#he's also keeping his eyes on the government agents the entire time besides when he glances over at Leo

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

I previously made a post saying "Isn't it interesting how Chase is the one with the force field but will shield the ones he loves with his body?" and while I will eventually make a compilation of this, here's a moment I like

(3x14)

When the government agents rush in Chase scoots back and puts his arm behind him to push Adam back and make sure that he's behind him

He then sweeps his arm over to push Bree back and make sure that she's behind him

Then he looks over at Leo as he moves back

He moves over to be in front of his siblings

While also reaching out and grabbing Leo to make sure that he's with him and guide him to move behind him

[aslitheryprinx]

can we get a part 2 to the smolbois inc story? What happens next to Tommy?

Sure!

Sorry this is so long; I haven't figured out how to add the read more section, and I kept thinking of more I wanted to add.

TW for a panic attack!

Rising Tensions part 2

How was he going to get out of this one?

When in doubt, Tommy thought, bluff your way out.

"And how do you know it wasn't a mouse?" He asked, acting offended. The giants exchanged a look.

"It's fucking rude to accuse someone you just met of stealing, did you know that? You're being rude right now," he said.

"You were sneaking around our house," Tubbo pointed out. Tommy puffed himself up, glaring at the giant with all the indignation he could muster.

"And did you consider that I'm lost, big man? Maybe I just wandered into your house by accident. Now you've accused me of sneaking and stealing." Ranboo raised an eyebrow.

"You came out of the walls," the taller giant said.

"Well… well," Tommy stammered, trying to come up with an excuse, "well, that's how I accidentally wandered in! We found these caves and found these caves, and they were all twisty and shit and we got lost and then ended up here." He realized his mistake and tried to backtrack. "I mean I got lost-"

"We? There are more of you?" Tubbo asked eagerly. Tommy felt a shiver of unease. Wasn't Tubbo some sort of scientist? Anything that made him sound that excited worried him. Besides he wasn't going to sell out his family just because the giant noticed his fuck up.

"It was just a slip of the tongue, man, fuck off!" He snapped.

"It sounds more like a slip up that you didn't want us knowing about. And you said 'we' twice," Tubbo argued, seeing right through his bullshit. Tommy stiffened. Why was he so bad at lying? Was Tubbo going to try and lure his family out now?

"Why are you trying to hide that there's more of you? Are you some sort of secret agent? Probably not, you're shit at lying. Maybe you're hiding someone important like a prince or government official! Or you're part of a traveling circus!" Tubbo rambled.

"There's not more of me, you dick!"

Tommy was having trouble staying calm. He'd been too busy trying to bullshit his way out of trouble that he hadn't focused on the situation he was actually in. What was going to happen to him? What would the giants do to him? If they caught his family, what would they do to them?

"Are you going to fucking let me go, now?" He snapped, only a tiny bit of the nervousness he felt creeping into his voice.

"Sure," Ranboo said.

"No," Tubbo said at the same time. Tommy's heart dropped.

"What do you mean no," Ranboo asked, sounding confused.

"I still have more questions! He can't go yet!" The smaller giant whined. So he wanted to keep Tommy here? Like a prisoner- or worse, a fucking pet. Breathing suddenly seemed really hard to Tommy.

"Like what?" Ranboo asked. Tubbo's eyes shone with excitement as he started to list off questions.

"Like where he's been living this whole time- I don't buy the mouse thing, I think it's been him and whoever else the whole time. It explains why there was no mouse shit. Also why is he here in the first place? And I wanna know about humans! What do they even eat? Is it the same as giants or something else? Where do humans even live? And how do they-"

"Tubbo! Tubbo, stop for a second," Ranboo interrupted, and Tubbo's rambling about human came to a halt. Ranboo was peering down at Tommy, the same concerned expression on his face.

"His… his heart is beating really fast," Ranboo said. Huh. Tommy hadn't really noticed, but it was pretty fast. It was kind of loud and uncomfortable now that he was paying attention.

"Oh, shit," Tubbo exclaimed. Then he was leaning down, peering at Tommy with wide eyes. A finger reached out and he flinched, but it never touched him. Ranboo had pulled him back away from Tubbo.

"Stop poking at him," the giant said, annoyed.

"I'm just trying to see if he's sick or something!" Tubbo protested.

"He's probably having a panic attack! I think we scared him," Ranboo said.

Panic attack? Wilbur and Techno both got those sometimes. He'd never had one, but hey, maybe it was genetics or some shit.

His vision went a little blurry, and he tried to breathe. It felt like something was sitting on his chest. Why was it so hard to breathe? He thought panic attacks just made you breathe really fast, not make you suffocate!

"Woah, woah! You've gotta breathe… um… human," Ranboo said awkwardly.

"Human?" Tubbo repeated, sounding unimpressed.

Tommy was trying so hard to breathe in. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, none of his breaths were doing anything. He inhaled again, and there was a slight wheeze.

"I forgot to ask his name earlier!"

"What the hell man?"

"Hey, um, what is your name?"

…

Oh god, they were talking to him.

In between the struggling breaths, Tommy tried to focus on actually listening to what was going on rather than just let the noises pass over him.

"W-what?" He asked, hating how shaky his voice sounded. He blamed it on the lack of oxygen. He was ignoring his pounding heart and shaky hands.

"Your name?" Tubbo prompted.

"T-Tommy," he managed to force out between panicked breaths.

"Ok, Tommy can you try to breathe s-" Ranboo started.

"'m fucking trying to breathe!" Tommy gasped out. He meant to sound pissed, but his voice sounded weak and shaky. He hated it.

"Slowly," Ranboo said gently. "try to breathe slower."

Tommy gave him a doubtful look.

"It'll help, I promise," Ranboo said. "I get panic attacks a lot, it really does help."

Tommy tried. He did. But he kept freaking out, thinking if he didn't keep inhaling he'd just run out of air. Some part of him recognized that breathing slowly should help, but he just couldn't quite manage to do it.

"You've got this, boss man," Tubbo said softly. "Just keep trying."

He kept trying. He felt like he was going to pass out, but he managed to force himself to take longer to breathe. It did help.

"You're doing great," Ranboo encouraged.

"Yeah! Kick it's ass!" Tubbo cheered. Tommy managed a strangled sounding laugh.

It took several painful minutes, but Tommy managed to start breathing normally again. He had a headache, but he kind of thought he'd gotten off easy. He'd seen some of Wil and Techno's attacks and they could last for hours.

Now that he understood what it really felt like, he felt a sense of horror that they had to deal with this so often, and a sense of pride that his brothers were strong enough to fight them off and keep enjoying their lives. He thinks he would hate existence if this happened to him multiple times a month.

"I'm really sorry for scaring you, Tommy," Tubbo said. Tommy was still a little nervous about what the giants wanted from him, but Tubbo seemed so genuine. It was hard to believe they wanted to hurt him when they both seemed so concerned. And they'd been really gentle so far. So maybe… maybe his fears were unfounded and he was just being a little bitch.

"As long as you're not keeping me here forever, it's fine," he said. Well, he had to make sure. Just in case. Tubbo made a face.

"What like a prisoner? That would be fucking weird, boss man. We're not doing that."

"You can leave whenever you want," Ranboo told him. "Tubbo was just being nosy earlier."

"I am not nosy!" Tubbo protested. Ranboo rolled his eyes but kept his focus on Tommy.

"Can… can I go now?" Tommy asked, putting Ranboo's statement to the test. He may have decided that the giants wouldn't hurt him, but he was still overwhelmed and ready to go home. He was exhausted from the panic attack.

"Of course," Ranboo said. He paused, and Tommy fidgeted nervously as he made no move to set him down. "Um… do you want me to set you down here or take you back to where you were earlier?"

Ah. It had only been a few quick steps for Ranboo, but it would probably take Tommy forever to get back there on his own.

"If you wouldn't mind giving me a ride, big man," he said, trying to sound causal. Ranboo grinned.

"RanUber coming up," he said.

"Why not RanbUber?- Wait."

"Oh no," Ranboo muttered as he walked across the room. Tommy felt a grin growing on his face.

"RanBOOB!" He shouted.

"Oh, wow, never heard that one before," Ranboo grumbled. "I'm putting you down now."

He lowered his hand, and Tommy hopped off onto the ground. He was a little wobbly for a second, which was weird. Maybe it was kind of like being on a boat for a while, and he had to get readjusted to solid ground.

Once he got his balance back, he started to walk towards the tiny cave entrance. He stopped when Tubbo called out.

"Wait!" Tommy tensed slightly, wondering if Tubbo was changing his mind about letting him leave. But Tubbo just sat down next to where Ranboo had crouched.

"Will you come back and talk to us sometime?" He asked. Tommy hesitated. One the one hand, the giants were kind of fun to talk to, and they had been really nice. On the other hand, they'd also been pretty scary and he wasn't entirely sure he trusted them yet.

"Maybe," he settled on. "No promises." Tubbo looked a little disappointed.

"Alright. I hope you will. Bye, Tommy."

"Bye Tommy," Ranboo echoed.

Tommy gave them one last look before he ducked back into the smaller caves. He walked towards the cave where he and his family had been living. He'd only been walking for a few minutes when he was almost bowled over by Wilbur, who was barreling around the corner like a madman. He'd barely registered who it was when he was pulled into a crushing hug.

"Ack! Wil you're squishing me!" He whined.

"Where were you? I couldn't find you anywhere, Tommy I was so worried-"

"Wil, calm down. I was just in a cave that's kind of away from the others. I… I can show you later," he offered a little reluctantly. He hadn't actually gone to the cave he meant to sulk in, but he still kind of wanted to keep it to himself.

"You- it's fine, you don't have to. Just… are you ok? You kind of look like shit." Wilbur had gone full mother hen mode, fussing over him like he was still a baby. The motherfucker was even fixing his hair. And people thought Phil was the overprotective one.

"I'm fine," he said. Wilbur didn't look convinced.

"I'm fine now," he amended. He added quietly, "I uh… I kind of had a panic attack." Wilbur clutched him tighter. God this bitch was clingy when he was upset. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to complain though. The hug felt kind of nice.

"Toms, I'm so fucking sorry," Wilbur said.

"Huh?" What was he talking about?

"About what I said earlier." Oh shit, Tommy had forgotten all about the fight. A little bit of guilt churned in his stomach.

"I should not have said that. I was just pissed, and being a dick, and wanted to say something to make you feel bad. But it was such a stupid thing to say."

"Why, because it's true?" Tommy muttered glumly.

"No, because it's a fucking lie, Tommy, and I never should have said it," Wilbur said fiercely.

"But-"

"You didn't know," Wilbur cut him off. "It's not your fault anymore than it is my fault for jumping down after you when you fell, or Techno's for getting us lost, or Phil's for taking us camping to begin with. Not your fault. Alright?"

"Alright, Wil," Tommy muttered. He was still being held hostage by Wilbur's clingy octopus impression. He really had been worried. It was a good thing that Tubbo and Ranboo weren't all that bad, or who knows how freaked out Wil would've gotten.

It occurred to Tommy that he should probably tell his family that he talked to the giants. That they knew Tommy was there, and knew others were with him. It seemed like something important. But… he kind of wanted to talk to them again. He didn't think Wil would let him go if he found out, let alone his actual father.

So he just… didn't say anything. They didn't need to know. If it ever came up, well… he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Part one

[spideyspeaches]

Roller-coaster ↬ p.p

gif’s not mine

A/N: My take on What if Peter was in Wandavision? But with a twist ;) Beta read by my wifey @stars-aligning​ 🥰🥰

Warnings: canon typical voilence? mentions of death. Also the timeline doesn’t really make sense, just pretend everyone is of the same age. OH and Wandavision spoilers :)

WC: 9k (longest one shot I’ve ever written 😭)

Pairing: Peter Parker x ex!Reader 

Masterlist || Taglist

"Ben? What's wrong? Why are you looking at her like that?" 

"I- I don't. I don't know. She seems familiar." 

"Familiar? Familiar how?" 

"Like her and I don't belong here. Like we're from another world." 

Working with Tony Stark as his intern, then head of the R&D and now working in the labs as the head of the department felt surreal, a fresh breath of air every time he looked at his desk, with his name written on it. It had been Peter’s dream to meet Tony Stark, maybe work with him too.

And then he got bit by a radioactive spider, giving him super strength, super eyesight and apparently super luck too, because though he liked to think that he was working in SI due to his intelligence, the spider bite did play a role in becoming his mentor’s favourite intern, without which he might have not had a chance to meet him hands on.  

Tony kept reminding him that even if Peter had not been bit by the spider, he would have still secured a high position in Stark Industries, with his disarming intelligence that rivaled Tony’s own and charmingly trippy personality. 

Peter begged to differ. But then again, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in it’s mouth. Ever since he was a bushy haired, rosy cheeked jittery teenager, he had always worshiped the ground Tony walked on. 

Peter remembers the day he got an anonymous letter, which turned out to be SHIELD's handiwork, asking him to join them in their base in New York, even if he insisted that he wasn't interested in being a superspy wannabe. He was skeptical at first, why would the most paranoid of paranoid agents send him a letter in mail? Him, twenty three years old Peter Parker, who lives in a shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with termite issues and smokes weed like the government is going to ban tobacco and is barely able to take care of himself with the overload of work. 

Maybe it was just his Parker luck, or the fact that he was a freelance vigilante who looked after New York in a skintight spandex suit, because the safety of the people was apparently second in priority to the government. They'd rather have people die than have an illegal protector. 

Yeah so Peter was salty, and what about It?

Slinging his satchel higher, he saw the sleek black car in confusion, trying to get a look at the number plate before the lift binged on arrival, walking into the open door. He swore he was either hallucinating or in midst of an intense flashback of the events that lead to what people dubbed as the 'Civil War', back to when he had been shaken out of his mind watching Tony Stark eat his aunt’s homemade walnut date loaf that had more salt than sugar.

His thoughts were put to a halt when he entered his and his aunt's old apartment in Queen’s after a long week of Spidey on mission and nearly getting (illegally) fired, footsteps coming to a pit stop. It's not like it's everyday you come face to face with Agent Coulson, Nick Fury and your ex not- really- girlfriend, somehow all in one day all together. 

"So… um. What are you- What are you guys doing here again?" he asked, folding his hands on his chest defensively, leaning into his aunt's side as he whispered, "how long have they been sitting here?" from the corner of his mouth.

Fury raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at him with a dagger for eye, making Peter shift nervously. Agent Coulson looked uncomfortable and You, You looked strangely in your element, sitting on the couch with one leg over the other, a neutral expression on your face. 

Back when he was still in high school, when he'd first met you, he used to be in awe of how outgoing you were, seemingly adjusting in whichever situation you were thrown in. You had always accommodated to your surroundings, but with a start he realised that he had never seen you so… You in a while. 

Not during your visit to the Avengers tower, not during the first time you came into his bedroom, all alone. Not when he had seen you take down a mugger on your way home from your first date without even as much as batting an eye.

"They were here ten minutes or so before you came home. It's creepy, as if they knew you were visiting," May answered with a whisper, wearily eyeballing them before moving towards the kitchen, leaving Peter unattended to Your and Fury's piercing gazes. 

"I'm sure they know my monthly schedule before I do," Peter said, turning to look at the aforementioned agents. "So... you like, work for SHIELD, too?" He asked, wringing his hands to abate the tension in them. 

"Yes, she does, but that's not what we're here for, Mister Parker," Fury said in his gruff voice, sitting back with a sauve expression. Peter gulped as Agent Coulson looked him in the eye, finally noticing the thin file he held in his hands. 

"Well what are you here for?" Peter asked, mustering up some confidence as he tried not to look at You or the eye that Fury had that wasn’t covered by the patch.

"We need you to come to Westview, New Jersey with us," You said, a final no nonsense undertone in your voice. He shuddered when he heard you, remembering how soft and sweet you used to be. But that was before you disappeared out of nowhere, and apparently that nowhere was with SHIELD. 

"Me as in Peter Parker or Spider-Man?" he asked, looking behind his shoulder to make sure May wasn't listening. It's not like she didn't know about his… nightly whereabouts, he just wasn't comfortable with making her worry. She already had too much to deal with, with the nephew by day and vigilante by night thing he had going on.

It was also a little concerning that the three in front of him knew that he was visiting her today. He wondered if his apartment was bugged (well, more than the daily roaches and ants) or if SHIELD had been keeping an eye on him after he had denied their offer, instead opting to stay in SI.

It was probably the second one, although the first one was entirely a possibility. He was going to need to talk with Mister Stark about debugging his shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. 

"We need Peter Parker and his tech skills for this one," Fury said, before shoving the file in Peter's hands and crossing his own, “and my offer still stands.”

"For the last time, I'm not joining your little murderous boy band," Peter grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked at your twitching lips, as if holding in laughter. "I'm perfectly content with working with Dr. Connors in his little laboratory in SI." 

Fury didn’t look convinced and opened his mouth to probably threaten Peter, when Aunt May came in with a tray of cookies. They smelled amazing, too good to be made by her, she probably brought them from Delmer’s.

“Oh- Were you…? I just thought you guys might want to eat something,” She said awkwardly, looking at Peter with pleading eyes.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, May! I would love to eat some of those, I’m famished,” You butt in, taking the tray from her with a smile.

“Um, May, you can um- you know?” Peter gestured, shifting on his legs, hoping that May would get the message before she stood for a minute too long. He didn’t like the way Nick Fury’s eye was looking at him, his tranquilizer gun suddenly visible from his leather jacket.

“Don’t be rude Pete, here May, I’ll help you get that.” You smiled, winking at him and dragging May by her arm, who was mouthing “she’s such a sweetheart” behind her shoulders. 

"What if I told you that his man accidently got evicted due to some legal issues? And that now you're legally unemployed with severe financial issues that need to be looked after because the government suspects something illegal brewing?" Fury continued, looking him dead in the eye.

"Are you seriously blackmailing me? Threatening to unemploy me after all that shit you put me through with Mysterio?" Peter defended, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, watching you strutt back into the room, distracted by the sway of your hips in your mom jeans. He tried to shake the image, rolling his head to crack some tension that had built at the base of his skull.

"Mysterio was a mistake, Parker. This one is not; and we really need you for this one. Besides, remember that you're still a vigilante that hasn't signed the Accords of Sokovia." 

Peter stiffened that the mention of the Accords. He thought the government was over it after the second amendment after the arrest of Thaddeus Ross, but apparently not.

"You said that last time and I almost died! My ex-girlfriend almost died, my best friend nearly died, heck half of Europe almost died because you Director Fury, apparently trust some superhero wannabe in a green and purple costume and overlook facts that could potentially harm someone. So the answer is clearly no!" he retorted, flopping the file on the table as he resisted the urge to sit on the floor flat on his back. 

The three agents were looking at him with an unreadable expression, making him uncomfortable in his skin. 

"Well, it's all up to you then." His voice had a finality to it, one that irked him to no end.

"Do I have a choice?" He sighed after a beat, looking at the three of you with a forlorn expression. 

"Get your equipment ready, Mr. Parker. We'll be leaving for the camp tonight. You can read the details in this file." He heard Agent Coulson say (he was pretty sure his name was Phil), trying to make sense of how fast everything was going past the chronic tinnitus in his ears.

"It's Dr. Peter Parker," he muttered fruitlessly, blushing under your raised eyebrow. 

***

"So, I didn't know you got a PhD. I knew you were smart, still are, considering that you're a PhD at twenty two," You said, sipping on your virgin mojito, and placing the mug in front of you. 

Peter had taken you to a cafe after the confrontation, wanting to know more about your whereabouts and how he had not noticed that you were a superspy all of his high school years. You had retorted with a simple "I'm a spy, that's why,” which he found pretty badass.

"Well, yeah, I did my undergraduate and PhD together." He shrugged casually, looking out of the window to avoid looking at you. 

You had always been beautiful, but somehow, you had become even more beautiful than the last time Peter saw you. 

"That sounds brutal. Only you can manage that," You joked. You weren't going to admit it, but you had missed being with Peter, joking with him and watching his beautiful side profile as he blushed under your scrutinizing gaze.

"So, um. This thing, what is it about?" Peter asked, snapping you out of your daze. 

"Huh? Oh it's a long story. Like really long, if this was a TV show it would take five episodes for me to explain." You gestured, dismissing his scowl. "Okay, so you remember that time when that super high security facility was broken in back in december 2019?" 

"Which super high facility? There are a lot of break ins happening in high security facilities in America, and it's more than concerning, considering they're supposed to be super high security." He said, fiddling with his own drink. 

"Okay, Yeah that's true. It was a S.W.O.R.D facility, and long story short, Wanda Maximoff kidnapped her corpse husband to reenact the dad-knows-best suburban lifestyle with an entire town held as her hostage." You said, looking over your shoulders to make sure no one was listening. 

"Wanda stole Vision's corpse? Wait, is this about Westview? 'The Town that ceased to exist'? Is that what happened? Is this some sort of mind control thing? Cause I know she can make people believe what she wants them to..." Peter whispered, leaning in to show that he was interested. You took a moment to admire his front profile, his broken nose and dimpled chin, rosy lips and sharp cheekbones, accidently zoning out on his theories.

Leaning forward, you brought a hand up his face, pushing a stray curl behind his ears, cutting him short of his rambling. 

"W-what?" He stuttered, his breath hitching, making the table shake with a wince. 

"You have nice hair." You commented with a smirk, caressing his hair one more time. 

"You said that in the senior's party too, and well, there's no sex happening anytime soon." He said, rolling his eyes, sitting back in his hair with his hands folded on his chest.

"I like being optimistic." You rolled your own eyes, heart beating a mile a minute at the reminder of your relationship- ex relationship with Peter, "so what were you saying about Westview? I kind of zoned out." 

You watched him roll his eyes again, trying not to let your eyes wander around his biceps and the little bit of his collarbones peeking from his shirt, unbuttoned from the top, also exposing the thin chain that he always seems to be wearing. With a start you realised that it was the one you had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday.

"So this town, Westview, it just disappeared right? Behind a barrier of sorts? Is it like, coming from an energy source? Was it created by Wanda?  " he asked, ever his inquisitive self.

"Yeah, apparently she's created an alternate reality, sitcom style, with the people of Westview trapped in it." 

"So she's basically starring in a fanfiction alternate reality of sorts but a sitcom format? Wouldn't blame her, poor woman's been through a lot." He nodded, shifting in his seat. He could feel your eyes burning a hole in his skull, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you staying in a hotel? Or a shield facility?" 

"Nope," You answered, leaning back on your chair. "Am I still allowed to stay in your room? With the doors open?"

He watched you with narrowed eyes, tilting his head with a smirk, replying to you with a nod, "alright." 

*** 

"Did you pack your mittens? The extra warm ones with a built in heater? You know you're susceptible to frost bites-" 

"May! I packed my mittens." Peter murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment as he raised an eyebrow at your amused smile. 

"Okay, okay, that's great. Socks? Painkillers? Extra pair of glasses?" she asked, fumbling around the room like she did whenever he went on field trips. 

"Yes, May!" 

"Great. Stay safe, okay?" Her eyes softened, holding his cheeks in his hand like he was a seven year old, living with them with a knowledge of death no seven year old should have. Sighing, he leant into her palm, holding his own hand encompassing her small one. Giving her a smile, he kissed her cheek. “Ti amo, May. I’ll call you once I get there, okay?” 

She nodded, pulling him into her embrace, though she knew full well that he’s going to forget to call her, too excited to be in the vicinity of multiple certified geniuses and other figures of authority. 

***

"Is there anything I should know about? Like anything unexpected?" Peter asked, looking at the camp in awe as the jeep pulled over makeshift gates, a bunch of soldiers surrounding them. 

Peter was used to seeing the hustle and bustle of camps, considering all the missions he had gone through with the Avengers, back when Steve wasn’t retired and the newer generation of avengers hadn’t entered. 

“Your blood’s radioactive, right?” You asked, turning to face him with a smile. 

“Yeah. Why? Is that relevant?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he saw someone carrying his bags before he could protest. 

“Well, Dr. Lewis found out about this hexagonal anomaly, no one really knows what it is, but the source seems to be emitting huge amounts of radiations,” You said, getting off the jeep, pulling Peter out with you. Walking towards the crowded camp, you came face to face with the tent where everything was set up.

“Doctor Darcy Lewis?” Peter said, looking at the place in awe. It wasn’t extravagant, but the technology surrounding the tent, the vans and what seemed to be a broadcasting antenna were all way beyond the regular one used in tech companies, which is funny, considering he’s been working with Mr. Stark his whole teenage life. 

“Yup, that’s her, nerd.”

“So, what exactly is this Hexagon? Is it, like, a barrier of sorts? Can everyone go in?” He asked, looking around with glinting eyes, lips twitching in a smirk as he saw the barrier in question. His super hearing caught the static sound it emitted, wincing at the sharp noises. His boots crunched under the snow as he felt the thing pull him towards it, your voice muffled by the noises of the hex. 

It was something he had never seen before, like the static of a TV with a lost signal, glowing red in places as if reaching out to him. His senses seemed dull, the world greying around the way it had before he was bit by the radioactive spider. The spider bite had enhanced his vision in a way that he saw colours not visible to the human eye, a technicolour wonder that even Bruce couldn’t solve. 

He felt a tug, looking down at his shoes, wondering if he had just imagined it. 

“Mom and dad have been, not fighting, just like different.”

He swore he felt a white light flash in front of him, his spidey sense buzzing at the base of his skull, tingling all the way to his spine as he straightened up to dissipate the feeling, shifting awkwardly.

“Only Captain Rambeau has gone in and come back intact so far. It’s emitting a colossal amount of cosmic microwave background radiation, also known as CMBR, and once you get into it, your mind doesn’t really stay your own, so no one has volunteered other than her. Everyone knows the risk,” You said, startling him, a sharp contrast to the voices that seemed to have suddenly accumulated in his brain. 

“If you’re going to break the sound barrier, please just take your brother with you!”  

‘Sound barrier?’ he thought, looking back at the hex as it flashed red, the tug strong enough to make him stumble in his place. You looked at him weirdly, asking if he was okay, but he wasn’t listening, turning to ask you what the red flash meant, distortion evident in the barrier.

“Captain Rambeau? The daughter of the director of SWORD?” he asked instead. 

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Damn.” He sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair, and dragging it down his face. 

Walking inside the tent, Peter was hit with a face full of cold air, and the hundreds of monitors nearly gave him a sensory overload. The people running around didn’t help, either. “Where do I keep this?” He asked, pointing to his bag full of equipment that Fury had asked for. 

“You can set up over here, newbie,” A new voice said chirpily. Turning around, he came face to face with the Darcy Lewis, eyes widening as he took in her smiley presence, another human who he didn't recognise standing behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Doctor D-”

“Darcy Lewis, I know- I’m a fan!” 

“Aw look at you, you have a fanboy at your hand,” Captain Monica Rambeau said, strutting in and keeping a hand on her shoulder, confidence radiating off of her every pore. 

"And… You are?" he asked awkwardly, looking pointedly at the FBI agent. He saw Darcy hide a snicker behind her hand, patting his shoulder and shoving him forward. 

The man fell forward, steadying himself on the table before he flicked a card seemingly out of nowhere. "Agent Jimmy Woo, FBI,” he said proudly, a smile on his cute little baby face. Peter was left staring in awe, wondering how he had done that.

"Wait, can you do that again? How did you do that?!" 

"It's cool, isn't it? I could teach you if you want." 

"Yes, of course, but how did you do it? It appeared out of nowhere and if you take in consideration the law of conservation of mass, it can neither be created nor be destroyed and it just seemed to have accumulated-" 

"It's a trick of illusion. You see, when I opened my palms, I-" 

"Peter, let's set things up shall we?" You interrupted their session, a smirk on yours and the other women's faces, shaking your head.

Ditching the bag on the counter, he nodded, willing his heart to stop beating out of his chest. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him next to Tony Stark sitting on his aunt’s old futon. And the magic trick.

“This is the coolest day of my life,” he whispered, shrugging when you chuckled at his excitement. “Ned’s going to freak out.” 

“Wait until you see the schematics and control panels.” You smirked, making him raise an eyebrow as he blushed, the flush apparent from his neck to his ear. The others scattered just as he finished setting his station up, fidgeting with the radio, when the voice of Hayward boomed across the cubicle. 

“Ah, Mister Parker!” he says, a faux smile on his face as he looks at the station, making Peter shift uncomfortably. The weird tingling of his spidey-sense came up again, his hand automatically reaching there to scratch at the itch.

“Here we go again,” Darcy muttered, patting Peter’s back, her eye roll loud enough for him to glance at her. 

“It- It’s doctor,” he muttered, hearing a “he gets me” from Darcy.

“Very well, Doctor Parker it is, then. I’m Hayward, welcome to SWORD.”

“SWORD? I thought this was a SHIELD thing?” 

“...Fury didn’t brief you?”

“He did! He was just very vague, hence why I’m asking. What exactly have I been called here for?”

The silence that took over was palpable, with you shifting awkwardly as Hayward eyeballed them all, looking at the five of them morosely before saying, “Brief him Monica,” and leaving.

“God, is every higher official such a dick here?” Peter grumbled, watching him retreat, shaking his head as he threw the ball of paper he hadn’t noticed he had been fidgeting with.

“See? He agrees, I like him.” Darcy nodded, pulling him with her towards the briefing table. 

“This all started when the town of Westview disappeared after the second blip,” Monica said, pulling up holographs that showed the image of people reappearing from the snap, his breathing increasing in pace as he remembered vaguely of his own reappearance. 

The whole situation was fucked up. After stealing Vision’s corpse, Wanda had basically resurrected him, holding and controlling thousands of people, an entire fucking town. Looking at the list of all the missing people, his eyes zeroed on to one particular face. He racked his memory to remember who exactly it was, mouth hanging open when he realised who exactly she was.

“Is that… is that Agatha Harkness?” Peter said, pointing at the woman who had no name written under her photograph.

“You know her real name?” Darcy asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he nodded, wringing his hands around.

“Yeah, Wanda told me about her, she’s the witch from the Salem trials!”

“How is she significant to the plot, though?”

“She... she mentored Wanda, before she went to the dark side." 

In the time he knew Wanda, she had been the sweetest person ever. She was like an older sister he didn’t know he needed, empathising with him on a cosmic level. They had come close before the events of Thanos happened. She was his person, and they shared a lot of secrets, this one being one of them.

“That’s one connection to her. What about the others? She keeps telling Vision that she doesn’t know what’s happening, but when the drone strike happened, she looked straight at the camera, like she knew,” Monica intervened.

“He tried to deploy a drone strike? In front of her children, after knowing very well that she saw her parents die in the Sokovian attack when she was ten? Is he fucking insane?!” Peter seethed, nearly crashing his fist on the table hard enough for cracks to appear on it. 

“Peter, hey, calm down! You breaking things is not going to make the situation any better, okay? He already tried to chuck us out of this, you don’t go around breaking things now!” You said, holding him still as his body shook. You had never seen him this angry, and frankly, you would never want to see it again. 

Peter was a sweet person, respecting people’s boundaries and always so understanding. He was the embodiment of good, even after living a fucked up life, he never projected his trauma on the other. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, and your heart clenched every single time, seeing him in pain. 

"Listen, that's my sister in there, and she has no idea what she's doing. She needs our help and I'll do anything to help that woman and if you guys even think of hurting her I will make sure each of you regret it," Peter hissed, staring daggers at the silent team members of the room. 

“Is there any way to reach there?” he asked, more softly than before. Darcy exchanged a look with Agent Woo and Monica, opening her mouth before knowing better and shutting it. “What?! Is there a way to communicate with her?”

“Follow us,” the brown woman said, breathing deeply as she looked at the other two silently. 

"Where are we going?" Peter asked, fidgeting with your fingers. He hadn't noticed himself holding your hands, your lips twitching when you realised he had done that unconsciously.

“Trust me, I don’t know half the things these ladies do,” Woo whispered, and Peter nodded along seriously. 

“Whoa, I feel like there’s a secret underground base here! Is there a secret underground base?” 

“Well, it’s not underground, and not really a secret anymore,” Captain Rambeau said, unravelling a curtain, revealing a small space with a million monitors and a wooden desk littered with laptops and too many empty coffee cups. 

“This is so cool,” You whispered, watching in awe as Dracy lit up the screens, revealing various codes and stuff you didn’t really understand. Peter was already invested, babbling about codes and addresses and hidden files within hidden files, things that flew over your head at the speed of Darcy’s fingers on the keypad.

Leaning on the table with one hand, Your eye caught a flat round metal looking thing on the ground, picking it up and tracing it with your fingers. “Is this… a bullet?!” 

“Yeah, it was hit on that suit, which turns out to be 87% kevlar. That happened when Captain shot at it,” Jimmy answered, giving you a smile as you dropped your jaw. 

“She went in wearing a bulletproof vest right? Wanda just… manifested a dress made of kevlar?” You wondered, your words interrupted by Peter’s yelp.

“So, remember how Director Douchebag ordered a drone strike on Wanda?” she said, contemplating her words next as everyone turned towards her. “Turns out he’s been planning something else.” 

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked, pointing at the screen, which displayed two boxes full of what seemed like cells.

“That’s Monica’s blood work, he’s been tracking it the whole time. The first time you travelled to the hex? It changed your cellular structure on a molecular level, twice.” She said. 

A sombre expression took over the older woman’s face, pursing her lips. “He thinks I’m gaining powers.” Monica nodded.

“I may not be a genetic engineer, but from what I’m seeing here, he’s most likely right,” Peter interrupted, a silence taking over everyone. “He’s keeping track of the enhanced, if I’m not wrong.” 

Shaking his head, he clenched his eyes when he heard another voice. You watched him weirdly, reaching to ask him if he was okay, before retracting your hand.

“Chill out sis, it’s not like you can kill your dead husband twice.” 

“You’re right. He’s been tracking everyone who’s enhanced, including Vision.” Dracy said, typing something on the screen to show you the map of Westview, pulsing red and blue dots appearing in your sight.

“Do you know what his endgame is?”

“Yeah. Rebooting Vision.” 

Peter inhaled sharply, trying not to let his face show the anger inside him as he looked at Monica with wide eyes, both of them looking at each other dangerously, both of them realising same thing.

“Then, I’m going in. Someone needs to tell her,” he said, looking at the others for affirmation.

You took a step back, gulping in anticipation of his words. Reaching out with a hand, you stared at him, hoping he wouldn't lash out. "Peter, you have to know, the hex is a dangerous place. You won't even remember who you are so there’s no point in you going in. You won’t be able to convince her to magically leave her hostages, she’ll just see you as an outsider and throw you out-" 

"Captain Rambeau went in and she was able to get out!" he argued.

"Peter, I was tossed out because she saw me as a threat. She might not do that to you but going in that thing is dangerous, especially with your mutations-" 

"I don't give a fuck about my mutation! You of all people should know how it feels like to lose family, Monica," Peter said, looking at her. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes. No one dared to intervene. 

"Peter, your mutation could potentially kill you. You know the risks of going past the barrier due to your enhancements. The radiations are altering DNA to a molecular level, your cells-”

"-are already metastasizing! My spider DNA is going to get me killed some day because my body won’t be able to handle it anymore, so I don't care, I'm going and that's final." He nodded, puffing his chest to show that he wasn't going to step down. 

"Fine, I'll come with you then," You said, looking at him as you said that. A lump formed in your throat as you realised that he was so willing to sacrifice himself, and blood pumped in your veins as determination set in along with a rush of adrenaline. 

"Do as you please." He shrugged, pursing his lips, but his eyes were a different story. You felt sick, insides tearing themselves up as you took a good look at him and his pallor, the artificial lights illuminating the scar tissues on his face. Ones that you knew were inflicted by his years of being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. 

***

“Maximoff is never gonna negotiate with us,” Hayward said, circling the table as Monica looked at him with disbelief in her expression. “We’ll need all the guns we have here to stop her.”

“We can’t outgun her, but what we can do is try and talk her out of this. Antagonising her is only making things worse. If Wanda is the problem, she has to be our solution!” Monica argued, looking forward.  

“She’s already killed thousands during the Sokovian attack. How do you guarantee that she won’t kill another person she finds threatening?!”

“She was guilty about it. It wasn’t her fault, do not bring that into this.” 

“Yeah? Well, the guilt isn’t going to bring back the dead children is it?” 

"The dead children aren't coming back, but those people trapped in Westview? They can, if you fucking let us!" 

"Fine. But someone will be monitoring you."

Negotiations with your boss and commanding team of SWORD concerning the ship was a tough feat. you had finally convinced them to let you and Peter go across the border, but Darcy and Monica were to be on the radio in case everything went amiss.

Sitting in the (illegally acquired) van, you watched Jimmy, who was trying to teach Peter the card trick, invested in the trick yourself. Leaning forward to get a better view, you tried not to let the rush of blood in your cheeks get to you at the close proximity with Peter, heart pounding with every step you took closer to the hex. 

“I did it! I finally did it, Y/N, look!” Peter said, showing you the trick, smiling at his childlike enthusiasm. 

“That’s great! You should show it to Morgan, she’ll like it.” 

“How do you know about Morgan?”

“I know everything.”

You may have been bluffing, but he seemed to have caught on your cue, the awkward tension reappearing as he shifted in his seat, twisting and turning and going back to the magic trick. You tried not to smile, but your mouth never did coordinate with your brain. 

“We’re here,” the driver said, parking the van. 

“Okay let’s go through this again: Captain Rambeau and Dr. Lewis will be on the radio while you try and get in, stay near a radio as much as you can so we can try and communicate, and do not try to meddle with Wanda,” Jimmy said, going over your checklist. 

You were skeptical of the plan, thinking about how successful your mission was going to be, considering how powerful she had become in her own little sitcom. You had heard of her expanding the borders just after you had started driving near it. 

“You ready?” Peter asked, taking your hand as you nodded, and wrapped your fingers around his knuckles, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, looking over your shoulders to see the FBI agent giving you a thumbs up, muttering something into the comms. Looking back at Peter, you felt dizzy with the buzzing anxiety, the pull of the barrier strong. 

Stepping close to it, you felt electricity buzz in your veins, shuddering at the chilling sensation and sudden exposure to stimuli, your gut twisting the more your hand went in the hexagonal anomaly. You swore you felt your physical being tear apart, your life flashing in front of you in a white hot light, your brain was practically mush with how much force you needed just to get in. 

"I thought we would be able to get in easily!" Peter shouts, his screams echoing in your eardrums, mixed with your own screams. 

"She's becoming more powerful the longer she stays inside, and so is the hex," You replied, gasping for a breath as you tried to move forward.

With a final scream, you closed your eyes at the static sound bombarded your ears, you couldn't fathom how loud it must be for Peter, sending a look towards him. His eyes were scrunched, hands curled around his head and ears to stop the sound. Before you could comment on his state, your own vision doubled, bright green and magenta lights appearing out of nowhere, the coiling of your gut intensifying, and before you knew it, the strong force pulled you inside, throwing you off on the hard concrete of the road, and everything went dark.

***

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Everything is alright,”  Wanda said, repeating the phrase like a mantra as she sat on the couch. 

She repeated the phrase like clockwork, just like being a mom to two half synthezoid pre-teens and the gatekeeper of Westview. Snapping out of her daze, she felt something in her brain stir, realising with a start that something had been messing with the barrier-- or, rather, someone.

Closing her eyes, she willed her powers, similar to the ones Tommy had, to look past the barrier, opening her eyes with a flash when she saw a familiar face.

“Peter,” she muttered, the brown eyed boy who she had come to think of as a brother materialising in front of her, dropping on the carpet with a thud as his unconscious form fell on top of Yours. Wanda remembered you from all the stories Peter had told her about. 

Crouching down, she reached out to touch you both. Her eyes glowing red as she held a finger to your and his forehead, scrunching her eyelids as she navigated both of your heads.

A lonely young girl was seen sitting on a rock, the wind blowing wisps of her dark hair along with her dress. Suddenly, the noise of clucking of horseshoes could be heard, a woman coming into view as she got off her horse. 

“Feeling lonely and afraid at the middle of the night when you’re a young and beautiful teenage girl?” the woman in the cowgirl shoes said, holding her hip as the girl nodded. “Well, don’t worry, every young girl must have a sword at her disposal!” 

“A sword?” the young girl asked, tilting her head as she took the object in her hand.

“Yes, a s.w.o.r.d, my dear. Fear not, for the sword will protect you from all the hexes around you.”

The girl smiled, looking at the camera with the cowgirl’s hands on her shoulder. “A sword to protect the young!” 

Buy now at your nearest convenience store, terms and conditions apply.

“What are you two doing here and not at school?” Wanda chortled, startling the two who were now very much conscious. The boy moved, fisting his eyes, and he curled his hands to stretch the kinks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the varsity jacket scrunching underneath his fists. 

“Babe?” the boy groaned, messing up his hair, looking at the general direction of the girl. 

Putting on a smile, Wanda folded her arms, biting her lips at how adorable the two of you were.

“Ben? Is that you?” the girl asked, looking at her disheveled frock with a confused expression, finally noticed the woman standing in front of her. “Oh my god, babe, I swear we were at the bleachers not long ago. Did you manifest teleportation powers now?” 

“Miss Maximoff! You’re Billy and Tommy’s mom! Babe, we’re in Billy and Tommy’s house!” The guy, Ben said, his voice rising up an octave as he looked at his surroundings. 

He couldn't remember much about the Maximoffs, except that his neighbours talk about the weird mom and dad almost everyday in the gossip sessions. Whatever, he wasn't interested in them.

"She turned them into teenagers." 

"Well there goes our plan. Do we still have back up ready?" 

“That’s right, kids. Now, what were you two naughty children doing out of school?” Wanda asked, helping the two kids get up as the boy blushed, stuttering an apology.

“We- we weren’t ditching, I swear, Miss Maximoff! We were just-”

"-Doing homework! Because… because Ben's a nerd and he doesn't like that he gets behind because of the baseball team!" the girl said, stuttering as Ben nodded along with her.

“Yeah! We weren't making out or anything! Even if we're totally dating." 

Their relationship wasn't exactly your normal relationship. It was more of a… mutually beneficial relationship. 

Well, so far they had the entire town fooled, having them all think that a guy such as Benjamin Fitzpatrick would ever date a girl like her, who liked her books more than her siblings. 

"Hmm, well, thankfully, I'm a cool mom and I will not tell your parents about this… thing. Whatever it was. Anyone want cheesecake?" Wanda smiled, clapping her hands once as she looked at the two teenagers. 

Ben's stomach growled at the thought of food. "You don't have to do it, Miss Maximoff, but I would love some," he said, sheepishly looking at the ground, and wincing at another growl. 

Wanda chuckled, patting the boys back kindly. "Oh honey, it's alright. Come on, don't be shy, the both of you!" she said, looking over her shoulder and saying, "and it's just Wanda! Miss Maximoff makes me feel old, you know." 

They followed her to the kitchen, taking in the interior of the house. Ben's eyes caught something from the corner, it was almost as if it was… flickering? Shaking his head, he dug his fingers in his eyes, wondering if he was still feeling the effects of the time he had hit his head during the baseball practice. 

"You okay?" the girl asked, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

"Yeah, probably the aftereffects of a concussion." He nodded, burrowing his brows in confusion. 

"Hmm, should probably get that thick little noggin of yours checked by the nurse." She snickered, hitting his shoulders playfully. Her heart was beating fast, he noted, wondering how he could hear it so clearly. The thought that he would have to leave her after she gets a date for prom made him sad. 

They may be faking their relationship, but he had caught on very fast and realised that he wanted it to be real. As real as the town of Westview.

Wait, what?

"You know we don't have to pretend anymore, right?" Ben said, looking at the girl as she came to a halt. Miss Maximoff was nowhere in sight, the house eerily silent with her heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

"This is the best ship SWORD could ever make." 

The awkward silence was interrupted by the opening of the front door, a loud jingle as Agnes came strutting in, a big smile on her face. It made Ben's neck sting weirdly, slapping his hand at the base to nullify the feeling. 

"Hello, children! What are you doing, skipping school like the little troublemakers you are?" She grinned, pinching each of their cheeks as her voice took a baby-like tone to it. Ben took a step back, grimacing as she continued pinching his cheeks. 

"Um, we weren't- we have no idea actually-" 

"Agnes! Oh, what great timing! Were you here for Billy and Tommy?" Wanda came in, a plate full of cheesecake and crackers in her hand. 

"Oh, Wanda, Wanda, Wanda! Your little troublemakers are already in my house, or did you forget?" She chuckled, the sound of her laughter taking a higher pitch. 

Wanda furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, a grin taking over. "Right. Yeah, of course! They really love it there with you, huh?" 

"That's right, everybody loves Auntie Agnes!" 

Ben looked at his girlfriend again, feeling strangely out of place between the two women. 

"Um, Miss Ma- Wanda? C-Can we go now? I feel like-" 

"Oh, Ben, don't be ridiculous! Why don't you sit down and take a breather? You look pale, hon." Wanda smiled, setting down the plate and ushering the two kids on the table, both of whom looked at the table with hunger in their eyes. Well, it had been long since lunch break. 

"Thank you for the cheesecake Mi- uh, Wanda, we appreciate it," the girl said, promptly digging in after the affirmation. 

***

Vision knew something was wrong the moment Agnes showed signs of knowing what was going on. The first time it happened, he was sure his paranoid wife would do something, but she had continued to act as if nothing was wrong with Agnes' behaviour. 

Walking down the road in his ridiculous costume, he nearly sighed in resignation, before he realised that he wasn't capable of such human actions. 

One more thing that perplexed him to no end was his strangely human behaviour. It was as if someone was forcing him to act more human, some weird force that was so unlike Wanda's warm presence, something more foreign and way out of his realm (like the gum incident. He sure did remember Wanda chastising him for doing this atrocity, surely she couldn't have been the one controlling him? Right?).

His mechanical heart ached for his wife. She had gone through a lot, from what he had read from her thoughts; losing a brother (twice, if the absence of Pietro was anything but a confirmation), and then him (it didn't bother him much. He was a synthezoid, there was entirely a possibility that he could be revived). 

He just really missed her, he realised. Their relationship had been strained ever since the boys were born. He didn't blame the drift on his boys, of course. He loved them to no end, would sacrifice himself for them, but he couldn't help but notice the change it brought in Wanda. 

The arrival of Pietro 2.0 didn't help either. 

His thoughts were interrupted as his feet halted their movements, and with a snap he realised that he had somehow made it to Ellis avenue, the border's static buzzing through his entire being. 

"You look lost, buddy," a strange man said. 

Looking at the man, Vision tilted his head, looking through the database of Westview to see that the man seemed to be nowhere in the records. How had he made it here? 

"I- I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, leaning against the car door to peer inside, the man sitting rigid. It was only then did he realise that the man's eyes seemed… glazed, almost like he wasn't aware. Looking back at the barrier, Vision gaped at the view in front of him. 

The man's car was half inside and half outside the barrier, the slow moving particles seemed to be disintegrating the vehicle, watching in awe as sparks flew the closer the barrier came to the man. 

"Listen, you have to get out of here before that thing destroys you." Vision tried shaking the man, but to no avail. His attempts were in vain as the man simply grunted. "Listen! Can you hear me? What's happening? Why is the barrier moving?" 

He tried opening the door, but it was shut firmly. Groaning, he punched the door, nearly falling to catch the falling man, who was mumbling some incoherent mumbo jumbo. 

"Wanda, what are you up to...?" Vision muttered to himself, realising with a start that the barrier was expanding and the man had come from outside the barrier. 

Looking at the muttering man, he quickly moved them both away from the barrier, propping him up against the grass.

"I'm sorry," Vision said, his hands gliding yellow as he touched the man's forehead, his own circuits being bombarded with incoherent noises. 

"Oh god! I'm sorry, please save me! Please, this hurts, this- you- you're the Vision!" the man screamed. 

"Yes, I'm the Vision! Now, can you stay still? I'm trying to help you!" 

"-Please! She's in my head!" 

His hands lit up again, the yellow light smothering the man's forehead as he went still again, as Vision retracted his hands regretfully. Opting to leave the man there, he stood up again, startling once again that day when he heard a shrill cry, the body of… Geraldine? Appearing out of the barrier. Shaking his head, he was convinced that he was hallucinating, if that was even possible for a droid, and turned around to walk back home. 

(Agatha gave a satisfied chuckle, purple sparks erupting from her fingers as she turned back to Wanda, pretending that that didn't just happen.) 

***

"Do you think our school is a little… solitary?" Ben asked, inhaling a puff of smoke from the blunt in his hands. His girlfriend and him were sitting on the rooftop of Westview high, their feet swinging against the edge as she clutched at Pe- Ben for dear life. 

Peter? Who was that?

"Did you see that?? Peter was right, that was Agatha Harkness and she's been the one manipulating the people, it never was Wanda! It was meant to be a plot twist, but I totally predicted it."

"Um…"

"What? I'm invested." 

Peter? 

Y/n? Can you hear me? Please say yes if you can hear me.

She noticed the static sound of the radio speaking to someone. The static noise increased, and Ben didn't seem to have noticed the small portable radio malfunctioning. Shrugging it off, she went back to passing the blunt from her boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. The word ignited a flame in her chest. Ben, who she faked her dates with once upon a time, now was her actual, real boyfriend, who she was ditching homework to smoke a blunt with, uncaring of her nearing curfew. Her parents would have her head if she found out.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, exhaling the stale air from her lungs. She knew it was more of the deep breathing than the weed, but it made her feel serene. 

"I've been hearing a lot of things lately." He croaked, clearing his throat, sniffing the air as he leaned back, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gulp. His glasses were sliding off his face. She reached to push them back up, smiling at the flush of his face.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, slipping her fingers through his, rubbing a hand on his back. His life had been difficult, she knew about him being an orphan, but she didn't know he was having a hard time with life at the very moment, her heart aching for the poor boy.

"I don't know, I keep hearing these voices in my head. Children screaming, people crying, and this… this buzz at my neck, I can't ignore it anymore! I feel like I'm going insane and I can't keep them quiet! I've tried, but it's like they're trying to communicate with me." 

Her eyes softened, hands running through his thick, straight hair as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Suddenly, the height at which they were sitting on didn't matter, she had him in her arms. 

"He broke the fourth wall. He's been hearing things, just like Billy." 

Wiping away his tears, she kissed his forehead, rubbing her hands gently on his back. 

"It's gonna be okay. You're okay, they'll go away soon." She reassured, folding her legs to get up, and pulling him up with her. "It's getting late, and mom will have my head if I'm later than curfew." 

"You've broken curfew before." He chuckled, stepping closer to Her, his hands on her hips.

Moving forward, she enclosed her hands around his shoulders, intertwining her fingers at the nape of his neck. Standing on her highest tip toes, she crashed her lips into his, their bodies swaying with the cold wind. 

"Awww, they're so cute! Exes to lovers, I like it."

"I agree. Didn't see the fake dating coming though." 

"Right?! Wanda should start a production company." 

"If Agnes lets these people go." 

***

Meanwhile, Monica had managed to find an abandoned shack in the backyard of Wanda's neighbour's house, her body buzzing with a familiar tension. 

Opening the shack, she saw the trails of purple, vein like thing running their tracks until they reached somewhere she couldn't see. She didn't notice another person creeping up on her, too busy looking at the trails. 

"Snoopers gonna snoop," the voice said, making her jump out of her skin, and keeping a hand on her heaving chest to stop her from hyperventilating. 

"Pietro?!" She startled, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. The neighbourhood was eerily silent, leaning against the wall, before deciding against it and squared her shoulders, looking at the man in front of her. 

"Yeah, that's me. But who are you? And what are you doing in Margie's backyard?" he asked defensively. She would have found the expression comical if it wasn't for her racing heart and adrenaline filled brain. 

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, folding her arms to show a defensive stance. 

"I'm here because… I live here?" he muttered, borrowing his brows as his eyes glazed over again, "Yeah, wait, no... I live with my sister! Who lives two houses from here! What am I doing here?"

"I don't know, you tell me." 

"God, this is so weird. First Wanda was being weird, now I am." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Nothing." 

***

Billy was afraid. He knew that he should be stronger and braver, if not for himself, then for Tommy. His momma always told him that the only thing to fear was fear itself, and he didn't know what that meant, but he knew that he had to be braver to get back to his mom and dad. 

"Billy, I'm scared," Tommy whimpered. "I'm hearing voices again." 

"It's gonna be okay, Mom and Dad will be here soon," he reassured, just as scared as his brother. They were only twelve minutes apart, but he still felt a responsibility for him.

Mom said that they both reminded of her own brother- Uncle Pietro. 

Hearing the door open, he felt a chill crawl up his spine. 

"She's here! Billy, she's here!" 

"I know! I know! Shh!" 

Her footsteps came closer, the cackling of her laughter making his heart pound. His brother buried himself in his shoulders, both of them huddled next to each other, as if the inevitable could be avoided. 

"How are my best boys doing?" Agnes' shrill voice rang, making Billy breathe faster.

"We want Mommy," Tommy whimpered, sounding as small as Billy felt. 

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, that's not happening anytime soon." She tsked, sounding as apologetic as the villains in the action movies his mom forbade him from watching.

"Why's that?" Billy asked, squaring his shoulders as much as he could. 

"You didn't hear? Mommy's dead." 

And his world crashed, his brain crowding with darkness.

A/N: Lemme know what you think! 😁😁

[drwcn]

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《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 11 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Lan Wangji knew his Uncle and the imperial court and the elders of the royal family were never going to be okay with him making Wei Wuxian one of his concubines. The servant status is one thing, but that's not the crux of the issue. The issue is that there's already a rumour circulating about how WWX is a wily fox whose sole purpose in life is to seduce and befuddle the prince. Xue Yang: quite a reputation you've cultivated for yourself. WWX: *kuzo's meme*.........ah yes, everything is all coming together now.

Lan Wangji is a smart boy though. He knows how to get what he wants. As Wei Ying inched towards full recovery from his whipping, the autumn hunt is upon them.

The autumn hunt in the royal hunts ground was a competition. Anyone invited could compete if they chose to, and of Lan Wangji's household, Jin Ziyan, Luo Qingyang and himself were in attendance. Mianmian, being his concubine and a woman, had two escorts/chaperones accompanying her for propriety, but flashed him dazzling smiles of gratitude upon her horse.

"I'm very grateful, dianxia, for your allowing this indulgence." "Of course," replied Lan Wangji from his saddle. "My Luo-furen should have what she wants." "Dianxia, ce-wangfu." Qin Su approached them and curtsied in proper form. "I wish you all best of luck in the hunt." Then to Mianmian, she said quietly, "Be careful, Qingyang." Jin Ziyan paid the two women no mind, but Lan Wangji saw the hand Qin Su had clandestinely wrapped around one of Mianmian's booted ankles. Oh...well, this is certainly a positive development.

The rest of the noble women not participating in the hunt rested in their tented pavilions, with Meng Yao as their hostess. They drank tea and ate sweets and enjoyed their free time to themselves. Meng Yao noted Wei Wuxian's absence from Jiang Yanli's side, as did several other noble women, but Jiang Yanli only smiled and said, "A-Xian has been living at my father's manor for several years and is an excellent marksman. Dianxia thought it a waste if he were kept from participating."

The truth of the matter is like this: when Wei Wuxian cheated and lied his way into Jiang-fu, he'd told Jiang Fengmian and his family that he'd lived most of his life by the charity of a hunter's family, and so had trained to hunt game in the wild. After the hunter's family died of some infectious illness that plagued the region, Wei Wuxian had supposed made his way into the city and found employment as a shop boy. He couldn't reveal that he'd been trained in martial arts, but there is no need to hide his skill as an archer. At first, it was so he could use archery as a common interest to get close to Jiang Fengmian's son Jiang Cheng, but Wei Wuxian soon realized that it could also be used as a way for Lan Wangji to cultivate further interest.

"Lan Zhan..." Wei Wuxian stroked the snout of Lan Wangji's beloved ferghana horse and grinned. "You really want me to ride him?" "Mn." "You...won't be mad then, if I win?" Wei Wuxian's grin turned slightly wicked. "If I beat you?" Lan Wangji's brow twitched with interest, "Not at all. That's rather what I'm counting on." "Yeah? And why is that?" "Because while I can claim victory with the sword -" "- Very modest, you." Wei Wuxian teased, grinning, which earned him a subtle little glare. "- amongst my cousins, my marksmanship is not unrivalled. You may have a greater chance of winning with him. Huangxiong promised that whoever wins today's hunt will be granted one wish." A wish? Wei Wuxian mulled over this information. His own mission turned and circled in his mind. If I could but gain access to... ... Of course, Wei Wuxian glanced at the prince and the saw the light in his eyes. Lan Wangji is probably thinking of something entirely different.

And so it was inevitable that went the count of the hunt came in, Wei Wuxian's name was at the top. Lan Qiren's little mustache just about flew off his face the way he scrunched it up in displeasure.

Gentries, nobles, dukes and princes watched with envy and shock as a servant came forth to accept the Emperor's reward.

"Jiang-xiong," Nie Huaisang leaned close to Jiang Cheng while they watched from the sidelines as Wei Wuxian bowed before the Emperor. "Why do you look so smug?" Jiang Cheng played with the end of an arrow with an air of mock innocence, "I don't know what you're talking about?" Nie Huaisang pulled at the leather of his riding attire in discomfort - this was so not his style - and tsked, "I know you, Jiang-xiong, you're not subtle. What did you do?" "I was the one who told Lan Wangi that Wei Wuxian is an excellent archer when I went to visit Hanguang-fu." Nie Huaisang understood instantly, "Oh....oh I see..." "What? Don't judge me! You know what they did to him. String up like some unruly animal and whipped. I never agreed with my mother's plan to send him along with my sister anyway. Wei Wuxian may be lowborn but..." Jiang Cheng scowled. "He's too good for them. For Lan Wangji. He's clearly not going to do right by Wei Wuxian. I won't stand to see a perfectly good man wasted as some prissy prince's concubine instead of being where he could put his real skills to use." "Shhhhh, ancestors, Jiang-xiong, keep your voice down! Words like that are a great dishonor against bixia, you'll lose your head!" Jiang Cheng shrugged.

Xue Yang *at a later times*: so lemme get this straight, you won the Hunt, and then Lan Xichen asked you what you want as reward - WWX - as a good little servant I said "I want for nothing that wangye and Jiang-zhuzi hasn't already provided me" - XY *rolls his eyes* Right. And then Jiang Wanyin came out of nowhere and said - "陛下，魏婴乃微臣之家生子，是前管家魏长泽 的独子， 因幼年时父母过世一直遗留市井。上天庇佑，几年前父亲将他巡回。魏婴为人端正淳厚，虽未上过学堂，但头脑机智。陛下也看到了，他弓发出众， 是。。。如能加强训练，以后必会为我姑苏所用 - " Bixia, Wei Ying is this subject's home-born servant, the only son of our previous head of staff Wei Changze. Due to the unfortunate passing of his parents in his youth, he has been getting by doing odd jobs in the capital. Heavens be willing, Father was able to find him after these many years and brought him home. Wei Ying is kind and righteous; though never have been taught by scholars, he is sharp of mind. As bixia has seen, he is a great marksmanship, is ... If he could be granted proper training, he would be a great asset for Gusu in the future. - And what a waste it would be if you were left to twindle away within the confines of a harem. I bet Lan Wangji just loved that. The balls on Jiang Wangyin - I do love his style. WWX You're the only one. Jiang-shushu just about had a heart attack when Jiang Cheng dissed Lan Wangji in public. Madam Yu nearly popped a vein too. XY: Yeah well, he's got a point. You may be Jiang Yanli's companion, but you're not Lan Wangji's concubine, you're just a servant with a skill. Honestly why shouldn't they put you to better use than waiting to maybe spread your legs for a prince who might just as easily toss you aside after the newness fades. WWX *slaps him up the head* Rascal! I'm your shixiong. Don't be so rude. Anyways, Lan Zhan, he - he was willing to let me go. I think he loves me you know - XY: He what now - WWX: He said - Lan Wangji came to kneel beside Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin and bowed to his royal brother, "Huangxiong, Wei Ying is the peijia of my Jiang-furen, a servant of my manor. I... I long knew he is an excellent marksman and should have submitted his candidacy for the ranks but -" Lan Wangji looked at him then, eyes huge with something unreadable. "Jiang-xiao-jiangjun is right. Wei Ying is good, his mind is bright. He would be more suited to militia than...than within the walls of the inner court." "Wangye, have you....have you grown tired of Wei Ying -" "Wei Ying, no -" XY: Oh barf. So please tell me you chose to go to bingbu (ministry of war). WWX: Going to bingbu was never the assignment. If yifu wanted me in the ministry of war, I would've infiltrated them from the start. I refused. And it had the intended effect. "No?" Lan Xichen leaned forward curiously. "Joining the ranks will elevate your rank to that of a subject of the imperial government, and if you are truly as skilled and talented as my brother and Jiang-xiao-jiangjun say, you may rise yet to stand in my court as an officer of the imperial military. You will have your own commission, your own manor, marry, have children - all things which will be forbidden to you if you remain as you are now. As you are male, you cannot provide for Hanguang-fu any offspring, and your low-born status has precluded you from the position of consort or even vice-consort. Have you considered your options carefully? " "I understand bixia, and my decision is made. Nothing would please me more than to stay by wangye's side. I regret nothing." XY: >_> And A this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you're increasingly horny for Lan Wangji? WWX: Of course not. Because of Lan Qiren, I couldn't advance in Hanguang-fu. But now that Lan Xichen had given me his royal decree, I am Lan Wangji's sanctioned mianshou. XY: *insert eye emoji* So...y'all fucked? WWX *wistful, thinking about the night he spent at the autumn palace after the hunt* : We did, you pervert. Ya happy now? *WWX sighed* But I know who we are and what I must do. Yifu needs me by Lan Wangji's side, for what reasons I do not yet know. No matter how he and I are now... one day it will

all end. XY: *stares into the camera like he's on the office*

Note: yifu = Wen Ruohan, WWX's adoptive father.

[babyboibucky]

Babysitting Bucky - Part 4

Pairing: FATWS!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,644

Summary: You’ve been assigned by the government to keep an eye on the Winter Soldier to ensure that he was no longer a threat to the world.

A/N: Things are getting interesting for these two lol, if I missed out on anyone in the tag list, please let me know. If you would like to be added, please also inform me whether it’s for this series only or for everything Bucky xoxo

MASTERLIST

-

FOUR

It was a little past nine in the morning when you heard Sam and Bucky arrive back at the compound. You leaned against the counter in the kitchen as you waited for the two men to show up and when they finally sauntered in, you immediately cleared your throat.

"How was your run, Mister Barnes?" you asked, lifting a brow at Bucky.

Sam rolled his eyes and groaned, "Please don't tell me you need to join us on our daily morning jog too."

You held up a hand at Sam, "Mister Wilson, I do not care for you." Turning your gaze back to Bucky, you crossed your arms over your chest. "So, how was the run?" you asked again.

"Damn, lady." you heard Sam utter under his breath as he walked towards the fridge to fetch himself a glass of water.

Bucky merely shrugged, "It was good. I mean, I was three laps ahead of Sam the entire time so yeah." he explained and smirked at Sam who grunted in response.

"Oh and we passed by a civilian who tried to use my trigger words and it almost worked. Almost."

Bucky must've have noticed the slight change in your demeanor because he immediately let out a chuckle, "I was kidding, Agent. Nothing happened. We literally just ran."

You scoffed, "Do you really think that this is all a joke, Mister Barnes? I asked because I need to send a weekly report to the government and if they notice even the slightest discrepancy, they will apprehend you. Like I said, I am not an enemy. I may not be a friend either but I reassure you, Mister Barnes, I am more than willing to vouch for your stability. That is if you participate and help me out here."

As much as you hated the fact that you needed to always be around Bucky wherever he went, it wasn't like you had a choice. Besides, you believed that he was no longer a threat but you needed evidence. You needed something to present to the government to make them believe so. You also understood why Bucky behaved the way he did but was it really so hard to participate?

Bucky heaved out a sigh, "I'm sorry." he mumbled. "It's weird...to have someone follow you around when you do normal stuff, y'know?"

Taken aback at how quickly Bucky apologized, you nodded in understanding and apologized for being aggressive as well.

"We have training later, maybe it'd be better to have you spar with Bucky instead. Might make things less weird for him. Only if you can handle the cyborg." Sam chuckled.

"I look forward to it." you smirked.

---

It was three in the afternoon when you went to the compound’s gym. Sam and Bucky were already inside the boxing ring, sparring. You watched for a while as you wrapped your hands with bandages; you eye the Winter Soldier carefully, analyzing his every move.

Hit, evade, kick, punch, evade, punch.

Every single time he tried to hit Sam, the latter was able to avoid him. You noticed that Bucky had a certain pattern that he followed. A few more attacks later and Sam was able to knock him off, pinning him down on the ground.

“Man, you’re getting rusty.” Sam commented, offering a hand at Bucky who remained on the ground.

“He was restraining his moves.” You interjected as you walked towards the ring, bending down as you slid beneath the ropes.

Sam lifted a brow at you as he watched you enter the ring, “And why would he be restraining his moves?” He asked.

You shrugged, “If Mister Barnes stopped pulling his punches, you would’ve been sent to the ER by now.”

Sam scoffed in offense. It wasn’t your intention to belittle the Falcon, in fact, he was holding up against a super soldier pretty well. However, Bucky was an enhanced human being and had vibranium for an arm. He knew the extent of his skills and was aware of the fact that Sam wouldn’t be able to take every single blow if he wouldn’t restrain himself.

The Winter Soldier would injure Sam without a doubt, but Bucky Barnes? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“The Winter Soldier wouldn’t have given you a chance to evade his attack. Am I right?” You turned to Bucky who was obviously surprised at how you easily figured him out.

He shrugged, “You tell me, Agent. I’m not the one tasked to find out the answer to that.”

Sam hummed, “Yeah, okay. Point taken.” He said. “Barnes is yours, Agent.” He smirked and moved out of the ring.

He sat on the bench facing the ring, looking forward to see you spar with Bucky. You, on the other hand, was just as excited. You could sense that the two still doubted your skills; maybe showing off your capabilities would help in gaining their respect and cooperation.

“Do I need to pull my punches, Agent?” Bucky cracked his neck.

“I don’t know, Mister Barnes. Do you?”

You didn’t give Bucky any chance to respond to your question and immediately ran towards him, using a foot sweep to trip him. Bucky was caught off guard and found himself on his back with you quickly moving to straddle his metal arm with your legs, pinning him to the ground.

“Holy shit!” You heard Sam guffaw as he clapped his hands.

“Shut up, Sam!” Bucky choked out before using the entire strength of his metal arm to throw you off of him.

You groaned when you landed on your front, quickly rolling to the side when you sensed Bucky’s attempt to hold you down. A combination of punches and kicks were exchanged between the both of you, with Bucky gaining the upper hand when he twisted your arm behind your back, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I don’t think you’ll like it if I stopped restraining myself, Agent.” Bucky said, voice deep and rough.

His grip on you tightened as you tried to fight him off. Heaving out a deep breath, you relaxed and let out a groan. Thinking that you probably realized that winning over him was futile, Bucky loosened his grip on you and you took it as a chance to stomp on his foot before throwing your head back, hitting his nose with the back of your skull.

“I think I can take it, Mister Barnes. Try me.” You boasted, quickly moving away from Bucky.

“I’d rather not.” Bucky responded.

No words were exchange from then on, only grunts and breaths as the two of you continued to spar. At times, Bucky would have you tackled on the ground only for you to choke him with your thighs, flipping him over as you tried to land a hard punch that he easily caught with his metal hand.

“That all you can give me, Mister Barnes?” you leaned forward as you straddled him, your fist still in Bucky’s metal hand.

He darkly chuckled, “You know I can do more, I just prefer not to.” he said and let go of your hand before grabbing your arm and throwing you over to the side.

“Yeah, well I guess you’re a coward for holding back.” you panted and sprinted towards Bucky, using the momentum to throw your legs over his shoulder, twisting your body as you brought him back down to the ground ala Black Widow.

You immediately got up and moved away from Bucky who lifted his head and stared at you with a frown, “Where did you learn that?” he asked curiously.

“Your babysitter Black Widow-ed the shit outta you.” Sam chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he got up from the ground, “Do you ever shut the fuck up, Sam?”

“Do better, Mister Barnes. You’re putting the Soldat to shame.”

 A split second. All it took was a split second for Bucky to tackle you onto the ground with his metal hand loosely wrapped around your neck. Your eyes were wide as you looked up at Bucky, the glint in his eyes long gone and replaced with something else.

Anger?

“Do not ever compare me to the Soldat.” he said through gritted teeth.

His hand remained wrapped around your throat but they didn’t budge, didn’t tighten nor shook in an attempt to do so.

“Why not?” you lifted a brow.

“I may still be the Winter Soldier, but I’m not the same man I used to be. I’d rather hold back and lose to you, Agent. Because the Soldat doesn’t exist, not anymore.” he said.

You knew it was a low blow to try and trigger him. You felt bad for doing so, seeing how he reacted to your statement when you brought up his dark past. But at the same time, his actions relieved you. Even with him hovering over you, metal hand wrapped around your neck, you didn’t experience any sort of worry nor fear. He was firm yet gentle with how his fingers remained loose around you.

Bucky was in full control of his actions.

You stared up at Bucky’s eyes and realized how blue they were. When you didn’t budge beneath him, Bucky let go of your neck and got up but immediately fell to the ground when you tripped him with your leg.

“That’s what I thought, Mister Barnes.” you said as you stood up, dusting your hands off. “You’re not dangerous. Thanks for the cooperation, I’ll include that in my weekly reports.” you said and slide out of the ring.

“All that for a test?” Sam incredulously asked as he watched you retreat from the gym.

You turned around, “It wasn’t a test, Mister Wilson. That was me trying to get to know Mister Barnes better.” you said and left the gym but not before hearing Sam’s comment about you.

“Man, we underestimated your babysitter.”

---

Babysitting Bucky Tag List:

@chipilerendi @procrastinationinawriter @supraveng @sammypotato67

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 

Sign up on my tag list here - https://forms.gle/b5haFXewSKqnXxxh7

[refinedbuffoonery]

Broken Like Me (1)

masterlist.

THIS FIC IS NOT INTENDED FOR READERS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. Please see the masterlist for content warnings. 

Here it is, the long-awaited dark!MacRiley AU! First, I want to thank my lovely beta readers and my life-saving brainstorming/workshop buddy. You all know who you are. ❤

This fic adheres to canon through 5x05 and then goes off the fucking rails. Backstory and other important tidbits of information revealed in the latter half of season 5 may be used, but timeline-wise anything after 5x05 does not exist in this fic. Also, Jack is dead and is staying dead, so don’t get your hopes up for a happy ending. 

I will do my best to update this regularly, but hanging out in and writing such dark headspaces is HARD. I will definitely be taking breaks to write fluffier fic, because a big chunk of this story is all hurt and no comfort. 

Without further adieu, let’s get this party started. (It’s not a party. In fact, it’s like...the opposite of a party.) 

*****

They say he was a good man. 

A good soldier. 

A good father. 

A good friend. 

They say they are sorry for her loss, sorry he was taken from this world too soon. 

They say Jack would be proud of the legacy he left behind, would be proud to have gone out in a blaze of glory. 

Riley is sick of it. 

It’s like she’s a teenager, and Jack is leaving her all over again. Only this time it’s worse. This time there’s no coming back. 

The guests at the wake gaze at the folded up American flag on the fireplace mantle with deep respect, but Riley only feels anger every time she glimpses the piece of fabric the government sent back in his place. A flag and a life insurance claim feel like a mockery of the kind of man Jack Dalton was. 

Was. Past tense. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

*****

Mac has never been afraid of Riley before. 

He’s seen her angry and upset, but the rage-filled woman he stopped from killing Anya Vitez with her bare hands back in Croatia is someone he does not know. 

The frightening part is that Riley isn’t a hot-headed person. In work mode, she is cold and calculating, so for her to go after Vitez like that...something inside her snapped. 

Three weeks have passed since then, and every time he looks at Riley, Mac remembers holding her back, fingers digging sharply into her waist until she stopped fighting him. He sees the fury radiating off Riley’s body like heat waves off asphalt—sees the way she clings to it, finds purpose in it, letting it consume her so there’s no room for guilt or grief. Mac knows the feeling all too well. And he also knows there will be a very loud thud when she finally comes crashing back down. 

But he also knows that the woman is like a loaded gun, safety off and desperate to fire at something. 

Which is why he worries when Matty calls them in for an op and Riley isn’t there. She’s at Vitez’s trial, Matty informs them, but that doesn’t make Mac feel any better. Whenever there’s downtime during the mission, and Mac’s mind is free to wander, he can't stop thinking about her. This new Riley is becoming obsessively vengeful, and if someone doesn’t reel her back in soon, she might do something she can’t come back from.

The thought plagues Mac every second there aren’t bullets whizzing toward his head. 

After the op, Mac drives to Riley’s apartment. Upon arrival, his ears are assaulted by Riley’s upstairs neighbor blasting Macklemore’s greatest hits. Mac hears the lyrics clear as day, even though both his truck windows and the apartment windows are closed. 

Riley really shouldn’t have moved out of Mac’s house, not if this is her best option. He still doesn’t understand why she did. 

It doesn’t take long to notice the GTO is missing. Riley should be back from the trial by now, but Mac has a sneaking suspicion where she is. 

The drive to Jack’s apartment seems to take forever. The brick building is in an older neighborhood, one of few affordable ones with trees planted along the sidewalks—a luxury in LA. Sure enough, the GTO is parked on the curb, not far from the fire escape that connects to Jack’s living room.

Looking up, Mac spies a familiar body perched on the stairs. 

Riley sits on the fire escape, soaking in the last rays of sunlight. Her eyes are closed, head resting against the brick wall. Mac doesn’t say anything as he sits beside her on the narrow metal stairs, their hips and thighs just touching. 

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he hug her? Hold her hand? Leave her alone? Riley isn’t a super touchy person. Mac decides on the latter, picking at his fingernails while his gaze drifts west to study the sunset. 

Several minutes pass before Riley says, “Hey.” Her voice is low and scratchy, like she’s been crying. 

“Hey,” Mac repeats. “How long have you been here?” 

Riley shifts beside him, sitting up. “I don’t know. A while.” 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve come here, is it?” 

A sigh. “No, it’s not.” Mac figures as much. Aside from the constant clamor of the city, Jack’s apartment is relatively quiet. It’s not in the greatest neighborhood, but it’s safe enough for Riley to sit alone and think. Or not think. Whatever she feels like doing. 

Riley rests her head on Mac’s shoulder, and a wave of protectiveness floods his system. It’s new, this need to watch her back more than the others’. It came on so gradually that Mac doesn’t know when it started or what triggered it, only that he feels it all the time now. Especially after Jack’s…

He avoids examining the feeling too closely. 

Without warning, Riley says, “If you hadn’t held me back, I would’ve killed her.” 

Knowing exactly who she was talking about, Mac glances down at Riley in surprise. He knows it’s true—thinks so himself—but hearing it come out of her mouth makes his stomach turn. The last, and only, time Riley killed someone...it took her months to piece herself back together afterward. And that death was in self-defense. 

This one would’ve been murder. Intentional and vindictive. 

Mac isn’t sure Riley could come back from that, at least not as herself. The woman who would emerge from that would be a total stranger inside his best friend’s body. Mac suppresses a shiver. “I know,” he says.

“Thank you for stopping me.” Riley’s voice is quiet. So, so quiet. 

“You would’ve done the same for me.” Gingerly, Mac wraps his arm around Riley’s shoulders, ready to let go at the first sign of her discomfort. When she doesn’t react, he relaxes and holds her more surely. 

The sky is painted in vibrant oranges and reds, fading into deep blue overhead. Subtle strokes of pink outline the scattered clouds hanging above the horizon. Out of all the sunsets Mac has seen, all over the world, nothing quite compares to the ones here at home. He wishes Jack was here to see it. 

Mac spends far too long debating whether to bring it up before asking, “Why did you go to the trial?” Agents, especially secret ones, don’t go to trials, mostly to keep their identities safe. Publicly tying oneself to a case is never a good idea, for more reasons that Mac can begin to name. 

“I swore I’d be there every step of the way. I meant it.” Mac tries not to bristle at the snarling, defensive edge to Riley’s tone. “Eventually, she’ll make a mistake, and I will be there when she does. And then I’m going to rip out her entire organization from the roots up.” 

Fear wraps its ugly hand around Mac’s heart. Until every single person associated with Tiberius Kovac is behind bars, there will be a target on Riley’s back, and Riley will have put it there herself. Losing one person to Kovac is more than enough; Mac refuses to lose Riley too. 

“How can I help you?” 

Riley looks up, eyes wide like she’s expecting him to try to talk her out of it, not offer to help. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“And miss out on all the fun?” Mac almost smiles as he quotes her. Almost. 

She sits up. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m going to hack Interpol first, to see which of her colleagues might also be dirty. So unless you secretly picked up hacking…” 

Mac huffs. “Sorry, I only hack hardware.” He expects some insane, crackhead plan, not something so…reasonable. Maybe Riley isn’t as off-the-rails as he thought. 

But only maybe. 

A seagull perches on the railing below them, honking and squawking for seemingly no reason at all. Gulls are just like that. It glares at Mac, pinning him to his spot with a beady yellow eye, challenging Mac to shoo it away. 

Go find some tourists to harass, Mac wants to snark at it. Leave us alone. 

The seagull cocks its head, as if to say, I know something you don’t. 

Mac narrows his eyes. I bet you do. 

He swears the seagull shrugs before taking off, flying low over the GTO before sailing over rooftops on its way back to the ocean. It passes a billboard advertising a new blockbuster spy thriller, the product of millions of dollars and Hollywood plot recycling. Mac saw the trailer. The movie is about a soldier who joined the CIA in a quest for retribution after his best friend came home in a box. Usually Mac likes watching spy movies—mostly to make fun of them—but this one hits a little too close to home. 

It takes a monumental effort to tear his gaze away. 

When his eyes finally meet Riley’s, Mac understands the silent ache in them—the ache that’s surely reflected in his own eyes. He and Riley are drowning, but at least they’re drowning together. 

Mac frowns. That must be the dimmest “on the bright side” thought he’s ever had. 

Riley doesn’t say anything more, so neither does Mac. They sit on the fire escape until long after the sun sets and the temperature drops, and the city's nightlife stretches its limbs as it wakes. Mac shivers, but Riley seems oddly unaffected by the cold. That or she’s too numb to notice. 

He threads his still semi-warm fingers through her icy ones, letting their joined hands rest on his knee. It seems like his last tether to the Riley he knows and loves, one who’s slowly slipping away from him and being replaced by a woman who might very well bring the world to its knees as payback for all that it’s done to her. 

Mac has no interest in ever meeting that woman. Mostly because he refuses to lose his Riley, but also because Mac knows he won’t be able to resist that other Riley. She will slash his restraint beyond repair, and Mac will follow her to the ends of the earth. 

He will find a way to keep them both afloat. He has to. 

Or else the Phoenix may very well be hunting him and Riley again, and this time, they’ll deserve it.

*****

Entering her apartment later that night, Riley realizes too late that it isn’t empty. Bozer is still there, and he’s making dinner. Locking the door behind her, she hears a rushed, “Got to go, Matty. She’s home.” 

Bozer crashed on her couch the night they got the news and never left. I don't want you to be alone, Bozer keeps saying, despite her insistence she doesn’t need a babysitter. Other than that, they don’t speak to each other much. In fact, Riley wouldn't have noticed he said anything at all if not for the way he stares at her, standing at the stove and twirling a wooden spoon between his fingers. 

"What?" she snaps. 

Carefully, Bozer asks, "How was the trial?" 

"Fine." Riley knows he cares, and that he’s hurting too, but nothing he says or does is going to help her. The sooner he figures that out the better. She drops her keys and jacket on a chair before heading for her bedroom. 

“You hungry?” he calls after her. 

Riley yanks off her boots, chucking them into the closet with too much force. “No.” 

“Have you eaten anything today?” 

Her fuse is running short these days, and she’s just about had it with his incessant smothering and questioning. Riley marches into the kitchen, rolling her shoulders back and bracing her hands on the counter. “Last I checked, I still have a mother, so if you’re just going to keep nagging me, then I think it’s time you get the fuck out of my apartment.” 

Bozer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, but no sound comes out. 

“Get out,” Riley snarls. 

Still struggling to regain his ability to speak, Bozer stammers, “At least let me finish making you dinner first.” 

“Fine.” Cracking her knuckles, Riley retreats to her bedroom once more. “I’m taking a shower. You better be gone when I come out.” She doesn’t wait for a response. 

When Riley emerges, her dinner is cold, and Bozer is long gone. 

She doesn’t eat.

*****

On the second day of Vitez’s trial, Riley sits in the back of the room long after the trial adjourns for the day, thinking. She didn’t recognize the witnesses who testified today, and as the prosecutor called each one forward, Riley wished she had her laptop so she could look them up. Now, as she stares over the rows of empty wooden seats to the section where the jury sat, Riley can only hope that the witnesses’ testimonies are enough. 

Riley knows there’s more than enough evidence to convict Vitez—especially since she recorded the confession herself—but obsessing over the trial is easier than facing the reality waiting outside the courthouse doors. 

Her mom invited her to visit his grave today, after the trial, but Riley declined. Facing that slab of granite will make it real, make it…permanent. 

She knows what it says. Jack Dalton. Beloved. Gone too soon. Someone asked for her approval before it was made. It doesn’t say nearly enough to encapsulate all that he was, but at the time Riley couldn’t think about it—couldn’t look at it—long enough to suggest any changes. She still can’t. 

Chewing her lip, Riley anxiously toys with her rings, spinning them and moving them from finger to finger. 

At the wake, one of his old Delta buddies joked that the gravestone should read “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers,” but Riley didn’t laugh. 

Riley hasn’t laughed since Matty broke the news. It’s like the part of her that knows how to feel joy died in that explosion too. 

Instead, she wants to scream at the universe until her voice gives out, cursing it for taking her dad away too soon. Because that’s what he is. Her dad. Riley doesn’t even know when she started calling him that again, but if she has to guess, it was sometime between the first “I’m proud of you, honey” and him kicking her ass at skee-ball for the millionth time.

Tears leak from Riley’s eyes without her consent. 

It feels like she failed him, in a way. By not being there. By not keeping him alive. 

Now the best she can do is make sure his death means something. 

Vitez will go to prison for the rest of her life, that Riley is sure of. But the rest of her organization is still out there, and Riley intends on putting every single member behind bars. No amount of justice will even begin to heal the Jack-shaped wound in her heart, but at least the world will be better for it. Safer. 

But she’d rather live in a more dangerous world with him still in it than a safer one without. That way they could save the world together, like they always did. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Anger rumbles through her body, like a Texas thunderstorm in her veins. It’s the only emotion Riley feels anymore, ever since the sadness gave way to numbness. 

A woman in a security uniform pokes her head in the room. “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to lock up for the night.” When Riley doesn’t respond, the woman adds, “Are you okay?” 

Are you okay? Riley hates that question more than all the others. How are you? Have you eaten today? What can I do to help? 

She feels like she’s dying. She can’t eat. Nothing will help. 

But that isn’t what people want to hear. Even Mac asked that last question, yesterday on the fire escape, although Riley didn’t automatically despise the question like she usually did. It’s different coming from him than anyone else; his offer was genuine, not coming from pity or obligation.

She isn’t surprised Mac recognized her need to do something. After all, he had been the same way after his dad was killed. 

Coldly, Riley finally says,“I will be.” The woman doesn’t deserve her abrupt answer, but Riley can’t quite bring herself to care. She lets the anger the questions bring up fuel her, lets it hold her together. 

The anger is all she has left. 

Riley stands, her heels clicking on the floor as she exits the courthouse. 

She’s coming for all the monsters who hurt him. She’s coming for the ones who rendered him nothing more than ashes on the wind, the ones who turned her life into a nightmare she can’t wake up from. 

Because she doesn’t need to wake up to become theirs.

~

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[ac3id]

resilience [18+]

pairings: shigaraki tomura x female! reader 

summary: if you’re updated w/ the manga u prolly know shigaraki is now all beefed up phew. shigaraki stans stay winning. so here’s a fic where our struggling pro hero y/n wants to become stronger but working hard iisn’t working so she runs to shigaraki, the king of the underworld, to give her a quirk. shigaraki takes this as the perfect opportunity to teach a scum hero hero her place. 

warnings: dubcon-ish, shiggy is really mean, dumbification, size kink nasty nasty 

word count: 4k+ 

masterlist

From a young age, everyone around you had high hopes for you. Your parents wanted you to make them proud, your teachers wanted you to give your hundred percent always. Your friends admired you, they dreamed of being you. You were the golden child. Loved by everyone so, when you developed your quirk no one was shocked to learn that it was one of the strongest quirks out there.

Your parent’s dreams for you soared even higher and soon everyone was complimenting you and deeming how amazing you’d do as a Pro-Hero and you listened to them. You trained your entire childhood in hopes of becoming the No. 1 Hero, even got into a known Hero school, and graduated on top of your class. You thought you were invincible until you started your career as a Pro. 

It was hard. It was so much harder than you had expected. Apparently, your will to save citizens wasn’t enough to make you a legitimate Hero to the eyes of the public. Even if you worked your ass off it wasn’t enough. Weaker and useless Heroes whose only specialty was steering drama with others would sweep in at the last minute and take your victory as theirs’. 

You wanted to speak up about this but your agent had said you’d go nowhere; those Heroes had been in the business longer. No one would have taken your side, you were just a rookie. If you wanted to be admired, you had to also use cheap tricks and form connections with names. 

At first, you refused. It went against your moral code but soon after you started receiving angry phone calls from your peers; them explaining how embarrassing it was that no one even knew who you were, your mind quickly changed. Next thing, you are just like the others using cheap tricks working on your public image rather than actual Hero work. You thought finally it’d work and it did! After a few months, you were under the Top 30 Heroes list. The “hard” work had paid off now, it was only way upwards to the No.1 but you found yourself not rising the ladder. You were stuck in the Top 30. Nothing upwards but other Heroes were beating your position, it was all falling over again. You needed to do something to save yourself.

That’s when you heard about him. A man who granted people power, the King of the Underground. He acted like the Devil himself. Granting your desire for a price. People talked about him in hushed whispers, they acted if he did not exist but he did. He was very much there. His men had been terrorizing the country for so long; his men were hardest to fight. 

You thought about it. You could reach him and ask him for power, after all, you could do anything to be the No. 1 Hero. You couldn’t afford to disappoint the people who had supported you, your entire lives even deep down you knew the only reason everyone- anyone talked to you was for their own selfish reasons but that was okay. They were the only people you had.

So you rolled the dice and made up your mind to meet the Mad King. Shigaraki Tomura.

The hallway was run down and dimly lit; you watched your step as you moved forward not wanting to step over a dead rat or lizard. You were told that you’d see Shigaraki if you walked through it. Your heart beats faster with each step you take; the hallway is awfully quiet excluding the sounds of rats chattering away in the distance. 

Meeting him was not easy, getting this far had been hell. You had to make many calls and sit through many sleepless nights just to confirm the rumor all while making it look like you weren’t investigating Shigaraki Tomura behind their backs. You had gone through a great deal of trouble to make sure your identity was kept hidden from the Government. 

As you took the last turn you were met with a shut door. You latched on the handle, twisting it and pushing the door open. It was a meeting room. A long table stood in the room chairs all empty beside the very center. 

A man sat there, his legs propped up on the table resting over papers and pens dressed in an expensive suit, his long white hair scanned his face. A severed hand rested on his face red, angry eyes gleaming from the gaps of the fingers. Upon seeing to enter the room he crossed his hands over his chest, muscles bulging- almost ripping the sleeves open. He looks at you finally acknowledging your presence; glaring from behind the hand his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You stand completely captivated and amazed yet scared under the presence of Shigaraki Tomura. 

You stand there frozen unable to move. You never thought you’d ever meet the most wanted man in japan like this: dressed in nothing but a t- shirt and jeans, unarmed and vulnerable 

 His harsh voice cuts through the air as he glares at you. 

“Well?” he asks and you walk inside the room. You stand there awkwardly, wondering whether you should take a seat or not, “Am I supposed to sit down too? Might as well ask if I can kiss your feet?” He snarls, the sarcastic comment leaving his tongue without any hesitance. 

He’s quite mean.

You mumble a quiet apology as you sit yourself a few chairs away from him- you’d like to keep your distance from this dangerous man, biting your lip you think of how you should start the conversation but Shigaraki is impatient. He groans in amusement and slams his feet on the table, flying the papers 

“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want. Why. Are. You. Here.”  His tone was harsh, filled with irritation. “I am here for the quirk.” Shigaraki’s brow twitches, he stares at you with confusion basking in his eyes. 

“Quirk?” he pauses tilting his head up facing the ceiling, his hand goes to scratch at his neck; breaking the skin. While he thinks to himself about what you could possibly mean, your mind starts thinking about in all the ways this scenario could work out. Maybe he’d give you the quirk and let you like you were promised, only come back when he needed your assistance in some task. To be honest, you weren’t quite ready to face that day yet. Second, he could kill you right here, right now for just thinking about something so obnoxious. And that’s about it. Those were the only two scenarios you could think of. You also thought of catching him off guard and bringing him back to the Hero Commission but you also knew he was way stronger than you. You silently prayed that you’d get out of this alive and well. 

For a second, you thought Shigaraki had fallen asleep. He was too quiet and the hand on his face did not help in distinguishing whether he was sleeping or not. 

“Shigaraki,” you called and he turns his face back to you, “You’re that fucking Hero.” he spits with disgust. “You want a fucking quirk right? I was told I’ve got an appointment with some scum Hero who wants to get stronger.” You did not pay attention to his belittling. You had gone through much worse hate and had survived. 

“Yes, now, would you please tell me how I can get one.” you added the ‘please’ mockingly, it seemed to affect the villain.

“I don’t help pigs like you.” 

You almost rolled your eyes, there was more convincing to do and you did not want to talk- hell- breathe the same air as this man but you couldn’t return home alone. You had to endure it. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down, getting ready for a long night. 

“I couldn’t care less what you think about me. I was promised a deal and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain up.” you sighed, “Just for walking through that door and sitting here I had to pay a lot out of my pocket. I’m not leaving until you give it to me.” Your voice was sturdy and rigid. Exerting confidence, for a moment you felt strong. Talking back to a wanted villain like him gave you a false sense power. He sat silently, lost in thought again. 

“You’re gonna be here a while? That’s bothersome. But….you do know that I can just kill you and leave? Make it easier for both of us.” he finished. Anger surged through your veins as you decided against choking him to death. “Shigaraki. Please.” you begged, Godamnit. As much as you wanted to rival his hate towards you, you were smart and knew that you couldn’t afford to make any rash decision now because a single touch from him could mean game over for you. “You’re begging now?” He scoffed, “Okay, tell me why you want it so bad.” You bite your lip deciding whether you should go along with his idle chit-chat. 

“Listen. I really need it. I’m stuck in a useless rank and the walls keep closing in. I don’t disappoint the people around me. It’s really important to me. I don’t expect you to understand but- shit if you want me to beg I will. For that power, I’d do anything.” 

An eerie silence filled the room, Shigaraki remained quiet. He thought about what he could want from you. There was nothing, you were useless to him- a waste of time really. He should just decay you and leave. That would be the right thing to do but then again, the way you looked at him with desperation in your eyes stirred something in him. Maybe it was the unconscious acceptance you held knowing that he is in charge. The power imbalance was starting to get him going. He could imagine you wrapping your pretty, plump lips around his fat cock while he used your throat as he pleased. He was a little tired after all. Maybe he’d even give you a weak quirk and let you off to do your worthless heroics. 

“So you’d really do anything?” He was intrigued. You didn’t want to say yes because you knew he’d make you do something horrible, something you could never really recover from. You could see it in his eyes but in the end, you knew. 

“Yes. Anything,”

He quickly lifted the severed hand from his face and placed it gently on the table, you genuinely wanted to cry. His lips curled at the corner, his lips split into a menacing smile. It was evil, it was dangerous yet it was the calm before the storm. The crazed smile only made you aware about how much you were going to regret this decision. It made you sick.

“Sexual favors. If you want this power, make me cum.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth agape as you process his words. What? 

“You can’t be serious.” your voice was low, your heartbeat quickened and you felt your hands grow cold. Anger and confusion masked your consciousness. 

“I’m waiting.” he sang, his shrill voice sending shivers down your spine. He was joking, right? No way was he was actually expecting you to do it. Right?  He did not say another word instead pulled his feet off the table and slammed them to the floor. He spread his legs and patted his right thigh, looking directly at you with a smile, 

“you’re joking.” you commented. Shigaraki stopped smiling, his head lowered, bangs falling over his eyes; you could not see the face he was making. He clicked his tongue and the ‘tch’ sound resonating in the room, “You think I’m joking?” he asked, his voice now filled with annoyance. You did not answer; you did not what to say. You were beginning to think he was not messing with you, and that he actually wanted you to perform that horrendous act. 

His head turned back to you, his eyes spiraled into angry slits, vermilion orbs gleaming under the well-lit room displaying grim intentions. You knew he was serious. 

You took a deep breath, you knew the price of your dreams was high; the sacrifices you had to make: colossal. But right now, you were given a chance to obtain power- grow stronger to get a step closer to your goal but at what cost? If you, right now, gave yourself up to this notorious villain, what would you lose? Dignity? Pride? You had lost all of that the second you had entered the room. 

Nothing was left to lose. From all the horrendous things he coils have asked you to do, you should be glad all he wanted was some pussy.

You swallowed nervously as you got up from the chair moving towards him in brief, calculated steps. You stood in front of him, his knee at level with your crotch; he looks up at you and smirks. His knee jerks forward, pushing through your thighs and grinding up against your clothed cunt. You gasp in surprise, almost walking away from him. Your fists clench by your side and try to surpass any sounds from passing; the movement of your panties rubbing on your clit sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You bite your lower lip, glaring down at him as he continues to aggressively grind his knee on your cunt, your mouth falling agape as the sensations get too overwhelming and your climax starts building. A whine falls from your lips when it stops. Shigaraki abruptly withdraws his knee from your thighs, a wet spot forming on the expensive fabric of his pants. He looks at you and smirks, 

“Hero Slut.” he comments, making your blood boil, you try to retort but his fingers inch towards your hips, fingers pulling at the waistband of your jeans. 

“Take it off.” you hesitate for a moment, “take it off or I’ll dust It.” he threatens, you did not want to walk out the room half naked. You quickly tugged your jeans down, it pooled around your ankles. Shigaraki’s eyes never left your lower body, his eyes stayed glued to your pussy, almost drooling at the sight black and white striped panties. Feeling embarrassed under his predatory gaze, you push your hands forward, covering yourself making Shigaraki frown. He pushes your hands away and replaces them with his own. His fingers rub at your clit through your panties making you writhe in pleasure, you feel yourself get wet, a dark spot starting to form on your panties. Shigaraki glides his finger till your hole and drives them to your hips pulling at the waistband of the fabric and letting it hit your skin with a snap, you gasp. “You like that?” he asks, smirking and repeating the action, “Take this off too.” he finishes. 

He leans back in his seat spreading his legs while he watches you strip out of your panties, his eyes a shade darker clouded with lust. 

“You look better now.” his voice is low and condescending as he pulls you down to straddle his lap. His hands carefully moving up and down your torso, under your shirt, fingers touching the underside of your bra. He guides one of his hands to your hip, and claps around it pressing hard enough for a flash of pain to spark along the bone as he keeps you firmly pinned on his thigh. Gripping one of your thighs firmly, he restrains you from pressing them together. He runs a palm along the inside of your thighs in fascination, you feel yourself get worked up embarrassingly fast, “Look at you,” he barks, a crazed smile blooming on his face. 

“You’re all neglected. How often do you loosen up, whore?” His slender fingers trail downwards to your cunt, he runs a slender finger painfully slowly over your folds, buries it inside your hole moving it around and curling the digit inside you before withdrawing. His eyes scan your face as his thumb strokes down on your clit. Your eyes shut close as you bit your lower lip- trying your best to surpass moans which might further entice him. Your body jerks up with need as you gasp out, your hands balling into fists, choked mewls flow from the back of your throat, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid.” he growls 

“N-no.” 

Shigaraki chooses to ignore you as his hand grips the back of your head, pulling you closer towards him before pushing his lips against yours’ while the other hand reaches behind you, wandering across your ass, grabbing a firm hold of the soft flesh. He pulls away from the kiss and both you regain your breath, taking in as much as you can. Shigaraki leans in, you think he’s going to kiss you but instead, his lips hover over your ear. You feel his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers in a raspy, broken voice. 

“If you want this power so bad,—" your breath hitched as he pushes another finger in your small cunt, “—grind that worthless cunt on my thigh.” 

You look down at him with half-lidded eyes zooming on his cock straining through his pants. He catches you staring. His eyes light up with amusement, “You want that too, huh? You’re just a cock hungry whore after all. Its fine, you all are,” He pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole and presses them against your lips. 

“Open up,” he commands. You hesitate for a moment but eventually, you obey. You open your mouth, only slightly yet he aggressively shoves his middle and pointer finger into your mouth. “I don’t wanna feel any teeth.” you pucker your lips around his finger, sucking his digits into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his fingers, tasting yourself around him. Shigaraki sighs, “Laughable isn’t it?” he begins, “Do your Hero friends know how much of a pathetic slut you are? I bet they’d love you see you like: half-naked, sitting on Japan’s most wanted criminals lap, begging to be fucked?” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a ‘pop’ sound reverberating in the room. He pats your thigh, “Come on. If you please me good enough I might even give you my dick.” 

The realization hits you. Shigaraki wasn’t doing this entirely for his pleasure. He just wants to humiliate you, see you cry, call you names- anything to make you leave this place broken. A fair price.

A smug smirk reaches his face yet again as he watches you shift around his lap, straddling his left thigh. You put your arms cautiously around his shoulders for support, grounding your sensitive bundle of nerves down against his thigh, exhaling as the muscle rubbed against your clit in the best possible way. A tight coil forms in your lower abdomen as you frantically grind down, pleasurable sensations fogging your mind. His hands are still on your hips as you roll your hips in brisk circles against his thigh as you chase your climax, your mouth falls open at the sharp pleasure shooting through your body as you grind down faster, your mind grows hazy. Thoughts jumbled- and non-existent, only focusing on the rocking of your hips back and forth against his thigh. He occasionally flexes the muscle to intensify the feeling of your approaching orgasm, you’ve barely even had any stimulation and you’re already so close. You tug on your lower lip between your teeth, eyes skewered shut as you feel your orgasm building up, seconds away from erupting, and washing over your entire body. “Is the whore close?” Shigaraki speaks, “Looks like you I didn’t even have to fuck you stupid. You’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat. You’re already stupid. This is the real you. You just pretend- act as a functional member of this rotten society but deep down, you’re just a slut begging for a big cock to stuff her holes. Am I right?”  

“Shigaraki Tomura. Fuck you.” you manage to call out in between your moans. 

A blush creeps onto his face and his cock strains in his pants, the print now louder, and his cock begging to be freed. One of his hands leaves your hips and starts palming his cock through the fabric, he lets out a breathy moan as he examines your face: twisted in pleasure yet the look of hate and disgust still linger. Your displease from this entire scenario riles him up, what a disgusting man he is. 

He shifts his gaze from your face to your tits bouncing along the rhythm every thrust ; his hands roam underneath your shirt stroking your soft stomach and move to grope your tits through your bra. He kneads your breast through your bra before capturing it with all five of his fingers and changing it into specks of dust. Your shirt receives the same treatment and you whine. You sit there naked, grinding on his thigh while he is still dressed, calm and collected save for the bright pink blush on his cheeks. Sweat drips down from your forehead and a pink hue rests on your cheek. You look like a mess. 

“You look pathetic right now, you know?” he speaks. You know, you can imagine and you hate it very much. 

A moan escapes his lips; breathing heavily into your ear- he leaves tainted comments. Groaning occasionally as his lips find its way to kiss and suck bruises at your neckline, sinking his teeth and biting down, nipping on your skin leaving marks on your smooth skin all the while his hands violate your breast, greedily groping and kneading the sensitive mounds, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and harshly tweaking and tugging at them- your eyes roll back into the back of your skull, relishing in the pain.

His cock was straining in his pants; you could feel it poking against your thigh. He moves a hand to hastily unbutton and unzip the confinements of his pants, his dick hard against the fabric of his boxers. A wet stop forming at the tip.

He doesn't hesitate to shove his hands into his boxers, groaning and bucking his hips into his hand as he pulls his cock out. His cock springs upwards. It stands tall and hard yearning with need. Pre-cum spills out his leaking tip, red and angry,demanding relief. You stare at it, marveling the size of his girthy cock. You can tell by looking- he’s too big. It was going to be a tight fit. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” 

“It’s too big.” 

“So?” he asks, annoyance filling his voice as he feels himself get more riled up, “More prep-” you’re still grinding your pussy on his thigh, you try telling him how much you needed him to stretch you out before burying his ridiculously big cock in your tiny, pathetic, little cunt.  “Uh h pleaseee……....It will hurt otherwise.” His ears perk up at your shameless little confession. “It will hurt?” The obscene smile made its way back to his face and you regretted saying so. 

“It better hurt.” 

Shigaraki stands up to his full height, towering over you. You stumble and your hips hit the table behind you. You seriously looked like nothing compared to him. His shoulders broader and rigid, his arms buff and robust. Any hopes you even had in defeating him vanishes away into the air as he turns you around and bends you over the table. 

Papers scatter and fall to the ground, your breasts press against the cold wood and he captures both your hands holding them behind your back in one hand. His other smack your ass making you squirm, “Consider yourself lucky.” he groans, his cock lining up with your cunt, “I don’t fuck every common whore I see.”  His words sting and he pushes past your little hole, tearing it up, tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes. You sniff, “It hurts.” Shigaraki ignores you, lost in the way your small pussy gobbles up his fat cock inch by inch. “Shut up. It'll get better soon enough.” he speaks when he gets annoyed by your little grunts of discomfort. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he bottoms out, stretching your pussy open. “There. It’s all in,” he spanks your ass making you wail out. 

The stretch burns but you soon feel yourself get wetter adjusting to his size. He starts thrusting his cock into you, using your pussy as his personal cocksleeve. He’s mean with it. He goes rough and fast, pushing his cock all the way till your hilt until his tip kisses your cervix. He laughs at how pathetically you whine, you plead for him to slow down but he doesn’t listen. He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, biting aggressively on your neck, whispering perverted remarks in your ear. He plays with you tits, rolling, pinching and tugging on your nipples. His hands are all over you, except where you need it the most- your clit. The hardened nub begs for attention, burning in need to be touched and played with yet he pays no mind to it choosing to watch you suffer in agony instead. 

“Pheweaze.” you beg, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. He catches the pink flesh between his fingers, petting it making it impossible for you to talk. “What’s that? What did you say? I couldn’t catch it.” He teases, pretending he doesn’t know what you need. He finally pulls his finger out of your mouth, still thrusting his cock into your cunt, “Pheleaseeee e touch my clliit. I need it.”  Finally, you manage to say a complete sentence. You embrace yourself in hopes of Shigaraki finally touching you but instead he chuckles, “Is that so? Is that what you need? I thought you wanted a quirk?” You cry out in frustration. Shigaraki laughs, his shrill laugh masking the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other. He thinks for a while, looking at you de-flowered, broken to the point where you couldn’t even form sentences properly, he smirks to himself. He’s won.

His fingers snake down to your clit rubbing it avidly. You sigh as you finally feel proper stimulation. Soon enough your loud moans of pleasure fill the empty room and you feel yourself tighten around Shigaraki, “I feel that, your slutty little cunt is squeezing me. You are close, aren’t you?” 

Your moans quickly turn into pants as you let out a silent scream while you cream around Shgaraki’s cock, “You came, bitch?” he asks but you just whimper, your body still writhing with the intensity of the orgasm, “Ugh. Hero Slut.” His thrust gets sloppier, you can feel he’s close by the way his cock twitches inside of you. Next you know- you feel- is hot spurts of cum shooting inside of you, painting your insides white. 

You plop down on the table beneath you, your body exhausted. He pulls out of you and you quickly turn your head back to him, “The quirk..” you meekly ask. “Messy little slut,” he murmurs, ignoring you. “Makes me wanna mess you up even more.”

“Tomura Shigaraki. The quirk.” 

He hummed. “So you plan to go back and pretend you are something more than a worthless slut?-” 

“Tomura. The fucking Quirk.” you weren’t in the mood for any of his shit now, “Jeez fine. If you want the quirk so bad, here, have it. Clean it up well.” He’s motioning to his half-erect cock covered with his cum and your juices. “What the fuck.” You ask, getting up standing to your full height. Even though you were much shorter to him ( and very much naked ) you still wanted to show him that you could put up a fight. 

“I give the quirks. If you want it, you’ll need to ingest my DNA. And also, didn’t I say I’m gonna come on your pretty face?” Your eyes dart up to focus on Shigaraki's face – and shame washes over you as you witness his sinister look. He pushes you down on his knees and you come in level with his cock. 

 “Fuck you,” you stutter out, still trying to seem like you have any power, like you’re the one in charge.

He laughs, “Oh, I just did, sweetheart.”

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[writer-ish]

grace (Mason x f!Detective)

Some of you may know my new co-obsession (along with @playchoices) is @seraphinitegames‘ The Wayhaven Chronicles and one (1) grumpy Greek vampire in particular.

Anyway, this little drabble was in my head after completing the Book 3 Demo for the millionth time and now you all need to be subjected to it as well. Enjoy? (Takes place sometime after Book 2, but before “that scene” in Book 3)

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 (reply or dm for add/removal!)

grace

Pairing: Mason x f!Detective (Grace Bennett) Length: 3.2k words | Rating: T (Language) Summary: A detective and a vampire try not to catch feelings for one another OR denial is not just a river in Egypt. 

“It only ever works if one of you cares more than the other.”

It was something Tina had said once, in a rare, cynical moment, fresh off a break up.

The two of them had gone out for drinks post-patrol one night and, as the evening wore on, Tina’s mood had descended in direct correlation with the growing number of empty glasses around them. Still, it hadn’t been until the cigarettes came out that Grace had really known they were in trouble.

“Trust me, Gracie.” Her friend had punctuated her words with haphazard gestures, cigarette wobbling precariously between two fingers, a fine dusting of ash drifting down to the table. Taking a drag, she’d released a thick plume of smoke from her mouth and nostrils before continuing.

“There’s no such thing as equal when it comes to love. There is always the giver and the receiver. The one who cares more. Who loves more. And—”

At this, she’d pointed the glowing ember at the end of her cigarette right in Constable Grace Bennett’s face.

“—You better hope it’s them and not you.”

Former Constable, now Detective Grace Bennett hadn’t thought about those words much in the subsequent years. Relationships weren’t really her forte, after all. There had been the disastrous two years in college with Bobby — in hindsight, one could hardly attribute “love” to anything that had happened between them — and, more recently, a few first dates that sometimes turned into second dates before fizzling out completely.

Hardly the stuff of romance novels.

So it was unfortunate that Tina’s old advice had chosen to rear its ugly head in her mind now, of all times, when Grace had found herself in a—situation where love was the absolute last thing she wanted to consider.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Mason. Of course she did.

What else would you call almost incurring the wrath of an entire civilization of ancient Estonian mirror creatures at the expense of saving his miserable life?

It was just that things were...

Complicated.

Leaning against her beat-up silver hatchback, she willed the pounding of her heart to settle as the night spring air enveloped her in its cool breeze. She took deep and even breaths in and out of her nostrils, contemplating just how complicated things were, exactly.

First of all, wasn’t dating a colleague generally frowned upon?

Grace had never broken that rule in all her years on the force and she hadn’t had any intention of doing it as a detective, either, never mind as part of her mother’s top secret supernatural government agency.

Not only that, but what if said colleague had also made it abundantly clear, in more ways than one, that they weren’t looking for anything exclusive or serious in any capacity?

Had, in fact, made it a point to preface almost every sexual encounter with some variation of those very words?

And to even further complicate matters, what if said commitment-phobe colleague also happened to be supernatural themselves? More specifically, a vampire who was a few years shy of his centennial?

What then?

And yet — bear with her, here — let’s say, said commitment-phobe centenarian vampire colleague also looked at her as though she were the only human on this planet that he gave a damn about, the only one who could make his smile curl up on both sides, the only one who warmed those steel-grey eyes into molten embers, the one who—

Her train of thought cut off abruptly as she heard the doors open to the police station. There was a thick fog cutting the night air, the warmth of the day lazily giving way to the coolness of the night, imparting an almost dream-like quality onto an otherwise ordinary parking lot.

Grace waited, peering through the haze, until the object of her musings appeared. His unruly dark waves swung around his cheeks, just barely brushing his collarbone as he stalked towards her, hands buried deep in his pockets. His shoulders were hunched up close to his ears, which she knew was scant protection from the cold he must be feeling.

Her heart inadvertently gave a little pang at the thought and she could’ve sworn she saw his gaze narrow slightly as it happened.

She continued to take him in while she could, eyes lingering on the crystal around his neck that seemed to glow from within, a warm cerulean pulsation, before drifting over his leather jacket, burgundy henley, and worn-in jeans, half-tucked into his partially laced boots.

“Thanks for waiting,” was the first thing he said once he was in ear-shot.

Any passer-by might have thought he was sincere: Thanks for waiting for me by the car. For not leaving when you could have. Thanks for offering me a ride.

Grace, however, understood the sarcastic undercurrent of his words. Thanks for leaving me in there to deal with your mother and the rest of the agents. Nate’s disapproving glances and Felix’s gleeful ones. Thanks for ditching me.

There was never any true bite to his words, though, not anymore—even the borderline derisive ones. Instead, he stopped about a foot in front of her and straightened, his full lips quirked slightly, an unlit cigarette dangling between them. She had to crane her neck to look up at him and his grin grew wider.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he murmured, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

She cleared her throat, unable to stop the blush from creeping up her neck. 

Even after all they’d been through — all they’d done — she still couldn’t prevent the slow crawl of heat that always seemed to accompany his presence.

“Yeah,” she said gruffly, turning to open her door and hoping maybe this time he hadn’t noticed.

One glance at the way he rolled his lips, hiding an ever-growing smirk as he rounded the back bumper of her car to go to the passenger side, told her that there was no chance she had been that lucky.

They got in quietly and she started the ignition — on the third try, ignoring his snort and slow headshake — before they were off.

“You know,” she said after a beat, even though she kicked herself for always being the one to break the silence, “I don’t think I need a babysitter anymore. Things seem quiet now.”

Mason scoffed.

“Things are never quiet,” he replied bluntly. “There’s just the hurricane or the eye of the storm.”

She felt his eyes on her after a moment and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Why? Getting sick of my company, sweetheart?”

“No!” she blurted out quickly—too quickly. “It’s not that, it’s just—I mean, I feel bad for you, to be honest. I’m sure there’s other things you’d rather be doing—”

“There’s nothing — and no one — else I’d rather be doing right now.” He’d said the words casually enough, as though completely unaware of the tumult they would cause within her system, his head still tilted languidly against the headrest of her passenger seat as he watched her.

“Well—” She fumbled for words. “That’s—I’m glad.” Nice one.

He chuckled low in his throat. “What is it about you being flustered that just gets me going?” He shook his head. “I’ll never know.” 

She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. “I hate it,” she admitted. “You make me feel like my brain is constantly short-circuiting.”

“I’ll take that compliment.”

She took her eyes off the road briefly to look over at him. Sure enough, he was still staring right at her with a little smile quirking the side of his mouth up. She couldn’t help the return smile that she felt crinkling up the corners of her eyes.

His face changed slightly, smile dropping.

“Jesus, sweetheart, keep smiling at me like that and you might need to pull over.” He fiddled with a fresh cigarette before popping it in his mouth. She waited a beat, but the lighter never came out.

“We’re here anyway,” she said, pulling into her apartment complex and finding a spot easily. “You’ve officially completed your chaperone duty.” She hazarded a glance over at him. “Did you…” She cleared her throat. Be bold, Gracie.

He’d already turned his whole body in his seat, one hand braced on the dash, the other elbow digging in beside his headrest. He watched her carefully, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Did I?” He pretended to mull over the incomplete question. “The answer is most likely yes, I have.”

He leaned closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath swirling in the space between them. No longer imbued with the scent of burning tobacco, instead it had a sweetness to it, a freshness that reminded her of an unopened pack of cigarettes before they had been tainted by a flame.

“I have, I would have, and I certainly will again,” he continued, leaning forward even closer.

Grace bit her bottom lip and his eyes shot down to it immediately, seemingly transfixed by her tooth caught in the flushed redness of her mouth.

“Finish the sentence, detective,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on her, the cool grey seeming to emanate with a glow all its own.

“Did you want to come in?” she breathed, her own eyes darting down to his mouth in return.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her dark hair as he pulled her towards him.

“Always,” he said against her lips before capturing them with his.

Grace felt herself drowning in the moment, the same rushing vortex of emotion she felt every time they kissed. She’d thought it would get easier — that it had to — that it wouldn’t feel so all-consuming, so vital each time.

But as his lips slid over hers, tongue stroking and tasting and always drawing more and more from her, as she carded her fingers through the tempting obsidian waves of his hair and tugged him closer still, the desire to devour him too persistent to ignore—

She knew she was in deep. Too deep. She cared—too much. And there would be no getting out this time — at least not with all her vital parts attached.

* * *

Mason never thought he would like anything more than fucking.

It was intrinsic to his very being, the combustive need for release at all times — not just sexually, but entwined within his very existence. A need to be released from the hold of his senses, from the overpowering strain of existence—the sounds, the smells, the sights. All of it.

His desire to remove himself from the harshness of reality was a constant endeavour — and sex just happened to be the easiest and most pleasurable way to do it.

But he had to hand it to his little detective.

The sex was good, that was for sure. No doubt about it.

But the kissing—

In his almost one hundred years on this planet — at least the ones he could recall — he couldn’t remember ever being this affected by goddamn kissing of all things.

It had to be the little noises she made. Murmurs and moans against his mouth that he wasn’t even sure she was fully aware she was doing.

Or the way she pulled at him, drawing him closer each time so she could press her body against his, feel the length of her torso flush with the entirety of his.

She reminded him of a little burrowing creature, nuzzling at his jaw and neck, gripping the collar of his shirt, squirming to get under, over, inside him.

He squeezed her tightly — moderating the full extent of his strength, obviously, but still forcing her to emit a small breathless gasp at the feeling — and pulled her across the console towards him.

“Settle,” he murmured against her ear, dragging her fully into his lap. It was an effort — her legs kicked the dashboard, the radio, and the glove box before she could tuck them under herself as she buried a giggle into his shoulder.

“This car is not made for that sort of lateral movement,” she informed him, shifting to try and get comfortable.

“Oof,” he grunted as her knee hit his midsection. “God, you’re heavy.” It was patently untrue, but he knew he’d get some sass back for a comment like that and he found himself eagerly anticipating it.

She didn’t disappoint. Leaning back, she braced her hands on his shoulders, a lock of dark hair obscuring half of one of her hazel eyes. A street lamp illuminated her cheeky, exasperated grin as she tilted her head and regarded him.

“Is that so?” She wiggled around purposefully and he groaned in unspent desire as her perfectly round bottom found all the right places in his lap. “Would you care to file a complaint?”

“Christ, no,” he muttered, pulling her towards him once more. “Let’s get out of this aluminum death trap and go upstairs.”

Kicking his door open despite her protests to be careful, he tightened his hold on her and lifted them both out of the car, bracing his legs on the pavement as he stood.

He knew she was anticipating that he would release her, drop her to her feet and continue forwards to her apartment, likely with her trailing behind — his long strides swallowing up the pavement much easier than her shorter ones — but he found himself enjoying the steady, rapid beat of her heart against his shoulder, the comforting heft of her in his arms. He found himself hardpressed to let her go.

So he didn’t.

“Mason!”

She let out a gasp that dissolved into a laugh as he hefted her higher up and over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from giving her ass a playful slap as he carried her to her door. She kicked her legs ineffectually, thumped his back lightly with her palms as she squirmed. He only held her tighter against him.

“Stop moving, detective,” he ground out, the cigarette dropping out of his mouth as he turned his head to bite whatever part of her was closest to his cheek.

She yelped as his teeth made contact with the side of her upper thigh, hard enough that she’d be able to feel it through her jeans.

“Keep it up and it’ll be harder next time,” he promised, carrying her effortlessly up her steps. He paused at her front door. “Keys?”

“They’re in my pocket,” she grumbled and he made a big show of patting her bottom — both sides, thoroughly — before pulling them out of the pocket with the obvious protrusion and unlocking her door.

He let them in and kicked the door shut behind him, then took two strides into the small space and deposited her unceremoniously on the couch.

“Geez,” she spluttered, moving her hair out of her face. “What are my neighbours going to think?”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but with the noises you’ve been making lately, they’ve already drawn their own conclusions,” he drawled, crossing his arms and regarding her with a half smirk.

She just shook her head at him, her eyes glittering with mirth—and something else, something less easy to discern or define. 

Before he could decipher it further, she threw him off with another question:

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” 

Her tone could have been accusatory in nature, but instead there was only a mild sense of awe and a greater sense of amusement. Regardless, it still took him aback.

What, exactly, did she mean by that?

He admitted to himself that there had been a certain feeling of—levity, about him tonight. An air of calmness, of — dare he say — happiness, at the thought of walking out of that station and seeing her waiting for him. Of knowing that he got to go home with her. To hold her. To taste her. To fuck her.

And then to leave her.

“Into me?” He regarded her warily, before moderating his reaction and his tone. “I’m more concerned with getting into you tonight, detective.”

“I have a name,” she retorted, sitting up and smoothing her shirt out. “You haven’t used it once since we left the station.”

Yeah, she had a name. He knew she had a fucking name. Grace. How ironic.

“Call me Gracie,” she’d said to them once and he’d almost puked.

What in the everloving fuck was someone like him doing with someone called Grace? “Grace” meant kindness. Charity. Good will. “Grace” meant mercy.

Mason had never had, nor had he ever wanted, anything to do with mercy.

And this girl—woman in front of him tonight, was the embodiment of her name. Everything kind. Everything compassionate. Everything merciful.

He crossed his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t have to look at them.

“Are we doing introductions again?” he snapped and then immediately regretted it when he saw the stricken look on her face.

All of a sudden, everything felt too overwhelming, his senses in overdrive as he lost his grip on her presence, her heartbeat. Instead, he felt a tidal wave of unwelcome sensations: the smell of the toast she’d made that morning, some flowers she had in a vase that were on the cusp of dying, the light he’d turned on when they walked in shining right in his eyes, the conversation and heavy footsteps of the people in the apartment above them— 

Compulsively, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips, ready to light it.

Her eyes followed him, watching him closely. He didn’t know if she realized that something had changed in his demeanour or not, but her gaze on him made him itchy, too, in a different way.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he bit down hard on the cigarette, crushing the filter.

“Should I leave?” he muttered, feeling his shoulders hunch. Knowing he looked and sounded petulant and hating himself for it, but being unable to moderate his emotions enough to lift up the necessary shields.

She continued to regard him silently, those all-knowing hazel eyes, wise beyond their years, stripping him down to his scars — external and internal.

He suppressed a shudder.

“I’m going to shower,” she said eventually, “and wash off the grime of the day.” She gestured around the apartment. “Feel free to stay and get comfortable.” Then, she swallowed hard and met his eyes briefly, before looking away and shrugging. “Or go. It’s up to you.” She walked towards the bathroom, tossing her jacket on a chair as she went. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

The bathroom door closed — and locked, decisively.

It would be so easy to just bounce. Two steps to the door and then minutes before he could make it back to the warehouse. To his own bed. To the rest of his unit. Where things were easy and no one would ask questions. He could even go to a bar. Find another warm and willing body to lie with. One with a sensible and meaningless name, like Michael or Jennifer, whose eyes would be as empty as their head and who would smell all wrong and who he’d leave behind without looking back even once, because he didn’t give a shit about them.

It would be so easy.

So fucking easy.

Mason heard the shower turn on.

He thought about how she’d feel when she came out of that shower — thought, too, about her skin flushed and damp, only a towel wrapped around her, just because he couldn’t help himself — knowing that she’d given him an opportunity to stay and he’d chosen to go. 

He found himself caring, for the first time, about how his actions might affect another person’s feelings. 

He looked at the front door. Then he looked at the couch.

And he sat down.

* 

Thanks for reading! I have a smutty part two planned, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in. 😅

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter One: The Queen of Hearts

AN: At first, I was going to delete this story because it wasn’t gaining any traction, which was disappointing, but as the days passed the notes started coming in I decided to keep it posted. Thank you to everyone that’s read this fic so far.

Trigger Warnings: subtle racism

Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter Two: Division X

The car journey was slow and tedious, it had only been three hours since the three of us had set off. I was dozing off in the back seat cocooned in my tan wool coat as my head used the window as a pillow, listening to Charles and Erik talk softly amongst themselves, they must have thought I was fully asleep.

"Why recruit an empath?" Erik asked curiously. "Why not recruit someone with a more destructive power?"

"You forget Claudia is also telekinetic," Charles answered. "I mean did you see her? When she lifted that knife, her eyes, it was as if they were glowing. It was beautiful to look at!" Charles exclaimed, and I could envision a brilliant smile on his face.

"You find her attractive, don't you?" Erik asked, almost amused. "I'm sure Agent MacTaggert will understand," Erik continued, still in a teasing tone.

Charles chuckled delightfully, "I'm not going to comment on that," Charles stated, clearing his throat and changing the topic. "But do not discount her empathy as not a destructive gift, that particular ability can enhance her mind and body to be nearly superhuman if she wished it to do so, along with projecting her emotions to other people. Empathy can be extremely dangerous,"

"Do you think she has used it in a dangerous way?" Erik questioned. Erik's question hung in the air for a while. "Charles?" he prompted.

"There is danger within her," Charles answered softly.

His voice, hazy as the air in summertime, seemed to come from somewhere outside of himself. The two of them were silent then, knowing and sharing this sudden, troubling observation. Just as my eyes felt heavy and I felt myself drifting into a peaceful sleep when Erik's voice startled me.

"Charles, do you really think that this is a good idea?"

"Erik, if I didn't have faith in how powerful her abilities are then I never would have allowed her to get mixed up in this in the first place," Charles assured.

"And just how powerful are her abilities, Charles? I feel like there's something you're hiding. What more can she do?"

"She's more powerful than even she knows. You've only sampled a small amount of the power she possesses. But I think that she's holding back what she can do, so until she tells us, we'll have to wait,"

My mind became fuzzy and I soon drifted off into total and calm oblivion.

~~~x~~~

When I woke up, my head was still resting on the window. I lifted my head from my makeshift pillow and saw Erik looking at me, through the rear view mirror, with a mixture of emotions that I didn't recognize. I shifted slightly and sat up slowly, my limbs groaning in protest. It was now early afternoon, as we made the drive to the CIA headquarters.

My eyes shifted between the back of Erik's seat and the back of Charles seat every few minutes. Charles looked at the mirror, shifting his eyes slightly so he can still see the road and keep eye contact with me.

"So Claudia," he began in attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen on the car now that I was awake. "What did you do at your job?" Charles asked politely.

My eye twitched as I stared at the mirror, "Clearly, I was in maintenance," I retorted sleep still heavy in my voice, as I gestured at my dress underneath my coat.

Erik's eyes moved from the passenger side window back to the mirror, looking at me, "Sarcasm won't be the best way to pass time," he turned his attention back to the road.

We sit in a tense silence, I never was one for small talk. I just left my home and job only a few hours ago to help two strangers I just met. They worked for the government, which raised my suspicion, but the fact that they knew how to find me so easily and knew what I could do was unnerving. I believe that I deserved to be left alone with my thoughts, this was a lot for me.

After a few minutes of more tense silence I spoke up again, "Psychologist," I answered, causing the two men to look back at me. "I was a psychologist's assistant, I only have my bachelor's degree," I explained.

It was the perfect cover, I gave mental support to patients and their families. No one really knew what I was and what I could do if I was given the chance. Secretly, I always hoped something would happen that'd make me use my powers for a cause bigger than myself.

Charles smiled at me, "Where did you attend college?"

My voice turned monotone, "Howard University, but you probably already knew that and my whole life story," I remarked.

"Contrary to your belief, I am not one to betray someone's trust. You asked me to stay out of your head, so until I have your permission, I won't reach out for you telepathically," Charles looked at the rear view mirror again, catching my eyes again.

Regret flashed in my eyes as I dropped my gaze, playing with my hands, "My apologies,"

"There's no need to apologize to me, Claudia,"

I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable, I glanced out the window, "Where are we?" I asked, changing the subject.

"We're coming up to the headquarters now," Charles answered, gesturing to the large building looming up ahead of us.

I looked out of the window to see the headquarters. It was made up of one huge tan stone building surrounded by acres of clean, green fields and deciduous trees, with a rather odd looking satellite to the left of it that looked like a large golf ball atop of a tee. It was quite remarkable and imposing, but also very conspicuous.

"I would have thought that it would be more camouflaged, being a government building and all," I quipped, and Erik let out a light chuckle.

The car came to a gradual stop before we pulled up to the curb and we all stepped out of the car.

"Home sweet home," Erik noted dryly.

The air had turned cold and bitter and I shrugged my coat closer to me in an attempt to keep warm, before I grabbed my suit case out of the black car. Charles, Erik, and I had gone back to my apartment after I was recruited to gather my clothes and valuables into my suitcase. I smiled inwardly thinking back on how Erik ordered me to hurry up and pack my belongings and I did just the exact opposite just to piss him off.

"I thought I told you to make it quick," Erik grumbled, trying to steer me out of my own apartment.

"You did. I just didn't listen," I answered simply, before latching onto Charles' arm, and he guided me out the apartment.

"Claudia, Erik. Please. Do try to get on. We have a six hour car journey ahead of us and I don't think that my sanity will be able to stand you two bickering for that length of time," Charles groaned.

"My, my, is he always like that?" I asked, looking over my shoulder with a wry grin and Erik just glared at me.

"Erik?"

"Who else?" I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Is he always so hostile towards people?"

"I would say not trusting in your case, my dear," Charles corrected. "Just give him time and he will come around, probably not entirely, but I trust he will not try to kill you," Charles stated sending me a reassuring smile, that I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow to.

"I'd like to see him try,"

It was starting to become fun, arguing with Erik. He had a quick wit, not unlike myself. We could keep up with each other. Shaking my head out of my daze, I closed the car door. Charles came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder and slowly guided me towards the front door.

"Now Claudia, there are six more people here just like us. You will meet them shortly," Charles informed, as I walked beside him with suitcase in hand.

"Ah, Charles, Erik, welcome back. I see you have brought one more recruit," A large, more plump man greeted us, sporting a black suit, wore square glasses, and had jet black hair. "Welcome to my facility, the CIA's new Mutant Division," he welcomed as I looked on impressed. He extended his hand out to me, I was shocked by the gesture. "I'm Agent Platt, and I promise you I'm on your side,"

"Claudia Walker," I greeted back smiling while giving his hand a firm shake. "And by that I hope you mean you support us, because you aren't a mutant," I hinted, my smile never wavered. Agent Platt raised his eyebrows, glancing to Charles uncomfortably. "I'm an empath Mr. Platt. I might not know what you're thinking, but rest assured I know what you're feeling," the man smiled, his cheeks scrunching up.

"Well, anyway, let's introduce you to your new partners, Claudia. You'll be with them for a...long while, so might as well get acquainted," Agent Platt stated.

"We are actually are on their way Agent Platt," Charles informed, shoving his hands in pocket. "We got it from here," Charles stated.

Mr. Platt nodded, "It was nice meeting you, Claudia," I gave small wave and the man twisted around and walked away from us.

As we moved around the halls, which were full of CIA agents, some of them had stopped in their tracks, watching as the three of us made our way through. Some had disgusted looks on their faces, like they had smelled something awful. Others had smirks plastered on their face, and I could see it in their eyes that they were working on plans on how to make my life miserable. It wouldn't be hard, those stares were enough to make me feel uncomfortable.

Charles and Erik seemingly ignored the stares and both pointed out places. It had already become easy to tell who really was fully into this, and that was Charles. As we moved into the laboratories, he lit up with explaining ideas of mutations in genes and all sort of things that revolved around an expansion of the human race. His hope for this new sort of combined world was almost infectious. And then there was Erik, the gruffer of the two who just sort of nodded along, ignoring the mutations speeches, but pointed of the more relevant things like the bathroom and kitchen. Both had their positives and negatives, and you could tell that they were good friends that filled in what the other was lacking a bit.

"Here is where you'll be staying," Charles pushed open the door to the small simple room. "All of us are staying in this hallway. Welcome to your new home Claudia," I looked at Charles smile and internally shake my head.

This was hardly my home. All it was was a big, white, cold building that stuck out like a neon flashing light. It might as well say "Mutants helping the CIA are here. Come check them out!"

I opened my mouth to voice my opinion, but changed my mind, "Thanks," I smiled to him as I stepped in and put my bag on the bed.

"Do you mind if I change. Sleeping and sitting in this dress for six hours was incredibly uncomfortable," I explained.

"Of course, we'll be right outside the door," Charles replied, and he left the room.

My eyes scanned over the room once more, my bedroom looked like a stereotypical military barrack. Grey walls, grey prickly carpet, grey, bland itchy bed covers, a lumpy mattress, standard chest of drawers and a small desk with a small desk lamp. No personality. At. All. It was definitely going to need a change, because this would not do.

"Alright," I shrugged and turned to unpack my suitcase. Flipping it open I started pulling out my perfectly folded clothing and shoes. It was then as I started stooped down and lined my shoes up along the end of my bed that I realized Erik was still there, because he started chuckling.

"Can I help you, Chuckles?" I questioned, glancing back up at him.

"Nope, just wondering where the crack is in that perfect exterior you've built," he shrugged. "I mean, from what I've seen, all of us have one," he reasoned and I knew that he wasn't just talking of the human race, but specifically mutants.

"You tell me yours and I'll possibly tell you mine," I smirked as he raised an eyebrow to me and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

"I'm a survivor of the Holocaust," he replied with a look that silently tested me to freak out or something with this information.

This man wanted a reaction and I wasn't going to give it to him.

"That's one enormous crack," I turned back to him unconsciously rubbing my wrist, a motion that Erik did not miss as he raised a curious eyebrow.

"You're telling me," he replied dryly. "So...come on. You've got the Miss Perfect act down to a 'T', so where is it?" Erik asked, his eyes scanning over me.

"I don't if I should say now, yours would trump mine any day," I explained, as I ran my hand down my neck uncomfortably. I cleared my throat hoping to dispel the suffocating atmosphere that was closing in on me. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to change," I reminded, and Erik shot annoyed glance and grunted, before leaving the room.

I turned back to my suitcase and searched through my clothes to change into some more comfortable clothing. After finally deciding on what to wear I had changed into a pair of black cropped pants, flats, and a red turtleneck sweater. I walked out of my room, to see Erik and Charles waiting next to my door.

"Did you get lost in there?" Erik asked irritatedly.

"No. Beauty takes time, didn't you know?" I retorted, and Erik rolled his eyes. "Now, where are the other mutants, Charles?" I asked, focusing my gaze on Charles now.

"Follow me," Charles said, extending his arm out.

We had taken several corridors before finally coming to the room where the others were being kept. I grimaced at my thoughts, I made them sound like caged animals.

Charles stopped at the doors and turned to me, "Can you make sure they don't get into too much trouble? Charles requested.

I nodded slightly curious to see who I'm working with, "I'll be sure to," I answered.

As we stood in front of the door I took a moment to compose myself. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my pants and made sure my hair was in place though it was loose, I wanted make sure it wasn't all over the place. After all, first impressions were everything.

Charles pushed open the double doors and walked in. Erik followed with me in tow. I looked around the room. It was quite large with chairs and tables, couches in the middle and a fish tank against a wall. Two large windows were on either side of the room and it looked out towards the grounds.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet our final recruit,"

I then noticed the other people in the room. They were all younger than me, and staring at me.

"This is Claudia Walker and I hope you treat her well. Now if you would excuse Erik and I, we have some matters to discuss," he announced.

My head snapped up and glared at Charles' retreating form. I lifted my barrier slightly.

"Feed me to the dogs why don't you,"

Charles left with a laugh and several confused glances before he and Erik were finally out of the room. A stunning blonde ran up to me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I stepped back a little startled. Admittedly, I enjoyed being wrapped in her arms, it had been a long time since I last had a friend.

"I'm Raven, Charles' sister," she introduced, pulling away.

"I didn't know he had one," I replied, letting out a laugh.

"Well, he's barely here anymore to talk," Raven sighed, and then flashed me a fake smile. "Anyway, come and meet the others!" Her faux smile turned into a grin as she dragged me to the sofa. "Okay, this is Armando, but he prefers to be called Darwin," Raven started, nodding towards a slim, dark skinned man, clearly the oldest of the group of teens. "Angel," she named, nodding at a beautiful, tan skinned girl, with pitch black hair, and sultry, dark brown eyes. "Sean," my eyes moving to Sean, a pale, ginger, and rather lanky boy.

Sean stood up and took my hand, kissing it, "Sean Cassidy. Sixteen years old, I like fish, and pretty girls with black hair," he hinted. Raven and I exchanged amused looks that said, "Is he serious?"

"Teenage boys and their hormones. It's like being back in high school," I thought.

A muscular, blond boy pulled Sean back into his seat by his shirt, "Alright Casanova," he said dryly, and a laugh escaped me. "Get over it, man. She's out of your league, and probably older than you," the blond boy did a double take, his hand still fisted in Sean's shirt, "Wait, how old are you?" he questioned.

"Twenty-two," I answered.

"Six years older, man," the blond boy pointed to Sean before letting him go.

"I can take older women!" Sean protested.

The boy rolled his eyes and turned to me, "Excuse Ginger's-"

"Hey!" Sean interjected.

"Sad and obvious excuse to get you in a closet, a date, or in his bed...but I'm Alex. Alex Summers," he introduced, a smile forming on his face.

"And finally, Hank," Raven continued, motioning to the last guy left, clearly the nerd of the group, with his glasses and dorky jumper.

Hank reached out a hand, that I briefly shook, knowing it made Raven uncomfortable. She clearly liked him, it wasn't that I couldn't see where she was coming from. He was cute in a way, but just not my type.

"Now we're government agents, we should have code names," Raven suggested. "I want to be called Mystique," she announced, clearly having previously thought about it.

"Damn! I wanted to be called Mystique," Sean protested, faking disappointment. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head.

"Well, tough I called it," Raven laughed.

In seconds, blue scales trickled down her body before feathering into a perfect replica of Sean. Sean was taken aback, nearly spilling his drink. After the initial shocked faded, Sean began to study himself. We couldn't help but gape, it was truly amazing.

"Besides, I'm way more mysterious than you," Raven added, everyone broke into laughter, giving Raven a round of applause, as Sean turned back into a rather bashful Raven.

"Darwin, what about you?" Raven asked, taking her applause modestly.

"Well Darwin is already a nickname and it kind of fits," he nodded at us. "Adapt to survive an' all. Check this out,"

Darwin strode over to the fish tank, I couldn't help but wonder what he was about to do. He dunked his head into to the water of the fish tank, we didn't even have to blink before newly formed gills appeared on his face. We began to cheer, as he opened his mouth, impersonating a fish. The gills disappeared as he took his head out of the tank, shaking off the water, before signalling to Sean.

"What about you?" he inquired.

Sean pressed his hands together, taking a moment to decide.

"I'm going to be...Banshee,"  Sean decided.

I was about to open my mouth to speak before I was interrupted by Hank.

"Why do you want to be named after a wailing spirit?" he wondered, taking the words straight from my lips, I nodded in agreement.

"You might wanna cover your ears," Sean warned, getting up from his chair, revealing his full height, winking directly at me and I rolled my eyes.

All of us frowned in sheer confusion before reluctantly covering our ears. Sean bent down, keeping us in suspense. Letting out a high pitch whistling noise, shattering the glass window. Sean winced slightly when he saw the damage he had done before joining in with the others laughter. I gazed in horror at it.

"Charles is going to murder me," I thought to myself.

Maybe I would be able to...fix it, but I knew it was a useless thought.

"Your turn," Sean signaled at Angel, returning to his previous seat.

"My stage name was Angel," she began, standing up, sliding the leather jacket down her arms, revealing her bare back. Sean let out a wolf whistle and Alex shifted uncomfortably, clearly affected. "It kinda fits," Angel turned around revealing tattooed wings on her back slowly peeling off, starting to flutter effortlessly.

"You can fly?!" Raven gaped, mesmerized by her pixie wings.

"Uhuh and..." she bent over, and spat out a ball of what appeared to be acid onto the top of the statues head.

I had to suppress another groan at the damage inflicted upon the statue. Somehow I knew that the night was only going to get more destructive.

"That's disgusting," I muttered under my breath, thinking no one could hear me.

"Well what can you do," Angel challenged me, since I wasn't that impressed with her display.

I smirked and stood up, straightening myself out, "Well, I'm an empath. I can detect other peoples feelings and manipulate them, Watch," I instructed.

I walked over to Darwin and place my hand on his arm, "Amazement," I named, before moving over to Sean. I touched his arm, wrinkling my nose a little. "Lust. Ew," I commented, as everyone laughed and Sean turned a light shade of pink. "And..." I walked towards Alex, about to do my trick on him, when I see him tense up.

The emotions I feel are mixed, there is a hint of happiness, but it is over shadowed by a depressing, dark feeling. I looked into his eyes and there is so much mystery, so much hurt, that I am compelled not to reveal this boy's current emotional state to the entire group.

"... You get the picture," I finished, walking away. I might've been mistaken, but I swear I felt a slight sense of gratitude radiating off of Alex. I took a seat across from Angel, sitting at the edge of it, focusing on Angel's brain. "What I'm doing right now is accessing the hippocampus of Angel's brain, having that send messages to the amygdala, which is the part of the brain that is responsible for emotions. I have to choose an emotion then release and Angel will act the way that emotion wants her to," I explained, looking at everyone.

My choice was to make her really sad, I don't know why but it was just for no reason. When I released her brain, she started to cry hysterically. She could probably fill a bathtub with her tears. Releasing my control over Angel, she calmed down after few minutes, everyone choked with laughter, and Angel glared at me.

"Ask and you shall receive," I stated, returning an innocent smile with a shrug.

"Oh, and I can also-" I broke off, as I pointed towards Sean's glass that he was about to take a drink out of. It took itself out of his hand surrounded in a violet aura and hovered just out of his reach. They all looked up at me in amazement. Sean whistled, clapping. I gave a small smile, bowing in my seat.

"Hmm...what about...Blithe? But spelt B-l-y-t-h-e!" Raven said excitedly.

"I don't get it," Sean stated, confusion evident in his expression.

"It means to be happy and carefree," Hank explained, quietly but all of us heard him and we turned to look at him. He cleared his throat before carrying on looking at me. "It also means to show a casual and cheerful indifference, not that I'm trying to say that you do-" Hank starting to ramble.

"It's fine, no offense taken," I reassured, cutting him off and he looked up at me. "I love it," I looked back over to Raven. "Blythe...It's got a nice ring to it," I carry on smiling at her.

"What's your name?" Raven asked. Hank looked down, embarrassed.

Alex choked on his drink, "How about Bigfoot?" he sniggered.

Raven turned her head to glare at him. I shot a disapproving look at Alex, it was like he had shattered the little confidence, Hank actually had.

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet," Raven started, looking down to Alex's feet, I frowned in confusion. Hanks mutation was big feet? "And yours look kind of small," Raven's tone turning spiteful. I couldn't help but laugh along with the others including Alex, all except Raven and Hank, who sat in an awkward silence.

"Alex, what is your gift? What can you do?" Darwin asked, motioning to him before leaning back into the sofa.

"Uh it's not...um, I can't do it, I can't do it in here," Alex stuttered, avoiding everyone's gaze.

My own gaze softened, I found myself feeling sorry for him, "Guys," I started, looking at him in sympathy. "Let's leave him be,"

"Can you do it out there?" Darwin asked, gesturing out the window.

"Darwin!" I exclaimed, making him look abashed. But it was too late, the idea had already caught fire.

"Why don't you just do it out there?" Raven said, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Come on!"

The room erupted into cheers of Alex's name. Leaning back in my seat, I sighed heavily. This is fantastic. Soon giving into the calls, Alex stood up. They cheered, Raven laughing.

"Get down when I tell you," Alex ordered, looking deadly serious. He seemed deathly afraid of his own powers, whatever those were. We got up from our spots on the sofas and piled along the edge of the window. Alex was outside, a little to the side of us.

"Get back," he warned. We ducked back into the room, before peeking our heads out once again. He had a determined expression on his face and his arms were slightly outstretched in front of him.

"Get back!" He ordered, and they repeated their action from before, while I didn't. However, after a moment, they joined me once more. "Whatever," Alex grumbled.

Alex began to circle his hips, in a way that would make you think he knew what he was doing, as three red rings appeared. Letting go, the rings flew in different directions, one of the other beams came dangerously close to hitting Raven another one sliced through the statue, clean in half. When he did, I groaned loudly, clapping a hand to my forehead. The others clapped and cheered, impressed more likely at the destruction of the statue, more than Alex's power.

He split the thing in half! How do you even do that? Giving up, I marched back over to my seat, collapsing in it.

"Sorry Charles," I apologized in advance. "I wasn't a very good caretaker,"

"You know what this party needs?" Darwin asked rhetorically, standing up, "Alcohol," He pulled out a bottle of tequila out of the cabinet.

He was met with cheers as everyone besides me rushed to get some.

"Well," Angel began. "I think we deserve a little music," she suggested.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I predicted more damage. Sighing, I sat down in my spot, leaving the others to their antics.

They already caused a large amount of damage, what more could they do?

Chapter Three: Budding Relationships

[hacked-by-jake]

Jake x MC 93. Living for angst!

Are you fucking serious?

A/n: Hi @jellyfishdodraw  and thank you for your request. I really hope you like it and please forgive the mistakes🙏🏻 Uhm yes, have fun..😅😊

Prompt: “We should break up”

Words: 1,8k

Warning: Angst, swearing, discussion /argument, no happy end, (Maybe a spoiler from the movie V for Vendetta?)

You didn’t have much to do today, which is why you were looking forward to it.

--

"MC?" Jake appears in the door of his office, you’re sitting in the living room with a drawing you’ve been planning on doing for a long time.

"I want to talk to you," Jake speaks with his soft voice, but somehow seems nervous.

"Sure" you answer, "what’s going on? You look worried".

He comes to you and sits next to you on the sofa and you put your pen aside to give him your full attention.

"Okay, listen," he starts reaching for your hands, "please don’t interrupt me".

All the alarm bells are ringing in your head, "Jake tell me. You’re scaring me".

He takes a deep breath before he starts.

"I got an offer, an offer for a pretty big deal. A group of great Hackers who have joined forces to expose a huge corruption within the government. However, they still lack someone with my skills and knowledge. I know them and know that they have only good things in mind. However, I would like to inform you beforehand as this will also be quite dangerous if something goes wrong"

For a moment, you just look at him speechless to see if he could really be serious.

"If you just asked me seriously if you could hack the government, to uncover anything, then no! Sorry", a little incredulous you shake your head as you want to go back to your drawing.

"How no?" he looks at you irritated.

"What No?" you laugh bitterly, still hoping that this is just a bad joke.

"Why?" Jake asks and tries to keep his voice at a neutral volume.

"That you’re really even asking me about this," you grumble.

"Okay, and why not?"

Vigorously, you turn to him again, "Why not? Why don’t I want you to put yourself and me in danger? Have you forgotten the beginning of our relationship?"

Actually, you don’t want to be like that, but you don’t know how to react. You feel shocked and almost a little amused about it. And that he’s seriously asking if that’s okay, hurts you. What  does he think? That you’re jumping happy around and cheering? Does he want the Nobel Peace Prize?

"No, I didn’t forget but-"

You interrupt him, "but what, Jake? But what? But your plan isn’t so bad?"

His gaze turns into angry and he gets up from the sofa.

"Okay, well, the country we live in, has a bunch of corrupt politicians who are empowered to make enormously important decisions about this country. I can do something about it and make sure we don’t get into trouble in a few months, but you say no?"

He seems totally horrified.

"You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t understand what my problem is?"

"No, MC, I’m sorry, honestly, not"

You pull up your eyebrows and tilt your head.

"What exactly, can’t you understand? You put yourself in the greatest danger, and me too! What happens if they catch you Jake? What happens then? You go to jail your whole fucking life when that happens, and me? I’ll stay here alone. And then we play happy family every two months? If I may visit you? If I may at all, because you want to interfere in something that they do not like at all! We have already played through that. Even I’ve been through this before, and that with you! Isn’t that reason enough?" during your speech, you stood up and walked into the kitchen to grab a drink.

"No, not reason enough" he answers and leans with his arms folded in the door frame.

"Wait, wait, our relationship and I are not reason enough?" you look disturbed at him.

"MC, you know I would never put you in danger".

His sentence sounds like an accusation.

"Wouldn’t you? But you do it! What happens if it goes wrong? Do you want to escape? Should I come with you then?"

"Nobody knows if it will go wrong!"

"Yes, but nobody knows if it’s going well," you hiss and slaps on the table, "Now you ask me if you can hack the government, what’s next? You blow up Parliament like Vendetta? Jake just because you both wear the same mask, you are still far from being him. If you leave out the fact that it’s a movie. Maybe you’ve been watching the movie too much." you mock and regret it in the next moment. That might have been a little harsh.

Jake also looks astonished and then slowly nods his head, "All right, thank you" he mumbles and turns around.

"Nothing is okay" you lean down against the countertop.

"I could save a country from bad things MC." Okay, now he’s blaming you.

"Now you want me to feel bad?"

"No"

You snort outraged and looking out the window.

"You know what? Call me selfish! Call me cold! Call me inhuman or whatever you want. But I certainly don’t see you putting yourself in danger again! Jake, back then, you were alone. That’s what you decided when we didn’t know each other.

But now  we’ve been a couple! We’ve been together for two years. Do you remember, that in the beginning, we couldn’t leave each other alone for two hours without fear for the other or just because we didn’t want to be alone? And now? Do you want to put us both in danger of being hunted by the government? Once again? I don’t give a shit if you can save a country or what could happen later. I care about you and I don’t want you to put yourself in danger! I remember when the agents tried to hack me and you suddenly texted me again! There was nothing worse than that I was in danger, and now you want to accept that danger? Risk that it goes wrong and we have to split up? So sorry, but for me it comes across as if it’s not bad for you anymore. I don’t really want to say it, but it just seems to me like it doesn’t matter to you, that you put me in danger too."

"But maybe nothing happens, if I don’t, we’ll never know!"

"Yeah, I know, Jake, but that’s like jumping from a height of five meters. Maybe I just break a few of my bones, maybe all of them, I don’t know, and it would be stupid to try. And I’m not taking the risk of losing you. I know you always want to save everyone and do something good for everyone, but Jake, someday it’s your turn, someday it’s all about you. And before you jeopardize your entire life, Me, as your girlfriend, am obligated to stop you!"

You just keep talking because you feel like if you stop, is everything over. It's hurting that he’s suddenly so weird and angry, that he wants to jeopardize everything.

"I can’t put my well-being above that of a whole country. I can’t do that, MC. It’s too important for me," he shouts. He can’t put it above other people’s but above yours...?

You look at him mute.

As he stands there, the hair slightly confused, his blue eyes that otherwise glow so full of love, now look rather dark and angry.

The way he folded his arms. His facial features are tense.  And it hurts. It hurts a lot. That Jake is suddenly so different than usual.

"So you want to endanger us all? All of us? Hannah, Lilly, your father, Me, and even the others. What you’re up to, is not a small thing, and they’re going to involve every single one of us because anyone who knows you, could have something to do with it" the first tear flows out of your eye. Whether by your suppressed anger or because it’s really sad what he wants from you.

Somewhere, you can unfortunately understand him but you just don’t want to risk your almost perfect, quiet and harmonious life. Above all, who knows what they came across? What are they talking about?

Besides, there’s certainly another hacker somewhere who has the same skills as Jake, and can work with them.

But then the realization hits you like a slap in the face.

"You’re already in on this, aren’t you? It’s already happened or not?" you ask with a trembling voice.

Guiltily he turns his gaze to the ground and says nothing.

"You’re not fucking serious, are you?" you scream.

"Did something go wrong? Something happened ago and that’s why you’re telling me about it now?"

"MC I-"

You interrupt him stunned, "Oh, my God, Jake!" you slap your hands in front of your face. Your feelings collide and seem to eat you from the inside.

All of a sudden, you feel like you’re on a time trip to the beginning of everything. Fear and insecurity are breaking down over you and you realize that everything will start all over again if it goes wrong.

"MC, listen to me -"

"No! No, I don’t want to know, no, you know what you just did?" you ask and wipe away the tears that grow stronger and stronger.

"Oh, God, I have to get out of here," you mumble.

You rush past him to the front door.

You grab your jacket and your shoes, you open the door without putting them on.

"Where do you want to go now?" he asks desperately.

"Go, Jake, I have to go now, to Jessy or something," you sniffed while you were in a hurry putting your shoes coarsely on.

"MC, you can’t tell anyone about this! No one! You know that".

Stunned you laugh, "You’re not serious. I’m not supposed to tell NO ONE that YOU put us all in danger? Jake, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you realize what you’re doing?"

"So what I do is shit? That I want to save people? All of us?"

"Is it worth it to put your family in danger, Jake? Is it worth it to you to lose everyone? Oh God, I can’t do this, Jake. I can’t go through this again. I can’t live in fear for months, that I’ll be woken up by the FBI, breaking down our front door and suddenly standing in our bedroom to take you. Jake, I can’t do this," you cry desperately.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" he almost whispers and stares at you, "What do you mean, you can’t?"

You swallow your tears and the lump in your throat and take a deep breath, "That means I can’t stay by your side when this starts over. I - I think it’s better if we should break up.. I can’t do it, not again!"

"You’re leaving me?" in his face it’s horrified. To see this, breaks your heart. You really, really love him more than anything else in the world but all that stress again? Months of uncertainty? Months of sorrow and uncertainty?

"I am so sorry"

You turn around and storm down the stairs. What the fuck just happened?

-----

🌹

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 25: Silver Lining

Just another day, like any other. Esredes was on his walk to work, and in a particular mood. His mind was wandering once more as he passed the Vault, to fantasies that faded far beyond reality. Imagine if the Warrior hadn't interfered until Nidhogg reared his ugly head. Imagine if Ysayle had killed the Archbishop, before he could take on his own transformation, and the two of them had dealt with Nidhogg. Esredes hadn't trusted Ishgard's people enough, perhaps even less than Ysayle herself. He was fully mentally prepared for having to subjugate Ishgard to get it to listen to them. But perhaps, as things had turned out, not nearly as many would have needed subjugation. Perhaps he wouldn't need to help manage a fragile, in chaos city-state that had been taken over, especially when so many of his own had nothing even close to management skills, perhaps a proper parley would've been possible. And yet, Esredes pulled himself back to reality and reminded himself, that was never quite the case. Peace had been agreed to, and that was it. Himself and all of his were only here on Ishgard's terms or else, and the rest simply had to be dealt with. Still he went through his days in anticipation of being fired for shining progressives who repeated his ideologies on Ishgard's side, or of his house burning down when he got home. Ah, what would life have been like if he wasn't a failure who couldn't match up to idiotic children with goddess powers? It was a question he asked himself here and there, swirling around with all the others, and in his head, timelines began to split off, mirrors into other worlds for him to glance into. In one, he saw himself back with his family in Thanalan. He lived under a new identity and kept quiet and to himself, always afraid of the Ishgardian government finding him out. He worked a simple job that had him feeling nothing, and though he hoped to earn his parents' forgiveness through it, things didn't really change. Esredes looked away from the mirror and towards the approaching door to his office, and opened it and went inside. He greeted the receptionist as always, then greeted Heilyn and Ferrant, quipped with Heilyn about the fact he would never brush his damn hair properly and it looked like ass or something stupid like that. Work went steady today- Esredes cozied himself up with a cup of white tea and busied himself writing some in depth notes on Dragon Blood observations to use as a reference. With how many people he had encountered here and there who would do any amount of dubious things to obtain such information, the casual scrawl on the paper gave no indication of awareness of this. Just another day, just another paper amongst many, cloaked in the tranquility of absurdity. Another mirror opened in Esredes' head as he worked. In this one, Esredes had gone through with one of his fleeting ideas and fled to the Far East when Ishgard rejoined the Alliance, and oh my, was he lost. Completely out of his depth, he had to fight off multiple people trying to mug him in Kugane until someone watched his latest skirmish and approached him. "You're good with a sword," the man said as Esredes shrunk back and kept his hand wrapped around its handle. "How would you like an opportunity to put it to the test?" And so Esredes watched himself hesitantly agree after sixty and a half questions to work for a Kugane lord as a bodyguard. It was a place to stay and decent pay, to stand around and observe everyone like a hawk. He got to know some people around the home and the streets of Kugane who looked upon him with respect, yet caught himself glancing over the sea even on a good day and remembering everything he left completely behind. Esredes got up to refill his tea, and the mirror closed. Soon after, Heilyn called him over to the office across the hall, and surprised him with a sweater- knit entirely by him in that periwinkle blue reminiscent of Shiva. So that he had more than one sweater, Heilyn said. Esredes smiled and thanked the man back, giving him a soft hug of gratitude. Ferrant was also his usual cheerful self today, asking after if Esredes was feeling all right and letting him know he appreciated him. All very routine, yet he never tired of it. At lunch hour, he had an appointment of the strangest sort, so he retrieved his coat and exited the building and made his way down to the Firmament. Esredes was in a little bit of hot water recently, having chased down a double agent to his people and getting in trouble after he was arrested for the act of vigilantism- as if that was the worst thing he had done while back in the city. And yet the head Inquisitor on the chase wrote to him and invited him out to lunch with his friend who also got involved with the chase. To know them both as a person, she claimed. He was completely lost as to the motivation, but Esredes could tell she was an Inquisitor who had an actual soul, a normal person's thought process. So he accepted and went on a picnic. She served arancini, an imitation recipe from the Far East. Elouan took most of the conversation as Esredes anticipated, and he didn't have to do much work as he listened to her and her bodyguard talk about how much they want to visit the Far East, and Elouan filled them in on his own travels. What a nice and unexpected little bubble in the veil of absurdity. Another mirror manifested during the picnic, and Esredes saw himself with his knees curled up, sitting on the ground in a pathetically tiny cell, and from the expression on his face alone, clearly having lost his mind. He flinched and ignored the mirror after his initial glance, focusing his attention on Elouan's babbling exclusively. When everything wrapped up and he returned for the second half of work, Esredes made a few discreet calls in his office to the network about arrangements for later. A little outing with an actually human Inquisitor was nice, but the man knew what he was, and there was always work to do. He took a break in the middle to move over to the Blue Room for an appointment. Clover's ward Teagan had begun seeing him in the past couple months, a woman rescued from life in a fighting ring in Ul'dah who was still perpetually trying to learn and adjust to life beyond. They always had good discussions, even after he put her to looking into the water. This time, to teach her about Ishgardian culture, he had ended up going into his own story up until everything fell. "How did you do it? Turn it around, I mean? It must have been hard, pulling yourself out of that... how did you manage?" She asked him after that. Esredes had to pause a moment to think about his answer. "I had to take it a day at a time. The other members of the camp were not unsupportive. They were concerned, they wish they knew what to say or do, but I was completely unreachable. So, for one thing, I'm someone who doesn't believe in meeting your death unless you have to. It's more productive to die so someone else lives than to simply off yourself. So every day, it was get from start to finish. There was a routine. Do your tasks, break for meals, read in your tent, avoid talking to anyone any longer than you had to. Keep doing this, and eventually you would either die, or something would happen that you were waiting for. Just, something to happen. It was all I really had besides keeping in mind my family- what if I missed something happening? Eventually, I realized these people were that, people. Who cared. Who did not want to kill me for being a knight as I thought. And I decided that, while I could've fled to Thanalan and tried to live as a normal person, I wanted to stay and make a difference, even a small one. Help people in my situation to be saved and survive, not perish to Ishgard, even if there was no chance of making a bigger difference by that point. And when Ysayle entered the picture, that changed everything, and the rest is history." "I think I can understand that... I, for one, am glad the sun continued to rise for you...that you were able to find reasons to keep going, ways to help people." She gave a small smile. "I bet you've made plenty of differences with all the folks you've helped along your journey. Cause it's not just the big ones that matter, yeah?""Well, had I not been concerned about the small child who was alone in the woods, we wouldn't be here, so yes. And that's what I enjoy about doing this on the side nowadays- the pleasure of seeing it affect individual people in real time. The way I ended up discussing it with another client, is you have to figure out the way to get out of the room. You're in a room, and you can get out and see what's beyond it, but you're just not ready to yet, you find yourself unable. Once you can manage to get out of the room and see what's beyond it, everything becomes a little easier." Teagan tilted her head at this. "A... room? So... you finding the drive to help others helped you open your 'room'?" "It helped me get out of it, yes. I realized I still had something to do and people cared. People really helped a lot, even though I was pushing them away. Just knowing they wanted me to feel better and believed in me as a person.... after everything else fell through, it was all I had." She nodded and smiled a little. "I'm glad you were able to find the door, and that you had people there to help you find the knob." She paused for a brief moment. "... Thank you for sharing your story with me, Esredes. It's been really eye-opening." And so the session concluded, and soon Esredes was back out into the world. First half of the day was over, and then it was time for the second. There was not a formal meeting happening with his people tonight, but instead a get together of sorts at Vette's more recently acquired mansion she had made into a space for all of them to convene safely. Esredes went to and from everybody, making sure everyone was doing well, holding conversations and watching everyone enjoy themselves with a faint smile on his face. He stepped into the bathroom at one point to do his business, and washed his hands after. He was confused why there was a second bathroom mirror for a moment until it began to show him another reality. Esredes stepped back from the sink and put a hand against the wall to his left, the other going over his heart. Reflected back at him in the mirror was a collection of all the people he knew and loved close together, with himself standing further away on the platform and forced to stare at them. A mass public execution. Esredes rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut, pressing his entire body against the door and breathing in and out, in and out. It's not real. It's not real. "Esredes?" Came a gentle voice, as Vette approached the man. She had most definitely felt the spike in distress from the aetherial bond they shared. She asked about how he was doing and put a soft hand to his cheek. "I'm all right, really." Esredes said. "I just had... an unexpected wave of fear come over me." Vette was always in tune with how he felt. She helped him calm down the rest of the way, and then lead him back to the gathering. The anxiety soon faded, and replaced by it, a warm feeling heated the blood inside him. For the rest of the evening, Esredes continued to engage with his family, waves of laughter and elation surging and falling in with the tide. He only hoped that the droplets of gratitude leaking from his fingertips and voice washed over everyone attending like a cool rain on a summer's day, for as he closed his eyes and let each droplet of noise from their voices and words hit him, everything stood right into place where it belonged.

--- @thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Heilyn, Ferrant, Sartorius (unnamed mention) @eternal-finis Lieuvanne (unnamed mention) @shieldbcund Elouan @punches-and-cream-puffs Teagan @syerraffxiv Vette

[maxineswritingcenter]

The Ghost of Winter - Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Part 7

Benner by maysdigitalarts

Legacy agent, (Y/N), has been trained her entire life by a mystery man. When they learn that HYDRA has infiltrated SHIELD, she must fight to stop them. But could she betray the trust of her friends for her teacher?

-------

The world had gone to hell recently. But for once in her life it wasn't (Y/N)'s problem. While there was a part of her that felt guilty, this new part of her was different. Roxana watched the news with Ioana and prayed for the people who had lost their lives in Sokovia. Bucky wasn't a pawn for HYDRA; he was Sebastian, and he was listening to Stavos tell him what boxes went where.

"Avengers to sign Sokovia Accords." She spoke out loud as she read the paper. Bucky closed the oven after checking on the bread he was baking. 

“What are those?” 

“Well, from what I’m reading...” She paused to read the cliff notes version of what the accords would detail, “The Sokovia Accords are a set of legal documents designed to control and regulate the activities of enhanced individuals, including members of government agencies such as SHIELD or private organizations such as the Avengers. Established by the United Nations... A hundred and seventeen countries agree, the Accords serve as a legal response to international concerns over unsanctioned actions and their consequences by enhanced individuals and members of the Avengers.” 

“Is this about that attack in Lagos with the girl with the red powers? Or the fact there is no longer a Sokovia?” He asked, washing his hands off flour. 

“Wanda Maximoff, I think so. Probably both. It’s also talking about how there needs to be some consequences for the damage done. Like I get that, I really do. But Tony has a whole clean up force that he’s... Well, Pepper is running it, and sometimes...” She paused, “Sometimes you have to do what’s necessary to save the day.” She looked up at him and saw him staring at the floor, “You would do whatever to save the world too once upon a time.” She set the paper down.

“I still can’t remember.” He muttered, leaning against the counter. 

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she stood up and made her way into the kitchen. 

“Bucky...” She sighed, “I don’t think this is working. I can tell you about your life all I can but... It’s not working.” They had spent the last few weeks really getting into what his life had been, but she was only a secondary source, he should be talking to Steve. They had even watched movies from the time and it didn’t spark anything. 

Bucky stared at her for a while, not saying anything but his eyes looked so tired. Suddenly, he surprised her by touching her face, lifting her chin. 

“Then... Maybe it’s time for us to move on. To truly embrace our lives here.” 

She shook her head, “We can’t what about the team, what about-”

“You’re on the run with a criminal, they'll put us in jail as soon as they find us.” He looked away, “And that’s my fault. I was selfish then, I’m sorry.” 

“So we’re stuck in this life, huh?” She pulled away from his touch, “I’ll never see my apartment again, my memories, my life.” 

He opened his mouth to reply when there was a knock at the door. Quickly, she grabbed her gun that was hidden under the table and hurriedly went to the door. Bucky was beside her, looking on the small monitor pad that showed the outside of the door. It was Ioana, a large basket in her arms. 

Pressing her back to the wall, she nodded for him to open the door. He returned the gesture and turned the handle, giving a bright smile to the elder outside. 

“Ioana, what a wonderful surprise.” He spoke in Romanian, “I don’t believe we told you our address.” 

The woman scoffed, “Boy, do you not think I keep tabs on my employees. Anyway, I have come to steal your wife for a while.” Bucky glanced at (Y/N) in a way that was asking her opinion but also telling her to hide her gun. 

Hiding the gun under a pillow, she appeared with a smile, “Of course, my friend, just let me get ready and I will be with you shortly. Please make yourself at home.” Their home wasn’t exactly guest ready. They barely had any furniture, let alone places to sit. So, thankfully, Bucky let her into the kitchen with the promise of coffee. 

-

Still not having revealed what Ioana had in her basket, she led the two of them to a dress shop in town. One that had beautiful dresses and fabrics in the windows. 

“Ioana, why are we in a dress shop?” She asked, watching Ioana flag down an employee.

“Oh, dear, my niece is getting married and I am in charge of getting her dress. But I need to see what she likes and you are the same size as her, so, please, entertain an old woman, would you?” 

“I suppose I could.” She smiled, grunting as Ioana took several dresses from a rack and lay them in her arms. 

“Perfect.” 

-

Bucky 

Another knock at the door put him back on edge. Knowing whatever assailant was behind the door could never take him down, he took the time to take his bread out of the oven before turning it off. He went back to the door, seeing Stavos standing outside, looking around nervously. 

He opened the door, “Stavos, is everything alright?” 

“My friend, I am deep in the dog house. I was supposed to get my nephew’s traditional wear for his wedding, but I forgot and he’ll be here tonight. Can you please come and try on what I have. You are both the same size.” Stavos spoke in a rush. Bucky glanced down at his gloved hands, hesitant to agree in case he would need to remove them. For all the information he had gathered on Stavos and his wife, they were simple honest people, no affiliations to anything sinister. He seemed trustworthy. 

“Don’t worry, I promise you that no one will see your hands.” 

Bucky sighed, wishing that this ruse was reality. 

“Alright. Let me just grab-”

“No time. We go now.” Stavos grabbed the lapel of his jacket (well, Bucky let him grab it) and they were out the door. 

-------

Sorry it’s short! But I’m saving something big for the next part and I wanted it to be longer! 

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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Ghost of Winter Tag:

@lady-x-red

[darks-ink]

Reanimation - Ectoberweek 2020

A family can be a bunch of ghost hunters and 1 (half) ghost child.

[first part]

Rating: Teen Warnings: Implied character death, implied child abuse Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Words: 2,439 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - canon divergence, Sequel, Families of choice/Found family

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Agent O looked up from the report he was working on, trying to surreptitiously glance at the ghost in the van. One of the other agents had put a blanket on her—why did they have blankets in their ghost hunting van?—and she looked… cozy, for lack of a better word. Curled up even smaller than she already was, with the cape wrapped tight around her body, holding it tightly with her small fists, like she was afraid they might take it away from her otherwise.

Knowing what they had seen, where she had come from… O wouldn’t be surprised if it was a fear formed from experience.

She seemed stable enough for now, as long as she wasn’t using any of her powers. Which was good, because O wasn’t sure how they were supposed to stabilize her. When he’d promised to help her, he’d assumed that the scientists back at the base would know.

Hell, he hoped they knew. He’d promised, and knowing what she’d gone through, he would feel terrible going back on that promise now.

Looking down at the report again, he frowned. Turned back to the ghost. Cleared his throat to draw her attention. “Do you… have a name?” Was there any way to find out who these ghosts had been in life? To find out whether Masters had taken children and killed them, turned them into ghosts?

Were there parents, somewhere out there, whose child was gone and left behind the shade sitting opposite of O?

“Danielle,” she muttered, so quiet that O almost missed it. She repeated, a little more determinedly, “Danielle Phantom.”

And there it was again. Not only did she looked like Phantom, she used his name as a last name as well. How odd.

“Any relation to Phantom from Amity Park?” he asked. Had Masters somehow modeled her after Phantom? And if he had, would he have told her?

“Yeah, um.” She glanced away, eyes on her fidgeting hands. “He’s my… cousin.”

“Did Masters tell you that?” Agent L asked before O could work out an answer. “Or did you know that yourself?”

“I…” Danielle paused, clearly working through her answer. “I knew we were related,” she finally settled on. “But Daddy told me to call him my cousin.”

“And your brother?” O prodded, glaring at L over his glasses to get him to back off. “Did you know he was your brother for sure, or did Masters tell you that, too?”

Because it was undeniable that Danielle resembled Phantom more than just a little. Far more than what O would consider normal for humans. For ghosts, who could look like just about anything? It seemed suspect.

Was Phantom the first attempt? An escapee who wouldn’t listen to Masters? If he wanted another ghost just like Phantom, of course he would’ve prioritized her brother over her.

God, if only they had seen the other ghost before he’d destabilized. If he really had looked just like Phantom…

Well, it certainly had implications, didn’t it?

“No, I…” She frowned, then shook her head. “It’s different. We were all siblings, me and my brothers. Bones, Mo, Pixie… So of course he was, too, even if he never got to leave the incubator.”

“I see…” Bones, Mo, Pixie… those must’ve been the other ghosts near the mansion. Bones likely the skeletal ghost and Mo the muscular ghost, which meant that Pixie might’ve been the small one. “Your name seems a little strange, compared to theirs. How come?”

She shrugged, tugging the blankets further up, trying to curl away into it. “I… I was the only one who Daddy named. Bones, Mo, Pixie, we all picked their names. But Daddy called me Danielle…”

Her face crumpled, suddenly, somewhere between sad and outraged. “He didn’t even care about any of them! He only pretended to care about me! I— I—” The glow around her body brightened, the light visible through the blanket. Green coalesced around her clenched fists.

“Shh, shh, calm down,” O hushed, hands out and paused before putting them on her. “Danielle, you’re going to destabilize if you keep this up. Just calm down.”

“No!” she shouted back, her bright eyes snapping up to meet O’s eyes. “They’re all gone already! Nobody is going to care if I go to! Maybe—” The fire in her cut out as sudden as it had come. She sniffled, tears in her eyes. “Maybe we’ll get to reunite someplace else, someplace better.”

“Hey, shh, don’t talk like that.” O finally finished the motion he’d started, placing one hand on her shoulder. Damn this entire squad for being emotionally constipated. “Don’t look at it like that. Just think of it this way. You still remember your brothers, right, even though they’re gone? So as long as you still live, still remember them, they won’t be entirely gone.”

“Besides,” K cut in, finally. “This way, you can help us ensure that Masters gets punished properly, so he won’t ever be able to do what he did to you and your brothers. Don’t you want to help us with that?”

Her glow settled down, finally, as her expression grew determined. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I would like to do that.”

O drew back, then threw a glance at the report he’d abandoned to the floor. Shook his head as he picked it up, then put it away properly, instead taking out a voice recorder. “Alright, how about we start with this then. You tell us everything you know. We can record it, and you won’t have to talk about any of it again if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She nodded, shifting her shoulders underneath the blanket like she was bracing herself. “Tell me where to start, please?”

---

“Danielle,” O said, disapprovingly, frowning at her. “You know the rules.”

“K said it was fine!” she immediately retorted, gesturing at her plate. Which was, of course, loaded with all kinds of sweets. Sometimes she maybe it rather easy to remember that her apparent age and her mental age didn’t quite line up right.

“Did he now?” O asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “So if I go over there right now and ask him…”

“No, don’t!” She grabbed onto the plate, holding it away from him. “L said I should, not K! But—”

Why was it always L? O made a mental note to speak to the man later, and then to talk to L’s partner M as well, just to be safe.

“Danielle,” he said, more patiently now. “I know you like the sweet things, but you need to eat properly, okay? You need to stay healthy.”

“But the ectoplasmic stuff is yucky.” She made a face, then jerked away when he stepped closer. “You can’t stop me from eating this!”

“Danielle,” O said, again, feeling his patience rapidly deplete. “You can have it after you’ve eaten all your regular food, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly considering it. Finally she heaved a deep sigh and put the plate back down onto the table. “Fine.”

“I’ll go and grab some from the kitchen, then.” He stepped past her, ruffling her hair on the way. “Behave yourself, or I’ll have P and Q watch over you next time.”

“Noooo,” she whined, sprawling over the table. “I’ll behave, I promise!”

O hummed thoughtfully. “You’d better, little lady.” And with a last wink to her, he left the room.

Time would tell whether she would actually listen or not. O wasn’t sure if it was proper parenting behavior but, to be fair, none of them were proper parents anyway.

Besides, what kind of parenting advice would apply to a young ghost, anyway? Danielle appeared to be about twelve, but her behavior often seemed to fit a child much younger, and she couldn’t remember a life before being a ghost, either.

At least they had managed to stabilize her. It took quite a bit of work to convince the scientists to help stabilize her, rather than experiment on her, but they had managed it. After all, Danielle had been one of their few captures, and her behavior was so complicated that it clearly required further research. Not to mention her similarities to Phantom. Subjecting her to regular research would’ve a waste, no?

O scoffed to himself. A waste, definitely, but not for any of those reasons.

Now all they needed to keep her stable was a steady diet of ectoplasmic contaminated food. And also some regular food, because Danielle burned through quite a bit of energy just by existing.

And boy, was she intent on doing more than just existing. They needed all Agents on base just to keep her safe and occupied sometimes. Over time it had just… somehow become standard fare for all of them. They were all living on base anyway, so why not help take care of the little ghost?

O shook his head to try and dislodge the thoughts and focus on what he was doing. With a resigned sigh he opened the designated Danielle fridge, peering over its contents to find something lunch-worthy. Ah! Sliced ham. Perfect.

Quickly, he set about making some sandwiches, letting his thoughts stray once more. Yes, somehow Danielle had become the base’s shared child. No one present among the Guys in White would dare to harm her anymore. The few scientists that had let their curiosity stray a little too far had been corrected and, when they refused to learn, got fired entirely.

Or, well. They weren’t around anymore, at least. O might be in charge of his team, but he wasn’t that high up. He assumed they must’ve gotten fired, but who knew with government organizations like theirs.

Either way, Danielle was safe among them. She was cared for, protected, and okay. They hadn’t gotten Masters locked away yet, building a perfect foolproof plan first, but he was under constant supervision. No other children would suffer, no other ghosts would be made by his hand.

And, soon enough, he would pay for what he had done.

O finished the sandwiches, cleaning up the supplies and carefully picking up the plate. Now, time to see if Danielle had behaved herself.

He stepped through the doorway, back into the room where he’d left Danielle. Quietly, he inched closer to the table, then put down the plate with sandwiches right between her hand and the plate with sweets.

“Busted,” she murmured, withdrawing her hand.

“Busted,” O echoed with a grin, drawing away the other plate. “Lunch first, Danielle.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed wearily, like it was a huge task, and pulled the sandwiches closer to herself. “But sweets after?”

“Eat all your lunch first, then we’ll see if you have space left.” He sat down opposite of her, the plate with sweets in front of him. “Who’s watching you after?”

“Agent K is,” she said around a bite of food. “Why?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get sick while she’s watching you, would we?” O smiled down at her. If it had been L, he might’ve considered it. It would’ve been a good lesson for both Danielle and L, who had encouraged her. But K? She was a good Agent, and she took good care of Danielle.

O watched Danielle tuck a strand of black hair behind her ear, feeling… satisfied. Yes, they were taking pretty good care of her, all things considered. She’d stabilized, and her core had grown mature enough for her to develop her own unique powers. She was a fully grown ghost now, even if her mind remained young.

Still, he was curious to see if she would grow in body, too. One of the first unique powers she had developed was a minor shapeshifting ability, after all, allowing her to look perfectly human. Which made sense, according to the Agents on base, since Danielle was so human, and spent so much time around humans as well. Of course she would develop powers related to that.

It was perfectly possible that she would continue to develop her shapeshifting ability to allow her to look older as time passed. O would be curious to see it. To see what she would look like, fully grown.

And, yes. Sometimes he wondered if this was what Danielle had looked like before she’d died. If somewhere out there, there were parents who could look at her and know this was their child. But they didn’t know how long Masters had her, or any of the other ghosts. Didn’t know what happened to their parents.

For all they knew, Masters had taken only orphans, or had killed the parents and made them orphans. It was better not to worry about it, when there was nothing to be done about it anymore.

Danielle finished her sandwiches, then turned big, watery, blue eyes onto O. “Please?”

He sighed, then slid the plate with sweets back over to her. “If you get sick, it’ll be your own fault. And L’s.”

“Yes!” she cheered, taking the plate from him. “I’ll be careful, promise!”

“Uh huh,” he said, dry and unconvinced.

She started munching away on the sweets, scattering crumbs all over the table as well as her clothes. Mentally, O made a note to have someone clean the room later.

“Hey,” Danielle said, suddenly, lowering the piece of chocolate she’d been about to bite into. “O? Is there… any chance you guys might take me to Amity Park someday?”

Amity Park? Why?

Apparently he’d taken a moment too long to respond, because she quickly added, “Y’know, to meet my cousin?”

“I… I’ll talk to the others about it, see if we can manage something.” Right. Her cousin. Who they were hunting down for haunting Amity Park. Who might be another one of Masters’ victims, and who might be just as human as Danielle.

That Phantom.

Danielle grinned at him, bright and cheerful. “Thank you!”

O sighed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Don’t thank me just yet. I can’t promise anything, just that I’ll try.”

“So? I can thank you for trying, can’t I?” She patted his hand, then suddenly jumped out of her chair. “Oh! I’d better get going before K gets worried.”

“Go, then,” O said, waving her away. “And Danielle? Stay out of trouble.”

“Like K will let me get in trouble,” she answered, blowing a raspberry at him. “Bye, O!” she called back before rushing out of the room, running down one of the hallways.

He listened to her rapidly decreasing footsteps, then heaved a sigh.

Right. Time to look into Phantom and Amity Park once more.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (6)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a filler chapter. But the NEXT chapter...that’s the one you’ve all been waiting for. Also, I’ve had “bad guy” by Billie Eilish stuck in my head for DAYS, so that’s the song playing during the runway show. 

*****

A week after the job at the director’s house, Riley sank into her first-class airplane seat and immediately opened her laptop, the tan pleather chair squeaking slightly as she crossed her legs beneath her. Dimming the brightness, Riley angled her laptop so no one could see it but her. She’d been profiled plenty of times in the past while writing perfectly benevolent code. Riley certainly didn’t need anyone catching her working on something more nefarious. 

If she did this right, then she’d be able to just connect her phone to whatever Louvre computer that controlled security and be free to do whatever she wanted. 

If she didn’t...she’d need to brush up on her French. 

Nikki dozed in the seat beside her. She’d been bouncing off the walls all morning in anticipation of getting to see Fashion Week in person after Riley had promised to go with her to as many fashion shows as they could sneak into. Nikki’s excitement was infectious. While the priority was to see the runway show of the designer whose Louvre afterparty they were crashing, before they boarded the flight, Riley found herself sifting through fashion blogs to determine which other shows she wanted to see. All couture, of course. 

Across the aisle, Jill had her nose buried in an incredibly thick book Riley couldn’t see the cover of, and behind her, Cage and Desi curled together like a human pretzel as they watched a movie. They were disgustingly happy, and that made Riley happy too. 

When they were somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic, Nikki awoke, grumbling, “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you stare at that screen any longer.” She was right. Riley’s vision had started to blur at the edges hours ago, and she knew she’d have a hard time focusing on things in the distance when she finally looked up. Riley saved her work and shut her laptop. 

Nikki still hadn’t budged from her awkward curled position, but her eyes were open. Riley figured now was as good of a time as any to make Nikki answer her last lingering question. “So you still haven’t told me why you and your boyfriend broke up,” she probed. “You know, the one who hacks everything else.” 

Nikki sighed, rolling her head to glare at Riley. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” Nikki sat up. “When we met, he told me he worked for a government think tank. Really nerdy stuff, does a lot of consulting. I figured he was smart but harmless.” 

“I remember.” 

“That was a lie. He’s a government agent, all right. But not the nerd kind. The double-O-seven kind.” 

Riley nearly choked. “A spy?” she hissed. “You dated a fucking spy?” 

“Surprise.” 

“How did you find out?” 

“The same way he found out about me. I originally told him I was a freelance art appraiser”—not far from the truth, actually— “and the IT job was to help make ends meet. We both bought each others’ lies at first, but over time we both struggled to keep our stories straight. And then one day it all just...fell into place, I guess. We had a massive fight, and by the time the dust settled, I think we both knew there was no going back to how things were before we knew the truth.” 

Riley laced her fingers through Nikki’s, conveying her empathy through touch rather than words. “What agency does he work for?” 

“The Phoenix Foundation.” 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“It’s DXS. The name changed while you were gone.” At least Nikki couldn’t still say the P-word either. But DXS...DXS could move Christmas. If Nikki’s boyfriend told anyone about her real job, they were all in trouble. Big trouble. 

“Think he’s going to come after you? Come after us?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Trying to lighten the mood, Riley said, “Ignoring the part where he knows you’re a criminal, it must’ve been pretty cool to date a real-life black-ops spy. I bet he knew all kinds of tricks.” The innuendo easily rolled off Riley’s tongue. 

Nikki smacked her shoulder. “We were having a nice moment and you had to go and ruin it by being gross. What the fuck, dude?” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Love you too.” And she did. Despite the grudge she may or may not be holding, Riley loved her. She never stopped.

*****

They landed in Paris at night, and the Five Eyes crashed the moment they made it to their swanky, overpriced hotel room. The next day, they bounced around the city attending as many runway shows as traffic allowed. Riley didn’t understand the hubbub and overdone romanticism; Paris was just like any other major city—loud and overcrowded. And snobby. So very snobby. 

On their second day in Paris, the women chose to divide and conquer. Desi, Cage, and Jill teamed up to scope out the Louvre. Riley and Nikki attended the runway show of the designer whose masterpiece they intended to steal. 

As she and Nikki found their seats along the runway, Riley made a mental note of all the exits. Their seats were in the back, against a wall. Nikki hoped for a better view, but Riley liked it better this way. Sitting by a wall, she had something solid behind her and could see everyone come and go without having to turn around. Riley had always kept meticulous tabs on her surroundings—that’s what made her so good at her job—but the fear of not being able to see what’s coming was new. 

She didn’t tell Nikki about it. 

The blonde blended right in with the highly fashionable crowd, wearing a floor-length, gray plaid coat with hot pink lining. Nikki was completely in her element here, and sometimes Riley thought her friend would’ve been better off legitimately pursuing a career in fashion rather than letting Riley drag her into the world of shadows, secrets, and cons. 

While they waited, Riley fidgeted with a button on her black blazer. Her whole outfit was the same shade of her signature color—blouse, blazer, leather leggings. But her boots were the real showstopper—thigh-high black suede with intricate gold embroidery down the entire front. Riley saw them in a window yesterday and had immediately gone inside to purchase them. The boots were outrageously expensive, but it didn’t matter. Riley Davis was already a filthy rich woman, and after this job, she’d have more money than she would ever know what to do with. 

The house music quieted, and the designer—older man, favored his left leg, voice thin and raspy like a smoker—strutted down the runway, microphone in hand, welcoming the audience and beginning the show. He rambled on, ruminating over his inspiration for this collection. Nikki hung on every word. Riley tuned him out. 

So this was the man who was renting out the Louvre. Riley couldn’t even imagine the amount of money and favors it took to secure such an ostentatious party venue. 

What she could imagine, however, was that she’d surely be subjected to yet another one of these long-winded speeches at the afterparty tonight. On the bright side, that would buy her and her team extra time, making the job that much easier. 

The show began with a sweep of the lights as the music dropped to a low, pulsing beat Riley could feel just as much as she could hear. The crowd murmured respectfully as the first model appeared wearing a shiny black gown that looked like a trash bag had been melted to her body with the excess pooling on the floor. She told Nikki as much, earning an eye roll. 

The next gown was better—sheer fabric with countless thin, metallic gold vertical stripes. The skirt had pretty lines, giving the model the illusion of curves she didn’t have. After that was a strapless canary yellow ball gown with a full, pillowy train. 

“I don’t understand why designers keep making yellow clothes,” Riley hissed. “No one looks good in yellow.” 

“That model does.” 

“No one looks good in yellow.” 

Nikki twisted in her seat and glared, which Riley ignored. “Are you going to say anything nice?” 

“You’d miss my commentary if I stopped.” Riley’s snide comment earned her an elbow to the ribs, but she caught Nikki’s smile all the same. 

The next gown was cherry red satin, with huge ruffles on one shoulder and the opposite hip. The extra fabric was a lot, but there was something elegant about the gown nonetheless. 

Leanna would look good in that one, Riley stopped herself from saying aloud. Nikki—nor anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t said another word about Leanna since Riley first asked weeks ago. Suddenly their longtime friend was taboo, and Riley didn’t want to disrupt the tentative peace she had with Nikki just to push for answers she probably wouldn’t get. 

Another ugly gown, this one feathery pink with a sort of netting over top. 

But the last one...the last one caught the eye of every single person in the audience. 

Including Riley. 

The sheer dress was covered in intricate silver beading that accentuated its long sleeves and mermaid silhouette and left little to the imagination. It was the kind of show-stopping gown one wore when they wanted to be the center of attention. 

Despite the audience’s rising hum of approval, Riley still heard Nikki murmur, “That one is all you.” And it was. Riley would wear that gown in a heartbeat if she had the opportunity—too bad most jobs required her to blend in, not stand out. 

She was too busy lusting after the gown to respond. 

From her seat, Riley could just see into the wings, and she spotted who could only be the designer’s assistant, running the show behind the scenes. Even from a distance, Riley had a feeling the young woman’s hawk-like gaze missed absolutely nothing. The designer would be easy enough to bamboozle during the heist, but this woman could very likely become a problem. 

Riley committed the assistant’s appearance to memory and set the thought aside for later.

*****

Later that afternoon, the Five Eyes reconvened in their hotel suite. They still had a couple hours until they needed to get ready for the afterparty. Since only Cage and Nikki had been there before, Desi, Cage, and Jill had spent the day scouting the Louvre. It was good for Jill to work with Desi for a change; because of her military background, Desi’s way of thinking through a job diverged greatly from everyone else’s. 

Team meetings like this were one of Riley’s favorite parts of the job—swapping intel and strategizing the best way to pull off the job. Or the most fun way, which was usually also the riskiest. But tonight, the team was in unspoken agreement that they would play it safe, both because of Jill and the importance of this long-awaited job. 

Piled onto one plush, king-sized bed, the five women sat tangled together as they tore through the box of pastries Riley purchased on the way back to the hotel. For the first time in forever, Riley was hungry. She avoided dwelling on that fact as she licked her fingers and picked up stray crumbs that fell on the off-white comforter. 

“So, what did you learn?” Nikki quizzed Jill. 

Jill pushed up her glasses with her middle finger, speaking with her mouth full. “The room the party will be in is super fancy and at the far corner of the building.” She swallowed. “First floor.” 

“Good. What else?” Riley prompted. “How do Nikki or I get to security and the building’s system control?” 

“There’s an employee door in the hallway…” Jill trailed off. “Wait. This is a test, isn’t it? You already know.” 

Riley smirked. “I do.” 

Disbelief etched Jill’s face. “How? You told me yourself that you’ve never been there!” 

“I have my ways.” Riley would tell her eventually, but for now, it was more fun to lure trade secrets over Jill’s head. She reached for another buttery pastry, selecting one topped with slivered almonds.  

But before Riley could continue her taunting, Desi spoke up. “There’s something you should know.” The mood plummeted into seriousness. 

Riley and Nikki both raised their eyebrows. Go on. 

“Nikki’s ex was at the museum.” 

“Which one?” Nikki asked cautiously. Riley could hear the dread in her tone, the same dread that churned in her own stomach. 

“You know which one.” 

Riley swore. Nikki’s ex, the spy, was at the Louvre. “Did he see you?”

Cage answered, “We have to assume he did. And we also have to assume he recognized Desi and me as Nikki’s friends.” Riley set her pastry down, no longer hungry as the heist of her dreams started to crumble before her eyes. She refused to let that happen. 

“He was with a middle-aged man who definitely had a gun tucked into his belt,” Desi said. “Based on that and his haircut, I’d say he’s probably ex-military.” 

“Mac is too.” Tucking her knees to her chest, Nikki’s voice was uncharacteristically small as she spoke. Defeat wormed its way across her features. Nikki thought they couldn’t pull off the job now, Riley realized. 

No way. She wouldn’t let one stupid ex-boyfriend get in the way of her dream job. And her grossly large payday. 

“It’ll be fine,” Riley reassured. “He knows you’re into fashion, right?” Nikki nodded. “Then he has to assume you’re there for innocent, legitimate reasons. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? All we have to do is avoid looking suspicious, which we already do anyway. He won’t have any evidence to pin it on us besides a hunch, and even if he shares that hunch, he’ll get in trouble for not disclosing information about you and your relationship sooner.” 

Jill said, “That seems overly optimistic.” 

“Which one of us is the expert?” Riley snapped. Jill flinched, and the other three watched Riley warily. “Sorry,” she grumbled. 

The tension only somewhat dissipated. 

“Anyway,” Riley redirected. “We picked up the replicas.” She gestured to Nikki’s Balenciaga bag sitting open on a nearby chair. 

“Replicas?” Riley fought the urge to sigh at Jill and her constant questions. 

“What did you think we were going to do? Just take the jewelry and run like hell?” 

Jill’s silence was a resounding yes. 

“Pickpocketing 101. What did I tell you?” 

Understanding dawned in Jill’s wide, blue eyes. “When you steal something heavy, put something else in its place.” A pause. “We’re going to replace the jewelry with fakes so no one even realizes the real set is missing.” 

It was Cage’s turn to smirk. “She’s catching on.” The blonde leaned in. “So, can we see them?” 

Nikki was off the bed in an instant, retrieving a package wrapped in plain brown paper from her purse. She let Cage have the honor of unwrapping it and revealing the masterfully crafted jewels. 

The faux-sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings were stunning. And exact replicas of the real set. The only difference was a tiny, insignificant bump Nikki’s jeweler added to the back of each piece so they could quickly tell the difference between the replicas and the real deal. 

Desi whistled. “Damn. Those are stunning.” Beside her, Cage nodded appreciatively. “You would look so hot wearing those,” Desi murmured to her girlfriend. “Wearing only those.” 

Blushing furiously, Cage shoved her girlfriend off the bed. 

Riley knew that if she let them, her friends would spend hours examining the jewels. Clearing her throat to get everyone’s attention, she asked, “Everyone clear on the plan?” 

The four other women nodded in turn, first Desi, then Nikki, then Cage, and finally Jill. 

“Good.” 

“That’s it?” Jill questioned. “No team pep talk?” The other women chuckled, but Riley just rolled her eyes. 

“That one,” Desi pointed at Riley, “is the wrong person to ask for a pep talk.” 

Riley’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Hey! Speak for yourself.” Desi shrugged. Directing her attention back to Jill, “You really want a pep talk?” 

Jill blinked. 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask. 

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay

[bloodfromthethorn]

Training Days

Riley had never really considered herself much of a physical fighter. Sure, given her background she’d been in more than her fair share of scrapes and she knew how to fight dirty with the rest of them, no hesitation, if that was what the situation in front of her required. Even setting aside the absolute nightmare prison had been, she’d been butting heads with self-entitled dickbags since she was about seven years old and she had long since learned the quickest way of using her body to turn someone else into a non-threat.

But for all of that, given her choice of scene, she knew that her skills were best served behind a laptop, ruining someone’s day from an entirely different country, rather than from two feet away, sweating and panting.

Unfortunately, government agents didn’t always get that choice.

Which really was all just a very roundabout way of saying that one of the stipulations of her admittedly pretty shady and very much classified contract with The Phoenix Foundation was that she participate in extensive hand-to-hand combat training and physical fitness drills, and that meant getting sweaty on the training mats every Tuesday and Thursday. Some days it wasn’t so bad - there were a handful of other newish recruits who were at around the same level of training as her and she generally had a good time working through her sets with them to guide her, and guiding them in turn. Other days, it was rough; training with Thornton had been a minefield of expectations, admiration, and pressure, and training with Jack always left her aching and sore. She always walked away knowing something new, without fail, but she still wouldn’t call it a highlight of her working life.

Training with Mac though, that was something altogether different.

She ducked low just as a heavily muscled arm flew through the space where her head had just been, then immediately staggered back as his knee swung up to meet her. Mac didn’t let her get far, effortlessly pivoting the kick into a long stride forwards, keeping himself in her space to launch another flurry of attacks that she just barely managed to avoid. Strong and quick and well trained, Mac had every possible physical advantage in a fight, and to top it off, he was always mentally at least twenty steps ahead of anything she could even begin to plan to do.

Another punch came at her right side and she took a chance on Mac’s ever so slightly weaker left-hand-side reflexes to slide under the blow and put herself at his back. Against most opponents, the move would have been enough to give her an opening to throw a punch of her own or maybe even go for a grab; against Mac, he had already twisted to face her head on before she’d even finished moving.

“Nice,” he offered charitably, even though it had earned her no ground. Her one consolation was that he was starting to sound winded, not quite as unaffected as he likely wanted to appear by the intense physical exertion they’d been going through.

Riley, for her part, decided not to waste air responding. Instead she dipped low and took a cheap shot at his right knee, the same knee that had been in a brace up until three weeks ago after a gun runner in South Africa had managed to shove him clean off a rooftop and he broke his leg in the fall. Mac hissed in alarm - while technically cleared for duty, he was still healing and he had zero desire to lose the use of his limb again - and slipped sideways, right into the path of Riley’s incoming upper cut.

His agility saved him from a fist connecting with his chin, but she still managed to clip his shoulder with a hit hard enough to put him on the defensive, and for the first time the ball was in Riley’s court. As much as she knew she was still outmatched, it was a testament to how far she had come that it no longer felt like Mac was letting her go on the attack, rather than genuinely having to retreat under her advance, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of herself as she pushed forwards.

As he was wont to do when on defence, Mac went about the bizarre process of turning himself to water and slipped and slid out of every shot she could throw at him. When one of her kicks actually did connect with his thigh and sent him stumbling sideways, she was so surprised by it herself that she just barely managed to follow it up with an open palmed strike at the side of his head.

The hesitation would have been enough for any reasonably well trained fighter to get the upper hand, and Mac had ten years of military and covert experience behind him. He knocked her hand away with a fluid flick of his wrist and contorted sharply to get around and behind her in a single step, his other arm sliding up to tuck snugly against her neck and haul her back into him. To his credit, he kept himself gentle - as gentle as it was possible to be while dragging someone into a chokehold, at any rate - so his arm rested more against her collarbones than her windpipe and he caught her against him rather than crushing, but it was still enough to momentarily knock her off balance with a huff.

“Going for my knee was good instincts,” he told her breathlessly, apparently grateful to have a moment to suck in air. She could feel how his heart was pounding against her back, the rush of air in his lungs as fought to recover himself, and felt vaguely vindicated that she had enough skill to work him so hard. “Still a cheap shot though.”

Hauling in air herself and knowing that she was reaching the end of her adrenaline, Riley grinned. “You think that was cheap?”

With a twist and a grunt of effort, she cut her elbow up sharply into Mac’s stomach, catching him hard below the ribs and sending him staggering back with a pained wheeze. Momentarily thrown off and half-doubled over in breathlessness, Mac presented no threat at all when Riley darted out of his reach and spun to face him once more, smiling at her own triumph.

Mac glared at her half-heartedly, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that his face was a blazing red and he couldn’t catch his breath. “Underhanded,” he managed to gasp out after a second.

Still riding high on the joy of a rare victory, Riley just laughed. “I thought sparring was supposed to be a no-holds-barred situation? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

Giving in to the urge to drop to his knees rather than resist the gentle pull of gravity, Mac huffed out a strained laugh of his own. “Yeah, I would. Where’d you learn that?”

Winded and breathless herself, Riley followed him to the mat with an inelegant flop, just barely catching herself on her hands instead of sprawling across the mat like an oversized house cat. “Where else? Jack taught me. He might also have said something about you never remembering to guard against it.”

“Fucking Jack,” Mac wheezed, rolling over to lie flat on his back on the mats as he struggled to recover. “Old man’s not even here and he’s kicking my ass.”

“Just who are you calling old?” Another voice called from the doorway. Mac and Riley both turned to look as Jack came into sight, shaking his head as he took in the pair of them and just barely managing to maintain his facade of irritation over the amusement that so clearly wanted to burst forth.

“Especially when you’re the one wheezing like an asthmatic cat,” Riley chipped in happily, letting her smugness show through. She’d managed to get one over Mac from time to time in training before, but this was the first time she’d made him go down and stay down and the thrill of it was high in her blood. From the way Jack was beaming at her like she’d just hung the moon, she was pretty sure she had good reason to be proud.

Mac waved a hand in what might have been the beginning of retort, but he evidently decided he was too busy trying to breathe to voice whatever it was.

“I think you broke him Riles.”

“Just doing what you taught me. Worked like a charm.”

Jack snorted, dropping his gym bag by the wall and striding over to stare down at where Mac was still supine on the mat. “Always does since this one,” he nudged at Mac’s shoulder with his foot, “Never thinks to guard his ribs when he has someone in a choke.”

“I think about it plenty,” Mac protested half-heartedly. “Just don’t always manage it in time.”

“You’ve been saying that since the Sandbox man, I think it’s time to give it up.” He shot a smug look at Riley, like he was letting her in on a secret. “First time we met, this idiot tried to get me in a headlock. I popped him twice in the ribs before he realised it wasn’t going to work.”

Riley’s eyebrows rose. “You hit him?”

Even with his eyes closed, Jack knew Mac had just rolled his eyes and was bracing himself to tell her the story, so Jack beat him to it. “He started it. Caught some good for nothing punk kid messing with my gear.”

“Fixing your gear,” Mac wheezed, but tossed a smile Jack’s way to take any sting out of it. They’d never discussed it exactly, but Mac had learned early on that there was no one on Earth who knew their way around a rifle better than Jack Dalton and while he might not necessarily keep his gear in a ‘standard’ condition, he’d developed a system that worked for him. Mac hadn’t been wrong when he’d said the bolt carrier was lacking forward assist, but that was only because Jack hadn’t wanted it there. “And besides, I pulled that exact same move on you and you bitched about your bruised liver for a month.”

Riley was glancing between them with an amused smile on her face. “He touched your stuff,” she said, pointing at Mac, “So you took a swing at him?”

“Pretty much,” Mac put in, twisting his head to shoot her a can-you-believe-this-shit look. “I won that fight too.”

“You did not,” Jack argued immediately, kicking lightly at him again. “You’re just lucky I didn’t want to break your skinny little arm in front of all those nice people.”

“You couldn’t have if you’d wanted to. You’re lucky the brass came in and saved you the trouble of tapping out.”

It was obviously a well-worn fight between them, and from the fondness in both their voices, there was absolutely no animosity remaining. Riley couldn’t help but wonder just what it had taken to get them from a fist fight over equipment to the blood brother partnership standing before her in that moment. Although, on second thoughts, given what she had heard about the Sandbox, she might be better off not knowing.

Jack scoffed at the assertion, shaking his head. “You think you can take me on? Bring it wunderkind.”

Mac glanced up at him for a second, calculating, then pushed himself halfway to sitting before slouching back down with a huff. “Yeah, I’ll get on that as soon as my diaphragm starts working again, okay?”

It was said lightly, but Riley still felt herself frowning, her buoyant mood dipping in sudden concern. “You alright?”

Mac waved an unconcerned hand. “Peachy. You have very pointy elbows.”

“...Thanks?”

Jack seemingly took pity on her, because he thrust out a hand to help her to her feet and ushered her vaguely in the direction of the showers. “My turn to try and teach boy wonder here how to actually block that strike. Again. You get yourself cleaned up.”

Doing some quick maths in her head, Riley figured she could have a quick blast shower and be back in the gym within a couple of minutes, giving Mac plenty of time to get himself back upright and make sure she didn’t miss any of their sparring session. Her instructors had repeatedly told her that she could learn a lot by watching as well as doing, and honestly she was eager to see how Mac did against someone much more his equal outside of a life or death situation. With that goal in mind she rushed through a quick shower and a blessedly sweat-free change of clothes, then headed back to the gym to settle down at the edge of the mats.

As she’d guessed, Mac was back on his feet and seemed to have finally caught his breath again, but from the way he was eyeing up Jack’s muscled frame, he was probably wishing he was still on the ground. She bit back a grin.

“Hey, look at this, you get an audience to watch you getting your ass handed to you,” Jack taunted, finishing off his stretching with a small flourish and winking at Riley. “Now she can see what all of your moves are supposed to look like."

Mac didn't rise to the bait, and instead went about rolling his shoulders and shaking the fatigue out of his arms. Truthfully, he knew he wasn't a match for Jack on a good day, and he and Riley had already been going at it for a while. This was most likely going to be a lesson in damage minimisation more than actually winning. "We doing this then or what?"

Jack’s only response was a sharp, predatory smile and a lightning fast kick at Mac’s chest.

It only took a minute or so of watching them for Riley to understand just how and why Mac was so good at strike evasion - nearly a decade spent sparring with someone like Jack had no doubt taught him that being slow enough to get hit was a deeply regrettable decision. The ex-Delta soldier’s training had clearly served him well and it rapidly became apparent just how much of his ability he had been toning down when he went up against Riley on the mats. Fast, and strong, and precise, she had absolutely no idea how Mac was able to not only avoid Jack’s hits, but land a few of his own.

They were-

-Impressive.

She’d heard fighting being compared to dancing in the past and though she’d never really agreed with that particular analogy, for the first time she thought she might understand what they were getting at. Mac and Jack were a match, both incredibly skilled and both so familiar with each other that they knew exactly how hard they could push. No one watching this bout could ever not recognise them as partners.

Despite the earlier smack talk, Riley had to admit that she’d assumed Jack would be the winner hands down. Evidently, she’d been wrong about that because Mac was putting up a hell of a fight and he had the slightest edge on speed that balanced out Jack’s sheer force, but at the end of the day he was walking wounded and worse, Jack knew it. He’d zeroed in on the same weak spot she had, only he had the training and experience to properly put it to use.

Mac’s injured knee buckled like a snapped twig. He did his best to save himself from the fall, but there was only so much a man could do when he was already off-balance and his one remaining support had just turned to unresponsive water beneath him; all he could do was try not to land on his face. He was- reasonably successful. Somehow it didn’t make the whole experience look any less painful.

Almost in the same instant he was down, Mac was already moving to snatch at the offending limb, hissing out sharply between his teeth as he got his hands on the injury in genuine pain. Startled, Riley started pushing to her feet but Jack thrust his palm out towards her, waving her down from where he was hovering just out of arm’s reach of his downed partner, watching warily.

“You good man?”

Mac didn’t respond beyond rolling further onto his side, curling in around where he’d folded his leg up towards his chest. His eyes were scrunched closed, his breathing tight.

“Mac?” Riley asked softly, scrambling to her knees despite Jack’s dismissal.

Jack hesitated another moment longer, visibly torn, before he swayed half a step closer. “C’mon bud I need you to give me something here. I didn’t break that knee again did I?”

Still no response. From her vantage point, Riley could see that Mac was shaking like a leaf, fine tremors of pain racking his frame. Evidently Jack could see it too, because he only paused a second longer before muttering a curse and finally stepping forward into Mac’s range.

It was a mistake.

With a fierceness Riley hadn’t previously credited him with, Mac’s supposedly injured leg snapped out from where he’d coiled it in like a spring, cracking hard against Jack’s ankle and dropping him like a stone as his balance failed. The fall seemingly put his partner exactly where Mac wanted him, because a heartbeat later he had wormed his legs around Jack’s neck and snatched at the closest arm to him to pin it firmly along his own middle, locking it in place. It was the work of an instant and it left Jack helplessly pinned, his legs too far out of range to be of any use and his one free arm busily occupied with stopping Mac’s right leg from crushing his throat.

The leverage gave Jack just enough breathing room to speak. “You’re an ass.”

Mac let out a breathless laugh, clearly straining against the fight Jack was putting up. Even when Mac was in the far better position, Jack had him outmatched for brute strength by a country mile. “You should’ve seen it coming,” he pointed out, strained and amused.

“Forgive me for worrying I might have actually hurt you,” Jack grunted, shifting. Riley could see how the corded muscle in his pinned arm was straining against where Mac had it in a two-handed grip, fighting to get the space he needed to lash out. “Matty would kill me if I messed up that knee again.”

“Good to know you care.”

“You’re not gonna like what I do next man, fair warning.” Jack didn’t give him more than half a second to let that sentence sink in before he jerked his pinned arm back towards him. Mac had been holding it from rising, preventing Jack from getting the leverage to swing down at his face and chest; the sudden redirection of force wasn’t something he could compensate for and his grip failed. Fortunately, the warning had been a genuine lifeline - Mac knew exactly what he was going to do.

As soon as he felt Jack move, he canted his hips sharply, twisting his body so that the elbow that was about to drive down hard on a rather sensitive part of his anatomy caught him heavily in the hollow space of his inner hip joint instead. It was still a strong enough blow that he felt himself jackknife up, the muscles across his stomach rippling to attention in a sudden bolt of pain, but he wasn’t left gagging and helpless. Since the attack had already left him sitting up, he used that to his advantage, letting his momentum bring him up and over Jack, racing to get his legs where he needed them before Jack could react and preferably without kneeling on his neck or booting him in the face.

It wasn’t elegant, limbs tangled up as they were, but when the struggle settled down a few seconds later, Jack was still pinned flat on his back with most of Mac’s body weight crushing down against his chest. The arm that had very nearly threatened any possible future children was jammed flat to the floor by Mac’s left knee, while the other was trapped between Mac’s other leg and Jack’s own ribcage.

Mac smirked down at his partner. “I don’t know - this seems to have worked out alright for me,” he taunted, easing just a little more of his weight down. Strong as his position might initially appear, his balance was hanging by a thread and his only hope of keeping it was to use sheer mass to overwhelm Jack’s impossible strength.

“You know you’re not gonna hold me like this for long slick,” Jack shot back, sounding winded. With the amount of downward force currently trying to stop him from breathing, it was vaguely impressive that he could talk at all.

“Hey, Riley.” Mac shot her a quick look over his shoulder before returning his attention to Jack. Knowing the man, the momentary distraction had been something he allowed rather than something he failed to capitalise on. “You know how I managed this?”

Bemused that Mac apparently believed now of all times was the moment for a pop quiz, Riley found herself staring at him in disbelief. He didn’t continue though, and Jack was apparently willing to play possum long enough for her to answer, so she made herself concentrate. “You tricked him,” she said slowly.

“Yeah, but how?”

“Acting hurt.”

“Mhm,” he hummed in agreement, shifting ever so slightly when one of Jack’s breaths came in a little heavier than normal. The hold wouldn’t be hurting him, but it would put strain on his lungs and clearly Mac didn’t actually want to make him too uncomfortable while he tried to impart some new life lesson on their tech analyst. Not that it likely mattered - Riley had a sneaking suspicion that Jack could get himself up in a heartbeat the moment he actually wanted to and Mac was sure to know that. “But why did that work? How did I know it would?”

“Because you’re a little shit,” Jack muttered sullenly to himself.

“Because you knew he would worry about you,” Riley said instead of acknowledging the wisdom of a wheezing man trapped flat on his back. “You know he doesn’t want to see you hurt and that he’d help you if you were.”

Mac hummed again, shooting her a proud smile over his shoulder. “Same reason both of you went for my knee-” There, he threw in a peeved look at the pair of them, “-And why it worked every time. You get it?”

She did. “We used what we knew about our partners against them. We know your knee’s still recovering, so it’s a weak point to exploit. You know Jack cares about you, so he’s going to let his guard down when you’re injured.”

It wasn’t rocket science and she’d known it in principle for years, but she could see what Mac was doing. By forcing her to talk about it, to lay it out, he was getting her to actively consider it, to get in the habit of evaluating an opponent and seeing the places where she could get an advantage. Even now she recognised that she could almost certainly use Mac’s trick against Jack in the same way - provided she could manage to act half as well as he could, at any rate.

“It’s not as easy in the field,” Mac said. “We know each other really well - up to and including any recent injuries, which is a big help. You’re not going to have that with most of the people you come across. But with a bit of practice, you can start to pick up people’s tells.”

She digested that for a moment, then smirked. “So are you going to show me more of Jack’s?”

At that, he grimaced, the muscles across the back of his shoulders going tense. “Unfortunately, now he knows not to underestimate me, you’ve just seen pretty much all I have.” He looked back down at where Jack was starting to grin up at him and let his frown turn pleading. “Don't suppose I can tap out now and save myself the body slam?” He didn't sound hopeful.

Jack smiled like a cat with a mouse in its paws. “Not a chance,” he replied evenly, then struck out with the speed of a snake, so quickly Riley wasn't entirely sure what it was that he'd done. Whatever it was, the result was Mac's centre of gravity being yanked out from under him in one swift pull and sending him to the mats with a solid thud that knocked the wind clean out of him for the second time in ten minutes. In the same move, Jack swung himself up to hover over his partner, still grinning slyly to himself. “You done? Or do I need to pin you?”

Mac couldn't more obviously be out of the fight if he tried, his breathing rough and erratic, but he obligingly tapped sharply on the mat beside himself all the same. Jack let out a small whoop of victory, sending another wink in Riley's direction to show off even as he stuck out a hand to brush soothingly down Mac’s spasming rib cage. It probably wouldn’t help Mac get his muscles under control, but the gesture was fond and reassuring, and he didn’t protest the contact.

“And that’s how it’s done,” Jack said smugly, practically oozing satisfaction. “This is why you should always listen to ole’Jack when he gives you combat lessons Riles.”

“Rule two,��� Mac wheezed helplessly, head thrown back and eyes closed as he fought to get his diaphragm back on side.

“Ey now, you just focus on breathing,” Jack cautioned. “You’re gonna scare Riley if you keep gasping like an old man.” He shot a glance at her that shut down any genuine concern she might have had brewing in her gut; if Mac really was hurt, Jack wouldn’t be smiling. “That slam is meant to wind, not injure. Good for incapacitating someone quickly without causing actual damage.”

“I didn’t even see what you did,” she told him honestly, trying to play the grapple back in her head and coming up blank. Jack had moved too quickly for her to grasp more than the headlines.

“Well, I’ll just have to show you again sometime. Perhaps a bit slower. Mac’ll be happy to help out, right man?” There was a disagreeable wheeze from the blonde’s general direction. “See? He’s thrilled.”

“Yeah, he sounds it.” Despite herself, she couldn’t help but laugh. Mac cracked one scrunched up eye open to watch her, fighting off a smile of his own that was cripplingly fond. Still resting above him with a hand on his partner’s chest, Jack’s expression was much the same. Her chest swelled with sudden, overwhelming warmth. “Maybe we should wait until he can breathe though, yeah?”

“Ha, he’s fine,” Jack said carelessly, patting him gently on the ribs for effect. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to put him in his place on the mats. Always gets overconfident.”

“Screw you,” Mac replied. It might have had more weight to it if he hadn’t been struggling to haul in air at the same time. “I had you pinned.”

“Yeah, and how did that work out for you?”

Mac swatted at him, lazy and uncoordinated, and that feeling in Riley’s chest pulsed a little more fiercely. Sparring might be a bit hit or miss, but this, right here, huddled up with Mac and Jack? That was all but home and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“So the two of you really got in a fist fight when you first met? How did you ever become friends?”

Jack snorted. “That took some work. But of course Mac couldn’t help but warm to my sparkling personality.”

The man in question huffed a soft laugh. He finally seemed to have recovered some control over his lungs, because he was able to retort, “Sure, that’s what happened.”

“That is what happened.”

“Mhm. You’re conveniently leaving out the part where I saved your ass. Like six times.”

“Excuse me? I know you’re not forgetting about how many hours I spent protecting your skinny ass when you were so focused on an IED you didn’t even notice the guys sneaking up on you. You wouldn’t have lasted a week if I hadn’t been watching out for you.”

Riley half-expected Mac to snipe back at that, but he surprised her by finally getting his eyes back open and sending his partner a gentle smile. “That’s true,” he allowed quietly. “You promised me you’d get me home.”

“And I did.”

“And you did.”

Jack’s expression had gone very soft in a way it only ever did when he was looking at Mac, Riley, or Bozer. His hand had stilled over Mac’s heart. “I suppose you might have something to do with me getting home with all my limbs intact too. Even if you did take your sweet time about every little device we came across.”

Wordlessly, Mac extended his fist for Jack’s to bump against, a physical bond of solidarity.

She gave it another ten seconds of stillness to let the moment sink in for them all before Riley leaned forward. “You two are adorable.”

That got a good grumble out of both of them, but there was a gentleness to it that let her know there was no harm done. Despite how caught up in themselves they might have seemed to be, they were both far too well trained in situational awareness to have forgotten that she was sitting three feet away. It was just that they were both content to let her see them in a rare moment of openness.

Reawakened to the room at large - and possibly realising how uncomfortably sweaty he was - Jack clambered up to his feet with a groan, rubbing faintly at the spot where Mac’s leg had dug into his chest. “Time to hit the showers, I think. Unless you want to go another round?”

There was a muttering of disapproval before Mac pushed himself up to sitting with a groan, then stuck out a hand to let Jack drag him back to his feet. Once there he took a second to balance himself, leaning his weight awkwardly on one leg as he tested out the strength of his damaged knee. Whatever he felt, it made him frown.

Astute as ever, Jack was watching him like a hawk. “You doing okay there, slick?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Really? Because you look like you’re about to try limping out of here and ending up on your ass.”

Mac scowled at him, but it was fond. “Gee, thanks.”

Jack just rolled his eyes and strode back to stand beside him, sliding under Mac’s shoulder to help support his weight like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Please tell me I didn’t break that thing again. I wasn’t joking when I said Matty would have my head.”

Mac scoffed, the pain in his face lightening now that he could take his weight off the injured joint. “I think if you broke my leg a second time it wouldn’t be your head you’d need to worry about. But no, I think it’s fine. Just twisted is all.”

“‘It’s fine’, he says, hobbling about like a newborn colt,” Jack muttered, but he didn’t complain further as the pair of them began a shambling walk towards the showers.

The blonde shot him a disgruntled look, clearly about to offer some kind of retort before he swallowed it back down and shook his head with a smile.

Riley trailed after them, her thoughts shifting to her afternoon. “Dinner at yours Mac?” She called, just as they broke off from her to head towards the men’s showers.

He shot a broad grin over his shoulder at her and tipped his head. “‘Course. You did well today. Least I can do is offer up Boze’s cooking.”

She let her laugh buoy her as she waved at them both. “See you there. I’ll make sure there’s an ice pack ready for your old man knee.”

Mac’s disgruntled retort was entirely swallowed by Jack’s echoing laughter, bouncing around the walls to follow her into the main corridor that led back to the parking garage. Tired, sore, and hopelessly fond, Riley turned her steps to home.

Also on AO3

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 19

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

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Tapping her foot on the carpeted floor, Padmé bit her fingers as she was seated on the sofa, waiting for her guests to arrive. It was already half-past nine on her square clock and her friends hadn’t arrived yet. With the curfew in place, she presumed they were held back by the patrols.

According to Dooku, anyone who was out after half past seven would either be taken for questioning or executed on the spot. Just last week, a man was shot in the head for buying powdered milk for his baby daughter. In another case, a homeless person disappeared after they were found sleeping underneath the bridge.

It was necessary in order to maintain the peace on the planet, but Padmé felt it was unnecessary. Coruscant was doing fine when Palpatine was still alive. Sure, they were attacked by the Separatist before, but they rebuilt from the damage, except for the lower levels.

The people living in the lower levels were struggling to get fresh air, which contributed to the mortality rate and asthma rate among infants and children. Their waters were also laced with lead, and their houses weren’t built to sustain the damage they received from the upper-level, making them more vulnerable during the Battle of Coruscant.

Dooku had evacuated them out of the disaster area afterwards, but he never mentioned where they went, or what happened to them. Padmé assumed the worst, considering the Emperor is no stranger to cruelty and genocide. She could only hope the folks were surviving this new ordeal.

With a massive blackout, the candles were lit in every corner, including the dining table. Padmé could finally see the stars in the sky, but she felt trapped, like a bird in the cage. It’s only a matter of time before Agent Doherty stormed her apartment and arrested her on the spot for dissent against the government.

Before C-3P0 could check on her, she heard a knock on the door. I hope it’s them.

Padmé took a deep breath and answered the door, finding her longtime friend, Riyo Chuchi standing in front of her, along with Commander Fox, Commander Tori, and ARC Trooper Dipper.

“Hello, Padmé,” Riyo chirped, her arms widened. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Riyo, you actually came,” Padmé embraced. “I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. I was so worried about you, especially since you’re stuck in this hellhole.”

“I know,” she held her hand. “I hope nothing bad happened to you all during this curfew.”

“No trouble at all, Senator,” Commander Fox assured. “We’ve received your message on base and we’re here to help you.”

“Commander Fox, it is an honour to see you again,” Threepio greeted him. “It’s weird not having you around.”

“It’s good to see you again, Goldie. Hope you’re holding up alright.”

“I’m fine, thanks you very much.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Commander,” Padmé shook his hand. “Also, you don’t have to be so formal with me. You can just call me Padmé instead.”

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Padmé,” Tori spoke, smiling at the senator. “I’m Tori and this is my daughter, Frieda, and my best soldier, Dipper.”

Padmé let out a grin as she shook hands with the little girl. “Hello, Frieda. I love your dress. You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” Frieda replied. “You are pretty too, like a princess.”

“You’re so cute. How old are you?”

“I’m five years old,” Frieda held up five fingers, making her ruffle her hair.

“She’s a clever child,” Padmé praised her, as she led them to the dining room, filled with platters of food on the tables, along with the candles in the middle.

The food she had prepared wasn’t war rations like the four of them were used to. Rather, there were platters of roasted potatoes, lamb shanks, buttered broccolis, and berry pavlova for dessert.

Tori’s eyes widened as her mouth watered at the sight of the luxurious meal. The last delicious thing she ever ate was mala chicken that Lira and Eva ordered from a restaurant downtown. Even then, she had never had this much food before.

“That’s a lot you cooked,” she commented, as she took a seat beside Dipper. “It’s scrumptious. I like it.”

“It’s not much,” shrugged Padmé, placing a baby chair next to Tori. “Besides, you came all the way to Coruscant, so I thought you needed some energy for tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Dipper smiled at her. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s the least I could do, Dipper. Say, I never met you before. Could you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Dipper scratched the back of his neck, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, I’m an ARC Trooper and I like to read books whenever I have time.”

“Really? What books do you read?”

“Oh, I always loved mystery and crime novels. Punishment and Crime is my absolute favourite.”

“I like that book too,” Padmé giggled. “It’s an absolute classic. By the way, I love your hair and your Big Dipper tattoo. I bet you were popular with the ladies.”

“Thank you, Padmé,” he accepted her compliment. “But I’m actually gay.”

“Oh, my apologies. I bet you were popular with the men out there.”

“Well, I wish.”

Fox chewed on his food as he listened to their conversations, reminding him when he was first assigned to Coruscant. But then he remembered why he was here. “As much as I don’t want to interrupt this lovely conversation, we need to discuss our mission.”

“Of course, Commander Fox,” Padmé cleared her throat, as she explained her plan to them. “I want you all to continue the investigation of Chancellor Palpatine’s murder. The Emperor announced to the Senate that he would be more transparent with the investigation, but whenever we demanded answers, he didn’t comment on that.”

“If he didn’t want to say anything, then he’s guilty,” said Riyo, slurping on her drink.

“Which is why I called you all here on Coruscant to help me investigate the Chancellor’s death. I learned from an ISB agent that the case files were kept in his penthouse.”

“Oh dear,” Fox expressed his disdain. “That sounds a lot like a trap.”

“I know, but the place is unguarded, with only sensors to keep away intruders.”

“That is suspicious,” Tori sided with Fox. “For all I know, the Imperials could wait for us when we get there, and that is the last thing we want.”

“I understand your doubts, and I’m aware how risky it is,” Padmé sighed. “But those files could help turn the tides of the war. If you want to defeat the Empire, then exposing the truth is the only way to win.”

Riyo stroked her chin, bobbing her head. “She has a point, Fox. If the entire galaxy learned who killed Palpatine, then we could get as much support as we need.”

Fox turned to Dipper, who was indulging in his dessert. “What about you, trooper? Do you think we should search for Palpatine’s murderer?”

The latter put down his fork as he pondered for a moment, before making up his mind. “We made it this far, so might as well help Padmé with the Chancellor’s death. Besides, I do like myself some mysteries in life.”

“Then I guess we’ve made our decision,” Padmé decided their fate.

“Alright then, we’ll help you with the mission,” Fox resigned to the final votes. “But as soon as we’re done, we’re getting you out of here. Understood?”

“Understood, Commander.”