#holster combo case

[crimson-calligraphyx]

What do four best friends do when they can't agree on where to go on their next "Girl's Trip"? Well, they have a competition—whoever wins gets to choose where to go. The catch? It involves candy underwear and subtlety. Disclaimer: this is completely fictional. I do not own Bad Omens or anyone affiliated with them. This is a RPF; don't like? Don't read. Hope you enjoy! 😊 Sexual content: oral sex & fingering; female receiving. slight knife play. Word count: 5,204 Costumes: Anastasia Riley Adeline I think y'all can picture Gemma's costume Candy thong Tag list: @kingdomof-omens @cheyfi @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo *if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Heavy bass vibrated through not only the walls of our home, but the entirety of my body, shaking me to the core. The air in the foyer was thick with the smoke billowing from the fog machine, creeping low against the wooden floors and swirling as I walked through it.

Continuing through our home, I couldn’t help the nagging thought in my head of whether we really should have a strobe light going or not. It was starting to make me dizzy; the last thing we needed was someone dropping in the middle of the living room from a seizure, but the girls insisted it was necessary for the night and told me to stop being such a worry wart.

It was Halloween night, and the girls and I were getting ready for the impromptu party we threw together. We invited practically the whole block, shoving flyers into their mailboxes the night before, not expecting half of them to show. Still, we went all out and bought two kegs and brought out the entirety of our liquor cabinet, along with probably a dozen pizzas just in case.

It was LA after all, and word does spread like wildfire here, so maybe there was a chance of a huge turnout.

I made my way up the stairs and into my bedroom to check on how the others were doing with their costumes, stopping short when I got a look at Gemma’s outfit. Nicholas outdid himself—the ‘ink’ on Gemma’s arms was that of Noah’s, though rushed from the amount of time we had to get ready. Still, he did his job, and you could tell they were supposed to be the crimson waves and the grayscale portrait Noah had. And of course, the snake with the forbidden fruit on the neck.

Gemma stood with a proud smile on her face, waving her hands up and down her body to brandish her outfit. I snorted, taking in the cropped black tank top, short black skirt, and fishnet combo. She had a white shoelace around the waistband of the skirt to mimic the drawstring on his stage pants, and even had the chain necklace and bracelet he wore on his left wrist.

“Single glove or hand wraps?” she asks, holding up one in each hand. “The glove is more infamous in my opinion, but it might get sweaty,” I shrugged. “Up to you.” She tilts her head back in forth, pondering before settling with the hand wraps. She tossed the glove onto the bed, hitting Adeline with it, who was lying on her stomach.

“If you’re gonna hit me in the ass with a glove, make sure your hand is in it,” Adeline teases, looking back at us over her shoulder. "Duly noted," Gemma laughs and makes her way over to the bed, promptly slapping Adeline over her bustle-clad ass. "What even are you?" Adeline rolls over and stands up, picking up her fedora and placing it on her head. She points to the holster strapped to her thigh that holds a knife, presumably fake. "I'm a monster hunter. You know, like if the Winchester's had a sister." Gemma nods her head slowly, "Riiight, gotcha."

I shake my head at them with a smirk playing on my lips, turning my attention to the mirror. I adjusted the frilled collar around my neck, hoping it wouldn't suffocate me too much during the night, followed by the thigh-high stockings, having the bells on my skirt jingle as I moved. "You think I should do some sort of clown makeup or just leave it with the smokey eye?" I asked, turning to Nick. "Nah," he shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer. "I think it's fine the way it is."

I shrugged, accepting his answer, and tightened the pigtails on my head one last time just as Riley made her way into the room. I gasped when I saw the orange tattered dress and burlap hood, adorned with Sam's stitched face. I was astonished at how good she looked. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to make herself small as a pink tinge formed on her cheeks. I knew she felt uncomfortable, completely stepping out of her comfort zone, but her costume really was amazing.

"Is it that bad?" she asks, digging the toe of her platformed boot into the carpet with uncertainty. "Girl, no! You look amazing!" I reassure her, motioning for her to spin around so I could get a full view. She obliges, hesitantly spinning and extending her arms out by her sides, the skirt of her dress swishing around her. She halts facing me, "Thanks, Stace," she giggles, the start of a confident smile spreading on her face.

"Alright bitches, now that we're all here," Gemma announces, gaining everyone's attention. She holds up her hand, clasped around a bundle of what appeared to be candy necklaces. "I have a little game for us to play tonight. Know how we've been fighting over where to go for our next Girl's Trip?" She asks, tossing each of us a string of candies with a sly smirk. I held the candy up in front of me, quickly realizing these weren't necklaces, but thongs. "Gem, what the fuck are you getting at?" I asked accusingly. She chortled as the rest of us girls exchanged wary glances, only imagining what she had in mind. "We're going to wear these tonight and see who can get rid of the candies the fastest. Winner gets to choose our destination," she winks, stepping into the G-string and sliding it underneath her skirt, completely disregarding Nicholas sitting behind her. "A-and how do you expect us to do that?" Riley asks timidly, the blush rearing her face again.

Gemma chuckles and makes her way over to Riley, taking the ties of the burlap hood between her thumb and index finger, and twiddling it. "C'mon Riles, use that brain of yours. You're gonna get each and every one of those boys at this party to take a nibble," she chomps the air playfully and tugs on the string to release the knot with a laugh. "Hey!" Riley gasps, throwing her hands on her head to stop the burlap sack from falling to the floor. "Not funny," she grumbles, situating the hood back in its original place. "I don't know, Gemma. That's a little... risque." "That's the whole point, Riles! Maybe you'll get lucky with Jol—" "Shh!" Riley frantically covers Gemma's mouth and glances briefly at Nick, her face now beet red and eyes wide as saucers.

I exchanged a knowing look with Adeline, both of us snickering quietly. It was no secret that Riley had a thing for Jolly, always growing quiet and tucking herself behind one of us whenever he was in the room. And when he spoke to her? Forget it. It's like her brain short-circuits and she forgets how to speak, only able to laugh and play with the hem of her shirt. It was cute though, and I knew that a part of this game Gemma had planned was to break Riley out of her shell a bit.

With a shrug, I slipped out of my non edible underwear and tossed it into my hamper, replacing it with the candy thong. It was a little snug, and felt weird as the chalky beads rolled over my skin, but I was determined to get this off as quickly as possible. I was desperate to go to Hawaii.

Adeline steps into my bathroom to exchange her underwear, and Riley looks between the three of us when she returns, visibly shaking. She takes a deep breath and makes her way into my bathroom, doing the same as Adeline.

"Y'all are crazy," Nicholas comments with a chuckle and stands up, slipping his Michael Myers mask over his head. "Please, like you don't want to take a nibble," Gemma winks, bending slightly and wriggling her hips in his direction. I could just imagine the eye roll that was hidden by his mask as he silently sauntered through us, heading downstairs. "At least he's in character," I snorted, and we shared a laugh then trailed after him, ready for our night of fun as we descended the stairs.

Hitting the bottom step, I could just barely hear the doorbell over the music blasting through our home, the bass still vibrating through me. I made my way to the door, throwing it open to be met with a pair of dark eyes, covered slightly by shaggy bangs and shimmering from the strobe light behind me. I take in Noah's blood-stained white T-shirt and jeans as he holds a Ghostface mask in his right hand.

A smirk slowly spreads on his face as I stared for much longer than I should have, soaking in how fucking easy it was for him to look so good, and I could feel my face start to warm. Heat simmers low in my belly from the way he locks eyes with me and smolders at me—he knew exactly what he was doing. Noah and I have been playing this cat-and-mouse game for months, both of us too stubborn to admit our feelings to one another regardless of how obvious it was.

I cleared my throat, "Billy Loomis, huh?" "How could you tell?" he chuckles. I rolled my eyes, "It's not like Scream isn't my favorite slasher or anything." He feigns surprise, his eyebrows rising. "Is that so?" he teases, that smirk finding his lips again. I remained silent while I watched his eyes trail up and down my body, taking in my Jester costume.

He slowly brings his eyes back to mine, lingering on my chest briefly. "So, you gonna let me in or am I supposed to party on the porch by myself all night?" "Right," I chuckled, opening the door wider, allowing him room to enter. "Welcome to the night circus, where you can be a freak on purpose," I shoot him a wink, waving my arm in a grand fashion. "Why thank you, Anastasia," he crosses through the threshold, the way he put emphasis on my name causing a shiver to roll down my spine. No one uses my full name.

His eyes never left mine as he brushed past me, the bells on my dress jingling as he ran a finger across the bottom of it. My heart pounds from the seduction in his eyes, his proximity, the anticipation of his fingers grazing my skin. I watched him disappear into the kitchen while the strobes gave the illusion that his body was lagging behind, leaving nothing but the fog swirling in his wake.

Huffing out a breath, I go to shut the door blindly, having a boot wedge between it and the frame. I looked up at the owner of said boot, belonging to Jolly, who stood there sporting a kind smile with fake blood dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. "Shit, sorry Jolly. I didn't see you there," I apologized with a grimace and stepped back to allow him inside. He laughs, and I catch a glimpse of the fake fangs settled on his teeth. "That's alright, I could see you were a bit preoccupied," he winks before making his way inside, trailing after Noah.

I felt my cheeks burn hot from embarrassment, and suddenly the collar around my neck was beginning to suffocate me. Shutting the door, I took a deep breath to recollect myself and calm my erratic heart. This was going to be an interesting night.

-

The night carried on, with dozens upon dozens of strangers funneling into our home. Half the pizza was gone, the kegs have been tapped, and I was feeling pretty good after a few drinks. I managed to get a couple bites taken from the candy G-string by said strangers, as did the others, but we appeared to still be neck-and-neck in our little competition.

Folio was running rampant around the house in his werewolf costume, sloshing beer in his wake, while Adeline and Noah were nowhere in sight. Riley had tucked herself in the corner of the living room, trying her best to make small talk with Jolly, who seemed very interested in what she had to say. And of course, Nicholas was taking advantage of his Michael Myers costume, sneaking up on people and scaring the shit out of them.

"Stacy!" I heard Gemma call my name as I snagged a slice of pizza. I turned towards her while taking a bite, perking an eyebrow up in questioning. "Come do a keg stand with me!" I rolled my eyes, swallowing the bite I took. "Let me finish my slice of pizza first, Gem. I haven't eaten all night!" She wasn't even paying attention to what I had to say, giggling as she skipped on over to the keg.

I followed after her, shaking my head with a chuckle as she threw herself onto Matt's back, who barely had time to register what was happening. He caught her just in time, nearly falling forward as he hooked her knees on his elbows, scolding her. "Matty," she laughs, "can you help me with the keg stand?" "If it gets you off my back, sure," he huffs. "I may be dressed as Goku, but I'm not a Super Saiyan, so you gotta find another person to help hold your drunk ass up." "Deal!" she lands a sloppy kiss on his cheek before sliding off his back, immediately waving me towards her.

I sighed and tossed my pizza onto the closest counter, knowing she would just keep pestering me until I obliged. Gemma takes hold of the handles and bends at the waist, beginning to hoist herself up by kicking her legs out. Matt and I exchanged looks and rolled our eyes at her impatience, both of us grasping a leg to steady her as she flipped upside down, her skirt falling and exposing the candy underwear.

"You ready?" Matt asks her, not even noticing that her ass was now exposed, and brings the spout to her mouth. She responds by giggling, taking the spout between her teeth. "Three, two, one... Go!" he counts down, opening the spigot and funneling beer to her.

It was messy at first as she continued to giggle, foam billowing from her lips, dripping into her hair and on top of the keg. After a moment, she stifles her hysterics and gets a better grasp on the spout, finally drinking it down as the room starts to count how long she could stay up.

"Gemma, what the fuck are you wearing?" Matt laughs just after the room counts to eight. I brought my attention to him; he finally noticed the edible underwear, unapologetically staring at her ass with a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Gemma starts to laugh, the spout falling from her mouth, which continues to pour beer all over the floor. Her arms buckle as she laughs harder, and she topples backward, landing straight on her back. She groans out in pain, only to erupt into another fit of giggles.

I snorted with amusement and shook my head at the sight before me, reaching for the spigot to close it. "Are you alright?" I asked her and promptly offered a hand to help her up. She accepts my hand and pulls herself up, stumbling to her feet. "Oh yeah, that was hilarious," she chuckles, turning her attention to Matt. "For your information, Matty, it's called candy underwear." "Right, but why are you wearing it?" She motions her head at me, "We're having a competition—me, Stacy, Adeline, and Riley—and for the life of us, we can't agree on where to go for vacation. So, like the genius that I am, I decided whoever can get all the candy bitten off by the end of the night, wins."

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "That is the stupidest shit you've ever come up with, Gem." He grabs a solo cup and starts to fill it with beer from the keg, "Where is it that you guys want to go that you can't agree on something?" I mimic his actions, filling my own cup. "I wanna go to Hawaii," I shrugged, followed by taking a sip of my beer. "Riley wants to go to the Bahamas, I think Addy wants to go to Niagara Falls." "What about you, Gem?" Matt asks, pointing his cup in her direction. "Las Vegas!" she shouts.

He nods slowly and takes a long sip of his drink, mulling over our answers. With the hand that was holding the solo cup, he points a finger at me and gives me a quick head nod. "Bend over, I'm taking a bite." "Excuse me?" I folded my arms over my chest, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Hawaii is the best option in my opinion," he shrugs, putting his cup down and closing the gap between us.

He sidles up behind me, lifting the skirt of my dress on his own as he crouches. I shiver from the feeling of his warm breath on my backside as he brings the candy into his mouth, his lips brushing against my skin. I could feel him pull on the string as he fought with it to break the candy, having it snap back into place when he successfully took what felt like a big chunk off. I glanced at Gemma with wide eyes, not expecting this from Matt, and she did not seem amused by any means.

"You better fucking win this shit, Stace," he mumbles and stands up, chewing on the candy. "That's the whole idea, Matt," I winked at him, tugging my dress back into place before returning to my pizza waiting for me on the counter. Gemma scoffs, "What about me? That doesn't seem very fair." "You said it yourself, Gem. It's a competition," Matt retorts. "One of you has to win, and none of you will if I take a bite off each of your asses." Her mouth drops open, appalled by his words, and she quickly exits the room with an exasperated exhale.

"Drama queen," he snickers as he washes down the sweets with a pull of his beer. "The other guys know about this?" "Nick does, not sure if the others caught wind or not. A few strangers were brave enough to take a nibble or two," I chuckled. "Well then, carry on. The night is still young." He bumps his cup with mine in cheers before trailing after Gemma.

With a shrug, I did just so and topped off my cup before heading into the living room. The air in the room was sticky from all the heat radiating off people's bodies, everyone practically shoulder to shoulder as they danced and drank whatever they had in their hands. I take a large pull of my drink, starting my journey through the sea of people until I lock eyes with those same alluring eyes from earlier in the night.

Noah stands there, leaning against the wall opposite of me with his arms folded over his chest. A smirk begins to spread across his face when he sees that he has my undivided attention, and my heart leaps into my throat from how long he holds my gaze. He only breaks eye contact when Nick sidles up beside him, lifting his mask to speak to Noah.

I take another sip of my drink, hoping to swallow my heart back where it belongs but to no avail. Whatever Nick had said to Noah only made his smirk grow, his eyes flickering back to me as he pushed off the wall and began to cut through the crowd towards me.

What the fuck did Nick say to him?

I straighten my posture as he stands in front of me, trying to give the impression that I wasn't beginning to crumble underneath his devious presence. He leans towards me, bringing his mouth so close to my ear that I can feel his breath ghost by it, a chill running down my spine. "Come with me," he says lowly, his tone immediately spreading warmth to my core.

He brushes past me, this time his fingers grazing against my thigh, and my breath gets caught in my throat. Taking another gulp of my beer, I followed him out of the living room and down the hallway that passed by the kitchen. He halts when we're away from the crowd, leaning up against the wall again with the same smirk on his face from moments before. He doesn't say anything, just stares at me.

Now annoyed by his silence, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why did you bring me here, Noah?" "Like you don't know," he chuckles. I squint my eyes at him, "What are you getting at?" He hums with amusement, pushing himself off the wall, and stalks towards me again, this time brandishing a knife. My eyes grow wide and I back against the wall, my heart pounding as panic starts to wash over me.

He snorts, lowering his hand. "Relax, it's fake. I'm just trying to stay in character. You know, Billy Loomis and all." I huffed, "That wasn't funny." "Mmm, was pretty funny to me. Shoulda seen your face." "Fuck you, Noah," I let out a breathy laugh. "So, you gonna tell me what's going on or can I go back to the party?" He takes another step towards me, tipping my head up with the blade of the plastic knife under my chin. I remained calm this time, knowing it was fake, and stared up at him as I waited for an answer. "A little birdy told me there's a competition between you girls. Is that true?"

So, that's what Nick told him.

"That is true," I confirmed. "And does it involve candy underwear, or was that a lie?" My throat goes dry; I swallow as my heart begins to pound again. "Y-yes," I stammered. "Interesting," he muses, tracing the blade leisurely down my throat. "I love candy necklaces; it's the same candy, right?" I nodded shallowly. "I may have to partake in this competition then if you'll allow it." I take a deep breath in as he continues to skim the knife across my breasts, dragging it down the front of my dress. I lost my voice while my reply swirled round and round in my head, dizzying me as I saw his eyes darken with mischief while he scrutinized my every move.

The knife reaches the middle of my thigh, and he changes direction, slipping it under my dress. He inches it back up my thigh, bringing the heat in my stomach to a simmer as it neared my center. I squeeze my legs together when he slides it between them, and he chuckles. "I'll take that as a no," he says, retracting the knife. "No, you may," I breathed. "Maybe without the knife, though." "Fair enough." He agrees, tucking it into his back pocket.

He lowers himself to his knees, leering up at me with hunger in his eyes as he fists the bottom of my dress. "May I?" I gave a quick nod and held my breath as his head disappeared under the skirt. He wastes no time at all; I can feel the tug against the strings as he takes a section of the beads into his mouth, his warm breath caressing my mound. I chomp down on my lip to hold back the mewl that wanted to escape me from the sensation.

The thong snaps back into place when he successfully takes a bite, causing me to jump slightly. I heard him chuckle, but he didn't pull back. Instead, he takes another mouthful, this time sucking them into his mouth rather than taking them in between his teeth. His lips brush against me ever-so-slightly, my body reacting to the closeness by clenching around nothing.

Fuck. This was turning me on way too fucking much.

"Noah," I warned. "I-I think you've had enough." He releases the candy, and they snap back against me, once again causing me to buck my hips forward. The sweets were now sticky from his saliva, the underwear even more uncomfortable now as the beads stick against my skin. His face emerges from my skirt, and he looks up at me through the dark bangs covering his eyes, licking his lips slowly. "Sorry, I just really like candy necklaces. Let me take one last bite."

He doesn't even wait for me to respond, heading back to where he just was. "No-waaah," I began to scold him for his behavior, only to be interrupted by the moan he elicited from me. He had slipped his tongue through the strings, padding it against my clit while he pulled on another mouthful of candies. "That bite tasted really good." He chuckles deviously, the vibration buzzing through me and sending another tingle through my middle.

He moves back, looking up at me with that same sly smirk he's been brandishing all night. "I really wanna eat it all. And I don't just mean the candy." Heat rises up my neck and across my face from his words, and my clit throbs just from the thought of him devouring every last bead before devouring me. I clenched my thighs together, trying to get some friction where I wanted it the most as I eagerly waited for him to touch me again.

"I know you want to win this competition, Anastasia," he mutters sardonically. "Why don't you let me help?" I swallowed harshly, giving him a quick nod. "Come with me," he coos, taking my hand as he stands, and brings me into the closest room.

It felt wrong as he shut the door to Riley's bedroom and locked it, and even worse when he shoved me playfully onto her bed. The feeling of guilt quickly diminishes, melting into desire as he slowly clambers onto the bed, settling between my legs. He bunches my dress up, exposing the edible underwear once again, lowering himself until his mouth was only a mere centimeter away from it.

He takes one single bead between his teeth, breaking it off and chewing it, all while staring up at me with fire burning in his eyes. He does it again, and again, his mouth dangerously close to my clit, until I couldn't handle him teasing me any longer. "Noah," I whined, wriggling my hips in front of him eagerly. "Please." "Ah, ah," he scolds, "you gotta wait until all of this candy is gone." He laughs when I let out an aggravated huff, taking another mouthful of the candy and sucking on it.

"Tastes so good," he moans out. "The candy is sweet, but your arousal makes it even sweeter," he muses, letting the moist candies fall from his mouth, slapping against my clit. I whimpered and bucked my hips forward, having him take the same candies back in his mouth and finally break them off. I breathed deep with anticipation, my chest heaving as I watched him lazily chew the sweets, his eyes boring into mine with animosity. "Hm," his eyes fall back to the thong, a satisfied grin grazing his lips. "Would you look at that, all the candies are gone. All there is left to eat is..." His eyes flicker back to mine, the smile only growing on his face. "You."

I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down with a bruising force while he brought his mouth down to me. He pushes the strings aside, never breaking eye contact as he runs his tongue along my soaked folds agonizingly slow, the look alone shaking me to the core. He takes his time, savoring me as he casually licks his way up to my clit, lolling the tip of his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Fuck," I whispered, and my head falls back against the mattress. My eyes fluttered shut when he applied a bit more pressure to my clit, still moving in slow circles. I moaned lightly when he entered a finger inside of me, and then another seconds later. He unhurriedly curls them upwards, just barely pressing against that sweet spot as he carries on.

"Look at me," he mumbles against me. I don't move—I can't, not with the way he's paralyzing me, spreading bliss through my entire body with just his two fingers and tongue. "Anastasia," he says sternly, retracting his fingers. "I wanna watch those pretty eyes of yours roll to the back of your head when I make you come." I whimpered from the unwanted emptiness, once again clenching around nothing as I craved to be filled again. Knowing he wouldn't continue until I obliged due to his stubbornness, I had no choice but to pick my head up and look at him.

"Good girl," he chuckles lowly, his eyes glimmering with fervor. He rewards me by sliding his long fingers inside of me, thrusting them with urgency. It took every fiber of my being to not throw my head back down and cry out, knowing he would stop if I were to do that. He lowers his mouth down to me, working his tongue around my awaiting clit strategically, quickly building up my climax.

My legs start to tremble, my hips involuntarily lifting off the mattress to press my cunt harder against his tongue. "That's it," he moans against me, the bass in his voice vibrating through me. "Let go, Anastasia." His eyes darken as he continues to leer up at me, grazing his teeth against my clit before encasing it with his lips, sucking on it. His fingers continued to curl against my walls feverishly, beckoning me to come undone, his eyes commanding me to fall apart under his control.

The pressure continued to climb with each stroke against my G-spot, and I knew by the curl of his lips that he could tell I was close. The more my body trembled beneath him, the more he concentrated on his actions, watching the way my body reacted to him.

The spool finally springs loose inside of me, my hands fisting the sheets as I cried out from the ecstasy coursing through me. My eyes wrench shut, my body quakes uncontrollably, and he continues to carry me through my high, his actions relentless. He laps up every last drop of my orgasm with a breathy laugh, his hands pressed against my thighs to hold my legs open, not finished with me just yet.

He only stops when I go limp, collapsing against the sheets, and my chest heaves as I try to catch the breath that he knocked out of me. As I lay here, nearly comatose, I felt him pull on the strings of the candy thong one last time, only I didn't feel them snap back into place. “That oughta do it," he says confidently. I lift my head to look at him; the plastic knife is in his hand again, and the strings of the edible underwear are dangling off the blade.

I threw my head back and laughed—looks like I’m going to Hawaii.

[sparkagrace]

Hello darling may I request 19 with Steve & Maria being besties?! No pressure to publish this if you don’t love that combo! Hope your December is off to a fun and festive start 💖💖

Gina! Sorry this took so long but I finally got to it, and it's one of my favorite songs!

tags: steve & maria, undercover, steve is bad at lying, post-avengers (2012)

Got this woman in the back seat Yeah, she’s my wifey In the middle of the delivery

—

Steve is not good at lying. He’s not someone who can easily come up with an excuse on the spot and get away with it. He had always been terrible at it as a kid; face burning up and the inability to maintain eye contact. Bucky was the gregarious one who would get them out of trouble. Steve would just nod along and agree to whatever yarn his best friend was spinning — and between Steve’s innocent face and Bucky’s charisma — they’d manage to get away with it. Usually.

A century later and he’s still nowhere close to being able to do it, not even as part of the SSR and definitely not with SHIELD. He’s a soldier, not a spy. He just can’t keep the panic from rising up from his belly to his throat, and it’s like his brain whites out with the pressure and he can’t really remember all the lies.

He likes Maria. She’s a little more trustworthy than Natasha and Fury, a lot less arrogant than Stark and Thor, and much more with it than Barton who seems to just go with whatever people are saying.

Maria and Steve had been tasked with retrieving a stolen Chitauri tech from a fake bakery that was really a cover business for a cartel. It required some covertness so Steve had left the shield and suit behind, but while they were in there, they’d tripped some sort of alarm and some members of the cartel had begun their pursuit. They had managed to outrun most of them, but their speeding caught the attention of a police car and Maria urged him to pull over in case it brought more attention to them.  

Now parked on the side of the road, the police officer approaches their car slowly with a hand on his holster, and Steve sweats a little because he has no idea what’s actually in the duffle and they can’t lose sight of it. 

“Rogers, just go with it, okay?” Maria’s voice sounds as she grabs the duffle and shoves it underneath her shirt, pulling her trench coat over it to hide the parts that the shirt won’t cover. She uncaps the water bottle and dampens her forehead and hairline a little before pinching her cheeks to make them red and breathing heavily. Steve is confused for a nanosecond before his attention is diverted to the officer knocking at his window. 

“Hi, officer, I—”

“What’s going on?” The officer’s eyes immediately flash over to Maria, who screams and holds her hands over the bulge.

“Ohhhhhh, I think it’s coming!” she screams.

“Is your wife in labor?” the office demands. His hand drifts away from his holster to peer further into the window.

“Uh, yes, she is. That’s my wife. Uh, we’re on the way to the hospital.” Steve looks behind him to see if those guards have caught up yet. He knows he looks nervous and he hopes that the officer doesn’t ask to help, because Maria’s going to give ‘birth’ to whatever is in there that SHIELD wants. He hopes it’s not an alien.

“Owwwww!” Maria yells. 

“First time?” the officer asks a little urgently. Steve just nods dumbly. “Yeah, I can recognise the look of a first time father. You guys need an escort?”

Steve shakes his head and gulps. “She’s my wife. I’m gonna be a dad,” he manages as his brain catches up with the lie. 

“Honeyyyyyyyyyy!” Maria pants and groans as the officer steps back.

“Okay, guys. Just take it a little slower so you can actually make it there, alright? Good luck! My name is Barry, just in case it’s a good name.”

He ends with a smile and pats the car, retreating back to his vehicle. 

“Hey, dad-to-be, you wanna get a move on? I could give birth to Barry Jr at any minute.” Maria straightens and removes the duffle. Steve finally pulls himself together enough to start the engine and get back on their way to SHIELD. 

“Barry is an awful name,” he says five minutes later.

[eemcintyre]

Classifying my Type™️

This was a request by @discombogulated, for whatever reason (or at least a very small part of it was before I took the concept and absolutely RAN INTO THE NIGHT WITH IT), and if my bestie asks, I mean I gotta deliver. It's the law. 💖

Plus, it’s nice to figure out what I like because then I feel like I have an identity and all that 🙃

Anyway sorry for foisting this on the rest of y'all, the helpless masses, but also NO IM NOT bc it’s my account >:))

Visuals:

Father figure/dilf (35-60 approximately and all the sweet sweet wrinkles/smile lines that come with it 🩷; in some cases I’m down for the grey hair action too 🩶)

Is built with a little bit of meat on him, but not totally jacked because eww. Just be tall enough to tower over me and strong enough to toss me across the room (or at least your shoulder) pls and thank you 😤🥺🫠

The unmatched voluminous dark hair + pale eyes (with an intense gaze that I can feel in my knees 😩) + vitamin D-deficient skin combo 🫡

A dusting of chest/stomach/facial hair 👀

~Hands and arms~ particularly for vein-based reasons 👀👀

Knows how to dress and accessorize with classy vintage vibes 💌🤌🏻- I’m talking signet rings, necklaces, bracelets, even the occasional earring; leather jackets, suspenders, suits and ties, and even a good shoulder holster what the heck dream big 👏🏻

Wide, bright smile and lots of laughter 🥰🥺

For some reason I tend to go for guys with oval heads?

Optional- sideburns, covered in blood, rides a motorcycle

Personality/interests/miscellaneous vibes:

Musical and/or singing ability; be cultured (be able to discuss art, politics, academia, and most importantly… pop culture) 🤌🏻

Acts of service and quality time

Calm, gentle, gentlemanly aura 💌 (that old-fashioned politeness- pull my chair out for me, hold the door open, and by God if we could bring back the hand kiss- except I think I might immediately burst into flames 🙃🔥; make me feel safe and protected, ~defend my honor~ and take care of things so I don’t have to stress all the time)…

…With an unhinged kinky side in private being a must 🤌🏻🫠💌🥰

Kind, positive and enthusiastic with a zest for life 💕- don’t be a mean-spirited downer who finds fault with everything

Witty (and sometimes even a bit goofy), I daresay

Good with kids

Cooking ability is a nice bonus

If he’s also a lil bit villainous, an antihero, or at least a bit edgy I wouldn’t say no…

Meanwhile, you best believe I’d be baking desserts for him, planning whimsical days of activities, keeping an immaculate house, engaging in hilarity and singing duets with him, and trying my best to be the most affectionate and cute lil thing 😤🥺😭

^This is what I’m talking about^

[lmelodie]

Alright so Fusion AU (made by @safyresky) has been living in my head for A WHILE now. I just read through most of Danis writing on this idea and it speaks to my early days of posting stuff on the internet. If you scroll far enough on my regular art blog, you will see that i have drawn and designed A LOT of gem fusions.

And i know that in Fusion AU this monstrosity of a combo wouldn't even be slightly possible, but i couldn't NOT think about a BlackIce fusion. So, under the cut is gonna be the rundown on this BEAST that I will be calling Julian.

Design:

Originally, they gave me kind of smokey black and white noir detective vibes for the clothing (As seen in the beta design). And i kept some of that vibe for the final and ended up giving him a double chest holster, WITH NO GUNS BTW. I just decided that they needed straps because they think it looks cool lol

Also, his hair is left to be ambiguous as to how its two toned like that. Is it age? Is it stress? Is it iced over? Is that just the way it looks? You decide! 

I also give him black fingertips reminiscent of severe frost bite

And I decided that for this fusion the special effects on their magic would switch. So now Kills’ shadow magic has the blue glow, and Jacks ice magic has the red glow. 

And because i place The Rule of Cool on top of everything else, i also gave him A THRID set of RETRACTABLE arms.

Personality:

Personality wise, he is an absolute BITCH almost all the time. But it also depends on where in the timeline he appears: Pre or Post breakup. 

Pre breakup where they get along the best would act a lot like Beetlejuice. Extroverted, very showy, delights in the suffering of others, causing SO MANY POROBLEMS for the hell of it. Loves watching the world burn, and LOVES being himself. 

Very much “Hey kid, I’m gonna make you an offer you can't refuse!” 

Post breakup however would rarely be seen to begin with for obvious reasons. But when he does come around, he has a lot more anger and is way more easily irritated. Resorts to violence a lot quicker and is quieter, broody and bitter. 

In either case, this fusion takes A LOT out of them both. This is like sugalite/alexandrite levels to maintain. And once their fused they find it very difficult to physically unfuse. No matter how much they don't wanna be there, sometimes they can get stuck like that. It's not so much a problem Pre breakup, but Post breakup means that there's now a rampaging ice/shadow spirit causing chaos who can't go away.

Minute mannerisms for them would include: 

Speaking with their hands. He WILDLY gestures everywhere when he talks and considering how big he is, this is a safety hazard to everyone involved. 

He switches quite often between referring to himself in singular and multiple terms, going between I am, and We are frequently. Just as a show of just how divided they can be. 

He doesn't particularly talk to himself out loud. All their conversations between each other go on in their head. So, it's not uncommon for him to go completely silent and make reactionary facial expressions to a conversation that no one else can hear. 

He does have a tendency to pick people up and shove people around, often times multiple people at the same time with all the arms.

Everybody else around him finds him actually pretty scary and intimidating. Except when he has to try and fit through a doorway. Then everybody thinks it's hilarious.

[smokeys-house]

Hi Smokey! 💕

What do you think of pistol swords?

I know they were like, super inconvinient since they were a bit to heavy for a pistol and a bit off balance for a sword, but they look really cool I think!

Oooh they're super cool! To my knowledge there's not a ton of documented sources for use of them in actual combat of any kind, even self defense. There are a lot of logistical problems to get around, as with most combination weapons. I'll go into more detail under the cut!

Let's start by saying that the only notable combination weapons I can think of that mix a melee weapon with a firearm is the bayonet. Basically you could turn any rifle into a heavy spear to great effect! This works for a number of obvious reasons but it also combines a primary armament with a secondary to form a different primary armament. I only mention this because the pistol sword combo is effectively combining two sidearms. They're both "back up" weapons essentially which have little to gain from being combined.

During the time where a pistols of this type were used, if you were in a situation where you needed a sword or a pistol you would simply put the pistol in your off-hand and fire when you needed to. Sword and pistol is a pretty good combo in a close to mid range combat scenario. Btw I'm assuming you meant like, a flintlock pistol and a sword combo not like a fantasy gunblade or something so that's what I'm going with.

Anyway in scenarios where you don't have a "primary" armament, and you've got a sword and pistol, you're either a military officer or you're not on a battlefield or both. So you're likely not going to need too many follow up shots if any. Having a sword with a pistol built in would potentially give you the advantage of having either a free hand to use a shield or have an open off hand or even just use another regular pistol. But you have to consider the logistics of keeping the pistol on your sword maintained and loaded, which would be a massive pain considering you have a sword attached to it! That, and keeping it safe while holstered/sheathed presents the issue of needing even further specialized equipment.

The accuracy of the pistol portion is going to be severely limited by the barrel length and also that it's attached to a sword, and if it's improperly made it poses a not insignificant threat to the integrity of the weapon but also to the user. If you sacrifice a proper sword grip to have better aim with the pistol, you lose some qualities of the sword. If you sacrifice the aim for a normal handling sword, you lose the accuracy of the pistol. In general when combining two things you want to make sure there's a reason to do so and that your combination offers something that's worth the exchange of potentially having one thing that does two things poorly or having two separate things that both do their job adequately.

The accuracy isn't as big a deal bc in general you're dealing with short to mid range targets if you're already committed to having your sword out, but that also poses the question of wouldn't it just be easier to have a pistol separately in the case of needing to engage targets at a longer distance? The whole point of a pistol is that it's small. I.E. not a long arm. Whereas the size of a sword of any type generally exceeds the length of a pistol.

I'm not entirely sure that historically they had any real purpose. There are a lot of instances of things of this nature being made so that rich people can have fancy interesting things, or so that someone who makes stuff can show off how skilled they are at making stuff. Or to sell to folks who want something neat. Our modern eyes tend to attribute every instance of these things as having a practical tangible purpose, despite that not always being the case. For a modern example, whisky stones especially fancy fun shaped ones have a limited use. The whole point is to chill a beverage without diluting it, but anything you add ice to is intended to be diluted before its consumed usually. Whisky tasters often add water to taste it. So what's the point of the stones? So you can show them off! Same as a pistol sword. You can show people how cool you are.

There are also instances of dinnerware with pistols attached. Steak knives and other eating knives. Allegedly in case of powerful political people needing a pistol to defend themselves while eating a fancy dinner. But that's... dubious at best and easily solved by just wearing your pistol to the table. So what's the deal? I'm not sure! But they're cool! And I like them!

Side thing to note, if you did need multiple shots for whatever reason, reloading a sword gun would SUCK. And you can always just wear two pistols or a brace of several pistols!

Another side note, arming any significant number of people with these would very quickly become expensive and impractical. Not to mention replacement parts would be harder to make and replace by virtue of being built into the sword. If you have an issue with the pistol barrel, you'd first have to remove it from the sword without ruining the sword itself.

Edit: although if you're in a fight it would be very surprising for the other person to learn that you shot him with your sword. Definitely gonna catch some folks off guard so to speak

[astrumocs]

oda, you've gotten to know the troll in the middle of this case a little now right? what do you think of her?

"Mel? Of course. She's a big part of this-- if I'm going to be involved, her input and comfort with my presence is important."

"I'd work my hardest to ensure no harm came to her regardless, but it's nicer to get to know the people you're trying to help, I think."

"She's got a very kind heart, it doesn't surprise me that she and Wil are friends. She's funny too, got a real sleeper hit combo of being both formal and cheeky."

"I think she- Well, no, it isn't my place to say how I think she might feel."

"I'll say I understand if she's hard on herself given what she's been through, but sometimes though... I get the sense she doesn't feel much love for herself, and it hurts to see it. To know someone could do that to her."

> Odarem sighs, glancing down at where his revolver is holstered on his person.

"I try not to speak like this, but to be honest? I can think of a place I'd like to put a bullet."

[itruckstuff]

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[the-wallflowers-closet]

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[ilovemyphone]

Choose from a vast selection of mobile phone accessories from top brands.

OtterBox Defender Series Case - For iPad Air 10.9 4th Gen (2020)

Protect your device from the action and accidents that come your way as you work hard and play hard with the legendary protection of Defender Series Screenless Edition for IPads. Designed for real life, Defender Series combines tough layers to guard against the roughest drops, scrapes, bumps, dust and grime. And, the combo belt-clip holster/kickstand keeps your device ready for action. Built to deliver rugged protection, Defender Series defends your device from daily wear and tear and rugged adventures

[diicktective]

S𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

1. What does your muse smell like ?

Depending on when you catch him, ANY combination of cigarette smoke, booze, mint gum / mouthwash, coffee, sweat, sex, generic soap, rain, mentholated aftershave, blood, blue raspberry candy, & the vanilla incense he burns in his apartment. he DOES have a few old bottles of cologne leftover for special occasions or when he’s pretending to be someone who’d wear it. it’s all either tingly - fresh & stormy with calone or that  spicy - musky - leathery ‘ we get it u fuck ’ type beat. either way, there’s some citrus near the top & plenty of that magic sandalwood - vanilla resin combo at the base. 

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like ?

Kinda cool, kinda dry. Sinewy. Callouses around the knuckles. Some scarring from cigarette burns-- mostly on the palms below the thumbs. A scatter of rings across his fingers.

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day ?

Usually, Swift just drinks coffee & chainsmokes all day until he remembers his appetite at some cursed hour & grabs takeout or a booth at his favorite all - night diner. Burgers & fries, everything lo mein, pizza, & breakfast-for-dinner are his go - to meals. Sometimes he forgets to eat at all, and other times he wakes up hungry enough to make eggs or cereal or whatever before starting his day, so there’s a little variety. He likes salty snacks, sour candy, & spicy condiments.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice ?

Not half bad but criminally underused. It’s got gravelly edges but an overall softer & smoother sound than his speaking voice. Swift’ll sing along to songs he likes when he’s in the mood or absent-mindedly to himself when something’s stuck in his head, but that’s about it. He’s more likely to hum or whistle, especially with other people around. Given the lack of practice, his abilities don’t extend far past carrying a tune ; if he’s singing his drunken heart out at karaoke or reaching for notes beyond his immediate range, it ain’t gonna sound so hot.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks ?

Constantly drinking & smoking. Almost always coked up. Pops pain pills like candy. Does a lot of club drugs. Places an obsessive focus on his work, sidelining stuff like sleep, meals, & down time as a result. Places himself in dangerous situations just to feel something. Over - caffeinates. Makes questionable decisions in regards to sexual partners, à la people he’s professionally involved with, professionally in conflict with, or just plain shouldn’t fuck. Talks to himself a lot. Has a lot of manual & oral tics including but not limited to : chewing / snapping gum, cracking his knuckles, working his jaw, drumming his fingers, running his hands over his face or through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck, & licking his lips.

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear ?

The unofficial uniform is the black shoe, black pant, white button - down, black tie, black trench coat combo, oft joined by sunglasses, leather gloves, his favorite titanium watch, & a discreetly holstered firearm. His civvies have a lot more variety but see a lot less wear ; dark colors remain a constant theme & full body coverage a common one. They’re an outmoded mix of slogan & band tees, time - worn denim, comfy cardigans & joggers, boots, a few nicer suits from years back with silk shirts to match, & some gothy leathers, velvets, mesh, & pvc. He keeps his hair shorter for convenience & slicks it back when he’s working. At any given time, he’s on a sliding scale of Put Together vs. Disheveled depending on how long he’s been awake, what he’s been up to, and how his case load’s looking. He’s generally sporting some bruises & bandages from work & play alike.

7. Is your muse affectionate ?  How much ?  How so ?

Swift gets real touchy-feely & chatty with people he takes a liking to. AND people he takes a disliking to. Calling either behavior ‘ AFFECTIONATE ’ might be a stretch, though. EMOTIONALLY , he’s pretty chilly & few succeed at warming him up.

8. What position does your muse sleep in ?

On his stomach, arms spread out or holding his pillow. Or slumped over his desk, drooling a little on an open file. If we’re being honest here, it’s usually the latter. 

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room ?

Depends. Swift’s movements border on eerily silent, but his speaking voice can get Loud™ -- enough to surprise people who’re used to him pitching it lower & growlier.

✨ TAGGED BY: @crystalpower ty ty <3 ✨ TAGGING: @muutos , @myseracion , @canonfoddcr , @missmxrcy , @morethangreedandfreckles , & you <3

[wordywarriorwrites]

Wicked Cradle

Title: Wicked Cradle  AO3 |  Master List | Rating: E Summary: A new world. Another mission. A different partner. You and Bucky have the one-two punch combo down pat in no time and you're winning. But as the stakes get higher and things become even more dangerous, things start to change, and you both quickly discover that the past no longer defines either of you and that together, you can overcome anything.   Written For: Writing Challenge Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Prompt: Sit on my lap. Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Fluff. Violence. End Game references.

The rattle of mugs and the crunch of discarded peanut shells. Snap of a cue and clack of the billiards as they rolled across stained, over-worn green felt. Smoke swirling upwards toward the ceiling, the stench mixed with sweat, leather, and stale beer.

A jukebox in the corner that had long ago lost luster, but somehow, still managed to play. It had just switched from some sort of lighthearted bop to something with a hard edge. Gritty and indiscernible, but more befitting the ambiance, and well received by all-too-frequent patrons.

It was your job to notice these things – to be aware of every shoulder roll and weight shift, of any remark that could be taken for insult, of darting eyes and twitchy-fingers. Having Bucky's back wasn't something you did figuratively, but literally, and you did so by faking the need to use the ladies so you could case the joint.

When you walked back toward the table, you realized the dynamic had changed. The chair you'd vacated was now occupied by a cardboard box, but the mark didn't seem as keen to part with it as he'd made it seem no less than five minutes earlier. Bucky's relaxed posture hadn't changed, but there was a tick in his jaw that suggested things had taken an unpleasant turn.

At that moment, you really didn't like the look of the guy; he was cagey and had pulled on his jacket too many times for your liking. Lighter on the table and a pack of cigarettes with a freshly broken seal – he wasn't reaching for a smoke. The waitress had been paid for the last round, which negated cash.

This was your first assignment, something bad was going to happen, and you knew it.

"Shit," you sighed.

Butterfly knife and a handgun – you'd clocked them both earlier and now, you knew the guy was just itching to use one or both of them. You didn't miss the subtle flare of Bucky's eyes as you approached; you made sure to give a couple of slow blinks to convey you knew trouble brewed, and would follow his lead. Since he called the shots, he made the choice – either let it play or abort the mission entirely.

A scrape of his bionic hand over his jaw was the signal for you to engage.

"Well, my chair seems occupied," you remarked off-handedly.

When the mark made no indication of allowing you to have the seat back, Bucky turned slowly, and crooked a finger.

"Sit on my lap."

This time, it was your eyes that flared, but you didn't hesitate. You took a side-saddle approach, lowered yourself down onto his thighs, and did your best not to jump when his flesh hand clamped down on your waist and yanked you closer.

That was more unnerving than the armed man across from you.

"Another round or are we doing this?"

Bucky's inquiry resulted in narrowed eyes and a question of whether or not you had someplace better to be. There was a hard squeeze and push to your right hip, which prompted you to shift position, face the man head-on, and rest your elbows on the table. This little lap dance was a tactic, and you got the message when you felt a slight tug on the holster you'd hidden at the base of your spine.

"Make the exchange and you'll walk out of here a rich man," Bucky said bluntly. "Or don't..."

Most people looking to unload a hot item would've had no qualms giving it up when faced with both a windfall and a not-so-subtle threat. However, there was a look shared between the mark and the two goons he'd brought with him, and it suggested this had been a setup. They more than likely lured you and Bucky to their turf to rob and kill you, and then, try to sell to an even higher bidder.

It had taken three days to get into town and you and Bucky waited double that for the guy to finally grace you with his presence. You were most certainly not going to die in the middle of the boonies in some shithole bar with watered-down beer and exceedingly terrible taste in music. You'd come too far to see it all go to waste and you'd be damned if some asshole with delusions of grandeur was going to take you out.

Tapping on the small of your back – a warning if there ever was one.

A heavy palm slid along your thigh and you felt the handle of the karambit knife when it was pressed into the soft flesh. As soon as you looped your left index finger into the safety ring, you leaned back just enough to shield Bucky, and be clear of the table.

The blade arced through the air, met flesh, and caused blood to spray. A howl of pain was heard above the music and drew attention. A hard shove to the table; it flipped and prevented the other two from being able to raise their guns.

You didn't bother getting up from Bucky's lap – you simply pressed your chest to your knees and gave him a clear line of sight. Some people hit the deck. Others started throwing punches. In the ensuing chaos that followed, Bucky was deadly accurate. Nobody knew where the shots came from.

It would look like the three men had been killed in a bar brawl.

You snatched up the bag of cash and the package before leading the way toward an unmanned, back exit. A loop around the building saw you both to the motorcycles, which had been parked at a safe distance.

"Should've known something was up when he changed locations last minute," he muttered as you rifled through the box. "Come on, we need to be gone before the cops arrive."

Beneath layers of unnecessary bubble wrap, packing popcorn, and tissue paper – that's where you found the thumb drive.

"Hey!" you called out as you let it sail through the air toward him.

Bucky caught it one-handed and snorted, "Well, I'll be damned. He really was as stupid as he looked."

You grinned and hopped on your bike. As you both headed on down the road, you were filled with adrenaline and euphoria.

You knew you were going to like this.

The world still needed to be brought back to some semblance of order and would take all sorts of hands on deck to see things put right.

There were people like Sam and the other Avengers – shiny, public faces, who could get away with dirty deeds in the daylight because the lines between good and evil were clearer when the cameras were rolling and the public was watching. They got parades and lunch boxes and were given keys to cities.

You didn't work in the light.

And you fucking hated parades.

This was a bloody, painful, dirty job, but you'd been there and done that before. You'd been one of the few women to qualify for Special Forces and you'd more than earned that Green Beret. All it had taken was one, stupid grunt to fuck it all up. "Friendly fire" that had resulted in a shoulder wound, which had caused irreparable nerve damage, and partial immobility in your right hand. It meant you were no longer fit for field duty, and since you were not cut out to be a desk jockey, you'd swallowed the bitter pill, and accepted the honorable discharge.

You'd met Sam through Veterans Affairs. He'd given you a place to belong and was more than likely the only reason you weren't in jail or dead. He also convinced you a left hand was just as capable and got you to work on making it just as formidable as the right had once been.

Not long after the second snap, he'd recruited you – said he needed the type of help only you could provide. And when Sam Wilson called...

The mission at the bar yielded more than favorable results, so, it was no surprise you'd been permanently paired with Bucky. Just because he wasn't "Soldat" anymore didn't mean he was any less lethal, and Sam didn't believe in letting talent go to waste, even if your aim wasn't as accurate as it used to be. You and Bucky were both sharp-shooters, indifferent to anything but the task at hand, and for the past six months, the job – whatever it was – always got done.

"Hold still."

You gritted your teeth and huffed, "I am holding still."

Bucky's eyes were barely open because they were both swollen and bloodshot, but the glare was there all the same. The ride through the desert had taken a toll, but that had been nothing compared to the absolute viper's nest you'd both just barely escaped from.

Dealers had been peddling wares they'd cleverly named Quantum Realm – a potent, hallucinogenic concoction with traces of biological specimens collected from who the hell knows what planet, and it was killing people. That's what you and Bucky had been sent to investigate and put a stop to. Intel had said it was low level, but in actuality, it had been a high-tech lab and a full-on, fully-armed cartel.

You both packed a lot of heat, but it hadn't been enough. After your hands were too blood-soaked for knives, you'd resulted to fists. It had gone on so long and you'd gotten tired, which meant when you took the last opponent down, you'd gone right down with him; landed flat on your back, with over two-hundred pounds of dead weight on top of you, and you had the bruised ribs, sliced up flesh, and dislocated shoulder to prove it. Bucky had managed to salvage two samples of the stuff to send back to headquarters before the lab was lit up and left to burn.

Now, you were in some ramshackle of a place that had the audacity to call itself a hotel. One room, if that's what it was, and one mattress neither of you went near because it was riddled with bed-bugs.

The med-kit was at the ready; gauze, tape, scissors, butterfly bandages, peroxide, a make-shift sling... No high-tech healing out on the open road. As you gulped down pain pills and booze, you weren't sure if you'd gotten lucky that your dislocated shoulder was not the same one that you had injured previously.

"Only you would manage to fall on the one table that had all the vials," he muttered.

You reached for the bottle of whiskey, took a long pull, and flipped him the bird just inches from his unfocused eyes. He responded by prodding your wounded arm with his finger.

"Dick," you hissed.

"Wuss," Bucky retorted.

When the two of you weren't kicking other people's asses, you were busting each other's balls, or patching each other up. The last time, you had taken care of him – cleaned out a particularly nasty gash he'd sustained on the back of his thigh, sewed him up, and helped him hobble to bed afterward.

You envied how quickly he bounced back from it all.

Bucky was jealous you could numb the pain and he couldn't.

He put your shoulder back where it belonged and helped you into the sling as best he could. The only sturdy piece of furniture in the room was a chair next to the wobbly dresser, but even that groaned in protest when Bucky lowered himself into it. With your arm immobilized, he had to cut open the back of your shirt to get at the rest of the injuries. After taking care of the lower back, he informed you that you'd have to sit on his lap so he could reach the shoulders.

"You get off on playing Santa?" you wondered tartly, tongue thick and loose with alcohol and meds.

"You can't lay down and I can't see more than six inches in front of me," he remarked flatly.

A precarious and very uncomfortable perch, and not just because your shoulder throbbed and he was using tweezers to dig shards of glass out of your skin. With his breath fanning across the back of your neck and his surprisingly delicate touch smoothing bandages over your skin, you found yourself unnerved for the second time.

"We'll have to ditch the bikes," Bucky asserted. "You can't ride with your arm like this."

You took another hit off the bottle and nodded, but didn't say anything. There was another long stretch of quiet and then, you felt it. Fingertips moved your hair aside and explored; it was haphazard – an effort to both feel and see if any glass had been missed – and you knew the minute he found the tattoo stamped just behind your earlobe because you could feel his slow exhale as he traced the pattern.

Black ink. A long-range bullet and beneath it, tiny tally marks. Too many tally marks...

Bucky's voice was raspy when he said, "shoot to kill," and surprisingly – or maybe not so surprisingly – absent judgment.

And for some, strange reason – you appreciated that.

Wildly shaped, neon-colored straws sticking out of cocoanuts. Suntan lotion, salty ocean breeze, and hot sand. Steel drums and jet skis. Seafood pulled fresh from the water and an ever-smiling staff. The sun sinking, but lighting up the sky in streaming colors of pale purple, blue, pink, and yellow.

It was paradise.

Bucky let out an annoyed grunt, "Screw this. I'm not waiting."

You refocused the binoculars and sighed, "Well, somebody's fucking cranky. Do you need to go get laid or something?"

"Why, you offering?"

The question was nothing more than a snarl and you counted yourself lucky to already have sunburnt cheeks. While you could function with some semblance of decorum on little to no sleep, Bucky absolutely could not. He turned into a downright cantankerous old man when he was tired, and knew you shouldn't have prodded him, but you just couldn't help it.

Ever since the night he'd found the tattoo two months ago, the two of you had been dancing around something – each other, the unspoken, the fucking campfire – whatever. For two decisive people, you both seemed incapable of either resetting the boundaries or crossing the line. You both needed to get it out of your systems, just not necessarily with each other...

Instead of dwelling, you kept your eyes on the target. A moment later, the woman you'd both been watching non-stop for nearly three days finally emerged from her room, and just like that, the tension was gone, and you both were out the door.

This time, you and Bucky were after arms dealers who were making otherworldly weapons and selling them on the black market. The island was being used to smuggle supplies in and product out, but that's not where the buck stopped. Sam wanted to take out the entire operation and that meant this was a capture and hand-off mission.

The problem you faced was getting close enough; the woman had two body guards who stuck to her like glue wherever she went. Luckily for you, the target had an easily established pattern of behavior. Breakfast on the patio at sunrise, and then, back inside. Lunch at noon precisely, and right after, exactly twenty-two minutes of tanning on the beach. Back to her room for a swim in the private pool, and then, back inside, and she wouldn't emerge again until after nightfall.

The sky was inky black and most of the island's guests were either at dinner or getting ready for the late-night festivities. With the window of opportunity closing, you hustled to the ice machine, bucket in hand, and hastily filled it. Sandals, jean shorts, and a touristy t-shirt – you looked the part of a vacationer and were ready to play it. Bucky had stationed himself on the sidewalk and pretended to be occupied with texting; when he signaled, the trio rounded the corner, you turned, and set it in motion.

A faux trip and flying ice chips gave you the excuse to reach out with both hands and grab for the guard's arms. The rings you wore on each index finger were pressure engaged, and the needles that delivered the sedative were so small, they didn't even feel it. You blurted out apologies that never got brushed off; the guards dropped within seconds, and you wasted no time in taking down the target.

Everybody on the island employed four-wheelers to get around, which was the same mode of transportation the extraction team used when they pulled up to the side of the building sixty seconds later. The small trailers hitched to the back, normally used to haul beach gear and party supplies, was where the bodies were secreted away. The whole thing had taken less than three minutes.

After having been up for nearly 72 hours straight, both you and Bucky were out of it, and needed sleep. You didn't even say anything to each other as you headed for your separate rooms, and as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

When you woke, it was to a text from Sam, and a quick check of the time showed it was past one in the morning. He confirmed the jet had crossed over the right waterline and it was mission accomplished. When you asked what was on deck, he said two days of rest and relaxation, and then, you and Bucky were being sent across the pond. After shooting back a 'roger that,' you got up, and hit the showers.

Too hungry to linger, you cleaned up in a hurry, dressed, and ordered room service. After over-indulging on both the food and the booze, you had nothing else to do, and didn't feel at all guilty when you crawled right back into bed.

Pain – burning, excruciating, and debilitating. Blood on your hands and it was your own this time.

Someone barked for a fucking medic. The white, polished floor began to turn red.

Your trigger finger was numb.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Tequila before bed was always a mistake.

You woke up to your own screams and the revelry taking place on the beach outside was not enough to smother the sounds. Seconds later, the door that adjoined your room to Bucky's flew open, and he was there, gun drawn, and ready to throw down.

"Nightmare," you half-panted, half-hiccupped.

The gun's muzzle was lowered, "You okay?"

You said yes. He knew it was a lie.

You'd been given his file and he'd been given yours, and there had been no need for conversation. It wasn't the same, but it was all next level shit, and you both did your best not to bring it onto the job. You'd gone into his room before with guns blazing and this wasn't the first time Bucky had drawn down in the middle of the night for you. That was the thing about practically living side-by-side with someone for a year – the truth was always known, even if nobody wanted it seen.

The gun was put on the nightstand. The mattress dipped. Unbidden tears drip-dropped before the waterfall. Bucky didn't say anything – just wrapped you up in all that unearthly strength and held tight. It wasn't until sometime after the buckets had been emptied that you realized your head was on his chest and he was cradling you in his arms. When you apologized and tried to move, he tightened his grip, and trailed a hand up and down your spine.

"You're still shaking," Bucky murmured. "Just sit on my lap and let me hold you."

Untouched land and rolling hills that went on for miles and miles. Peaks and valleys that blended seamlessly with mountains and iced-over streams. Delicate snowflakes which turned into a raging storm that froze the windows and prompted the need for more blankets.

Sam had taken the show on the road and it had gone international, which meant you were going places you'd never been to before and Bucky sometimes found himself on old stomping grounds. A whole lot of postcard-worthy scenery was the backdrop of this mission, but there would be no catching bad guys in this weather.

A cabin in the woods, a roaring fire, and a bearskin rug – it was stereotypically funny until it wasn't.

It had only been five days, but it was close quarters, and the walls were steadily closing in.

One bedroom meant one bed, which instigated verbal sparring. Bucky didn't like the idea of you sleeping so close to the front door, and you knew he was too big for the couch, and would be even crankier than usual if he didn't get at least a few hours of decent shuteye.

One bathroom that was nothing more than a toilet, a too-small shower stall, and a pedestal sink – not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but there was never enough hot water, and absolutely no room to change clothes. That meant a lot of tight towel holding and scurrying for privacy until a schedule was established to avoid the awkwardness.

There was enough food for at least a month, but the kitchenette where grub and caffeine were kept was a communal space rife with tension. Bucky liked to drink his morning coffee standing at the sink in nothing but his boxers. You couldn't sleep with pants on, which meant when he got up in the middle of the night, he got to see exactly what kind of underwear you preferred. It wasn't really a problem until Bucky ate all the good cookies, and the spat it instigated had been heated, but no blood was drawn.

No television. Radio silence. No escape.

A lot of re-read magazines and unnecessary weapons maintenance. One deck of cards, lost to the fire after an argument that had ended with Bucky going outside for a long time and you prowling the closet that was your temporary home because he'd sucked up all the free fucking air and had left none for you.

This was precisely the reason why you had never lived with anyone and why you and Bucky always had separate rooms. You worked well together, but only if there was space between. The vulnerability and closeness on the island had been a fluke; you'd had a bad dream, allowed yourself to be held, and chalked up the weakness to exhaustion and too much booze.

You'd eventually stopped pacing and fixated your gaze on the window. The cabin door swung open, letting in a burst of frigid air before it was slammed shut. You didn't flinch or acknowledge his return. Heavy footsteps and then, he was right there, a blurred shape reflected in the glass next to you, and you refused to look at him.

Bucky hadn't bothered with a coat or gloves, which meant his fingers were ice cold when they wrapped vice-like around the back of your neck. The protest on the tip of your tongue was going to be scathing, but you didn't get the chance to show him just how white-hot your rage could be, because his other hand clamped down hard over your mouth, and rendered you speechless.

"Take off your clothes."

Somehow, it was both a command and a plea, soft and hard-edged – surrender and apology and longing conveyed in just four words. A tone that suggested there'd been enough nonsense, denial, tip-toeing around, and pretending the only thing that mattered was the job when really, it was this – this is what mattered.

The weird fucking connection that made you both bounce of the walls because it had been established almost instantly and had gone ignored. The knowledge of darkness and scars and tally marks and the acceptance of it all. The willingness to unleash hell because that's what having someone's back meant in this new world. Bucky, finally his own man, untethered now because he'd come to the end of some line, but not the line, and understood there was more waiting for him. You, coming to the realization you'd never been broken, just bruised, and the past no more defined you than it did him.

Your eyes locked with his in the window and a hoodie zipper being lowered had never sounded so loud.

That was how it started. First your clothes and then his. As pieces of fabric were discarded, breathing got harsher, and hands lost steadiness. The first kiss wasn't to your lips, but to the spot just behind your ear, right over your tattoo, and it made you tremble. Bucky turned you away from the window, cupped your jaw, and tilted your head up with his thumbs.

Pads of fingers brushed across your bottom lip before his mouth met yours. Bucky's touch no longer chilled, but it was still shiver-inducing, and the groan he let out when the kiss deepened was filled with relief. His tongue tasted of coffee and sin and like nothing you imagined, but knew you always wanted.

Standing in the middle of the living room – bodies pressed tight together, closer than ever before, skin on skin contact. His teeth scraping along your neck and your nails digging into his abs. Bucky's hand between your legs and yours wrapped around him, slow and careful at first, but learning quickly because that's just how the two of you did things together. Straining and straining until he brought you, moaning and whimpering and barely able to keep upright.

Ten steps to the bedroom was ten steps too far. The couch was closer and Bucky walked backwards, hands on your hips and tongue in your mouth to keep you close. When he sat, you got a brief glimpse of what this man – this cautious, controlled, confounding man – looked like when he was on the edge of being undone. Wild eyes and swollen mouth. Hair in disarray, stomach clenched tight, arousal and want and need bleeding from every pore because of what he'd done to you and what you were about to do to him.

"Come 'ere," he growled, words heated, low, and raw. "Come 'ere and sit on my lap."

This time, you didn't just sit – you straddled. You dug your hands in his hair and poured your soul into his mouth. Sinking down slow, you took him inside, filled yourself with him and all that entailed. Bucky wanted you to get yours so, you took it. Then, he gave you more.

Facedown on the couch, fingers toying between your legs, hips snapping and hitting just the right spot. On the bearskin rug, legs around his shoulders, because he wanted to watch you come again – just one more time, just for him, because he wasn't aware you were capable of making such pretty sounds, and he enjoyed hearing them. Back up into his lap, all under his control, him chuckling in your ear because he'd wrung another one out and you were pretty sure you were dying.

When Bucky said he was going to come, it was with his thumb on your clit, and commanding words that dripped both sweetly and filthily. He panted that you were partners and if he was coming, you were coming, and he was going to have one more out of you whether you liked it or not, but he knew you liked it, so, you were going to give it up, and let him have it...

Your hoarse cry echoed through the air and he chanted your name like a prayer. When Bucky stilled and you looked up into his eyes, there was still heat there, but something else, too.

Awe and tenderness, fully and unabashedly exposed.

You liked that a lot.

It rained all the fucking time. Everything soggy and damp and muddy. A sky that only knew two colors – pearl gray and black. Visibility was a joke when the fog rolled in, which was pretty damn often on the coast. Lighthouses, galoshes, and umbrellas were everywhere and for good reason.

It had been six months since the mission at the cabin and now, instead of being snowed in, you were waterlogged. Happier – much happier – but still... Waterlogged.

You'd been given a kill order and Sam had sounded like a wreck when he'd issued it, which tipped you to the fact that this was the first time he'd ever done this. This wasn't about self-defense or justice after the fact; only resounding finality, and the cold comfort a swift death could bring. He didn't want you to do this, but he needed you to, and his voice cracked with the apology of what he was asking for.

At first, it had just been whispers, but then, credible intel started rolling in. Hydra was trying to mobilize again, and even though it was just the dregs, it was enough to make everyone worry. The country was weak and still reeling, and like the snakes they were, Hydra wanted to poison it some more. If this new faction wasn't dealt with quickly, there would be no telling just how far and how high up the evil would spread, and they couldn't risk it.

"The world can't afford to avenge itself – not again," he'd said. When you replied, "If that's the case, then, there's nothing to be sorry for," the sigh Sam let out was one of resignation and relief.

Bucky's stance on Hydra was clear – the only good Nazi was a dead Nazi, and he wanted in on the action. Sam had told him to stand down and it was the first time you'd ever seen the Soldat side of him. Even with the deprogramming and the therapy and all the healing, it was still there – well beneath the surface, but still. Bucky was too close to this and you knew it, but when the day and time came...

You'd disarmed him of any long-range weapons, but you hadn't left him behind.

"You touch this, I break your hand," you warned him as you began to assemble your rifle. "You talk, I break your jaw. You move–"

"You break my legs," he deadpanned, the corner of his mouth twisted up slightly. "Got it."

There were other snipers covering other targets across the city, but this one was yours, and it was strange how easily it all came back. The nest. The rifle. The scope. Finding that space in your head where you could wait in utter stillness for hours because for you, it was one shot, one kill, and nothing less would do. Your left hand was now your dominate hand – had been for years – and you'd gotten in plenty of practice.

Data collected. Unclean rifle because you preferred a dirty gun for this. Careful breathing and even more careful follow through. Not satisfied until the gun was zeroed, which meant three, consecutive shots within a one-inch square at one-hundred yards. You knew the wind, your bullet, and the recoil. Back in the day, a thousand yards was nothing, and this, too, would be nothing.

And it was nothing.

The target was on the porch, but not clearly visible. Target had no family and was alone, which meant nobody would be traumatized. Target in sight and no civilians. Target acquired. Target eliminated.

This time, a red tally mark, with Bucky watching while the ink was etched into your skin.

Back at the hotel, Bucky didn't ask if you were okay, and he didn't have to, because you'd felt absolutely no guilt this time. After you stored the rifle beneath the bed, he came up behind you, and gripped you tight around the waist.

"Damn, you're beautiful," he sighed as his hands roamed.

You laughed and leaned back against him, "Whole thing kinda turned you on, didn't it?"

"Mmm," Bucky murmured, palm running over the seam of your jeans before he worked open the button. "I'd fuck you into next week if you'd let me."

"I could go for that," you moaned, all too eager to help guide his hand toward its intended destination.

He slid his fingers into your panties and teased, "I want a taste first."

You weren't even given the chance to take your rain-soaked clothes off. Bucky just spun you around, pushed you down on the bed, and yanked your pants and underwear past your calves. He peeled off his jacket and shirt, knelt down, and lifted your trapped legs up and over his head. His tongue slid along his lower lip, his eyes were already lust blown, and he didn't bother with preamble.

It was more than a taste and he knew it. Bucky's mouth did things to you; could make you see visions, speak in tongues, and scream obscenities, and he knew it. He got off on the way your body warred with itself, how it alternated between wanting more, and then, wanting it to stop, and then, right back to wanting, and then, begging, begging, begging...

You nearly cried with relief when he finally relented and unzipped his pants. Bucky didn't waste time trying to help you free yourself of the knot of fabric around your ankles – he just pushed you up further on the bed and situated himself between your thighs again.

"Is this what you need?" Bucky taunted, punctuating his words with a deep, hard thrust.

Answering wasn't optional because his tongue was in your mouth, the bed was squeaking, and he was fucking both your words and your brains right out of you.

And you loved him for it.

You loved him because he embraced everything about you, even the bits you hated most about yourself. You loved him because he put himself and you first. You loved him because he was equal parts dirty, dirty man and old, romantic soul. You loved him because he never backed down and didn't expect you to, either. You loved him because he was a man of his word. You loved him because he liked to use his fists and also liked to slow dance. You loved him because he could make you laugh in a way you hadn't laughed since basic training. You loved him because he always made you coffee first and really put his back into it during make-up sex.

You loved him because he really was your partner – in every sense of the word.

"Say it," he demanded in your ear.

"I love you," you whispered. "I love you, James."

And when he said it back? Yeah – you really liked that.

[becausewerebatfam]

Our Future (1)

Jason Todd x Reader

After a failed mission you and Jason are being left behind to care for a kid while the rest of the team look for Duella Dent.

Warning: Language and maybe suggestive content.

A yellow portal opened in the middle of the street prompting everyone’s attention. Batman scowled knowing exactly what was going to happen. He readied himself for the threat to come when the portal sparked and grew to stable conditions.

“Sh*t-” a smallish boy groaned as he fell out of the portal and landed on the ground face first. Lucky for him he had a full helmet to protect him from any serious damage. As soon as he was out the portal shrank until it had completely vanished. The boy shook his head a few times trying to recalibrate himself. “Well f*ck this-” he pulled the helmet off when he noticed half of his vision was compromised by large and small cracks alike.

“You look a little young to be using that kind of language.” Batman guessed the boy to be around preteen age after seeing his face.

The boy’s eyes widened when he saw who he was in the presence of. “Holy sh*t it’s really you Batman!” This Batman was wearing a cape, not a trenchcoat. He had made it to the right place or time to be exact.

+++

“I would never sleep with you! Not even in a million years you-you-” 

“Handsome jerk?” he offered with a playful smirk. Jason admitted he would cross the line often when it came to you. It was just a natural instinct for him to flirt with and or around you just for the attention. He didn’t care if it was negative or positive he just wanted your attention at all times.

“Grrrahhh!” You stormed out with a frustrated semi-groan scream combo. If you stayed any longer you probably would have given in. 

While some girls fantasized about a sweet, romantic gentleman who treated them like princesses you preferred the rugged, confident guys with cocky attitudes. You never knew that was your type but you fell in love with Jason who was all those things so you figured it out along the way. 

There was shock mixed with confusion on Wally’s face as he and the others watched your retreating figure. “What was that?”

“Todd’s attempt at courtship.” Damian had been witness to this and many similar scenes between the two of you. 

Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk. He had waited all day for this moment of satisfaction. While others were content seeing their loved ones smile Jason looked for a more explosive reaction.

“Courtship?” Wally asked thinking he had to have misheard the young Wayne because Jason looked way too happy for someone who just got turned down. 

Wally and Jon looked at each other with mouths agape when Damian nodded. They shrugged wondering what the heck he was so happy about. Jon was particularly glad to finally have someone else around who thought the interactions between you two were strange. 

Dick laughed and explained the unique situation between you and Jason. "Y/N is just as stubborn and headstrong as Jason.” Neither of you wanted to admit it but you liked each other. Jason would chase away any guys who dared go near you even if they were just friends. While you would sabotage his flirting or act out physically by hitting him. “She says it’s accidentally but-”

Everyone became silent as the Batmobile came into the Batcave at full speed. Bruce emerged asking for you by name.

“She’s not here,” Jason immediately got up getting a bad feeling from Bruce’s entrance. 

“We need to find her.”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice to go look for you. He was already thinking of all the places you could be. If he hadn’t pissed you off you would still be there waiting for Bruce to brief you on your next case. But because of him you left fuming. 

He got on his bike and sped out of the cave missing the moment when Bruce let out his new young companion from the Batmobile. The young boy starred in awe at the distant Red Hood.

“Really Bruce another one?” Dick joked.

“Father, when will you stop picking up orphans?”

“I’m no orphan!” The young boy quickly turned around to face the small crowd of heroes. Upon recognizing Damian he stood up to him with an evil grin. The boy was younger than Damian but taller. “Mom wasn’t joking when she said you were a small fry.”

Damian practically growled at the comment. He would have attacked the boy if it weren’t for Jon holding onto his cape. “Small fry is easy to upset,” Jon warned. He gave the kid one of his signature smiles and like a properly educated child introduced himself. “Hi, I’m-”

“Jonathon Kent, I guess right now you’re still Superboy.” He then turned to the others and correctly identified them. “Tim, Wally, Dick- I know all of you so there’s no need for introductions.”

“Great,” Dick smiled warmly to the kid. “Maybe you should introduce yourself then.” 

Damian didn’t like the know it all kid. “Tell us who you are this instant!” 

The kid wasn’t easily intimidated. He kept his cool knowing Damian wasn’t a real threat to him. “Chill the f*ck down.” The boy crossed his arms, unwilling to disclose his identity to them.

Behind the kid, Bruce stood holding his helmet. It was an exact replica of Jason’s with a few aesthetic differences. The main one being that it was black with gold details and had bat ears like the cowl, reminiscent of your costume. It also had a gold bat symbol on the button that latched the helmet. 

Gasps filled the cave along with Damian’s signature, “Tt”. The symbols, the colorway, the language... it was all adding up in everyone’s mind except Wally. “What?” he asked. 

“His name is James Todd.” Bruce disclosed the nine-year-old's name. “He’s Y/N and Jason’s son from the future, Bat Hood.” On the ride to the Batcave James had disclosed various information to Bruce. 

He still saw him as his loving grandfather but clearly, it was time that made him soften to the Bruce he knew. “Hey!” James didn’t want anyone else knowing the specifics. Time travel was a very complicated thing with many rules and consequences. He was afraid his mission would be compromised but most importantly...his life was on the line. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.” 

“I lied,” Bruce deadpanned.

“G-pa Bruce would never lie to me!”

“G-pa!” Tim and Dick heartily laughed.

“I’ll make a note of it.” Bruce pulled out James utility belt and holster with two handguns strapped to it. “I’ll also make sure to keep you from getting your hands on fully loaded guns.”

James groaned in annoyance, "I’m very safe AND an awesome shot.” It was true. He had been taught since he was young, well younger, and had earned both yours and Jason’s trust in wielding the weapons. “Besides those are just blanks.”

Bruce crushed one of the bullets in his hands releasing a powdery substance. “Then what is this?”

“That’s classified.” James quickly turned away trying to avoid Bruce. 

“We can test it right now and find out.”

“Doubt it,” James smugly smiled. “The programming software needed to identify all the compounds in that drug hasn’t been built yet.” His eyes darted to Tim who would be the one to invent it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tim narrowed in on James. Like the good detective he was, Tim figured out he was being given a hint.

Bruce didn’t care for all that, he had already gotten his answer. “So it’s a drug.”

“Sh*t...” he sighed. “You really are good.”

Damian saw all the bad had been rolled into one package. “Guess Todd is as good a parent as I expected.” James seemed to be left to do as he pleased during his childhood. 

But it was strange. 

You also had your bad qualities but one thing Damian knew for sure was that you were strict and often disciplined Jason for his language. “But Y/N...”

“Hey, my old man and mom are the best!” James defended his lineage, letting everyone know that it wasn’t a lack of rules that had him a little on the rebellious side. For the first time, the boy seemed to act his age. He began to look vulnerable and small. “My mother was killed by the Joker and my father is in a coma.” 

The silence that fell on the room was quickly lifted by his next remark. 

“I live with you now UNCLE Damian.”

Damian’s eyes widened, did he really have to put up with such a brat? Is that what his future held? 

“I-I took down the Joker,” he proudly proclaimed. “This time for good... I didn’t kill him.” James was quick to clarify knowing Bruce’s moral compass would immediately be triggered. “I told the doctor’s at Arkham to test out the drug Tim and I made. It’s an anti-psychotic especially made for him.”

"But you’re just a kid,” Jon pointed out.

“I got it from a future where I was in my early twenties.” James had been visited by his future self to prevent the death of his parents but it was too late. The Joker had gotten to them there too. “Apparently, I become a pharmaceutical scientist.” He had some difficulty repeating his profession but they understood what he was trying to say. 

“Dent is traveling through time searching for this timeline to kill my parents before I’m born. She was the only one who didn’t like the new sane Joker so she’s trying to get rid of me by making sure I’m never born.” 

Now it was up to his nine-year-old self to travel even further back and stop her. “Obviously I can’t let her do that.”

Dick was the first to approach James and give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry kid, we’ll help you.”

Damian saw the silver lining of this whole ordeal. “I will help and free myself of becoming a guardian to a brat like you.” Even though he said that Damian was actually worried for the kid.

“Thanks,” James felt relief wash over him. He wasn’t too sure he could get anyone to believe such a ridiculous, yet, true story.

“Can I just say, we definitely need to look into limiting the means of time travel in the future.” Wally found it unbelievable how many people were able to do so. “Seriously did you also invent some sort of time travel device Tim?”

+++

As Jason sped down the streets of Gotham he spotted you fighting in a poorly lit alley close to his apartment. A couple of scared women ran out from there clutching onto their bags. He figured you were on your way to his place when you stopped to help.

There were six or seven guys, one seemed to be out of the fight now. You had beat him up badly enough for him to sit out. Anger fueled your rampage on the men who were trying to rob and take advantage of women at night. “So you can’t get a date with those ugly mugs and decide to force yourselves on a lady?”

“Those b*tches were asking for it, wearing those short skirts-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, your fist wouldn’t let him. “You can’t control yourself when a pretty woman walks by so she’s to blame? Pathetic!” At the moment you put your attention on the big mouthed creep the others tried hitting you from behind but were stopped by Jason.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Jason hit two of them with the back of his guns knocking them unconscious. He proceeded to point them at the last ones standing, “Now do you prefer to join your buddies or wait for the cops like good boys?”

They raised their arms in fear of being shot. “We’ll wait.”

“Good.”

When the cops rounded up the men Jason picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Now you are coming with me.”

“What the- Jason!” You protested when he sat you on his bike. 

“Don’t fight it Babe. We both know you were on your way to my place.” The blush on your face could not be hidden even in the dark of night. He knew he was right. “What were you gonna do? Were you going to keep the bed warm for me?”

“In your dreams Jason!”

He smirked, “In my dreams, we never make it to the bed.”

Yes, you were going to his place but you were only going to wait and apologize for letting your jealousy get the better of you. You knew your last mission together went wrong because you let your emotions get the best of you when Rose Wilson got too close to Jason. 

Jason sat in front of you waiting for your arms to wrap around him. It was always a good excuse to keep you close. He loved riding with you and vice versa.

The fact that he knew how it riled you up only made you angrier. He always did things to make you mad. You just wished he would admit why he did it, then maybe you could tell him how you really feel. You leaned forward staring at his broad shoulders as your arms snaked around him. “F*ck you Jason,” you let your head rest on him and smiled.

He smiled, content and happy to have found you. “You too Babe.” 

You were his everything.

+++

James became still as he saw Jason pull up with you in tow. The laughter of his father was just as he remembered it.

“I found Y/N getting her ass kicked by some drunk sleazeballs,” Jason informed them trying to bring light into the situation. Perhaps it was the darkness of the cave but everyone looked as if they had gotten bad news.

The moment was gone, you were back to hating his guts. “I never asked for your help!”

“Didn’t have to Babe; I saw you were in danger and jumped in.” Whenever Jason gloated he would put his hands on his hips and strike a classic Superman pose with his chest out, leaving himself open for attack. 

So you attacked, “You’re a real hero huh tough guy?” Your elbow dug into his stomach as you walked past him.  

He broke the stance, doubled over with a mix of laughter and pain.

“Are you sure those two are your parents?” Wally asked James in a low whisper only loud enough for him to hear.

The two of you stopped your fighting when Bruce called your names. That’s when you noticed the boy in the black military style cargo pants and boots. His plain black tee and gloves combo made it seem like he was a black ops agent ready to go out for night training. 

Jason similarly looked at the kid with question. “Who’s the kid?”

James smiled when he caught you looking at him. You were younger but you still looked like the mom he knew and loved. It had been long since he last saw you which made him want to run up to you, hug you and never let go.

“His name is James. He’s from the future, he’s trying to stop Duella Dent from killing his parents.” Bruce was careful not to give you and Jason any of the details. With how complicated you two were he figured it was best to let you two figure things out on your own. Clearly, time was the key for you two because as you were it didn’t seem James was a likely outcome. “You two will be watching him while the rest of us gather information.”

“Babysitting?” Jason was very disappointed. 

“I haven’t forgotten of your last mission,” Bruce warned. 

“That was her fault!” Jason pointed at you earning a kick to his well-toned ass.

“It was your fault and you know it!”

Bruce scowled at you two for behaving like children. “We’ll discuss who’s at fault later.” You three were the target so keeping you out of harm’s way was ideal. “Do not leave the cave.”

“But-”

You sighed placing your hand on Jason’s arm, effectively silencing him. “Maybe he’s right Jay, we don’t want to mess things up for James.” 

Seeing you had managed to placate Jason allowing Bruce and the others to proceed with their departure.

It was hard for you to sit on the sideline as well but this time there were far more important factors. Your ego and his were outweighed by the importance of the young boy’s parents. You couldn’t make the young boy return to his time without accomplishing his mission. If that meant you had to sit this one out then so be it.

Jason groaned, “Fine.”

Approaching the boy with a smile you reached out to him. “Hello, I’m Y/N.” The boy nearly knocked the air out of you. His arms wrapped around your waist hugging you tightly. 

Realizing what he had done, James backed away. “Sorry.”

You shook your head with slight laughter, “It’s okay.” The kid was too young to be tackling such problems. You were sure he needed comfort and proceeded to hug him this time. 

James hid his face in your stomach as he felt on the verge of tears. It was so unreal to be back in his mother’s arms.

Jason narrowed his eyes, "Hey kid what did you say your name was?”

“James.”

“Cool name,” Jason took his helmet off and set it on his bike. “I’m Jason.”

I know, it’s so good to see you awake old man.  “Cool name,” James smiled repeating his father’s line. 

-end-

pic credit; found it on Pinterest.

A/N: This is a two-shot so the next part will be out as soon as I finish. For now I just wanted to see if you all found it interesting to read ^^ Let me know.

[harmonie-writes]

Viking Hero request

1-B x fem httyd!reader

Summary: You moved down from your home in the Archipelago to train to be a hero. Your father being the chief of your island you hoped that studying at UA would give you insight as to be a better leader when the time came for you to take over. The only downside to moving was that your dragon had to remain on the island. You aren’t exactly sure how, but you managed to get placed in 1-A even though you had no quirk, just a flaming sword (something you picked up from a friend) and your wits. 

Warnings: violence (not gore), fluff

----------

“Alright we will be sparring against class 1-A today. Go change into your hero outfits,” Kan called from the front of the classroom. Standing from the seats the students grabbed their cases before making their way to the lockers. 

“Hey Kendo!” Testutestu called waving an arm above his head. The red-head stopped and waited for him to watch up. “Yeah?” they continued walking until they got to the training rooms. “We get to see (Y/N) again!” Tetsutetsu said fist pumping the air. “Yeah, because you know it’s not like we didn’t each lunch with her or anything,” Kendo laughed at the slight pout on the steel hero’s face. “Y’know what I mean.” 

----------

Looking into the mirror in the lock room you finally felt a sense of familiarity wearing the fur lined boots, the leggings and leather pleated skirt. Sliding the metal chest plate over your chest you made sure to tighten the straps to hold in firm only allowing the tunic covered abdomen to be exposed. Each of your forearms had a leather and metal bracer that. Strands of hair fell out of the various plaits and framed your face. Picking up the dark blue paint your dipped your index finger into it swiping it from the top of your cheek bone to the bridge of your nose and copying it on the other side before finally drawing a stripe on your lower lip down your chin. Looking like this made you miss home, but you were here to become a better leader for your people. 

Stepping away from the mirror Yaoyorozu waited for you by the door. “Ready for today?” she asked handing you your sword. Sliding it into its holster you linked arms with the dark haired female. “Always.” Making your way to Training Ground Beta you joined the rest of your class who was facing class 1-B. Unlinking your arm with Momo you slid into place beside Kirishima. 

----------

“There she is,” Monoma nodded in your direction. “Well compared to the other hero costumes she sticks out like a sore thumb,” Honenuki said putting his helmet on. “Quiet. If you didn’t know that’s her normal attire from where she is from. Dressing in a uniform is what’s weird,” Shiozaki nudged the mud hero. 

“Alright 1-A and 1-B. Today you will be sparring against the other class as you know. We will draw ballots for you to know who you will spar one on one with,” Kan said standing next to All Might and Aizawa. Every set of eyes turned to the monitor in the room as names were paired up together. Names and photo IDs of 1-A and 1-B side by side to see who would match up in each round. 

----------

Still struggling with the lettering system you opted to just look at the photo of who you would spar against. Humming you recognized the blonde you would go against. Eyes finding the boy in the crowd you locked eyes with a grin and nodded at each other. 

Raising your hands above your head you stretched wondering what quirk Monoma would borrow to train with.  He must have borrowed his classes quirks many times, but isn’t as well versed in them as the owner. I won’t underestimate him though, he would need to be quick in his decision making. Your thoughts were cutoff by Midoriya who nudged. “What are you thinking about (Y/N)?” “Oh, just my match up with Monoma. It will be interesting that’s all,” you shrugged looking over at said boy one more time. 

----------

All Might’s voice came over the intercom in Beta Ground, “Lot number 6 is now allowed to enter the field. Remember anything is allowed. Use what you have, good luck.” Both classes huddled around the various monitors on the wall to watch the training. Eyes glued to the screens as they watched the viking girl and the blonde copy quirk entered opposite ends of the street. 

----------

“What surprises do you have for me today Monoma?” you called strolling down the street eyeing his body language. “Wouldn’t you like to know my dear warrior princess,” you could see that smirk pulling at his lips. “Knowing you I won’t hold it passed you to come up with something clever,” your words were teasing air to them, but you knew that not being the actual owner of the quirk would require him to ad-lib.

You had both met in the middle of the street a couple yards away from each other sizing each other up. It wasn’t the first time you had sparred against each other, but since he always carried a new quirk it made things relatively interesting for the both of you.

“How would you like to start this?” you hummed spreading your feet into a more balanced position with your left foot slightly behind the right. “Ladies first?” “Oh no, no age before beauty,” you teased holding your left hand in a fist in front of your face and the right just below it with the palm facing out. You heard him sigh with a muttered ‘as you wish princess’ before he led in with a right hook. 

Ducking under his swing you readied for the following left side kick you knew usually followed in his combo. Left leg coming in contact with the bracer of your right arm you brought your left and down to grab his ankle. Blue eyes widened in surprised watching as you quickly turned away from him yanking his leg up over your shoulder and thrown on the ground in front of you. Wind knocked out of him briefly Monoma rolled over getting up and glared at you preparing to parry your attack with the quirk he had. 

Crossing both arms in front of him he allowed them to become steel to stop your fist. “Oh for the love of Thor Monoma!” you cursed pulling your hand back knowing that you might have a broken finger or two. Spinning on one foot you placed a well versed kick to his chest to get some space between you two. Grunting from the impact Monoma looked up, “Sorry (Y/N).” Gritting between teeth you glared, “It’s fine. We will deal with it later.” 

Charging at you with a steel fist you side stepped his swinging arm and pulled out your extendable sword from its holster. Flicking the switch it extended to it’s full length of three feet. Charging each other steel clashed together causing sparks to fly. Monoma managed to get a sharpened hand in just nicking the skin of your cheek startling you slightly. Using the opening he smacked your sword out of your hand causing it to clatter somewhere on the street. Taking advantage of the fact that you were now unarmed to get you in a pinned position. A steel kick met your stomach and you were sent sprawling on the asphalt. 

Pushing yourself up off your stomach you watched as Monoma walked up to you. Seeing your sword just behind him you barrel rolled to your left before pushing yourself out of his reach. Knowing the blonde was hot on your tail you pressed a button allowing the zippleback gas held in the canister to spew out behind you before lighting the spark. Hearing a body hit the pavement you quickly went to your rival. Rolling him over with your foot so that Monoma was lying on his back you stepped on his chest. Allowing the blade to coat in monstrous nightmare gel you lit it up before placing it just above his neck. Panting your gazes met, “Do you yield?” 

It was quiet for a moment before Monoma answered, “I yield, I yield.” Retracting the blade you held a hand out for your friend. Pulling him up you smiled at him before punching his shoulder, “A good match like always copy-cat.” “Oh shut it princess,” Monoma grumbled rubbing his sore shoulder.

All Might’s voice came over the intercom, “And the win goes to A-class’ (Y/N).” 

“C’mon let’s go get your hand and cheek looked at by Recovery Girl,” Monoma said taking your wrist and leading you out of the training grounds. Nodding you allowed him to drag you away.

----------

Standing a few feet in front of your class you talked to your friends in 1-B. “We need to get together again outside of just training,” Kendo said holding one of your hands. “Of course we do. It’s been awhile since we were able to hang out with everyone being busy with the hero provisional license exam coming up,” you smiled just thinking about the break that would eventually come up. Tetstutetsu same up placing an arm on your shoulder, “I know I have already told you this, but your hero costume is so manly.” “And I told you back home this is what I would normally be wearing,” you pushed his arm off your shoulder. “But besides that, you’re like the only person from A-class that Monoma seems to have respect for,” Tetsutetsu shrugged. Looking over at said boy you saw he was already staring at you so you waved and received one back with a smile. 

“Hey why don’t we get together this weekend and head to that new ramen shop?” you broke your gaze from Monoma and back to the two in front of you. “I think works for me. I think I’m going to invite Monoma too if you guys don’t mind,” you said eyes already moving back to lock onto the blonde and making your way over.

The two watched you as you conversed with their classmate. “They’re too obvious,” Tetsutetsu said crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his friend’s demeanor change when he was with you. Swatting his chest Kendo started walking away, “Leave ‘em be Tetsu, and who knows? We might have finally found someone who can keep him in check.”

[starlightwrites]

Have you considered 27/38 for cori and gage? If not I totally understand

Hiya Nonny!

Thank you for asking, and I’m sorry it took me a bit to get to this! The prompt combo was just perrrrrfect! Ripe for some angst. I got a little carried away with this one!

For the Prompt Mashup!

Fever Dreams

“Cori? Shh. It’salright. Hush-up.” Gage scooped her into his arms and squeezed tight. He cuppedhis hand over her mouth, but she wouldn’t stop groaning—small sounds, butpanicky. Any louder, and she’d bring it right the hell over to them.

And he really really wasn’t interested in taking on adeathclaw right now.

(Continued after the cut)

Outside on theporch, he heard the click and scrape of massive talons against aging wood.Maybe the old porch would give and it would leave. Maybe it would comebarreling up the stairs and turn him inside out. Couldn’t see a fuckin’ thing,so there was no telling. He pressed his back against the flimsy bathroom door.

She turned intohis chest and made another soft mewling sound. Sweat plastered her hair to herforehead as it beaded on her skin, and if that wasn’t concerning enough, allthe color had drained out of her, leaving her this blanched shade of grey.They’d thought the fever had worked its way out of her system, but damned ifthey hadn’t been wrong. That hit she’d taken had pushed her over the edge.

The whole thingflashed through his brain again, playing on a loop. She’d been flagging.Leaning close and dragging her feet. Slurring her words. He’d thought they’dstop to make camp and then head back out in the morning. He’d turned his back.Just for a second. Just to stop by the stream and refill their canteens. She’dsaid his name—tried to warn him. He told her to wait a second. She made a chokingsound. When he finally turned around, he saw the deathclaw, maybe half a mileaway. And it saw them.

It all happenedfast. She stumbled over to him. He’d grabbed her hand and yanked them bothforward and they ran. The Deathclaw followed. Damned thing closed the gap likehe and Cori were trudging through quicksand, and that was when he’d lost holdof her. She slipped. Tripped. He looked back and reached for her, but even justfour steps away, he was too far. She rolled and started crawling on her handsbackwards just in time for the thing to descend on her. It swatted and sent herskittering through the dirt. And then it turned to him.

It swiped andmissed him by a hair. He pulled his shotgun out of the holster on his thigh andfired, but he was moving so fast the shot went wide. The deathclaw hunched,hackles up and ready to launch at him. Second shot. He blasted the fucker rightin the face. It shook its head. Bleeding. He’d knocked out one of its eyes.

Gage ran towhere Cori had landed, but she was facedown and twisted at an angle, palms flaton the ground on either side of her head. Out cold. Took him less than a secondto pick her up and start running, but the deathclaw didn’t give them much of ahead-start. By the time they had made it out of the woods, its footstepspounded behind them.

The house hadbeen the only option, with Bradburton a few miles in the distance. A half-collapsedshithole, but better than nothing. Before the beast caught up, he maneuveredthem into the house and slammed the old wooden door behind him. It creaked backopen. Someone had blasted the handle off. Couldn’t even put a door between himand the thing.

It was catchingup. He could hear it outside and she was still limp. Didn’t have time to lookaround, but there was a bathroom at the top of the stairs, and that was betterthan standing in the busted doorway. He’d closed the bathroom door right as theDeathclaw started sniffing around the front of the house.

He couldn’t risktaking a hand off Corinne’s mouth to reach for his gun, so if it came barrelingup those stairs towards them, they’d be sunk. It would reach them before hemanaged to reload.

Still unconscious,she whimpered again, only this time, it almost sounded like something. A word?A name? No time to worry about what she wanted. Shit, he hadn’t even had thechance to look her over. Was she bleeding? Something broken? He had no idea.

Gage rested hishead back against the door, ears straining.

Another creak.Click. Scritch. Grunt. The groan of the steps and muted thumping of giant feeton the ground? Was it leaving? He waited out another couple minutes in silencebefore even exhaling, and then gave another minute before he moved.

Immediately,Cori groaned. Loud.

“Shh. Princess,you’ve gotta be quiet.”

“Nathan?”

Who the fuck wasNathan?

Didn’t matter.Gage propped her up enough to peel her ruck off her shoulders and set it upagainst the sink. Not a lot of places to put her, so, slow as possible, he got up and shifted her into the tub.At least it would keep her propped upright in case she puked. She made anotherquiet sound, but then her head drooped to the side and she stilled. Looked bad,but that would have to be a problem for later.

The sound of hisshotgun as he reloaded made the hair on his arms stand on end. Had to be done,though. He had to make sure they were safe here. It’d be just his luck thatthey’d shake the deathclaw only to be mauled by ghouls in the middle of thenight.

He opened thedoor a crack and peeked out. Clear line of sight down the stairs, especiallywith the front door half open. Nothing so far as he could see now. His eyeflicked to the windows on the front of the house, but he was at the wrongangle. Couldn’t get a hell of a lot that way. Alright. Bite the bullet. Heopened the door the rest of the way and slipped out into the hall, back to thewall. There were two rooms—one down a short stretch of hall on his left, andone on his right. Right was closer. Right first.

He pushed thedoor open. Nothing. The shell of a wall, ceiling half caved-in, gaping hole inthe floor. If he’d clung to the wall, he could have inched around the hole andmade it to the other side, but that was about as far as possible. Nothinghiding here. He turned back around and peeked into the bathroom. She was stillasleep in the bathtub; all clear there. Not like he’d given her the time to getinto a whole lot of trouble in the two seconds he’d taken, but she’d surprisedhim before.

That done, hefollowed the hall a few more feet and pushed open the other bedroom door.Ceiling intact. Floor mostly intact. The front wall was blasted to bits—lookedlike a fucking cannonball had crashed through the window on the front of thehouse—but aside from a busted bed and some beyond-salvaging furniture, it wasalso clear.

Gage checked onher one more time before chancing the stairs. He kept low, gun up and eyes onthe windows. Nothing out on the front porch. Nothing in the livingroom by thelanding, though there was a hallway towards the back. He’d check that second.He made it to the bottom of the stairs and poked his head around the corner tohis right, which led into a kitchen. The floor from the room upstairs hadcollapsed down into it, but even looking past the wreckage, there wasn’tanything. The back wall was open and exposed, but nothing big could slip pastthe sections of floor blocking the gaps.

All clear, then.Better just check that hallway in the other room. Every step felt like a risk.Further he got from her, harder it would be to get back up the stairs if heneeded to. But he couldn’t skip this if they were going to crash here for thenight.

The hall lookedlike it had originally connected to the kitchen, but that path was blocked offwith rubble for the most part. There was, however, a door. Which led down to abasement. Fuckin’ great.

No light down inthe basement. He had a flashlight, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to wakesomething up with it. Then again, stumbling into it in the dark wouldn’t be anybetter. He took the second to track back up the stairs, check on Cori (stillout) and grab the light out of his pack.

He hatedbasements. Hated ‘em. Every pre-war house seemed to have one, and every timehe’d been in one, he’d either been attacked by ghouls or sunk shin-deep inmurky water. All bad. He shined his flashlight down first before starting onthe stairs. No water at the bottom. He took the first step and the wood creakedso loud he actually flinched. Second step was worse. Third was quieter, butthen the forth. Damn near shot a holein the floor when he jumped out of his skin.

Finally, he wasabout halfway down, where the wall stopped and he could look down at the restof the room. He shined his light in a sweep, over shelves of boxes and emptiedtin cans and old tools. Nothing. Then his light landed on something in thecorner, and he coulda sworn it moved. He had his finger on the trigger and wasabout to pull when he realized that the person in the corner wasn’t alive. Justa skeleton, lying on a sleeping bag by the wall. Must’ve been some pre-war sapwho’d starved waiting for the worst to pass. Gruesome, but not his concern.They were lucky. Place was empty.

He took thesteps two at a time and shut the basement door behind him.

When he made itback to the bathroom upstairs, he found that Corinne had curled onto her side,arms wrapped tight around her stomach. Couldn’t be good, and that was when heremembered that he still needed to look her over. He reached into the tub tomove her so he could get a better look at her stomach, but she thrashedsuddenly, elbow coming up so fast she nearly bashed his nose.

“Hey! Stopmoving.”

She froze.Breathing hard. Eyes closed.

“You awake?”

She made asound, but it wasn’t anything close to any words he knew.

“C’mon,Princess. Gotta get a look at you.”

He reached inagain and pulled her up so that she was laying with her body propped up againstthe sloped wall of the tub. Her eyelids fluttered open just a bit, but her gazewas unfocused. He peeled her arms back from her middle and tugged her t-shit upenough to get a good look at the damage.

A gash. Startingall the way around her side and reaching just before her belly button. Not deepenough to threaten her organs, but still pretty deep, and in a real bad spot.He’d have to stitch it or it would just keep tearing open. And after runningaround a couple days, he couldn’t remember what they had in terms of medicines.No stims, he remembered that much. They’d run out after she’d been gouged by amirelurk. There were some bandages. Most of a roll of gauze. Probably still hada needle and some thread. At some point, she’d used up the last of the alcohol,but maybe she still had the salve she’d bought off a traveling merchant a whileback?

The house hadbeen pretty thoroughly picked over, but he checked the bathroom cabinet behindthe mirror anyways, just in case. Lucky he did; he found a little bottle ofperoxide and some cotton swabs. Swabs weren’t useful, but peroxide was agodsend.

He knelt besidethe tub and reached for her again, only to find her eyes completely open andstaring straight ahead.

“Corinne?”

Whatever shesaid, he couldn’t make it out. She was slurring pretty bad.

“You alright?”

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t gotta besorry, Princess. Just hold still and we’ll get you patched up.”

“I didn’t meanit.” She faltered over the word “didn’t.” Her head lolled back and rockedbefore she muttered something else completely unintelligible.

He reached forher again and pushed her shirt back up. It stuck a little, but the blood hadn’tdried. Shit, it looked bad. He got to work dripping peroxide on her skin, sincehe didn’t have much else to work with. She squirmed and gripped the edges ofthe tub.

“M’srry.” Shemuttered it over and over again. Nothing he could say. Nothing he could do. Shejust kept apologizing, gritting her teeth like this was some kinda punishment.

“It’s alright.It’s gonna be ok. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She didn’t heara word of it. He kept saying it anyways, and she kept apologizing, and by thetime he’d managed to get her stitched up and wrapped in gauze, she was crying.

He collapsedagainst the door. Fuckin’—

She just hadn’tstopped. And it was necessary. It was all necessary, but he felt like amiserable, nasty, mean sonofabitch for hurting her like that. Gage thunked hishead against the wood.

Alright. He thought. Get ahold of yourself.

He’d solved thebleeding and the open wound, but she was still burning up and they didn’t haveany stims left to drop the fever. He looked back through the medkit, butnothing. No salve. Must’ve used it. In a side-pocket in her ruck, he found amedex, but that wouldn’t carry her nearly long enough. No telling where she wasat; she was either hitting the worst of it now and on her way to recovery, orthings would just get worse till it killed her.

He got back upon his knees and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. She winced.Seemed too warm, but he couldn’t tell if she was hitting dangerous just yet. Ifhe used the medex, that was the last of their chems until they could get to theclosest territory. The PIP on her arm glowed in the dusk when he tapped it, butby her map, they were still about a day’s walk from the closest territory, thePack’s Safari. Not like he could leave her, get supplies, and then come back.Too risky. Couldn’t move her like this either, though. That left him withwaiting till morning and then giving her the medex and seeing if they couldmake a run for it then. Not great, but the fever hadn’t left them any options.

He sat her up alittle to slip her coat under her shoulders so she at least had a pillow. Sheshivered at his touch, so he pulled the sleeping bag off her pack and draped itover her. When he tucked it around her, she made another little noise and herhead rolled over to look at him.

Her eyes were soglazed and out of focus that he doubted she could see a damned thing. But shewas looking right at him, so maybe?

“Nathan?”

Sleepy. Shestumbled over the syllables. He started to respond, when she apologized again.

“I’m sorry. I’mso sorry.” Her eyes watered up when she said it. “I didn’t. They took him. AndI couldn’t—I just. I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep,Princess.”

“I can’t. Ithurts? I’m sorry.”

“Stop sayingthat.”

Her eyessqueezed shut. No telling what she’d thought she’d been seeing, but a tearleaked out. Then another. Soon, she was sobbing quietly, this fuckin’ horrible snivelingand wheezing like she couldn’t breathe. Like he hadn’t done enough damage.

He pressed ahand to her forehead again and pushed her hair back, but the tears just keptcoming. And sure, he’d seen the boss fall apart before, but he’d never seen herbawl like this. Like she’d never stop.

“Hey. S’alright.You didn’t. Uh. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Nathan. I—Ijust.”

“Who’s Nathan?”

“I’ll never seehim? I’ll never—” her breath caught again. Every move seemed to hurt, but shepulled the sleeping bag up to her face and covered herself.

He wasn’tequipped for this shit. Not in the job description. He’d been able to handleConnor’s rage. Coulter’s laziness. Couldn’t fix whatever this was. So he justsat there, useless, while she choked and sobbed and talked gibberish. More thanhalf the time, he couldn’t make out what she was saying. Something to or abouta Nathan, something about someone being gone, something she was sorry for.Finally, after the sun had set and his back had gotten stiff from kneeling, shefell asleep. Wasn’t peaceful, but it was better than whatever that had been.

Felt wrong.Weird. Like he’d done this, somehow. Then he was almost angry, because this sureas shit wasn’t his fault or his business, but she was dragging him into it. Hewasn’t here as her goddamned therapist; he was here to make sure they didn’tget fucking murdered over territory disputes.

He looked backinto the tub. Still covered head to toe, a curled ball tucked under the thinplastic-y blanket of the sleeping bag. She’d suffocate under that. He tuggedthe cover down to her chin. Asleep, she was different. Small. Soft. None of thebiting sarcasm or eye-rolling or fast-talking. None of the crying. Her lips pulleddown at the corners. Her eyelashes looked long over rounded cheeks. Her hairtangled around her head. Just different.

He should havemoved. Let her sleep. But he couldn’t stop looking, like he was trying toreassure himself she was still there. Not like she could have moved if shewanted to. He straightened her hair out around her head, his fingers unsnarlingknots bit by bit, careful not to wake her. It was just. She probably wouldn’twant her hair all fucked up when she finally came-to. When she rolled onto herside, he watched his hand stretch out like it was separate from the rest of himand adjust the sleeping bag so she was completely covered again. Felt realfuckin’ silly, tucking the Overboss in. But in that moment, it just seemed likemaybe she really needed it.

Without meaningto, he passed out there on the edge of the bathtub and woke up around dawn tofind her completely alseep. Temperature still pretty high. He gave her a shotof the medex without waking her, and if he couldn’t see her breathing, he wouldhave thought she was dead.

She started tocome ‘round as he packed their shit. When she tried to get out of the tub onher own, she fell. He caught her and helped her onto the floor so he couldfinish pulling their packs together.

“Gage?”

Almost soundedweird to hear his name now. Like she’d been someone else for a second.

“You alright?”

She shook herhead, but said “but I’ll live. What happened yesterday?”

“Got attacked. Adeathclaw knocked you out so I got us here. Your fever spiked and you’re stilldoing pretty bad, so we gotta move.”

“I don’tremember anything.” Brow furrowed, she looked down at her knees. “After seeingthe deathclaw, I don’t remember anything.”

“You were prettygone.”

She noddedslowly. When he leaned down to help her up, she managed to get to her feet,though she couldn’t seem to stand on her own. Her body pressed to his side.

“Either way,thanks. Hope I wasn’t a handful.”

She didn’t knowthe half of it.

He wrapped anarm around her waist to hold her up and his fingers brushed the bandage. She grimaced,but didn’t say anything about it. Part of him wanted to ask her aboutNathan—about what she left, and what she did do or didn’t do or stole orabandoned—but he didn’t. He didn’t say a damn word about it. Instead, hehalf-carried her to the door and out.

“You were fine,Boss,” he muttered. “You’ll be fine.”

[felassan]

A fairly sizable update has been released today for Anthem (approx 3.5 - 4.5 Gb [x]). It includes the new stronghold and various other improvements and fixes. You can download the client update after the servers come back online following the scheduled maintenance (12 - 5pm UTC). Full patch notes and details under the cut. Edit: Maintenance is now complete [x].

"New Features

The Sunken Cell stronghold is now available to all players who have completed the main story (critical path).

Added the ability to select contracts from the start of expedition screen rather than going to the individual contract boards in Fort Tarsis or in the Launch Bay.

Added the ability to launch a new mission from the end of expedition screen without having to return to Fort Tarsis or the Launch Bay.

Added the ability to access the Forge during Missions, Strongholds and Freeplay. You can now change your gear without having to return to Fort Tarsis or the Launch Bay!" [x]

General Notes

Added additional cortex entries to explain combo, detonator, and primer abilities.

Added new Universal Masterwork Components:

Extended Sniper Magazine: Adds specialized storage for enhanced sniper rifle ammunition. Increases damage by 30% of base damage. Increases maximum magazine size of sniper rifles by a large amount.

Rapid Hollow Points: Adds specialized ammo storage for machine pistols and autocannons. Increases damage by 30%. Increases weak point damage of machine pistols and autocannons.

Extended Special Arms Magazine: Adds specialized ammo storage for heavy pistols and grenade launchers. Increases damage by 30%. Increases maximum magazine size of heavy pistols and grenade launchers by a large amount.

Added primer/detonator icons in the cortex next to gear entries.

Fixed a bug where “Legendary Freelancer” Javelin challenge objectives weren’t completing correctly in the challenge journal.

Resolved an issue where players were being kicked back to Fort Tarsis when loading into quickplay missions.

Fixed a problem where the “Arcanist Loyalty 3" trophy could not granted on Playstation 4.

Fixed an issue where notifications for challenges were not appearing correctly.

Resolved an issue where after respawning, you could be downed again prior to re-loading back in fully.

Added STT (Speech-to-Text) and TTS (Text-to-Speech) on all platforms.

GAMEPLAY BALANCE ADJUSTMENTS

Masterwork Weapons

Retaliation of Garretus - Trajector Machine Pistol: Increased bonus from 200% to 400%

Rolling Carnage - Vengeance Shotgun: Increased bonus from 50% stacking 3 times, to 83.33% stacking 3 times.  

The Last Stand - Mauler Autocannon: Increased bonus from 200% to 225%

Fist of Stral - Cloudburst Autocannon: Increased bonus from 10% stacking 10 times, to 16% stacking 10 times.

Unending Battle - Fulcrum Machine Pistol: Increased bonus from 110% to 135%

Death From Above - Guardian Marksman Rifle: Increased bonus from 65% to 235%

Wyvern Blitz - Deadeye Sniper Rifle: Increased bonus from 40% to 185%

Masterwork Gear

Colossus

Final Judgment - HE Mortar: Increased bonus from 35% to 55%

Fist of the Crucible - Flamethrower: Increased bonus from 12% *10 to 24% *10

Interceptor

Serpent’s Veil - Venom Bomb: Increased bonus from 100% to 202.5%

Ruthless Stalker - Searching Glaive: Increased bonus from 60% to 110%

Bitter Harvest - Cluster Mine: Increased bonus from 60% to 110%

Ranger

Cold Blooded - Frost Grenade: Increased bonus from 235% to 270%

Avenger’s Boon - Pulse Blast: Increased bonus from 210 % to 220%  

Storm

Ponder Infinity - Lightning Strike: Increased bonus from 60% to 165%

Chaotic Rime - Frost Shards: Increased bonus from 125% to 250%

Gear

Friendly player projectiles should now be able to pass through Javelins in your squad.

Colossus’ Firewall Mortar should now more reliably spawn the Firewall effect when directly hitting enemies, sloped surfaces, or next to walls.

Status Effects / Combos

Delay between when players and creatures are frozen and when the visual effect is applied has been reduced to improve readability of the status effect.

If a player applies a status effect that already exists on a target, but the new status effect has a higher damage than the existing one, the damage will now scale to that higher value.

Players who prime targets for combos will now also see the “Combo” text when detonated by another player.

Increased the damage of the Electric status effect when applied to creatures.

BUG FIXES

Creatures

Fixed additional issues where the Titan fireball projectile attack was hitting players when they successfully dodged/evaded.

Fixed an issue where the Titan would not always use all of its available attacks.

Javelins

Adjusted environmental lightning strikes to not target javelins directly as frequently.

Fixed an issue where the predicted gear score was inaccurate if you were selecting to equip a higher tier component than was currently equipped.

Fixed a bug where the Colossus shield wouldn’t appear when deployed to other players in the squad.

Resolved several issues where status effects remained on the player far longer than the actual effect (e.g. the Frozen status effect appearing on the javelin after the effect has ended).

Fixed a bug where the Storm’s shield did not get the intended 20% damage resistance increase while hovering.

Fixed a bug where the Interceptor Ultimate attack would not chain when holding the fire button instead of holding the melee button.

Gear

Bulwark Point now properly gets duration increases from utility duration bonus inscriptions.

Fixed a bug where Interceptor melee gear was not going on cooldown when used in air.

Fixed an issue where explosive projectiles were not affecting destructible combat objects (e.g. scar bunkers).

Fixed a problem where the Storm’s Seal of the Open Mind Masterwork would incorrectly allow a player to fire 3 charges when the UI only showed 2 available.

Fixed a bug where gear recharge progress could be lost if you used a charge while additional charges were being restored.

Components

Fixed an error where the Masterwork Colossus Stock Augment had a lower base % increase than its non-Masterwork counterparts. (Increased from 5% to 35%).

Fixed the Ranger Grenadier Component text to properly display the stat value %.

Fixed a problem with the Special Arms Ammo component not properly increasing grenade launcher damage.

Status Effects / Combos

Fixed some instances where multiple players contributing to a single status effect would see incorrect floating values

Fixed an issue where you could receive a status effect from a creature attack while invulnerable.

Weapons

Fixed a problem where the Legion of Dawn rifle disappears from the forge while in the Launch Bay

Fixed a bug where ammo pick-ups weren’t restoring any ammo in the current magazine for the Devastator Sniper Rifle.

Fixed the Striker’s Balance weapon so that the weapon accuracy and projectile trajectory should be corrected when the bonus is applied.

Corrected Torrent Autocannon description text to match current functionality.

Fixed a bug where Avenging Herald was incorrectly applying its bonus damage to secondary weapons while holstered. This bonus is now only active when Avenging Herald is the active weapon.

All Devastator Sniper Rifle weakpoint hit multipliers have been corrected to a 1.75 multiplier.

Text Descriptions

Updated “Critical Damage” to “Weakpoint Damage” in any text descriptions.

Updated “Impact Dmg” to “Kinetic Dmg” in any text descriptions.

Updated “Impact Resist” to “Kinetic Resist” in any text descriptions.

Corrected formatting on the inscription values for Overheat Delay Recovery, Thruster Delay Recovery, and Weap Reload Speed so they no longer have multiple +/- values.

Removed text from the Masterwork Flamethrower which indicated that it was a detonator when it is not.

Fort Tarsis

Removed the duplicate second pistol from Argentum Tran's Sidearm case after completing the Freelancer Reputation Rewards - Level 3.

Elysian Key marker over daily challenges no longer disappears on returning to Fort Tarsis.

Fixed an issue where Yarrow’s final conversation could play too early in some scenarios.

Removed Dax from the background of a conversation where you are told she went out to get some tea.

Fixed an issue where Commander Vule left the frame during a conversation with Brin and the player.

Fixed an issue where Jarek Arnel’s arm clipped badly into the wall.

Resolved an issue where you were told that your squad was waiting on you to ready up, when it wasn’t true.

Resolved an issue where Faye wasn’t shown in a cinematic scene that she is speaking in with Haluk.

Fixed various spelling and grammatical errors in the journal and library entries.

Freeplay

Fixed an issue where targeted creatures in freeplay would lose their target icon if you flew too far away from the arena and returned.

Fixed an issue where sentinels disappeared from the Sentinel Support World Event, making it impossible to complete the event.

Fixed an issue where you couldn’t progress in the Tombs of the Legionnaires quest if one member of your squad had not unlocked that quest yet.

Fixed an issue where you couldn’t interact with and enter the Tomb of Artinia when you had completed the requirements to unlock it.

Picking up some collectible archives were limited to the player that interacted with them.  Now all players within 100m of the player collecting the archive will automatically collect the archive as well.

Fixed an issue where turrets could spawn too far away from the world event location.

Fixed an issue where being downed in the Arcanist Korox Study world event would not reset properly when you came back.

Strongholds

Downed players are now automatically revived when the stronghold boss is defeated.

Temple of the Scar: Fixed an issue where the fog wall visual effect remained, even though it didn’t actually prevent the player from progressing.

Temple of the Scar: Fixed an issue where the player could escape the world near the waterfall.

Tyrant Mine: Prevented turrets from spawning in the second area before players were led there and the rest of the enemies had spawned in to fix an exploit.

Heart of Rage: Fixed an issue where enemies could be trapped behind a fog wall, preventing the player from progressing.

Critical Path and Legendary Missions

Heart of Rage: Fixed an issue where killing the titan without entering the arena would cause you to respawn backwards, making it impossible to advance and complete the mission.

Legendary Incursion: Fixed an issue where the plot wouldn’t advance after listening to the recording.

Legendary Missions: Fixed an issue where the final chest would never appear at the end of the mission if you were too far away from the chest.

Legendary Fortress of Dawn: Fixed an issue for the second trial where the plot would break if one player was slow to load in and the other player ran ahead.

Legendary Freelancer Down: Fixed an issue where the plot wouldn’t progress until all members of the squad had reached the specified point.  

Legendary Finding Old Friends:  Fixed an issue where enemies could be stuck behind a fog wall, preventing the plot from progressing.

Fixed an issue where the notification of Legendary Missions being unlocked after completing the critical path was not displaying.

Legendary Lost Arcanist: Fixed an issue where the Escari was teleporting around too frequently.

Legendary Freelancer Down: Fixed a respawn point that was very far away from the objective.

Contract - Freelancer Work: Fixed an issue where the step to protect the Arcanists wasn’t working correctly when joining through Quick Play. [x]   

[crowtoed]

CONFESSION TIME: I don’t care for the canon design of Caleb’s coat. I think it’s too modern, too fitted, and the lines of it don’t lend itself to what Caleb does in it... which is everything. It’s his secretary desk, his bed, and probably a form of security skin that protects him from the looks of the outside world.

Since we’re working on a future Caleb for Jamie, I’ve been looking at real world inspirations for his coat. Liam O’Brien was not helpful with any possible backstory (we think he doesn’t know the coat’s origins or hasn’t decided yet, ngl). So we’re looking for something that can fit over clothes (and book holsters), has room for storage, opens in the front for access, and comfortable enough to live in for a ridiculous amount of time. Personally I headcanon Caleb’s coat as a combo of a 16th century schaube and a 17th century cassock. Schaubes were popular during the Northern European Renaissance from the late 15th century to the mid-16th- particularly in what would become Germany. They were loose-fitting overgowns typically lined or faced in fur. Some had more fitted sleeves, but most were either massive and gave the impression of a deflated tire or hung long. They really helped build the stodgy, square silhouette of early Tudor men of means. After the mid-16th century, however, you tend to only see them on older politicians and merchants, as well as the academic set. In fact the schaube would become the basis for ceremonial academic regalia we see today! Going into the mid-late 16th and early 17th century you see casques or cassocks. They started basically as capes with sleeves (functional or decorative) on them and could be worn like a loose coat or over one shoulder like a dandy fucker. Gradually they became a longer and more like a modern coat, but still not fitted past the chest and sleeves that could be worn open or closed. Cassocks were still very much outerwear and worn over clothes or even armor, in the case of the English Civil War. I think something with a silhouette more like one of these garments really works for Caleb. It gives a more early modern look, harkens back to academic wear, and would provide a nice, comforting weight for your anxious wizard on the run. Also they look a lot more comfortable to sleep in... Thank you for this pointless costuming rant, join me next time as I wonder wtf is going on with Yasha’s underclothes harnesses.