detected the faintest of blood vessels there; from stress, he surmised. They were framed in long, delicate lashes that dared to flutter ever so lightly every time she heard movement behind the locked door. Then his gaze shifted to observe her skin, which was rosy to a degree, as he had seen from her mugshot photograph, yet the harsh light only exaggerated the pale undertones. Tilting his head minutely during the scan he noted the softness of the features themselves, their femininity, as his eyes looked over her dainty nose, to her lips. They were a dusty shade of pink, like the Spring Roses he sometimes saw in the park and would have looked warm and inviting had they not been pulled into a harsh frown. With a turn of her head towards the camera her hair gave a small flourish, having been released from the confines of her hood upon capture judging from the tousled look it held. Despite this frazzled appearance Connor noted its healthy condition and medium length, it falling in waves down her back. The colour of its strands resembled her eyes in its rich brunette colour and sported a gleam that eluded to her fondness for hair care. A well-kept thief, he noted to himself. With the rudimentary scan complete, the whole process taking less than a few seconds, Connor returned to reality, his gaze now looking to Hank once more, relaying the information he’d gathered as he so often did. “Veronica Vorne, born in downtown Detroit on—” “Relax, I know who she is,” Hank soon interrupted, watching with some amusement as Connor looked at him in confusion, his eyebrows soon raising upwards towards his hairline. “Not personally ,” Hank quickly added, “but our paths have crossed a few times, little shit.” The term was said with a fondness Hank didn’t show often, and even then it had only been picked up on because Connor was an android. Tilting his head, Connor silently willed Hank to continue, wishing to learn more, earning a deep sigh from the older officer and a roll of his eyes. “I’m not playing ball tonight Connor, so stop lookin’ at me like that! Just go, get in there, and let’s do our thing, Christ.” It was clear it grated on Hank’s nerves to be pulled into such a basic case, though Connor knew there may be more to it. He would pry into it at a later time, for now he tasked himself with following Hank’s lead, eyes falling upon the wayward thief once the door sealed behind him.

It was the sharp sound of the door opening that made Veronica’s eyes turn to them, eyeing them warily for a moment before widening in recognition; she'd almost expected it to be that asshole, Gavin, again. Hank’s name fell from her lips and Connor would have almost mistaken it for breathless if not for the fact she was not out of breath at all, at least according to his interface anyway. humans had such strange mannerisms, ones that were often contradictions to themselves. Connor took to standing back from the table, allowing Hank to sit opposite her, and for a moment all was silent. Both Hank and Veronica sat back in their respective seats, Hank with his arms crossed, studying the woman before him, and Veronica with an almost childish pout of her lips, eyes narrowed again as she attempted to formulate a way to be out of this predicament. Hank was the first to break their stalemate, shifting to lean forward with his arms resting on the table, gaze staring at her squarely. He read out her rights for a second time, to which she gave consent to waiver, and it was then that Connor learnt that she’d already violated the agreed terms of her bail once before. This, the android concluded, would result in jail time unless she cooperated with them on their investigation. Raising an eyebrow Hank regarded Veronica as her own brows knitted together for a moment, contemplating the situation; tell them what she knew and be a rat or continue her vow of silence and maintain a paper thin loyalty. The quote “no honour among thieves” suddenly came to Connors mind as he continued to stand with his arms folded across his chest. There was a soft sigh from the woman, tired and annoyed, as she looked away from them both. It was then that she finally opened her mouth to speak, and Connor felt himself perk up in anticipation of what she was going to say. “I don’t know anything about an android, or an android murdering anyone. I was just there to rob the place, alone .” To say that Hank was enraged by her statement was obvious from the way he slammed a hand down upon the metal table, causing the young woman to jump in her seat, eyes wide; startled. They bickered back and forth, starting with Hank’s low growl that she was spouting a load of bullshit and he was in no mood for it. Veronica, on the other hand, maintained her innocence in the matter vehemently, suddenly panicked. She claimed that she’d entered the premises alone with the sole intention of committing a robbery and had no knowledge that there’d been an android there at all nor that said android had been involved in a previous murder that they were currently investigating. However Connor could see from the subtle twitch of her eye that this was at the very least, a half-truth, to which he stepped forward and placed a strategic hand upon Hank’s shoulder, just at the moment he was about to lunge forward with another verbal attack. “Might I try, Lieutenant?” The request was simple enough, but Connor was unsure if Hank would allow him the chance to question Veronica, even though he was rather stressed by the whole situation. For a moment or two Hank regarded him, eyes narrowed suspiciously while he did so, before he gave a huff and a nod, vacating the seat. With a polite incline of his head Connor settled into it, briefly glancing to the door as Hank exited the room; perhaps it was better for all of them that he was given time to cool down. Throughout the whole thing Veronica had sat in relative silence, but as Connor turned his gaze to her, hands clasping together upon the table before him, he noticed how she looked almost distressed that Hank had left the room. With a calm smile upon his face Connor watched her closely, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how she seemed to retreat slightly within herself, her eyes becoming wide and almost fearful. Was she aware that he’d caught onto her bluff? Did she know she stood no real chance against him when it came to the interrogation? Connor was curious to discover the reasoning behind her fear but wanted first to calm her enough so that she would at least talk to him. “Hello, my name is Connor, and you are?” He started out modestly, casually, but it only served to cause her to stiffen in her seat. His smile faltered slightly into a small frown but he refused to give up. He would try a kinder approach before he would press her any further. Glancing to the mirror he sighed, looking back at her once more. “Lieutenant Anderson may seem coarse in his approach, but he means well,” Connor began, watching as Veronica shifted her gaze to the mirror briefly before locking her gaze to him again, following each movement he made. Taking this as a positive sign, Connor continued, even going so far as to lean in slightly, regarding her more. “He just wants to solve the homicide investigation and we think you may have crucial information—” “I don’t know anything!” The abruptness of her interruption caused Connor to pause, his LED flickering a circle of yellow before he straightened in his seat. He noted how Veronica then swallowed nervously, knowing that her outburst had convinced him of the opposite, that she did indeed know something about the case. Lowering her head down she forced her gaze downcast, settling to stare at her bound hands, form fidgeting slightly in her seat. Connor knew that he was close, something in itself that surprised him given how aggressive she’d been beforehand at times when Hank had been interrogating her. Clearly there was an emotional element that he had uncovered, or perhaps it was the fact that he was a complete stranger, and an android, that had shaken her resolve, and caused her to become flustered. Connor was undecided for the moment but felt the time right to begin to apply pressure to the situation. “You do realize that if you don’t help me you will go to prison,” he snapped suddenly, harsh and unforgiving, once again causing her to jump slightly in her seat. “Tell me, Veronica, do you want to go back to prison again?” His question was pointed and it caused her eyes to immediately fly up to meet his own, her hands splaying out on the table’s surface as she shook her head meekly. It was a slow process, but Connor soon began to pull threads of relevant information from her. It was interesting to find that she did indeed know nothing of the android that they were investigating, despite both having been reported to be in the same property, yet he did learn of another android, the one who she had been indirectly protecting all along. An older model, possibly an AF200 model judging from her limited description, discarded and left to shut down, that she had named Zen. Veronica had refused to let them go unnoticed, to be forgotten. She took the android to her home and, with what little she had, attempted to repair or rebuild what she could. Of course she wasn’t even remotely qualified for such a task, but attempt it she did and this led her to steal so that she could then purchase or trade for what she needed. Connor listened quietly, his LED consistently yellow, until her tone lowered and her voice faded into silence. Her eyes were downcast once more and held a forlorn sense to them that caused Connor to unclasp his hands, reaching one out to gentle cover her own. At the gesture Veronica lifted her gaze ever so slightly, acknowledging the contact. They were both silent for a moment before Connor spoke up, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I give you my word that Zen will not be hurt, but I need you to be honest with me. Do you know anything about the android? Anything at all?” He pressed further, and although she was uncomfortable she did give a small nod that was coupled with a sigh. “I know someone who might know about the android. He’s done a couple jobs with me in the past, runs with a small group in the area where the guy was killed,” she hummed lightly, and Connor could feel her fingers twitch slightly underneath his own, unaware she was tentatively brushing the inside of his palm as though to calm herself. Catching herself part way through Veronica sucked in a breath, pulling her hand free to the edge of the table, eyes pointedly looking to the side. “I’ll see what I can get out of him,” she added, briefly glancing to the two-way mirror with a glowering expression. “You hear that Hank?” Came her biting comment, voice raised, “I’m going to see what I can do to help your little case!” She huffed, dropping back against her seat, almost as though she’d deflated. It was amusing to Connor, who sat with grin upon his lips, which on increased when she turned her gaze to him and gave a small flicker of a smile. It seemed like she was fighting herself to do so however by the way she turned her head away and tried to pinch her lips together, eyes glittering despite only looking at the wall. With the interrogation over, Veronica was escorted by Hank to one of the holding cells until the information she had given them could be credited and what little information they had could be written up. It needed to be collated with the rest of the information from the couple whose home she had tried to rob. In truth, she was still in a lot of trouble considering she had violated the terms given to her at her last arrest, despite having given them a possible lead, but that wasn’t the main concern Connor had. Remaining a few steps behind as he followed the pair Connor silently contemplated what would happen to her once the investigation was over. Of course, his rationale told him that she would continue to be as she was and that he would most likely cross paths with her again following the next crime she committed, but he also found himself thinking beyond that narrow, professional viewpoint. He was concerned that there would be no saving grace for her next time, that she would be arrested and charged and ultimately end up in prison for more than her previous sentence. It was then he recalled the android, Zen, whom she had become fond of. Like a lonesome puppy, who would care for them while she was gone? Who would inform them of her absence? The questions, though trivial in comparison to his investigation, bothered him and it was noticed immediately by Hank, who had now turned back to the android after Veronica was settled into the holding cell. “You alright Connor?” The older detective asked, concern lacing his gruff voice, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. When he was met with only a simple yes Hank’s eyes narrowed and he hummed his suspicions. Casting a gaze behind him he spotted Veronica watching them with interest, eyes bright and curious before she quickly looked away. With a small huff of a chuckle, he guided Connor away back to their desks, already surmising what the issue could be. He may have been old, but he wasn’t stupid. Pushing the android down into his seat Hank moved to his own, settling into it with a deep sigh. There had been the glimmer of hope that he would be able to leave work early for once, but that had been long extinguished. Flicking his tired eyes to Connor he found the poor android to still looking as perplexed as before. Leaning back in his chair he contemplated opening that can of worms and ultimately decided that he owed Connor that much at least, given all they’d been through. With as much of an expectant look as he could muster, Hank sat up straight, gaining Connors full attention at last. “Something on your mind, Connor?” He then asked, resting his arms on his desk, eyebrows raising when the android opened his mouth to speak, with some difficulty he noted. “I’m curious, Lieutenant,” he began, to which Hank hummed dryly, already having guessed as much already, “what will happen to Miss Vorne once her usefulness has run its course?” He asked almost innocently, somewhat shocking the older detective. When Hank didn’t reply Connor continued on, brows furrowed, hands gesturing along with his voice. “I only ask because it’s statistically proven that offenders will continue to offend unless prevented from doing so, and she’s already stated that she steals in order to help repair the android she saved, Zen I believe she called them—” “Focus, Connor,” Hank drawled, leaning his head against his hand. “Ah, yes. What I mean to say is that I believe we should, at least, try to help her in some way. Maybe we could utilize her as some kind of informant, perhaps? Her connections may prove useful in our investigations, especially if the lead she’s already provided us proves correct,” he concluded, pursing his lips as he studied Hank’s expression. Connor could feel a sense of unease cross over him and he also detected panic flare within him, which only intensified when Hank snorted sourly and shook his head. “Holy shit, you’re worried about her!” He exaggerated, eyes wide as he swivelled slightly in his chair to look at his terminal, incredulous. Releasing a deep breath Hank attempted to distract himself with his work before looking to Connor once more, who looked at him with a look of despair painted on his face, like a puppy lost off its leash. “Veronica’s fine , Connor,” Hank attempted to console him, “she’ll give us the lead like she promised and she’ll prance outta here like nothing happened and returned to that android of hers, okay? There, did that clear your conscience?” The sarcastic nature of Hanks comment didn’t go amiss and Connor gave a frown in response, LED oscillating between blue and yellow before finally settling back to its standard blue ring. “Actually, Lieutenant,” Connor began pointedly, mimicking his sarcasm, turning his gaze toward the corridor that housed the holding cells, “I don’t believe that it has.” He then turned his gaze back to Hank only to see that he now held his head in his hands and was groaning at the situation before him. He knew that he could stop it before it could properly start by demanding that Connor let it go, but he also knew that Connor wouldn’t be able to do just that so easily and would probably attempt to do something himself to help her. Thus he decided that the best action to take was to give in to Connor’s newfound humanity and let the little shit in on the fun. Pushing his chair away from his desk with his feet Hank stood up with a grunt, beckoning Connor to follow him with a flick of his hand. “Well, are ya coming or what?” He then called, smirking at the sound of the android scampering to follow him towards the holding cells.

Captain Fowler was, to say the least, not impressed by Hank’s insubordination. To have released Veronica without permission had annoyed him enough, but to then come into his office and request, dare he say demand, that she be given a probationary period to try as an informant for their case? Well, that was something else entirely. Ultimately, with a lot of convincing from both Hank and Connor, the Captain reluctantly agreed to allow Veronica to operate as an informant on the condition that she would report any and all findings she could to them in order to further their case and any other cases that she may find knowledge of. Any leads that produced breaks in the case would result in leniency to her prior charges, something that would no doubt tempt her into doing a good job. There had also been the warning that if she didn’t perform well there would be consequences, but Hank hadn’t the patience nor the care to properly listen, but Connor had. It hardened his resolve to ensure she did well, and remained safe, while she worked alongside them. Upon seeing Hank and Connor move to leave the Captain’s office Veronica stood straight, watching them expectantly as they descended the small set of stairs, hands in front of her as her fingers twisted around the balaclava that had been taken from her previously. “So, what’s happening? Am I free to go now?” She asked eagerly, bouncing slightly on her heels. She needed to hurry home to check on Zen, to make sure the android hadn’t gotten into mischief while she’d been gone. Her expression dropped slightly when Hank began to explain the conditions of her release but she ultimately came to accept them. Not that she had much choice. The notion of working with someone on the inside brought forth memories of infiltrating Jericho for Connor, and although it wasn’t all a positive memory a small smile come to his lips as he recalled the moment he finally came into his own and became deviant. It opened to him a whole new perspective on life, one that he was now determined to embrace wholeheartedly. Amidst his recollections he’d noticed that Veronica had fallen a couple of steps behind them upon leaving the police headquarters, the cool night breeze having ruffled her hair. He stopped to watch for a moment to watch as she brushed the waves back, bringing her hood up to trap them. When he finally caught her attention he felt his lips twitch upwards, motioning for her to continue at his side. When she accepted the offer by falling into step beside him Connor felt a similar feeling to the one he’d experienced back in the police headquarters; a slight nervousness blooming in the pit of his artificial stomach so to speak. Humans would often engage in small talk when walking with one another, or so he’d observed, and since Hank had decided to stop and do just that with another officer who was just returning, Veronica was left to his company, and his company alone, so he took the chance to engage her in conversation. Pausing on route to Hank’s car, Connor turned his head to Veronica, who looked at him curiously, stopping as he had. It was now that he could truly regard the difference in height between them. He was at a minimum a few inches taller than her, give or take an inch due to the thick heel on her boots, for he had calculated her at five feet and five inches when inside the station, again taking the heel size into consideration. He gave a small, polite cough, having realized that he had been staring, a small blue hue lightly dusting the tops of his cheeks. Wanting to distract from any uncomfortable instances, Connor felt it best to begin a conversation with her, noting as he did so the small tremble in her limbs. “It’s a rather cold night, are you alright?” Although her clothes were insulated, the lack of movement meant that the chill of the night air was able to affect her, and Connor wanted her to feel comfortable, especially with him. They were going to be partners, after all, and her well-being and morale was now something to consider. “Oh, no, I’m fine,” Veronica replied with a soft smile before her brows furrowed slightly, taking in his smart appearance. “Aren’t you cold?” The question caused his own eyebrows to raise upwards slightly and he opened his mouth to correct her, for androids couldn’t feel the cold as humans could, before deciding that he would take her concern as it was. Giving her a small smile in response he shook his head, smoothing his suit jacket down with his hands on impulse. “No, I’m not cold, but thank you for asking,” he then replied, eyes drawn to the way her breath created entrancing wisps of mist in the air before vanishing without a trace. There was still so much that enthralled him about humans, from their mannerisms to their very beings, which was to be expected from an android programmed to be as inquisitive and curious as he was. Silence then fell upon them for a moment before a cough drew their attention, Connor turning his head to see Hank stood, alone, with his arms crossed, watching him and Veronica with an inscrutable look upon his face. “Is something wrong, Lieutenant?” Connor questioned, though he couldn’t understand if anything would be wrong. He had just been idly chatting while Hank himself had done so. “Well I’d like to get home before I freeze my balls off , thank you,” came Hanks sharp quip in response with a roll of his eyes, though his gaze soon narrowed with a huff when Veronica snickered at the comment, shaking her head lightly. Connor watched the small exchange with some interest before he regarded Veronica again, once more looking at her with a curious, if somewhat concerned, expression. “How will you be getting home?” He questioned, his auditory systems noting the sound of Hank entering his car; the familiar creak of the car door and the slam of metal. “Might I suggest you share a ride with Lieutenant Anderson and myself?” It was a kind gesture and an appropriate one to make, judging from the way Veronica smiled warmly. Thus he couldn’t help how his brows knitted together in confused shock when she politely, and somewhat awkwardly, declined. Her reasoning was that she didn’t want to be any more of a bother than she already had been for the pair and that her home wasn't so far away that she couldn’t walk there. “Oh,” he replied after some thought, looking dejected amidst his confusion, “I see, but I’m afraid I must insist. A woman shouldn’t walk the streets alone, especially on a winter’s night.” His heart, though artificial, was in the right place, and he wasn’t going to allow Veronica to put herself in danger for the sake of a little burden. One that he calculated would only be around twelve or so minutes, if the snow held off at least. Connor wanted to remain respectful of her independence but the android was too chivalrous to be beaten, and after a small bout of back and forth banter Veronica finally gave in with a sigh, thanking him quietly as he motioned with his hand for her to make her way to the car. It was a relatively quiet drive, with only the melodies of the quiet jazz that Hank enjoyed filling the space of the car. An obvious difference from the Heavy Metal Connor was usually met with. The android rode shotgun with Hank at the wheel, while Veronica was settled in the back behind him. Stealing a glance at her through the rear view mirror Connor noticed how she had her head turned to look out the car window, a weary expression on her face, illuminated at regular intervals by the street lights. He studied her until they reached her address, or as near to as she felt comfortable with revealing, and then he watched as she shifted forward in her seat, eyes looking between them both. “Thanks for the ride, guys, I appreciate it,” she murmured, nodding her head in acknowledgement as Hank assured her it wasn’t too out of his way, her gaze then turning to Connor, who had turned in his seat to regard her. “Goodnight, Miss Vorne, and please refrain from getting into any more trouble tonight,” Connors' voice held a teasing edge, one that caused her to smirk lightly in response. “I make no promises,” Veronica countered with a small chuckle and with that she slipped out of the car. She gave a small wave as she then crossed the street, blending into the shadows as she walked the rest of the small distance to her home, leaving Connor to decipher his thoughts about her.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Home Away From Home

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You’re not sure who is stealing your clothes but you would like it to stop. Please and thank you.

Prompt: Written for @gabriel-monthly-challenge’s November dialogue prompt: “Hey, I’ve been looking for that! But…why is it here?” [And so tagging mods: @archangelgabriellives, @ttttrickster, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @warlockwriter, @archangelsanonymous, and @revwinchester.]

Quick facts: Romance – Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff; ‘Sugar’ as term of endearment; angel nesting

Words: 1784

A/N: I think over the years I have read through every nesting fic I have found. I have a lot of weirdly specific tropes I really enjoy and this is one of them. Logically yeah angels probably aren’t like birds and their wings probably don’t have feathers and blah blah I don’t really care, I’m just gonna wrap myself up in this conceit like a cozy blanket. Pure self-indulgence, my friends; I am aaaaaall about it. I hope you can enjoy it too, ‘cause this is pretty much what it says on the tin. As for where this takes place in the canon timeline, it would probably be after an alternate S13 ending with no Michael!Dean and the AU!Hunters are settling in elsewhere. Because I am Lazy.

    You have a problem.

You, specifically. As in: only you. No one else has this problem. Not that it’s life-threatening or anything; it’s just…

Your clothes keep going missing.

Nothing that makes it really gross, thankfully, but things that do make it personal, and absolutely nothing that can be explained by a hungry dryer. All your socks are fine. All your favorite shirts, however– the ones that have survived enough hunts to become well-worn– have vanished. That one magical jacket you could wear comfortably in the spring but which also kept you warm in the winter– gone without a trace.

You’re officially fed up when your absolute favorite shirt, the one that’s ridiculously comfortable and the most flattering thing you have ever owned, goes missing.

“I swear I’ve never heard of a creature that eats clothes. You can look it up yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I will. Also– stop laughing at me.”

Sam, chuckling, shakes his head but goes back to wiping down his gun. Jack, who’s sitting nearby and carefully polishing a knife, stops and frowns. “Could it be a…” He looks uncertainly from you to Sam. “…A ghost?”

“There are no ghosts here, Jack.” Sam smiles at him reassuringly. “This place is warded against just about everything.”

“Besides, I checked.”

Sam gives you a Look. “You checked? For a ghost?”

“I had to do something!” You put down your gun and rag. Any more polishing and you’ll probably put a new hole in it. “This isn’t natural.”

Sam scoffs. “Sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one.”

“I thought of that, which is why I didn’t say anything for weeks,” you say. “But the whole point of a prank is to get a reaction and nobody has even alluded to it. So no, nobody took them as a joke.”

Sam’s face scrunches. “Okay. That is weird.”

“Right?” Puh-lease; living in the same space as Gabriel and Dean, how could you not first assume it was a joke?

“How would stealing your clothes be a joke?” Jack asks

“Who even knows with this crew,” you say. You can’t help but frown at the bittersweet recollection. “Dean and Gabriel used to love to play jokes. Especially Gabriel.”

There’s a bit of silence (and mental cursing of asshole demons on your part) until Sam clears his throat. “How is Gabriel? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

More than that; it’s been at least a week since he left. “He took off to do something with Cas. I’m sure they’ll be home soon.”

Sam frowns again. “Cas is with Dean. They met up yesterday and went to check out a possible werewolf thing.”

There’s a bit of panic in you at that– Gabriel is gone and alone– but you shove it down. If that’s the case then it’s only been a day, and Gabriel needs his autonomy. No matter how much you wish you could roll him in a bunch of blankets and keep him close. “Well, he must be fine or Cas would have said something.”

“Right.” Sam clears his throat and goes back to cleaning his weapons. “Now that his grace is back in working order he’s probably just…spreading his wings.”

“Yeah! Yeah.” You throw yourself into that idea. That he hasn’t taken off. Or worse. “He’s used to a different standard. It’s probably weird for him to live underground.”

“Yes.”

“Exactly.”

Jack looks very confused but when your eyes glance over him he nods quickly in solidarity. You smile. Cas and Sam may be the Dads Prime, but the way he’s taken to Gabriel is cute. Well, sometimes family is three jaded hunters and two Heaven-averse angels.

“I think I’m going to go see if I can spruce up his room,” you say and start picking up your things. “Maybe if I clean it up, make it smell nice, put a picture or something…maybe it can feel more like a home.” And less like a cell, you think but don’t add.

Sam looks like he wants to say something, but he just smiles awkwardly and says, “Good luck.”

  Apparently you don’t need it. You thought Sam’s well wishes were warranted– whenever you’ve seen glimpses of Gabriel’s room it’s always looked like utter chaos. Standing in it now with cleaning supplies and some knick-knacks, it’s actually…nice. Chaos maybe, but controlled chaos. The bed in the room is not the original one, but it’s also not opulent enough to hold your attention.

What does catch your eye is the giant pile of fabric on the floor that, from your little glimpses, you had assumed to be a mess of discarded laundry. It’s not. The shape of it is purposeful; sort of square, sort of rounded, and formed by a ton of blankets as well as clothi–

“Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” You fall to your knees on the soft pile and grab your favorite jacket. “But…why is it here?”

And that’s not the only thing stashed in the pile. You find all of your missing shirts, a tan trench coat that looks exactly like what Cas wears day in and day out, and a few other shirts that you can trace back to Jack, Sam, and even Dean.

“Seriously, what the fuck?” But you’re not angry so much as confused. Okay, a little annoyed, but still mostly confused and trying not to judge. If Gabriel was trying to pull a joke, it would’ve come to fruition by now. So why does he have your stuff, and why does it look like he intends to keep it?

“Gabriel,” you say evenly. “When you have a minute, come back to the bunker. We need to talk.”

You ball up the trash bag, dust a little, and light some candles to make the place smell a little less like an underground hideaway. On the dresser, you place a photo of Sam, Dean, Jack, and Cas that you took. Then you sit on the foot of the bed, facing the blanket pile, and wait.

“Please tell me nobody triggered another apocaly–” Gabriel, now next to you, stops so suddenly there might as well be a record scratch. The fact that there isn’t one is telling. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Um, you said I could ‘come by anytime,’” you say, finger-quotes and all. “‘Mi casa es su casa’ and everything. You even amended it to ‘mi habitación.’ Remember?”

“Oh.” Gabriel deflates and looks back and forth between you and the pile. “I really don’t want to have this conversation. Can we not have this conversation?”

You shrug. “I can’t stop you if you’d rather leave, but you should know that if we don’t have this conversation then I am always going to be wondering why you’re sleeping with one of Dean’s shirts.”

Gabriel grimaces. A confirmation if ever you’ve seen one. “So you do sleep in it!” You look from the floor to the bed. The bed which feels very nice. “Why are you sleeping in a pile of clothes instead of your bed?”

Gabriel looks offended. “It’s not just a pile of clothes.”

“Sorry; pile of clothes and blankets.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a nest.”

You look down at the…nest. You’re sure you don’t know exactly what that means to him, but you can guess at it. “Oh. Is it an…angel thing?”

“Yes,” he says sourly, head ducked down so you can’t see his face. “In heaven you twine grace with your siblings. On earth you have to…adjust. Slightly.”

You take a moment to pick that apart. Siblings; being close. “It’s about family then?” you ask. He nods. He’s lifted his head again but he looks so miserable, you try to make a joke. “Does that make me your favorite then?”

He snaps his head up and looks quizzical. Yeah, a joke at your expense almost always does the trick. You gesture at the sub-collection of your closet. “You have more of my stuff than anyone else.”

Gabriel actually smiles a little at that. “You’ve always been my favorite.”

“Really?” You clamp your hands on your mouth– that was embarrassingly eager. But Gabriel doesn’t seem to care. He’s staring at you, expression calculatingly inscrutable. And yet…

You clear your throat. “So…those are my favorite clothes. What are the chances of me getting them back?”

Gabriel smiles mischievously and folds his arms up to tap his finger to his lip, like he’s thinking very hard about it. You should be worried by that, but it’s such a rare sight these days you’re too happy about it to worry about what’s going to come out of his mouth next. “I’ll think about giving them back.” Gabriel is suddenly lying in the nest like he’s waiting for you to paint him like one of your French girls. He pats the space next to him. “If you help break in the rest of it.”

It’s not quite how you fantasized about him inviting you into bed (which is impressive, considering all the various scenarios you’ve cooked up), but hell, you’ll take it. To offset how you scramble in so enthusiastically you might as well have “Pathetic” tattooed on your forehead, you joke, “Is this a scent thing? Should I roll around?”

“It’s really more of a ‘presence’ thing,” he says as you lie next to him. “But I wouldn’t mind it.”

“What if I roll onto you?”

He stares at you. You cringe. Shit. Touch is, well, a touchy subject ever since Asshole-modeus. “Sorry, I…I guess I shouldn’t say that.”

“Not unless you mean it.”

Hope surges in you. He looks serious, and you try to match it. “What if I do?”

He studies you, like he’s not sure if you're serious. And here you thought you were always pathetically obvious. “Really?” he asks, frowning in a way that makes you want to kiss those creases right off his face. How could he ever doubt?

“I always have been. Just…” You shrug. “What does a hunter, some random human, have to offer someone who dates demigods and can create perfection whole cloth–”

He kisses you. Firmly, and he doesn’t let up until he steals the breath right out of you. When he pulls back you’re left panting but your eyes trail to wet lips curling into a smirk. “Sugar,” he drawls. “I may not like my dad that much but even I have to admit…” His fingers trail up your temple and down behind your ear. “When it comes to workmanship, he’s second to none.”

You duck to hide your ridiculous smile. “Um…” You clear your throat. “This nest is actually really comfortable.”

“It is now,” he says and pulls you in.

[raendown]

I finally got around to taking part in @dahtwitchi‘s Dick Pic Project! And in time to be allowed my repost of her delicious artwork! The image I am posting is ever so slightly doctored, just cropped a little, but with permission from Twitchi. 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4121 Rated: M Summary: Madara isn't sure what he thinks about being given a third chance at life. He's glad that he has his brother and Hashirama with him, although he's pretty sure he could live without Tobirama being there as well. What really makes things things interesting is all this new technology. He particularly enjoys his new 'cellphone'.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Rapture On The Lonely Shore

As much as Madara appreciated being given another chance at life, there were still moments when he wondered if this was all just a little too much trouble. He had lived his life – two of them in fact! In that time he had committed his crimes, died for them twice, and seen about as much of the world as he’d thought he would ever want to. Getting dragged back in to the land of the living for a third go around wasn’t really in his plans.

Having both of the Senju brothers tag along for the ride could be nothing but karma trying to kick him in the ass and have a good laugh at him while doing it. Some days not even the fact that Izuna had also clawed his way back to life was worth the aggravation of it all.

Certainly on the surface everything was fine and dandy. The citizens of Konoha had at last reached a point where they were content to ignore him so long as he remained docile and afforded them the same discourtesy. Hashirama had fallen so easily in to the patterns of friendship they enjoyed during the few shorts months he had been able to peacefully exist within the village they built together. Spending his days with Izuna as he had always wanted to was a joy he’d long stopped believing could ever be possible.

The problem, as always, was Tobirama. To an outsider’s point of view it would appear that Tobirama had given up all animosity towards the Uchiha brothers he once carried so much hate for. And that would almost be considered correct, Madara had to admit. After finding themselves alive in a time period far passed their own, all of them had found it much easier to lay down their anger and simply enjoy the time they had been gifted, allowing the sins of the past to stay there and looking forward to the future with lighter hearts. Tobirama spent most of his time these days devoting his mind to the science he’d always loved.

He spent the rest of his time bothering Madara.

It wasn’t the same sort of hatred which had existed between them before when Izuna lay buried beneath six feet of earth and neither Tobirama nor Madara could look at each other without seeing the blood of their lost kin. Back then they had both done everything in their power to get in each other’s way, to antagonize and impede and irritate in every way they could just for the pleasure of knowing they had ruined even just a moment of the other’s day.

Now Madara wasn’t sure what he would call it. Without the weight of the world on his shoulders Tobirama seemed to have discovered a new side of himself that very much enjoyed poking fun at other people. He found a great deal of amusement in pulling small pranks and Madara, unfortunately, was his new favorite victim. Even more confusing was that none of it seemed to truly be mean-spirited. Tobirama switched out his reading glasses and put dye in his shampoo bottle, he laughed at the results until he was rubbing his sides with glee and then – amazingly – he would return Madara his things or provide him with the cure for whatever chaos he had caused. Then he returned to his lab until the urge for this new brand of fun rose again.

Several years had already gone by since the Fourth Shinobi War and all of them were fairly well entrenched in their patterns. Izuna in particular still struggled to remember the availability of new technologies like electric stoves and lightbulbs. On his part, Madara had been enamored with the concept of a cellphone since he was first handed one and the concept explained to him. That changed when Tobirama got a cellphone of his own.

Now here he was eyeing the small bar across the lock screen which indicated that he had a new message from “That White Bastard”. Madara sighed, drumming the nails of his other hands against his thigh as he wondered if it was worth his time to open the message. Last time he gave in to curiosity he’d gotten a series of eight picture messages of the same stupid leaf from different angles. Just a dumb waste of his time, something harmless that did nothing more than irritate him yet caused no real offense, that was the basis of all their interactions now. Madara had stopped checking Tobirama’s messages since then and started deleting them on sight but today a pattern had been broken.

Today he had received one picture message followed by no less than fifteen text messages in rapid succession. The constant ding of his phone was both annoying and slightly alarming, holding his attention if only for the way the messages just kept coming all at once. That wasn’t like Tobirama. It was more like Tobirama to wait and send each message in short intervals for maximum irritation value.

With a roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh, Madara unlocked his phone and fumbled around for the messages app. He wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until he solved this mini mystery so he might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. As soon as he opened it, however, he narrowed his eyes in confusion, anxious worry rising up in his throat as he read through the immediately visible messages.

No Seriously Do not I mean it, don’t scroll up If I send you enough messages it won’t be visible Just don’t scroll up I mean it Uchiha Don’t fucking do it If you want to keep your sanity DO NOT SCROLL UP

Madara caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled viciously with indecision. He’d never seen Tobirama come even close to panic before but these messages, the speed with which they had all dropped in one after the other, it felt a lot like panic to him. The last message in particular caught his attention. He wasn’t sure if the wording was meant as a genuine warning or as a some kind of threat but all it had really accomplished was to make him incredibly curious. What could that idiot Senju have possibly sent him that would be followed all of this?

It took exactly half a minute for Madara to cave to his own curiosity. Whatever had been sent to him, it was obvious the Senju didn’t want him to see it. He might be holding amazing blackmail material in the palm of his hand; he would be stupid not to investigate that. Scrolling upwards only increased his confusion at first as it became more and more clear that Tobirama seemed to have sent him something by accident, something he truly did not wish for Madara to see, true panic clear in the messages where he seemed to realize he’d made some sort of mistake.

DON’T LOOK AT IT I DID NOT MEAN TO SEND THIS IMAGE Believe me when I say I meant to send something else This was an accident Do not scroll up Do not look at that image No Seriously

And then Madara found the image itself.

If he had an ounce less self-control he would have thrown his cellphone across the room on mere reflex, an instinctive reaction to the immediate influx of conflicting emotions. Of all the possible things Tobirama might have sent him, even accidentally, an image of the other man in the nude had not even crossed Madara’s mind.

Alright, so Tobirama wasn’t completely nude in the photo, although he might as well have been. His torso was bare and the pants he was wearing were opened to allow his impressive erection to rise out and stand perfectly centered in the frame. Madara couldn’t decide if he wanted to stare at the most delicious cock he’d ever set his poor shamed eyes upon or if he wanted to trace the shape of the tattoo he’d never known about. Tobirama’s pale white skin made a perfect backdrop for the red ink of a tiger to claw its way up and around his shoulder, the stripes of the beast’s arm running down Tobirama’s. The man’s other arm was pulled up behind his head to draw Madara’s eye to the third surprise: apparently Tobirama had seen fit to pierce one of his nipples.

Madara swallowed thickly, both hands clutching his phone so hard the metal casing gave a protesting creak. The part of his brain that had been raised in a war with the Senju was a little disgusted with himself for even entertaining the ideas this image was clearly meant to inspire. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to inspire those ideas in him but the other part of himself, the one that had put the war behind him and was slowly learning to trust again, was already rerouting blood to some very interested parts of his body. A few years ago he might have scowled at this same image with nothing but revulsion. Now he sank deeper in to his couch cushions and palmed the front of his trousers.

Two could play at this game, he thought with a grin. It had taken hours to teach him how to use the camera function on this overly complicated device but it was time he appreciated as well-spent now, reluctantly backing away from the messaging app so he could open up the camera and fiddle until he remembered how to turn it around to face himself. Then he unfastened his pants and pushed them down.

He wasn’t nearly as naked as Tobirama, he noticed. Staring back at the image of himself made him wonder if he should set the scene a little. Maybe take off his shirt? Pose? What expression should he make? Madara shifted and watched his cock bob from side to side, leering at the reflection his own hardness when an idea occurred to him.

It took several tries to get a picture he liked that actually stayed in focus, then several more tries to figure out how to send it back to Tobirama. If he said so himself it was quite an attractive image with him hunkered down in a similar lounging pose as the other man with one of his hands stroking himself and his eyes closed in bliss.

When his phone began to ring he nearly jumped out of his skin. The screen told him that Tobirama was calling him and Madara stared at it for a few seconds, terrified enough that his erection wilted a little. He didn’t think Tobirama would call him. He’d just…actually he had no idea what he’d meant with this stupid idea. Tit for tat? Payback? Mutual teasing with naked bodies? But if he didn’t answer then he ran the risk of Tobirama just popping in with that infernal jutsu of his so Madara accepted the call with one shaking thumb, his other hand still wrapped protectively around his own cock.

“Hello…” he mumbled, unsure of what the protocol was for talking to someone he’d just sent a racy picture of himself to.

“I thought I told you not to look at it.” Tobirama’s voice sounded oddly breathless in his ear. Madara swallowed thickly as his mind supplied him with several possible reasons why. His thumb absently rubbed small circles around the smooth head of his cock, making him shiver.

“You made me curious,” he admitted.

A few beats of silence followed before Tobirama spoke in a husky rasp, “I think I made you hard.”

“Perhaps. And you?” This was all stupid, so stupid, a bad idea shaped from adrenaline and the shock of sudden arousal. The percentage chance of this all blowing up in his face was astronomically high and yet he couldn’t stop his thumb from continuing to trace light circles, closing his eyes and dropping his head back to strain his ears for the sound of Tobirama’s voice. Had the man always had such an attractive voice or had Madara just not been listening properly?

“Madara…what are you doing right now?”

There were a hundred possible answers he could have given, a million different lies he could have told to stop this situation before it got too far out of hand, but the only animosity left between them was harmless pranks because they made Tobirama laugh and Madara had just enough courage to make a leap of faith. He took a chance in a way he never would have done in the world they lived in before.

“Right now? I’m touching myself while I think about that picture you sent me.”

“Oh.” Tobirama cleared his throat but it didn’t erase the fact that they both heard his voice crack. “R-right now. You’re–? Okay.”

“Do you know what would help?” Madara grinned listening to Tobirama’s breathing speed up.

“What?”

“If I could listen to you touching yourself at the same time.”

He never would have guessed how satisfying it would be to hear the hitch in Tobirama’s breath and the stuttering inhale that followed his statement. Madara shifted his grasp on the phone and squirmed as his thumb moved a little faster. Every fiber of his being wanted to move the entire hand, his blood boiling with anticipation at just the thought of it, but he held off for now. How much more satisfying would it be to have Tobirama join him? To listen to each other fall to pieces even though they were half a village apart.

Very likely he would have trouble looking Tobirama in the eye the next time they saw each other but that was a problem to be considered later. He could worry about his own recklessness and the possible fallouts of this after what promised to be a very satisfying orgasm.

“So, what, you would just…if I…?”

“You’re already touching yourself aren’t you?” Madara cut in smugly.

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Tell me how you’re touching yourself Tobirama.”

The voice in his ear stumbled through a few syllables, clearly having difficulty doing both tasks at once, but finally he managed to say, “Slowly. I like to do it slowly. With light touches at first.”

Madara kept his eyes closed and groaned freely as his hand began to move at last, root to tip, consciously mimicking the things that were being described to him and trying to imagine it was Tobirama’s pale hand working him. Unsurprisingly, it was pretty easy to imagine. He’d never been more thankful for the perfect recall his eyes granted him.

“Never knew you had any other tattoos. If you were here I’d be tracing it with my tongue.” Madara bucked helplessly in to his fist when Tobirama groaned in his ear. He waited to hear something back, silence stretching until he realized the other man either had no idea what to say or was still too embarrassed to say it. Feeling reckless, he continued to speak his mind without thought for the consequences. “And that piercing. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I’d love to get my teeth around that.”

“It was a dare,” Tobirama murmured finally, making him chuckle.

“Dare you to stroke yourself a little faster,” he said darkly. The other man let out a keening sound that sparked down the length of his spine like a jolt of electricity.

When the breathing in his ear started coming in fits and starts Madara swallowed thickly and moved his own hand faster as well, thrilled in a way he couldn’t describe to know that Tobirama had done so at his behest. His other hand absently pressed the phone so hard to the side of his head he feared the screen might crack, unwilling to miss even the slightest sound.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he asked, grinding the words out between his clenched teeth.

“Fuck – yes – fuck…” Tobirama paused and then he whispered, “I want…to hear youcome.”

Madara groaned again instead of answering. If he had a second hand free he would have reached down between his legs to tease his entrance, maybe spit on his fingers and pressed in with just the tip of one, but to do that he would have to drop the phone. The last thing he was willing to do at that moment was give up the sound of Tobirama right at the edge, so close to glory. So instead he squeezed his eyes closed tighter and constructed the image of the other man on his knees taking Madara in to his mouth, the heat and the suction and the way his red eyes would be narrow and unfocused.

It was just enough. With a violent shudder he came, back arching and teeth grinding, a wordless growl ripping up his throat and immediately echoed from the other end of the call. Madara felt his jaw drop open in a gasp when he realized that Tobirama was coming too, reaching his completion from listening to Madara’s own.  

When the pleasure bordered on pain he let his hand come to rest and slumped backwards against the couch cushions to listen to Tobirama’s panting. His mind was blissfully empty of any thoughts other than how incredibly satisfying that had been, more satisfying than taking care of things himself usually felt. It took several minutes for him to realize that he and Tobirama were sitting in silence and listening to the each other recover in the aftermath. This was a man who, until a half hour ago, he would never thought himself to have any attachment to, had never even considered him as an option. Their shared past had blinded him to any possible attraction before now.

Now he wasn’t sure he would be able to look the man in the eye without wondering what he would taste like in the throes of ecstasy. Madara snapped both eyes open and stared at the ceiling with muted horror as he slowly realized what he’d just done and who he had done it with.

It seemed Tobirama’s mind was following the same paths.

“May I point out,” he heard the man rumble, “that it truly was an accident, me sending you that image.”  

“Hmm. You say that and yet I cannot think of any other reason for you to possess something…like…that…” Madara’s voice trailed off as a sudden thought washed over him like ice water. Why indeed would Tobirama have taken a photograph like that? Had he meant to send it to someone else? Had he taken it for a another person? His panic was cut short when Tobirama snapped at him, slipping easily in to defensive mode.

“You’ve called me narcissistic many times yourself. If you can’t tell what that image is for then I don’t know how to break the news to you.”

“Well I just thought, you know, if it was meant for…”

“Someone else?”

Madara pulled the phone away from his ear so that he could scowl at it briefly, hoping Tobirama would feel his irritation through their connection. Then he brought it back to say, “Clearly. I seem to remember that Inuzuka boy blathering on about something called ‘dick pics’ while he was trying to explain the camera function to me.”

“It was meant to pander to my preference for exhibitionism when at the time I lacked a partner to exhibit myself for.” He paused, a moment in which Madara strained his ears for more. “I am, in fact, still without a partner. A life partner, I mean. Or, well, that’s a bit presumptuous, clearly not every relationship is meant to last for life but what I mean is–”

“Are you asking me to be your partner?”

“Well I was going to but not if you’re going to interrupt me in that tone.”

“Because you don’t actually hate me or because I got you off over the phone?” Madara huffed, using his sticky hand to wrench his clothing back in to place with something like offense settling in his stomach.

Tobirama echoed his huff. “Impossible man. Just hold on a moment.”

Before Madara had time to question what the man wanted him to hold on for there was a surge of chakra across the room and then he was very glad he’d taken the time to stuff himself back inside his pants. Tobirama’s head swung from side to side as he took in the room he had just appeared in, clearly looking for Madara, and he narrowed his eyes when he spotted his prey.

“Are you deliberately this obtuse or do you somehow go through life with your eyes closed without noticing?” the man demanded, crossing the room with long strides to lean over and brace himself against the back of the couch with one hand, shoving his face right up in to Madara’s.

“I am not obtuse!”

“You can’t even tell when someone is flirting with you!”

“That’s – you’ve been flirting with me!?” Madara shoved the idiot away from himself so that he could rise to his feet with indignation. “What are you, five? A little girl pulling pigtails? You annoy me every chance you get and call it flirting? Not even your stupid lump of a brother is that poorly socialized to think that any sane human being would see your actions as some form of courtship ritual!”

“Would you shut up?”

Tobirama sneered in irritation and then hauled Madara up on to his toes for a searing kiss that cut off all further comments. As much as Madara wanted to cling to his argument that absolutely no flirting had happened, he gave in to Tobirama’s very convincing rebuttal rather quickly. It was hands down the best argument he’d ever lost and he did have to admit that the benefits of going along with this far outweighed the downsides. Actually, he couldn’t think of any downsides at all.

He very deliberately avoided thinking about what Hashirama’s reaction would be to this little development.

Groaning in protest when the delicious lips assaulting his own pulled away, Madara gathered what little cantankerous irritation was left in him and glared up at the man towering over him, a little insulted as he always was whenever he noticed again how much taller Tobirama was than him.

“You did send me that ‘dick pic’ on purpose, didn’t you? I know you did.”

“I maintain that it was an accident.”

“Bullshit.”

Tobirama shrugged. “Believe what you will. Although I should probably mention that I believe it was your brother which started the betting pool on when precisely you would clue in to my attentions. I’m not certain who has the spot for this month but we may wish to be discreet for now.” Madara pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I changed my mind. You’re too much trouble, get out of my house.”

“Hmm, so that’s a no on taking a few more personal photographs? These cellular phones are incredibly useful, wouldn’t you say?”

Madara paused to close his eyes and draw in a deep breath, letting it back out slowly before cracking his eyes open again for a very hard glare. He was sort of hoping his new partner might cower under the force of such a sharp expression but instead the only response he got was a single raised eyebrow.

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

“You’ll love what I can do with my tongue, though.”

“Can I take pictures of that?”

Tobirama didn’t answer him but Madara did notice the other man made sure to grab his cellphone as they stumbled down the hall towards his bedroom.  

He still didn’t understand for what purpose he had been given yet another unearned chance at life. Madara had no idea why he and Izuna and the Senju brothers had all been pulled away from what should have been their final rest. But that mattered less and less with every kiss the two of them shared on their stumbling journey down the hall. There didn’t need to be a reason for any of this; what mattered was the fact that he hardly remembered what it felt like to truly hate someone, that he had the life now he had dreamed of for so many years before.

What mattered was Tobirama and the oddly peaceful feeling of leaning in to his embrace. This new future with its strange technologies was no faultless paradise but it certainly had quite a few perks he very much intended to take advantage of like cellphones, dick pics, and the dimmer switch on the electric lightbulbs in his bedroom. Madara had no idea why he had been granted the life he’d always wanted – but he was happy to finally be happy.

[oh-roman]

together

Harry leaves for tour soon.

[Smut]

I.

Y/N was living the life she decided she deserved and quite frankly, she was proud to know this bit of Information. She had a well-paying job as an up and coming wedding dress designer —that she instead she attain, despite Harry’s non-stop antics and pleads for her to stay home and never have to worry about a thing. However, she liked the idea of providing for herself sometimes and not being solely dependent on him. Still, other times, when she felt more vulnerable to his touch, there was nothing better than convincing him to stay an hour or so more in bed, so that she would feel inclined to curl into his warm grip, (considering, this was the position that caused her to sleep the soundest).

Harry had planned to come in late from a table-read for an upcoming film project. He insisted on buying himself dinner, so that Y/N wouldn’t feel inclined to stay up past her self-set bedtime to cook for two. When he entered his home, the immediate aroma of steak brushed against his face and he smiled. She had been vegan, since they met two years ago, but her habits had never rubbed off on him, unfortunately. She hadn’t cooked him a home-cooked meal for him in months, with all of the work-related business trips and late-nights at the studio.

Planting his palms on the wall closest to the front door, he toed his sneakers off and yawned, walking right passed the kitchen; too tired to eat any more than the meal he devoured at In N Out, on his way home.

She did exactly what he pleaded her not to do. She waited up for him; or at least attempted to. Y/N sat up with her back against the cushioned headboard, with her lips parted slightly in slumber. Her laptop was open with a blank screen, in auto-save mode, probably working up too much heat from being on for too long without use. Her head was tilted to the side on the headboard, in a position that made his neck hurt, at the mere sight. He walked over to the soft, white bed set and carefully dipped into the memory foam mattress. She jumped a bit when he moved her hands from typing position on the keyboard and closed the laptop. She squirmed a little and mumbled something, probably meant to be a response to someone in her dream, before adjusting her eyes to the dim lamp in the bedroom and rubbing at her eyes.

“Good mo’ning,” He said, running a hand through her straightened hair, that had just been curly this morning.

“It’s-,” She mumbled sheepishly, stretching her arms in front of her before letting them plop down on her lap, trying to rack her brain of all of the things she did before going to sleep. Trying to figure out, with a half-sleep mindset, how it could possibly be morning already.

“Was jus’ playin’ with yeh, petal,” Harry mumbled, bringing his hand down from her hair to trace against her bare thigh beneath the thick comforter.

Her shoulders slumped a little and she closed her eyes at his remark, to focus on the incoherent shapes he was sketching on her skin. She sank into the comforter until she was comfortably in the nook of his warmth.

“Baby,” His voice was a bit worn out from speaking all day and voice exercises. Like usual, he just knew there was a mug of homemade tea waiting for him on the stove, waiting to be heated up, for his aching throat. He knew she always had one sitting out for him. Especially lately, with all the tour rehearsals and how he’s constantly coming home to her with a raspy throat, as if he’d caught a cold in the span of the ten hours they’d usually spend away from one another. “How many times have I got to tell yeh not t’wait up fo’ me?”

Y/N ran her hand up his side, from the waistband of his boxers to his rib cage. She sighed against him and he could feel her exasperated puff of breath brush against his nipple.

“Don’ want yeh to ruin your sleep schedule on account of me,” He watched as she squirmed a little more in his grip, in attempt to get more comfortable; more warm. “And I defiantly don’ wan’ you t’get sick, cookin’ meat fo’ me. Wouldn’t wan’ yeh t‘ be vomitin’ again.”

He rubbed her back, soothingly, as if she were actually sick again, because the thought alone made his eyebrows frown and wonder if she had really gotten herself sick, from the smell like last time. The gesture was sweet and he did have a passion for steak, but her deteriorating health at the hands of his desires was enough to make him give up meat forever.

“I love you,” she mumbled into his chest, clinging tighter to his body, with a leg intermingled with his own.

The curve of his lips spread and he closed his eyes to press his lips to her forehead, lovingly.

“I know tha’—“

“Then, stop questioning my motives when I do these things,” She hissed, placing a kiss to valley of his chest. He shook his head a little and parted his lips to let the breathy laugh climbing his tampered throat, escape.

“Since when is it a crime to want to see my baby before he goes to sleep? To cook him a home-cooked meal that he won’t taste for months on end?,”

“Your man,” He corrected.

“Daddy,” She insisted, rolling the syllables off her tongue, dangerously casual.

“Watch it,” he warned, squeezing her hip a little. She couldn’t help but break into a mini fit of laughter against his chest, for no apparent reason. Nothing he said was particularly amusing. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, sending her on a small high of happiness before she crashed and slept like a baby. He shushed her, between a few of his own giggles and lulled her to calamity in just a few minutes.

He decided to keep quiet for the duration of the night, until the weight of his eyelids, mixed with a days work of exhaustion made his sturdy grip on her hip loosen a bit. Y/N pressed a kiss to his skin once more, because there was nothing better than going to sleep with the feeling of his feel savored on her lips. So that, when it came time for her to wake, she could lick her lips and taste the slight bitterness of his cologne, intermingled with his natural warm taste, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on to describe, if you had asked.

+

The coffee kettle hummed softly in the kitchen. She was basking in the dark, coffee ground aroma; overwhelming her senses. Y/N sat atop the grey marbled kitchen counter, crossing her legs at her ankles, starring into space. At least, for a second, she was starring into space, thinking about nothing, until she caught herself latching eye contact with a framed picture on their kitchen island. It was small, square, pink frame with two Polaroid photos inside. They were taken last year, on Y/N’s twenty-second birthday, when Harry took her to celebrate at his favorite (and her least favorite) bakery in Sweden. They had both been extremely busy with work that week. With Y/N preparing for a grand wedding in Stockholm and Harry rehearsing for an upcoming performance and doing more promo for yet another film project. However, he insisted he take off time to treat her at least a little, for her birthday. Harry had spent the day pampering her with a nail and hair appointment, a shopping trip, and sweet, unforgettable sofa sex in the hotel room.

The picture was taken from inside of a random bakery in Sweden. She had never tasted cannolis and after that day, she never wanted to again, complaining that they were too sweet and the cream was too thick. He insisted it was because she had to order the vegan ones and that regular cannolis were delectable. However, she disagreed and he found her pouts of displeasure quite funny, in the moment. Smearing the pastry cream on her cheek and nose, he chuckled so hard, tears began welling at his eyes. Then, he captured two photos depicting Harry smiling into the camera and Y/N, smiling, helplessly at his childish antics.

The moment was a cherished one and she grinned toward the frame, seeing the gleam in his eye and the pure joy in his toothy smile. Harry had a way of making her feel all mushy inside, whether it be his physical touch or his mere stare in a photo. Y/N reached across the counter, lazily, to grasp the handle of the carafe and fill her ceramic mug to the brim with the hot coffee. She clutched the warm mug within the safety of her palms and sipped just lightly, to feel the heat from the liquid, run down down her throat and leave her mouth watering for another sip.

Y/N had a problem with letting go of things, she decided. She still had childhood relics decorated throughout the house in random trinkets and closets. Harry was one of those things and tours were never easy, as they left her cold in the mornings and lonely in their three story home for two. They hardly spent quality time together now, but at least she’d get to make it all up in the evenings and fall asleep in his arms, falling victim to the magic of his fingers racing up and down her back.

The only tour she had had to endure was the four month Dunkirk promotion tour and that alone felt like Hell. For ten months, she would have to simply imagine his touch and try with all her might to recreate the same feeling with her own fingers. Though, these attempts usually ended up as failures and she’d just have to go to sleep with the thought of him.

She trusted him with her life, but still a flicker of doubt burned within her and she wondered if maybe he’d ever go out for drinks with the boys one night after a concert and end up kissing some girl who insisted he dance. Could he enjoy feeling the strangers lips against his, intermingled with alcohol and ecstasy? Perhaps he would have forgotten to call her that night and he ended up having regretful drunken sex with some girl in a Vodka fumed hotel room.

It was her own insecurity eating through her mind and she decided the thought was completely bazaar after a while; flushing the scenario away so she wouldn’t ever have to consider it again. Harry couldn’t cheat—with his instinct to have to explain every picture that surfaced with him and another woman.

Still, she had to let to go of him and be without his sweet endearment for months on end. The idea alone made a knot in her throat well up and tears threaten the corners of her eyes. Seconds later, she was wiping violently at her face and silently cursing at herself for even preparing to cry.

Harry made soft footsteps toward the kitchen with bare feet against the flooring. He yawned with a smile at his lips and treaded toward her position on the counter top, shirtless and sheepish. He stood in front of her and stole the mug from her hands, swiftly, bringing it to his lips.

���Fuck,” He groaned, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyes in euphoria. “Tha’s good.”

He took another sip, because one wasn’t enough and let the mug rest on the counter so that he could caress her hips in his hands. She was wearing the pink, souvenir shirt he brought back from Tokyo and he decided it always looked much better on her than him.

“Baby, love,” He mumbled, with a smirk stained on on his lips. Y/N had draped her arms over his shoulders and rested her forehead on his.

“You haven’t called me that in years,” Her voice was already cracking around syllables and he hadn’t even finished packing his things for flight.

“‘Ts a special day,” He kissed the point of her nose. “My baby love,” he sang, swaying her hips slightly. The gesture was small and full of love, but it was all she needed to feel a few stray tears fall down her cheeks, swiftly. She sniffled, in attempt to make them stop; even pulling her arms from his shoulders to wipe at her eyes. The tears were relentless, however.

“Oh, baby,” He frowned his eyebrows and held her wrists so that she wasn’t wiping at her eyes anymore. “Wha’ is it?” He ran the lad of his thumbs under her eyes and let one hand fall to the small of her back to trace circles there.

“‘S it ‘cause of the tour?” He asked, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew she hated this. However, it broke him the same way, if not more, having to leave her all alone and only get the pleasure of hearing her voice over a cellphone speaker.

“I’m okay—“ She nodded

“Shh,” He cooed. “‘Ts alright, pet. You know yeh can cry in front of me. Don’ hide.”

She was caught in a fit of whimpers and cries now, clinging to his neck and resting her head against his bare chest. He made sure to leave a string of kisses along her forehead and soothing rubs to her back.

The coffee kettle still hummed in the background of her cries, keeping the second cup she had made for him, hot. He kept whispering in her hair, reminding her of how beautiful she was, though it had relatively nothing to do with her outburst. She simply needed to know, he thought. Eventually, she was shuddering less and less until her body had gave way and she was slumped against his.

“You been feelin’ like this all week?” He ran a hand over her hair.

She nodded against him and sniffled, hopelessly. “Didn’t want to stress you out. You’ve been so busy,”

“Jesus, pet.” He frowned his eyebrows and mentally cursed himself for not noticing that she had feeling down. She had been waiting awake for him every night, cooking him breakfast some mornings and she even made him his favorite dinner meal, last night. How could he have miss the signs? He should have let her know it was okay, earlier. Should have been more strict about her waiting up for him, so maybe he could understand why she was really waiting for him. She wanted to cherish the sight of him coming home every night, because soon, he’d been sleeping in hotel beds across the country.

She was beyond proud of him and all of his achievements, but still it pained her all the same.

“‘M gonna miss you so much, you know tha’?,” He was still frowning his eyebrows down at her and she sat up straight to see his expression. He moved his hands to the end of her (his) shirt and bunched the fabric in his fist. “Seein’ your little body everyday. Givin’ me somethin’ t’squeeze; t’hold.” He practically ransacked her face with his eyes, allowing her to feel a healthy amount of vulnerability.

“Your eyes, your lips,” Running the pad of his thumb over her slightly swollen bottom lip, dented with her own teeth marks. “Your neck,” Tracing an index finger down the curve of her throat and resting on the top of the threading on her shirt. Y/N parted her lips, against her initial thought to bite down on her lip. It drove him mad when she did that. So, instead he focused on her slightly shuddered breathing and raised the ends of her shirt just enough to get a glimpse of her panties underneath. His eyes hung low, craning his neck down to stare in awe at her the pink, lacy fabric hugging her skin.

“Wore my favorite pair, yeah?” He swiped his tongue over his own bottom lip with a sudden urge to bite down on the skin beneath. He lifted his low eyes to watch her expressions more intently. “Wore them on purpose?” He teased, inching closer to her lips, absently begging to be touched. Y/N held onto his shoulders a bit tighter now, feeling her heartbeat pulse in a rhythmic manner that she wasn’t used to. Harry dipped his head closer, just enough to brush against her lips and bring a lonely middle finger up the curve of her clothed core, then back down, in figure-eights. His lips were still hovering over her’s, until he maneuvered his fingertip over her clit to trace against the burning flesh, through those infamous panties that had made him cum all too fast, before.

A shake her thighs came and he used the opportunity of her trembling lips parted just for him, to dip into a kiss with a certain pressure. He made sure to tangle their lips, taking her higher than she had felt in a long time. Soon, she was writhing and whimpering against him, wildly. Harry hadn’t slowed his finger down, nor had he planned on it, slipping his tongue to fit across her bottom lip and press against the embrace of her mouth. Only stopping to pull back for air, in which he stopped his finger as well. Her chest rose and fell in a dangerous way and he could tell by the way she was whimpering and the little wet mark soaked into her panties — she was ready.

“‘M gonna miss your little begs,” He dipped his thumbs into the waist of her panties. “Tha’ little birthmark just above tha’ pretty little pussy,” Tracing a finger over the sensitive skin, in which she shuddered even more. “I’ll call every mornin’,” He said, pulling the panties over her bum, watching wide-eyed as they fell to her ankles. She squeaked when the sudden air hit her exposed slit, covering her mouth in embarrassment. “Then, I’ll check up on you in the afternoon,” He left a sloppy kiss to her collarbone, before delving in her frantic state and meeting a finger to her opening.

“H—,” She writhed.

“And if your feelin’ too worked up in the evenings, I’ll see to call yeh right before I head on stage to calm your nerves. Have yeh feelin’ better than befo’,” He dipped his fingertip in just enough to coat it in her wetness, before bringing it up to his kiss-swollen lips to have a generous taste of her. “Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned, returning his finger back to her opening.

“You’re never gonna get tired of me, pet,” He dipped his finger in until he was knuckle-deep and close enough to her face to take in her mewls and gasps of air. Harry pressed deeper now, feeling his way around the familiar snatch. “You’re gonna think of me everyday ‘m gone. ‘Specially at night when you’re all hot and bothered and have no one around to finish you off.” He was starring at her with eyes full of certainty and a focused furrow at his brow, as he brought his finger in and out of her at a steady pace. “And all you’ll ‘ave t’do is call me, princess.”

Y/N had her mouth gaping wide with closed eyes and eyebrows raised high, when he slipped a second finger in, unexpectedly. Harry had learned his way around her slit shortly after they met. Now, he had claimed himself an artist, mastered in the art of her own.

“You ‘nd I both know Daddy knows just how to make tha’ pussy feel alright,” He kept a dangerous speed, knowing just when to jolt his fingers inside and when to spread them apart to trace against her walls, with a soft tremble. “Even when ‘m a million miles away.”

Y/N readied herself to scream when he plunged both fingers in, deeper than before, curving them upward after he reached a certain area. Harry wasn’t moving now. He kept them lodged in her, in the sweetest way possible, twisting them around ever so slightly. Her toes curled in ecstasy and he craned his neck down to press his lips to her open mouth, needing to feel her when she came crashing down. She had a lazy grip on the back of his neck now, moving her head down to stop the kiss from progressing.

“Can I—,” She dipped her head backward, feeling him begin to move his digits again. “Baby, I’m—can I?” She faced him again and he had a certain demeanor about his face. He made sure she always asked for permission to cum and the sound of her small voice ask so sweetly made his cheeks flush red. He hadn’t expected her to ask now, however. This was for her; she could let go when she pleased and Harry would be content.

“‘F course, pet.” He coaxed, working her through her orgasm, with a few more strokes of his fingers. She was biting down on her lip so hard, he had to use his other thumb to pull it from the grasps of her teeth so that she wouldn’t draw blood. She rocked against his hand and rested her forehead against his chest; coming down from her high in waves.

Harry felt content, at last. Slowly but surely, sliding his digits from inside her. She gasped at the sudden loss of contact and he brought his fingers up to his lips, with intentions to lick them clean.

“M’girl always tastes s’good,” He whispered, savoring the taste of her on his lips. “Always s’wet fo’ me. S’ready.”

Y/N hadn’t completely come down from her high and his filthy whispers weren’t much help to the shake in her thighs. Perhaps it was the tone of his voice—raspy and unbothered—that had her making a mess on the marble. Or maybe, (similar to when they first had sex together) the slight scent of his Gucci cologne — fluttered throughout her nose — had been the cause.

Once her body was done shuddering and shaking and she could properly breathe, without denting the skin of his neck with her fingernails, she lifted her head from his chest to watch him, with big eyes.

“Love you,” Y/N murmured. She craned her neck up to press a kiss to his chin. Harry hummed at the feeling and ran his hands over the soft of her thighs, before tugging her legs closed, since he knew she couldn’t without hissing.

“I love you too,” Harry bowed his head to press a kiss to the curve of her nose. “So fuckin’ much,” He mumbled onto her lips, squeezing her hips, with so much force, she feared he might dent the skin.

[inthehouseofflies-blog1]

♖ (modern!Lucy, WSW!Don, CoC!Torleik, CoC!Kon, CoC!Lisel) // ♞ (Midyan, Modern!Don, WSW!Lucy, CoC!Damian, CoC!Christoph) //♟(Modern!Gideon, WSW!Mary, CoC!Eve, CoC!Claus, CoC!Viviette) // ☂ (Modern!Mary, Velius, CoC!Viktorya, CoC!Eudora) // ♨ (Modern!Eli, WSW!Wallas, WSW!Julien, CoC!Louis, CoC!Viala)

♖ for one of my muses guilty pleasures //

Lucy (Modern)I think she loves reality television. She knows how incredibly scripted and empty it all is, but she can’t help but get sucked in on a day off and binge watch entire seasons of it. Lucy would also never admit it, but on particularly lonely nights, she reads them while taking a long bubble bath.

Donovan (HP)Guilty is the key word here and it makes this very hard. I think one of the things he does that he isn’t too proud of but absolutely enjoys, is sitting for hours on his bedroom floor while looking over all his medals, photos, memorabilia, etc. of his glory days. He knows it’s pathetic, but he likes to remember that at some point in his life, he was somebody.

Torleik (CoC) It’s not incredibly different or unusual in Arvidor, but for Torleik, taking time to admire the beauty of the trees and unique greenery of his land is definitely something to be ashamed of. Not that he’s ashamed of admitting that Arvidor is vastle beautiful and even that kind of beauty isn’t lost on someone like him, but that he wasn’t actively being productive. That’s what he’d be ashamed of.

Konstantin (CoC) Oh, Konstantin has about a thousand. Everything he loves is a guilty pleasure. From sucking off his cousin (LOL)  to spending twice the amount of time getting ready that normal Vollstachtian men do... Konstantin is constantly in a state of guilt. And his relatives don’t exactly make it easy for him. After all, this is the land of fire and steel and here he is fussing over the exact placement of the ruffles on his cravat and bitching his twin sister up and down for her heinous taste in men.

Liselotte (CoC) I think she certainly feels and does regrettable things, but I’m not sure she feels guilty for any... From wishing she was dead (to be with her parents), to forcing Raphael to spend time with her when it clearly bothers him in some way, to defying her uncle at every turn... I don’t know that what she enjoys, she feels guilty for. Huh... I’ll have to think more about this one, because I feel there’s something I’m forgetting. OH, you know what... she does take pleasure in having Killian’s attention, but also feels guilty for wanting it because of their first “disagreement”. I think some part of her knows she should loathe him for that but... I DON’T KNOW. Confused child, confusing me.

♞ for something that my muse wants to do //

Midyan (Main) More than anything, he wants to return to the under realm with Miryam and return to doing what they were born to do. However, he’d never admit that the toll the mortal world is taking on him is very, very real. And he knows Miryam is enjoying their banishment, and would never force her back with him. He knows they may soon come to an impasse and it keeps him up at night.

Donovan (Modern)Oh man, he’s so motivated now that Bailey is in his life. Donovan was content to his shitty, pathetic life. Even on the path to recovery from his alcoholism, he wasn’t exactly excited about it. But with Bailey... now he wants to get a good job, get a nicer place in a good part of town, make it comfortable for her... for them. He wants to build a life for them; he sees his future only with her or he doesn’t have one at all.

Lucy (HP)She wants to live outside her identity as a squib. Even though she’s more valuable than ever, she wants to be valuable for more than just that. I think, sometimes, when she’s tired at the end of her shift, she wishes she had someone to curl up next to. Thank God for Rhea, because sometimes a best friend is exactly what she needs (and they have similar struggles about being known for something that isn’t them as a whole), but Lucy has never been loved outside of that. It’s am empty part of herself she doesn’t know needs filling just yet.

Damian (CoC)He wants to marry Aniah and return to the man he was before at the same time. He craves his status, his reputation, his attitude being returned. And honestly, if she says yes to him, it will all flood back. He’ll be stronger, actually. Far more charming; more in control; a better player on the grand, political stage that is court life.

Christoph (CoC) Christoph wants to bring his old pal back. He wants to get Rafael back to his old self (just short of the arrogance which got him cursed, of course) and he wants all his cousins to be happy again. He wants the old life back with all its fun. None of these politics and new dangers at court. He’d also like for Vollstacht to embrace Kiya because honestly, look at that face. Come on, now.

♟ for something my muse admires

Gideon (Modern) Alice. He absolutely admires her strength. She can smile even in the worst circumstances. She has the kind of resiliance that he believes is rare and massively valuable. Before, it may have been a struggle to get it out of him, but he would readily confess it to her now. Maybe soon, of his own volition, when they’re in a hospital room and a baby is on the way.

Mary (HP) Neil. God, she thinks so fucking highly of him. There is no better man in her eyes, no better way of being. Aside from how hard he punishes himself by working until he’s damn-near dead, Mary absolutely thinks he is the ideal human being. Kind, generous, strong, intelligent, honorable, courageous, loyal, loves his family. She could go on and on about how many things there are to admire in Neil Lockewood. She absolutely feels that everyone is his inferior.

Evelyn (CoC) I know it says “something” my muse admires and not “someone” but AH WELL. Evelyn is a pretty... vapid, self-centered thing; admiration is hard to find inside her selfish, little heart. For Umbra Lui’s sake, she calls her orphaned and prematurely-crowned cousin “leftovers.” lmfao If she admires anyone, it would be Malakai. He’s handsome, wealthy, a successful king at a young age. I think she would admire Afasa if she ever crossed paths with the man. Wealth, power, and a face worth swooning over; that’s what Evelyn admires.Claus (CoC) Those in power who do not abuse it. Caldreus is a good example. Though Caldreus often causes eye-rolls so hard that they hurt, Claus is a firm believer that he is a very good king who has never used his power unless it was for the good of those whose lives depend on his decisions. Ambition for one’s own-self and one’s own alone is abhorrent.Viviette (CoC) When one sticks to their guns. She can always find some admiration for a person who, even against all odds or rebuttal, remains steadfast in their belief or cause. Those who backtrack, who correct themselves even with good reason, are not well-liked by a queen who cannot be told anything other than what she already thinks.

☂ for something my muse wants to protect

Mary (Modern) Bailey. In any of her modern verses, no matter what her situation is, she wants to protect Bailey and whatever makes Bailey happy. For example, with the whole issue of Don being too old for her (and the last person her parents would want her with): Mary immediately offered shelter from the storm. She wants Bailey happy because Mary knows that out of everyone in the world, Bailey deserves it most. Mary would throw down everything to protect her best friend. NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR. Because Lord knows that if any kind of authority got wind of it, or if those relationships were made public... all hell would break loose, and Mary might just kill herself.

Velius (Main) Himself. Looking out for number one, always. Whatever he wants, loves, admires, needs, etc., Velius comes first.

Viktoriya (CoC) Gael and Giselle, her adopted family. She owes them so much, and although her mere existence is an insult (as her true identity is bound forever with tragedies that befell them both), she would give anything (or do anything) to see them safe. 

Eudora (CoC) Her last family member, Zosime. While Eudora has a large heart, there is no one who consumes it more than her big sister, Zosime. Eudora only ever wants to see Zosime happy and healthy, and anyone who would jeopardize that would be met with (probably futile) resistance.

♨ for something that relaxes my muse

Eli (Modern) Pot. Honestly, getting high. Xanax sometimes, but mostly he likes to smoke. Alcohol is more of a party choice. Oh, and “Friends” (the show). Pot and “Friends.”Wallas (HP) He loves to sit and read magizoology books with a large cup of hot English breakfast tea in hand. A good pair of pajama pants, soft robe, and we’re in business. Absolute bliss.

Julien (HP) Laying in bed all day with his little wife. At least, he’s going to make her his wife as soon as the smoke clears and they won’t be bothered. But yes, nothing is more relaxing than laying naked or semi-naked in a tangle of silky sheets with her. They could just talk for hours, or say nothing at all, instead passing time by tracing delicate shapes with their fingertips on each others skin. Julien just wants to be with her, be comfortable, and not be bothered by the world outside. Before Bailey, he liked to smoke, to take an assortment of mild wizard drugs, and look at paintings.

Louis (CoC) Cooking, gardening, cleaning. I imagine servants have gotten frustrated with him many times because he insists on doing things himself. After a hard life of combat, court life, and protecting princesses from all that is out to get them... domestic life is sweet, quiet bliss.Viala (CoC) Gabriel time. When he can afford to sit with her in her tower, Viala is most at ease. She likes to lounge around and hum little tunes while playing (and most times, successfully tangling) his long, dirty blond hair. She likes it when he tells her stories, when he talks to her about the comings and goings of the court she doesn’t often get to visit.

[pokemonmasterpaulo]

Row On (Part 2)

[Rusty]

I wave yellow fliers as people pass by. “Join Crew!” I shout over them. A few people jump back in fear, while others grab the fliers tentatively.

While waiting for his friends to finish talking with Coach, a sophomore stands in front of the Tri-fold poster board and examines the whole thing with a huge smile on his face. He moves closer to read the captions under the photos, then trace the bubble letterings of “UMBC CREW” I had glued on top of the board. I’m really hoping he doesn’t see some of the misspelled words I had forgot to correct while finishing the board this morning.

“I can’t believe you guys actually raced against schools like Harvard and Yale.” He exclaims with wonder. “What’s it like?”

I let out a hearty laugh and scratch the back of my head. “I haven’t done that yet. I just joined the club last semester!”

He silently mouths the word “wow” before thanking me again and walking away with his friends. They disappear in the middle of the room, into a crowd of cautious students checking out the different club sports offered here at UMBC. Over twenty gray tables replace the Ping-Pong and pool tables that usually lives here in the spacious Game Room, forming a large U-shaped chain of rectangles. Fortunately for us, the Crew table sits near the main entrance to this room, so people will see us as they come in. I can hear even more noise blaring from the entrance as other clubs and groups do their best to recruit new members for the semester all throughout the Commons building.

A warm feeling wells up from my chest, and I put my hand over my heart. What if that Sophomore and everyone else show up, then end up liking Crew, just like me? I want everyone who signs up today to feel the same thing that I did when I first joined the club.

“You okay?” I hear Coach Marco ask. I see him sitting down behind our table. I’ve never seen him wear anything that looks professional, but today he’s wearing a blue checkered button-up shirt with a blue and gray striped tie that he loosened up just a bit. He even shaved the depression beard that lived on his face for a while now.

I grin as I put my hand down. “Yeah, I just I couldn’t imagine Involvement Fest happening indoors, but somehow they managed to pull it off. Plus,” I lift up the sign-up sheet. “It’s only been 10 minutes, but we already have fourteen people interested! Isn’t this great?”

Coach furrows his thick eyebrows for a moment but gives me a reassuring smile. “You’re right, and I think most of that came from your friendly attitude.”

“Yeah, you’re doing really well as our wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man.” Tucker replies. He stands next to the Tri-Fold, only wearing a pair of tight-fitting compression shorts while holding an oar with each hand. For some reason, his body has an eerie sheen under the fluorescent lights. “I mean, it’s not your fault. You’ve never raced. You barely know anything about rowing.” Tucker winks at a passing Freshman from my dorm, who immediately walks away from the table.

Coach rolls his eyes. “Leave him alone. And didn’t I tell you to put a shirt on? We’re gonna get in trouble if they see you like that.”

Tucker shrugs. “We won’t get in trouble; I’m only lightly-oiled.”

“Then, is there anything else that I can do to help?” I ask hopefully. Coach turns to me with a concerned look. “I want to pull my weight with keeping this club going.”

Tucker leans in towards Coach. “He should have said ‘Keeping this club afloat’ instead.”

Coach mutters. “Yeah, it would have been an awesome pun — I do have something for you to do!” He raises his voice so suddenly that I jump back just a bit. “You can help Dietrich and Mike bring some ergs from the RAC. They should be heading back now, but they’ll need help carrying it up here.”

“Consider it done!” I skip past the tables and make my way to the entrance of the Game Room. People immediately step aside as I get near them; I don’t blame them, because seeing someone as tall as I am skipping towards them would probably be scary.

It’s even louder outside the Game Room. The next hallway on the right leads to the “Student Orgs” space where I think all of UMBC’s Greek Life has set up tables. Banners and signs decorated in Greek letters line the hallway and well-dressed upperclassman walk past me. I could hear K-Pop blasting from speakers from the lower levels of the building. Involvement Fest truly has taken over the Commons today.

After almost slipping twice on the main stairs of the building, I hear someone scream “RUSSELL RAPTOR!” somewhere nearby. Before I even turn around, I could hear Liza running towards me from the side. I bend my knees just a bit and catch her just as I turn around. She always smells like lemons and oranges, so I could feel my sinuses clear up immediately.

“LIZA LLAMA!” I shout back at her. We let go of each other and take a few steps back. She wears her small red coat over her Hello Kitty t-shirt, making her look even younger than she is. She seems to be traveling light today; I know she has classes but she doesn’t have a backpack or books on her. “Where’s your— Oh.” I look behind her and see Jeremy Cazares carrying a black shoulder bag and a pink umbrella. “That’s not nice, Liza Llama. My roommate is not your butler.”

Liza and I start cackling. She grabs her bag and umbrella from Jeremy and thanks him before the three of us walk towards the lower level exit of the Commons.

“Wanna come to class with us?” Liza asks, pulling on my sleeve. “It’s just Calc 3, it’s not too bad! There’s a bunch of other Freshmen like us there so you won’t stick out!”

“Rusty’s in Pre-Calc this semester!” Jeremy chuckles, punching me on the shoulder. “And have you seen this man? He sticks out wherever he goes!”

“Well, he can just doodle on my notes!” Liza grabs her umbrella as I open the glass door for both of them. “You still owe me a drawing, remember?”

Drops of water hit my face as we leave the Commons. I completely forgot that it was raining outside. The Quad, a square patch of grass between four buildings, is the spot where Involvement Fest was held last semester. I guess it’s a good thing that they brought everything inside this time. Even the concrete trail that cuts diagonally through the Quad looks drenched in the rain. The sound of rain at least replaces the noise of Involvement Fest out here.

We pause, hesitating to walk into the cold rain. Liza hands me her umbrella. “You’re the tallest. You hold it.” With a flourish, I open up the umbrella and shield both me and Liza. She moves closer to me, hugging me just above my waist and pushing her face right below my sternum.

“Wow.” Jeremy remarks, zipping up his jacket and raising the hood over his head. “I can never get used to this. The height difference is seriously unnatural.” Liza and I look at each other. I’m just about 7’1, so the difference is probably insane to see when I’m at least 2 feet taller than her.

Half-way across the Quad, I spot Dietrich and Mike pulling four rowing machines out the backdoor of the gym. I wave at the two of them as I say goodbye to Liza and Jeremy.

“I’ll visit you later after my lecture!” Liza shouts as we begin to walk our separate ways. “I have to show you a cute puppy video that I saw last night!”

I keep waving my arms at Liza and Jeremy until I’m almost face to face with Dietrich and Mike. They’re wearing waterproof jackets, but their exposed heads are now wet thanks to the rain. I greet them both of them as we bump fists.

“Hey there, big guy. Here to lend a hand with these ergs?” Mike hands me one of the two rowing machines he has and we push them towards the Commons. Saran wrap covers the long rowing machines, shielding it surprisingly well from the rain. The tiny wheels in the front squeak as we go over puddles of water. “And you should just call him ‘Diet,’ you know. We’re all friends here. Marco is the only person who calls him by his name.”

“Speaking of friends…” Diet says, keeping his voice low. He effortlessly pushes two ergs at once next to me. Small drops of water begin to stick to his glasses, but I guess he can’t do anything about it. “That girl you were talking to…”

“Yeah, I was just telling Diet about it too!” Mike howls, pride beaming from his face. “I had no idea you had game, bro. Are you going out with her?”

I feel my face get hot as I laugh. “I haven’t asked her out, but I do have a thing for her.” Mike grabs me with his free arm and pulls me in for a hugs.

“My man, Rusty!” Mike releases me. “Just make sure to always ask for consent and always wear protection—-”

“That girl is a coxswain for Varsity.” Diet cuts in monotonously.

After a short pause, Mike turns to me. “Forget everything that I just said. Don’t date her.”

“Wha–?” My jaw hangs open.

“It’s a curse.” Diet explains, turning to me. “Dating a teammate is always a bad idea.”

“Why?” I ask, suddenly feeling concerned. “I mean, we’re not technically in the same team. She’s with the Women’s team, and we’re basically just a club, aren’t we?”

“We practice around the same time and place, though.” Diet continues as we reach the lower entrance of the Commons. He pushes the blue button on the side of the entrance, causing the doors to open automatically. “You’ve seen what happened to Marco and Lily. I’m just hoping it stays pretty tame between them.”

“But… but why is there a rule against it though?” I ask again, pushing the erg through the door and into the building. The suffocating roar of Involvement Fest surrounds me again. “I’ve been in a couple of sports teams before Crew, and I’ve never heard of that rule.”

“The reason, my friend…” Mike replies, heading towards the elevators on the right side of the lower lobby. “… is very simple to explain.”

Diet tries to suppress his laughter. “This theory again?”

“It’s a solid theory, don’t laugh.” Mike hisses, pushing the call button. The fire in his eyes matches his hair. He pulls out a pocket knife and slices up the Saran wrap on the ergs. “You see, Rusty. Everyone in crew is a little crazy. With the amount of time we train and how close we get during practice, a few people are bound to like each other. And if you combine one kind of crazy with another…”

The elevator makes a loud DING! as it reaches the bottom floor. Once it opens, Diet and Mike pushes two ergs in, struggling to make both fit inside. They twist and turn the ergs until they lift up one end and rested it above the elevator entrance.

“Uhhh can you wait out there for a bit?” Diet asks, squeezing his bulky body into the elevator. “We’ll get those ergs once we bring these out on the top floor.” He turns to Mike as the door closes, who is scrunched up in the corner to make space. “Mike… Is it just me, or are these ergs stuck?”

I throw away the plastic wrap and wait a full minute before the door opens again. This time, it’s just Mike with the ergs, still stuck in the same positions.

“Don’t worry, we’re okay.” He says quickly, breathing very heavily like he’s been lifting something. I can’t tell if he’s sweating or if he’s just wet from the rain. “Diet’s already called for help, we’ll get out of here in no time!”

“Can’t I just carry the ergs up to the Game Room?” I ask, testing the weight of one of the ergs by lifting it off the ground.

“No!” Mike exclaims. His voice makes the walls of the elevator vibrate as the door begins to close again. “Just wait here! We’ll fix this!”

Once the door shuts, I push both ergs to the stairs then turn them around so my back is facing the steps. Slowly I get on the first step and walk backwards, pulling the machines up with me. The wheels on the front of the ergs make it easy to bring up each step. They’re not as heavy as they looks, but the length, shape, and front-heavy design of the ergs make them awkward to pull up like this. I continue to breathe calmly and go up the first set of stairs carefully.

I smirk as I conquer this first challenge and set my sights on the next set. As I push the ergs on the first level I realize that I’m still a little annoyed. I just want to help out the club. There are less than 10 of us right now and every little bit should make a difference. But now, something simple like carrying these weird-looking workout machines need to be delegated to the veterans of the club. I have one semester of rowing under my belt already! I can do this!

I eventually reach the last set of stairs, but I stop and try to control my breathing. As I prepare to pull the ergs again then ascend, I feel more determined and confident about being useful to this club. I have the ergs that Coach is looking for. I’m saving the day, even if they underestimated me. And one of these days, I’ll ask out Liza to dinner and—

My right foot slips on the next step. I land on my butt and drop both ergs on the stairs, slipping further and further down.

“SHIT!”

I jump back up on my feet and reach for the ergs, but I slip on another step. I lose balance and found myself diving closer and closer to the base of the staircase.

The ergs crash first. Parts fly in all directions. I close my eyes and brace for impact.