#maybe he will be the newscaster on an extra's phone

[dareduffie]

rian johnson films are like Where's Waldo for joseph gordon-levitt fans

[blackbat05]

Fresh Start

Rick Flag x Reader

A/N: I haven’t wrote Rick in a long time! So I hope you enjoy! And to also celebrate 1 year release of TSS. Issa little long though😝

Genre: PG-13

Notes: Idc, Rick is alive in my world😬 Language.

He was a volunteer at the Children’s Home you were working at. Despite his intimidating aura, the children saw him as a big, cuddly teddy bear.

Your female colleagues didn’t waste a second as they hungrily eyed every inch of his six foot three sculpted figure as he walked in every Friday evening to the delight of the kids.

However, they could only do so much. So like the warm hearted (and slightly annoying) colleagues you had found two years ago, everyone tried their best to get you closer with him.

But you couldn’t. It was simply unethical. Sure, he was a walking Adonis but no way you were going to loose your job because you couldn’t control yourself. Besides, you weren’t even sure if he even had any feelings for you.

“What are you still doing here girl?” Myra, the receptionist, stared at you through the glass panels of the front desk. You try to reason with her that you still had a couple of paperwork to finish before calling it a week. Needless to say, she wasn’t having any of it.

“You ain’t even paid extra! Leave it for another day- ah ah ah!” She waves a slender hand in your face. “I don’t want to hear any of it! Go enjoy yourself! Besides, Rick looks like he’s waiting for you to knock off.” Myra gives a wink before sauntering off to the dormitories.

Guts twisting in your stomach, you walked over as normally as you could, giving a quick wave. “Hey stranger!”

Rick turns, and upon seeing you, he breaks out into a grin. “Hey! Finally! Thought you were working overtime again.” You thought he had emphasized on the last word a little longer than usual, making you feel bad.

“I guess I decided to give myself a break.” You shrugged. “What’s keeping you here so late?”

Rick’s facial expression changed, and you wondered to yourself if you had yet messed up again. He seemed to have sense your discomfort, so he chimes in quickly.

“Oh! Well, work’s been really busy and I don’t think I’ll be able to see the children regularly so… it’s my last day here.”

You weren’t even sure why your heart had dropped inside your chest, but you maintained your poker face.

“Damn… the children will miss you…” You held back on the rest of the words that you truly wanted to tell him.

“How about a farewell dinner? It’s on me.”

Six Months Later,

You exit the counseling room, reminding the children at the playground that dinner was in an hour.

Arriving at your cubicle, you slumped on your chair, done for the day. The paperwork was absolutely driving you nuts and you wished you could be out there playing the children.

In the end, you decided to settle with your phone, scrolling through the various apps and news that you saved for times like these.

You click on a tag, pressing the first video you see. It was the local news, reporting about one of the many atrocities of the government. This time, it was about the infamous Suicide Squad that you only heard in name.

Taking a deep sigh, you see a familiar face beside the newscaster. Rick Flag. Or should you say - Colonel Rick Flag. Commander of Task Force X, missing in action since the battle of Jotumheim.

There were rumors spreading like wildfire around the internet. Some said that the government ordered him to be killed to keep their secrets. Some said that he tried to go rogue. Some said he betrayed his country.

You? You had no idea how to process this influx of information. You only knew him as the friendly and handsome volunteer who spent his time with children every week without fail. What else was he hiding from you?

“So, where are you going?”

“I’m not too sure yet. South America maybe.”

“Keep in touch?”

“Of course.”

A flurry of movement into the office startled you from your thoughts. A trio of older girls ran towards you, voices merging into one.

“Woah, slow down and one at a time!” You instructed them, concerned at the reddish hue on their cheeks.

“Miss! He’s here! He’s at the door and he’s hurt!”

Hurt? Your brows knit in confusion, starting to get more concerned by the minute. Was there an attack nearby and someone came to seek help? You stand up quickly, moving to the cabinets where the first aid kit was kept.

Instructing the girls to move everyone else indoors, you went to check the cameras at the back room.

No way. No fucking way. All that overtime must have made you see things.

Although the camera showed a black and white image of whatever was outside the home, that hunched figure was unmistakable. You could recognize him from a mile away.

Sprinting to the doors, you almost break the handles, flinging them open to see an exhausted Rick Flag standing at the doorstep.

“Hey darlin,” the southern drawl hit your ears like honey. “Still working overtime again?”

You blink your eyes, feet rooted to the ground. Apparently it seemed like eternity as the man in front of you lifts his arms forward.

“So no hug?”

You marched forward, hands flying up to give him a huge smack on the back.

“OW! What the hell?” Rick grimaces. You were surprised that a large man like him could still feel pain. “What was that for?”

He almost regrets it instantly as more whacks start to rain on his large frame. For someone who worked with children, you definitely had a lot of pent up anger.

“You! You left so suddenly! The next thing I know? YOU DIED?! In some… foreign place because you tried to sell out the government and what have you not?” You started to lose energy, so you resort to dragging him in by the arms, attracting stares from stragglers who were going back to the dormitories.

You managed to find the sick bay at the end of the corridor. Locking the door, you ordered him to lie down, whipping out any first aid supplies you could get your hands on.

"Shirt off."

"If you wanted me to strip, there are other ways to do it you know?" Rick quickly puts on a face of what he thinks to be innocence as he's met with your glare.

This wasn't your first rodeo with injuries - you couldn't count the number of times you had to patch up injured children who got bruises from playfights or accidents on the playground. But what was in front of you just wasn't a simple scratch.

"Rick, what the hell?" You gasped softly.

You were greeted by a mixture of bruises, scars, and burns that littered his back. Most were old wounds but you could see some that were still fresh.

The next few minutes passed in silence as you dabbed each wound with cotton buds, mumbling in apology whenever he winced in pain.

“So… permission to talk?”

You remain silent and Rick takes it for a yes. “Look… I’m sorry that I kept all this from you. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t. And I’m not saying this just to appease you darlin…” Rick struggles to find the right words.

“They experimented on children.” He says abruptly. Rick sees the shock on your face. “It’s true. I saw them. The government funded them, allowed these atrocities to continue… but I couldn’t… and I almost died for it. Well, I did die.”

He then proceeds to tell you about the altercation with Peacemaker in the underground facility. Him being shanked with a rusty pipe and being left to bleed out. Rick says that maybe it was for the best that the survivors left him in Corto Maltese.

“Means that Waller won’t longer be on my back. It means I’m finally free.”

You finish cleaning up the last bit of his wounds. Putting the first aid kit aside, you stand in front of him, gently tilting his chin to meet your gaze.

He takes your hand, relishing the warmth that it provided against his cheek. You finally hug him tight, eyes squeezed shut.

This wasn’t a dream.

“Don’t cry, I’m here.”

You use your free hand to feel the wetness on your cheek. “I’m just afraid that I’ll return back to the nightmare of living without you again.” Breaking into full sobs, you slumped onto the side of the bed, Rick’s arms wrapped around yours.

“When I heard the news about you… I regret every day not telling you how I felt… I couldn’t live with myself!”

A wet chuckle could be heard and you see Rick’s watery eyes. “Took you long enough.”

You pause at his statement before the two of you break into laughter. A knock on the door brings you back to the present.

“Is it true?” A young girl with pigtails pokes her head in, flashing a gummy grin. “Mister Flag’s back!”

The sight of Rick was an answer itself. With a shrill cry of joy, the young girl calls a couple of friends in the hallway. Before you knew it, you see Rick smothered in the little bodies that were desperate to welcome back an old friend.

“Miss! Is Rick staying? Can he stay? Pleaseee!!!” The group of children plead to you in unison.

“Well… I was going to ask if you guys had a spare room here.” Rick mutters. “Practically non-existent now and it’ll be great if I have a temporary place to stay while I set everything in order.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I do have a room.” You smiled cheekily, moving forward so that Rick was within earshot.

“It’s just right across my office.”

Three Years later,

“I swear! It’s right here!” Harley drags the rag tag group along with her, before coming to a stop in front of a house surrounded by a white picket fence.

“Harls, you sure you weren’t I dunno- hallucinating?” Robert DuBois grumbles as Cleo struggles to keep up with the duo.

“You betcha! I saw Flag right at the garden with all the little munchkins and hey! He’s got a lady with him too!”

Despite the assassin’s skepticism surrounding Flag’s lookalike, a small part of Robert wished that Harley was telling him the truth. What had happened to Flag… let’s just say no good man deserves his fate.

“Oh my god.” Cleo gasps softly beside him. “Harley was right.”

Robert cannot believe what he is seeing. There he was - his old comrade and former commander of Task Force X.

A scruffy Rick, donned in a long sleeved checkered sweater and jeans as he chases two children across the garden that also served as the dumping ground for their toys. He manages to sweep the little boy into his arms, blowing raspberries on his tummies much to his delight.

“Hahahaha! Papa! Stoppp!!! It tickles!!!”

Robert could see the splitting image of Rick in the little boy who was squirming around in his friend’s arms.

A pang of guilt hits him. No, he will not destroy Rick’s happiness. Not when they left him there to die.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait! Can’t we say hi to Flag?”

Before Robert can rebuke Harley’s request, a tiny figure interrupts the trio.

“Papa! There strangers here! A lady with weird hair!” The girl whom Robert assumes is the twin of the boy yells to get her father’s attention.

“Hey! My hair’s not weird!” Harley frowns.

“DuBois? Harls? Cleo?”

Robert grimaces internally. This was a bad idea. He turns around to see Rick’s guiding a pregnant you steadily across the garden.

“You must be Robert.” You finally reach them, extending a hand for the man to shake. “My husband’s told me so much about you. All of you.”

“Only good things I hope!” Harley quips and suddenly Robert doesn’t want to hear your response.

“Only the best.” You reaffirmed. “How you looked out for him. And I’m very thankful for that.”

Rick approaches Robert, clasping him on the back. “Can’t believe it. I’m glad to see all of you again. Glad y’all made it out alive. Out of Waller’s clutches.”

The latter can’t find the words in him to apologize, so he settles for a “can’t say the same for you”. Like an old friend, Rick catches him immediately.

“Hey, none of that. I didn’t even know I could make it out alive. What matters is that you’re here.”

Breaking the silence, you decided to chime in. “You guys must have come a long way. We would love for all of you to stay. I’m sure the kids would love you.”

The two women squeal, agreeing enthusiastically to your request. While Harley races up the steps to the house, Cleo guides you carefully, beckoning Robert to follow.

“Come on DuBois, she’s right. You’re more than welcome.” Rick pipes up. The two men trudge up the stairs that lead into the picturesque home.

As the three misfits slowly made themselves at home, you waddled towards Rick who had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I know they did… wrong things. But I can’t help but to think that we’re finally free of Waller.” Rick heaves a sigh of relief, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Maybe it’s a new beginning. For all of you.” Leaning into him, your heart softens at the sight of your little boy being mesmerized by Cleo’s pet rat, Sebastian.

A new beginning. A fresh start.

Rick could definitely get use to the new normal.

Can be read as continuation: Mismatched Family

[aziraphales-library]

I’m really not sure how to word this, but can you list me some fics with like... a gimmick? Or a trope? As the basis of the plot? That’s not the best way to word it because it doesn’t have to be gimmickey or tropey, but just... You know, a plot that’s interesting... that starts out with a situation... unusual circumstances?? Am I making any sense? Like I’ve read the stuff that’s easily tagged like spells, fake relationship, soul mates, ect, but just fun, different stuff like that?? Sorry...

First of all, I want to apologise for the super later reply to this ask. I found it sitting unanswered in our drafts. To make up for it, here is an extra long list of gimmicky, tropey fics that i absolutely love!...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones. AU based on The Office.

A (not quite) tinder date by NohaIjiachi (M)

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry—“ A man said, breathless, plopping himself down in the chair. He sounded like he ran a marathon. “Got held up at work— I couldn’t even check my phone! I’m so terribly sorry!”

Aziraphale would’ve beamed, at that. He would’ve immediately declared that it was no problem, these things happened, so no worries at all— Except the guy currently catching his breath in the chair in front of him was definitely not his missing date. That was unless he’d decided to shave his beard, make his hair grow magically, and dye it red.

“I—“ Aziraphale croaked, confused. The man tipped his chin down, glancing at Aziraphale above the rim of his darkened glasses with a surprising set of honey-coloured eyes, and winked at him. Aziraphale closed his mouth. “I— It’s quite alright. I’m glad you, huh— Could make it—“

Win a Date With Anthony J. Crowley! by Caedmon (E)

Crowley is a world-famous rock star who sells out arenas. His name is synonymous with 'rock-n-roll', and he thrives on the spotlight. When he agrees to raffle off a date with himself for charity, he's expecting to meet an overzealous fan that wants to wear his skin and very well might try to roofie him. What he's not expecting is to be instantly attracted to the quiet man with the unusual name who shows up for the date at the Ritz... and he's certainly not expecting for Aziraphale to have no clue who he is...

You’ve Got Kudos by curtaincall (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction.

Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other.

(A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

The Best Laid Plans by hope_in_the_dark (T)

Ezra Fell has sworn off romance forever and is perfectly content with his books and his tea and his ugly wardrobe. At least, he is until a handsome stranger hits him with a car.

it’s a new craze by attheborder (T)

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

***

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast.

But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

happiness, more or less by TheKnittingJedi (M)

Renting a flat is all fun and games until you fall in love with the ghost haunting it.

An adaptation of the 2005 romcom Just Like Heaven.

on the same page by Chekhov (E)

Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less... appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is... until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Whole Damn World Seemed Upside Down by WyvernQuill (M)

"I just wish things were different," Crowley says... and the universe happily obliges.

Stuck - perhaps forever - in a reality in which Shadwell is the first Wiccan MP, Pepper's only aspiration in life is to be a dutiful wife to someone, and his beloved Bentley is a rusty VW bus, Crowley is slowly learning that "different" doesn't necessarily mean better...

But how long can he bear to live* in a world where Aziraphale hates him?

*Not that he has any other option. The Death of this world can't see blood...

The Annual Tadfield Cheese-Rolling Festival by summerofspock (T)

Disgruntled newscaster Anthony Crowley is forced to cover the annual Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival...again. Only this year he's accompanied by a new producer who he can't seem to get his mind off of even though he's swiftly realizing he has far bigger problems. Namely, the fact that the Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival refuses to end.

- Mod D

[forevfangirlwrites]

hiiii, soooo I have a prompt for a couple of weeks for the actress Au but I don't want to write it because you probably have many, but anyway I tell you so I get rid of it

Basically I got this weird idea where Percy and Annabeth get into a situation where some fans have posted an old picture of Annabeth and her ex (cof Luke cof) and Percy who has never seen that photo panics ( because the boy iscrazy in love with her) and makes all these senseless ideas until Annabeth reassures him and at that moment Percy lets it slip that he has always had this fear that she could choose someone else because he is just a barista and so nothing special

obviously you don't have to I had to free myself, I hope you have a nice day ♥️ (if there are mistakes and google's fault English is not my first language I did my best 😫)

Percy has never really been into traditional social media all that much. Not because he hates it or anything, but because he’s never been able to look good in Instagram photos (he needs a someone to teach him how to pose, like seriously what do you do with your hands?)

Plus, he gets most of his news and stuff through Reddit rather than Twitter.

That said though, he has every social media platform on his phone with notifications on for the one and only Annabeth Chase.

It might seem extra, but he just calls it being a supportive boyfriend.

But the way the algorithm on these apps work means that he sometimes gets notifications for tweets other than Annabeth’s simply because they are about her.

So when his phone buzzes with a tweet from annabanana2 that just reads: They’re so cute together! he has a momentary panic.

And of course, it has to be a busy day. He hurries to try to finish the caramel mocha as quickly as possible so he can open up the tweet as a million possibilities run through his head.

The biggest one being that someone had found out about their relationship.

He hands off the mocha and swipes up on the notification.

Never mind, this is worse than being found out.

It’s a picture of Annabeth hand in hand with a guy who he vaguely recognizes, with a wide smile on her face. But before he can really look into it, the door dings, signaling another customer.

Trying to push aside panic and summon midwestern newscaster, he turns to the girl at the counter.

“Welcome to Cali’s, what can I get you?”

“Hi, um, I’ll take the…” she trails off, looking at the menu.

His fingers itch to check his phone again, to put a name to the face of the guy he’s definitely seen before.

“How’s the French vanilla macchiato?”

Maybe in a TV show? “Huh?”

The girl turns her gaze to him and he flushes, embarrassed at his inattention as he apologizes.

“Sorry, I got distracted, what did you ask?”

He tells her the French vanilla macchiato is a good choice and proceeds to make it for her, all the while trying to resist the urge to check his phone.

The happy smile on her face is burned into his mind. But he tries to focus on trying to place the guy because it’s much less painful to think about.

“Here you go,” he calls as he pushes the drink across the counter, already pulling out his phone.

“Uh...could you give me a straw?”

He flushes again. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, here you go.”

The girl waves it off, thankfully looking more amused than annoyed. As she turns to leave, he swipes open to the photo again.

“Do you—” he cuts himself off, brain finally catching up to his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that, but she’s already turning around with a questioning look.

Well, he’s in this far and she seems nice to hopefully she won’t mind. “Do you know who this is?”

He holds up his phone and she steps forward to take a look.

“Annabeth Chase?”

“Yeah, but who’s the guy?”

“Luke Castellan.”

Recognition floods his brain at the name.

“From The Titans! I knew I remembered him from something!”

The girl smiles, taking a sip of her drink. “Yep, they dated a couple years ago.”

His mind goes blank. “What?”

The girl nods. “Annabeth and Luke, they dated for a while. I guess the tweet is from the people who still think they’re together. They had a pretty amicable break-up.”

This girl is a treasure trove of knowledge and has just saved him ten minutes of Googling.

“Oh, I didn’t know…” It’s a lot of information to process.

She just shrugs. “I used to be super into Titans which is why I know. Anyway, have a good day!”

“You too! Thanks!” He calls after her, knowing his day is now far from good.

The replies under the tweet just echo the original, confirming that they are indeed a cute couple, and go well together.

They have to still be together, she hasn’t dated anyone since one reply so helpfully reads.

His stomach sinks further.

She does look happy in the photo, free and smiling, no need to hide anything cause she’s dating some measly barista.

His stomach sinks even further. Maybe she is better off with Luke.

The thoughts don’t leave his head the rest of his shift.

He was going to meet Annabeth on set today after work, but when he pulls off his apron, he finds himself heading towards home instead. The set is just another reminder of everything she deserves and everything he isn’t.

So he trudges to his shitty one-bedroom apartment and sits on the secondhand couch, mood sinking lower and lower by the second.

The TV is a blessing and a curse, so after flipping through shows that have very attractive people who’d make better partners to an actress than him, he stops on some Bob Ross reruns.

They help, calming him enough that he starts to doze off.

The knock on his door, however, startles him out of it and he sits up in a rush as the knock pounds again.

READ ON AO3

READ ON FFN

A/N: Hello! I’m so sorry it took me such a long time to get to this prompt! I hope you liked how it turned out! The prompt was a great way to revisit the past in this series! Thank you for the prompt!

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 5

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: Plagg panics because Lila's the devil incarnate and Lila learns that Gabriel Agreste is far stupider than he seems.

Adrien fondly flicked through the pages of The Pun-thagorean Theorem (Making Math Funny!) textbook. Plumes of dust wafted up his nostrils, causing his eyes to squint and his mouth to contort into the longest face known to man to avoid a hacking fit, but he smiled afterward nonetheless. The book was withered beyond measure, sure, but within its decaying jacket, it held the fleeting whispers of a previous life. A life before his mother went missing. When she enjoyed teaching him math with puns and pieces of candy while his father clung to the confines of closed doors. When her jokes graced the halls and her smiles left behind a fog of golden joy in her wake.

Adrien’s heart thudded with longing.

But he was determined to push back the feelings he had kept buried deep, deep, deep within his heart. So deep that he often forgot they were even there until they reared their ugly heads like a Hydra from the deepest recesses of the sea. Every time he thought he dealt with it, thought he had cut off its head and could breathe for just a second, two heads sprouted in its stead, determined to grip him by the ankles with their jagged teeth and force him to drown in his debilitating lack of self-worth.

He shook his head violently, as if that could shed him of his intrusive thoughts.

Hopefully, this book would help Lila. And then she’d leave. And then he could skip the anime and just take a fat nap. Keeping the Hydra at bay was exhausting.

Correcting his posture, Adrien approached his classmate, noticing straight away she had moved to his desk chair. Odd. But he was willing to roll with it.

Ha. Get it? Desk chair. Roll with it.

He pursed his lips, trying to hold back his laughter at himself.

Kagami had called him a clown, but Ladybug, as it turned out, appreciated his sense of humor. And if Lady-friggin’-bug--Commander of Wit and Creative Mastermind--thought he was funny, he must have been a damn comedic prodigy.

Plagg recognized that love-struck look on Adrien’s face and had to physically restrain himself from making barf noises.

“Are you ready to start, Lila?” Adrien said. Oblivious to Adrien’s whereabouts, Lila started and spun to greet him. (Was he always that quiet on his feet?)

“Adrien! You found the book.”

“Yep! Why don’t you take a look at it before we start?” Adrien smiled as he passed the book to her.

Lila returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Adrien idly wondered if she had ever meant a smile in her life. She pinched the book between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a moldy sock. “Wow, Adrien, this book is so . . .”

A silence lingered as Lila racked her vocabulary for a word less insulting than crusty.

“Old?” Adrien offered, tilting his head.

Lila tittered unenthusiastically. “Yes, old.” She draped the book onto Adrien’s desk and poked at it. “How long have you, um, had it?”

“It’s been in the family a while.” Adrien hesitated. He didn’t really want to mention his mother to Lila. Lila was poisonous. She spun every piece of information she caught into a sticky web of lies like it was second nature. He didn’t know if he could stomach hearing lies about his mother.

So he bit down on the story of his mom before it could tumble from his lips. Even though he so badly wanted to tell anyone who would listen. His father never afforded him the opportunity to speak about her. His friends at school avoided the topic like the plague.

Come to think of it, Marinette was the only one of his friends who tried to help him see her movie that fateful day the press tried to pass her as his girlfriend. (Which he wouldn’t have minded, honestly, but she always seemed hellbent on them being just friends, so he accepted it.)

Ladybug, the other important person in his life, saw his mother on his desktop during that one akuma attack and commented on her smile. Those two girls (er--women? Which term was more respectful?) were the only people he truly felt safe around. Safe enough to turn his back on the Hydra he always kept a watchful, tired eye on and just enjoy the breeze of the ocean as it caressed his cheeks and messed up his perfect hair.

No, the subject of his mother wouldn’t scare them away. They could handle it.

But Lila was no Ladybug, and she definitely was no Marinette.

Behind them, Plagg was practically pulling his antennae out. It had been at least eight, maybe ten minutes since the akuma alert and his kid was none the wiser. And it really didn’t help that he just saw Ladybug and Rena Rouge pass by Adrien’s gigantic glass wall in a blur of red and orange.

But it was hopeless! He couldn’t get the message to Adrien without being seen!

Or . . .

Or could he?

“‘What’s Pythagoras’ favorite instrument?’” Lila read aloud. Her eyes darted over to the blonde leaning against the desk beside her. He bit his lip and his eyes were doing something weird. She had never seen that emotion on him.

“Go on,” Adrien pushed, his eyes practically sparkling. Huh. Was that emotion . . . eagerness?

She cleared her throat and turned the book upside down to read the answer awaiting her at the bottom of the page.

“‘A triangle.’”

Adrien giggled. What he wanted to do was slap his knee and let the whole world know he found it funny with a booming laughter that rivaled Tom Dupain-Cheng’s, but he knew that was un-gentlemanly.

Lila quirked an eyebrow.

Adrien sobered immediately. “You know,” he tried. “Since a triangle is an instrument and the theorem is about right triangles.”

Lila’s stare was unrelenting.

Adrien coughed. “So the triangle is his . . . favorite instrument.”

Lila stared for a bit longer than necessary before letting out a glaringly obvious fake laugh. Adrien was more offended that she thought that laugh was believable than that she didn’t find the pun funny at all. “Ha. That’s, like, so funny, Adrien. I can tell already that this book is going to be a big help.”

Adrien’s shoulders drooped a little. He hadn’t expected her to fall to the ground in ceaseless mirth, but he hadn’t thought her to be such a brick wall either. “Right. Well, why don’t we start with number one? Do you have your notebook or do you need a spare piece of pap--?”

The sound of the television coming to life cut Adrien’s question short. Lila’s eyes bulged out of her head and the sight would have been comical had it not also meant that Plagg was being a nuisance. Again.

But honestly, when was he not?

Lila burst from her seat and sprinted to the television. “Were you standing on the remote or something?” Lila queried, her voice high-pitched and grating to Adrien’s ears.

Adrien scratched the back of his neck. Think, think, think . . .

“Um, my room is haunted?”

Lila gawked at him wordlessly, gripping the back of his sofa. “You posted something about that on Instagram, but I thought you were, I don’t know? Making it up?”

Because you would be an expert on that, right, Lila?

Adrien plucked the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the television, his thumb barely brushing the power button when the words from the newscaster reached his ears and sent chills down his spine.

“New akuma . . .”

“Ladybug and Rena Rouge on the scene . . .”

“Chat Noir yet to be spotted . . .”

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. Furrowing his brow, he ran to his phone and ogled its empty notification list. Why hadn’t he received an akuma alert? Was the Ladyblog acting buggy?

Adrien had to come up with an alibi and fast. Lie like the wind, Bullseye.

He scooped up his cherished pun textbook and shepherded Lila to his bedroom door despite her protests. “I’m so sorry, Lila! I, uh, just remembered I have to practice piano for an extra hour today.” The television droned on about the deadly, unstoppable, mind-controlling, threateningly large, new akuma behind him. The hair on Adrien’s neck stood up with every added adjective.

“You’re not seriously sending me out into the city where the akuma is?” Lila exclaimed.

Oh. The thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“Um, sorry, Lila, but I’m sure you’ll be fine! You’re Ladybug’s best friend, right? She’d never let anything happen to you.” Adrien smirked inwardly at that. Lila was failing miserably at hiding her disgust for his spotted partner when he shut the door--politely--in her face.

Quickly, he propped up his phone on the piano and navigated to his voice memo app.

“I deserve extra cheese,” Plagg drawled, hovering to the side of Adrien.

“For nearly exposing yourself to Lila?” Adrien remarked bitterly.

Plagg narrowed his eyes. “No, for figuring out how to get your attention when Lila was clearly undermining you!”

Adrien stopped dead in his tracks. His finger hovered above his latest piano recording while his mind raced. “What do you mean, Plagg? I didn’t get an akuma alert. That’s not her fault.”

Plagg scoffed. “Uh, you did get an akuma alert. That--that menace got rid of it!” Plagg folded his arms across his chest, clearly much angrier than he would ever admit. “She got rid of the notification so you wouldn’t see. Even when she doesn’t know she’s doing it, she’s sabotaging Ladybug! You can’t let her in your room anymore, Adrien.”

Adrien stiffened. So Lila was far worse than he gave her credit for. He wouldn’t underestimate her again. Harmless snooping, he could live with. Interfering with him protecting his lady? Unforgivable. She did that when he was Chat Noir and he thought he had learned his lesson.

Apparently not.

“We’ll talk about this more later, Plagg,” Adrien finally decided. A moment later, the soft melody of a piano piece danced around the room. His eyes wandered to the whiteboard on his wall that had twelve tally marks souring its otherwise pristine surface. Plagg followed his gaze and looked back at his kid with a frown and drooping brows, tail and antennae betraying his melancholy.

Adrien pointedly ignored Plagg’s Pity™ look. “Ladybug’s already cleansed an akuma twelve times without needing my help. Let’s not let there be a thirteenth. Claws out!”

Meanwhile, from the other side of Adrien’s door, Lila simmered, jaw clenched, mouth dry. She didn’t have an inkling why Adrien had concocted such a ridiculous excuse, but she was ninety percent sure it had something to do with Ladybug.

It always came back to that impudent roach.

Lila dragged her feet all the way to the main staircase with every intention to vacate the Agreste premises, but a quick sweep of the mainroom revealed the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. And interestingly enough, neither was that dreadfully stoic assistant Adrien was so fond of. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her when she first entered.

Empty. The room was deliciously empty.

And Lila had never seen the inside of Gabriel’s office.

Smirking, she decided she would have to correct that.

Just in case she got caught, Lila inconspicuously flitted around the room in an attempt to appear like she wasn’t on a mission. She fawned over trinkets and leisurely “admired” the boring paintings accosting the walls before her twitching fingers rested on the door handle.

She waited with an ear pressed against the wood. Silence had never tasted sweeter.

The room was . . . well, it left something to be desired.

Wasn’t Gabriel supposed to be a fashion icon?

His interior design made her want to gouge out her eyes with a plastic spork.

Lila gingerly let the door fall into place behind her, the hinges creaking only slightly (a billionaire or whatever he was could afford to professionally oil his door, she assumed) before her feet carried her to a mustard yellow tapestry. The woman adorning it she recognized was Adrien’s mother. The photos of Adrien to her right were all edited from photoshoots. Perfect. Unblemished.

Lila supposed she could overlook Adrien’s pitiful sense of humor. Adrien was still great eye candy, and his reputation made him an even tastier prize.

The scent of cologne and disinfectant mingled, battling each other for dominance and the result was only a bit nauseating. Orange light seeped in from the windows, the tendrils of luminance touching everything in the room but the wall with the tapestry. It was golden hour apparently.

Unable to help herself, Lila brushed her fingers along the edges of Gabriel’s touchscreen, searching, searching. Ah. There. A ridge. A power button, perhaps? With the tip of her fingernail, she pressed it and . . .

Of course, the thing would be password protected.

Maybe Adrien’s birthday?

Wait. Did she even know Adrien’s birthday?

Lila shrugged and turned on her heel. She was curious, but odds were she would never be able to guess Monsieur Agreste’s password. Unless . . .

Slowly pivoting to face the screen again, she tried typing something crazy and, albeit, a little stupid.

There was just no way. It was a waste of time to even try.

She tapped a green enter button.

The waiting screen consisted of the outline of a butterfly slowly being filled in and then repeating. Interesting. She wouldn’t have pegged Gabriel to be a butterfly guy. But if she thought about it really, reeeeally hard, she could just barely recall a few designs Adrien had modeled that sported a butterfly-like logo.

But whatever. This butterfly waiting screen meant nothing. There was still no way.

There was absolutely no way the password to the great fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste’s personal computer was “password.”

Was there?

She idly tapped her nails on the screen, the clack-clack-clack echoing around her in the frustratingly barren room. The anticipation ate away at her until . . .

Bingo. The screen unlocked, and the light shining on Lila transitioned from the black of the waiting screen to the blue of a schematic.

Lila snorted. “Seriously? I’m no Max but even I know that’s the most brainless password known to man.”

Closer inspection led to a fascinating revelation. The schematic wasn’t actually for a building or even a design. There were photos of her classmates and their . . .

Their hero personas? Interesting. Could he have been planning a Superhero line? How did he even find out their identities?

Wow, there was Nino as Carapace and that one girl Kagami as Ryuko. Max as some horse-looking hero she honestly had never seen in her life. Kim as a monkey. Unsurprising. Some guy with blue highlights who she’d only seen around Marinette. And Alya . . . as Rena Rouge.

Lila clenched her fists. Her nails left indentations in her palms.

She didn’t have time to stew over this infuriating morsel of information, however, before the floor beneath her began to tremble. Wasting no time, she sprinted to the middle of the room and was surprised to find the floor now still. Had she imagined the earth quaking?

What sounded like mechanical whirring had her spinning on her heel to face the painting. Her jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of a hole in the previously-unmarred tile. From the dark pit rose one bonafide, Barney-colored supervillain, his back facing her.

“Nooroo, dark wings fall.”

Instantly, a waterfall of purple and white glitter illuminated the room. The light was so intense, Lila had to lift her arms and shield her retinas. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribcage.

Any sane person would have run away at the sight of a supervillain in their classmate’s mansion.

But not Lila.

Lila quite liked Hawk Moth. She more than shared his distaste for the superhero duo and was overjoyed whenever he graced her with the opportunity to fight them as an akuma.

She was even more overjoyed to find out her boss and Hawk Moth were not just cut from the same cloth . . .

They were the same cloth.

The man otherwise known as Gabriel Agreste stood before her, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

His shoulders were hunched up to his ears as he grumbled, “Blasted children. I’ll get your Miraculous one of these days--”

“Um, Master?” a tiny voice interrupted.

Lila had never seen such a thing. Was that a bug? A fairy?

“What is it, Nooroo?”

Upon Nooroo’s silence, Gabriel turned around and was incapable of hiding the shock on his face when he found Lila Rossi trespassing in his office.

“How much did you see?” he demanded, scowling.

Lila tittered behind her hand. “Even if I hadn’t seen everything, Hawk Moth, I’d still be asking you what on Earth that thing is.” She jabbed a manicured finger at Nooroo.

Upon seeing his computer on and unlocked, Gabriel lifted his chin and sneered at the fifteen year old girl who had evidently outsmarted him.

Understanding, Lila shook her head. “You really are a boomer,” she mused. “‘Password’ is the least intelligent password you could have picked.”

“I thought it was clever, Master,” Nooroo meekly added.

Desperate to get control of the situation, Gabriel folded his hands behind his back and stood until he was at his full height. “So now you know.” He dared not move from higher ground. “I can’t imagine you thought it’d be smart to confront an adult man who’s shown he has nothing to lose.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have, like, a son?”

Gabriel’s gaze was unrelenting.

Lila almost pitied the oblivious blonde boy. “Whatever. I just wanted to snoop around your office. I couldn’t have possibly dreamed a juicier secret. Paris’s beloved and esteemed fashion designer doubling as its masked terrorist?”

Gabriel bristled.

Feigning nonchalance, Lila perched upon one of Gabriel’s long purple benches and crossed one leg over the other before leaning an elbow on her knee and resting her cheek in her palm. Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “Scandalous.”

“I could make your life a living hell, young lady,” Gabriel began, but Lila held up a hand, halting him in his tracks.

“No need to get defensive, Monsieur. You have nothing to fear from me.” Lila stood then and crossed the room to stand on equal footing with Gabriel. While the top of her head was far beneath the man she addressed, her confidence made her a formidable contender. She leaned forward and peered up at him. “In fact, I want to help.”

Gabriel’s fingers twitched. He knew she liked getting akumatized, but this was unexpected. His initial reaction was to shut it down. This should have never happened. He had to ensure her silence but keep her far from involved.

His curiosity, however, got the better of him. He was a businessman at heart, after all.

“Help how?” he pressed.

Lila smiled crookedly.

Hook.

“You’ve akumatized me before and we’ve caused great chaos together.” Lila fiddled with one of her foxtails as she circled Gabriel. “Can you imagine if we actually strategized an akuma?”

“Are you implying my previous akuma were unplanned?”

Line.

“Not at all!” Lila mended, already sensing that Gabriel’s pride was a sore spot. “But you catch your victims when they’re unhinged, laden with their own emotions. How many times has an akuma put their own needs before yours?”

Lila turned her back on Gabriel then and moseyed toward the benches once more. She let her hand trail along the fabric of the cushions, waiting for him to take the bait . . .

“I’m listening.”

Sinker.

“What if your akuma’s goals were aligned with yours? Everything would be calculated. Predisposed. And--” Lila couldn’t prevent the smile from bleeding into her voice “--I’ve never had a sentimonster assist me before.” Lila stopped moving but remained facing the window. The sun was nearly set now.

Heels clacked against the tile. Approaching. Lila steeled herself.

“I don’t suppose you’ll join my assistant and I out in the gardens, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

Lila grinned from ear to ear. Oh, she could just imagine the taste of Ladybug’s fear when she loomed over her, fingers pinching her earrings and just ripping them from her lobes. Would the joy blooming in her heart be overwhelming, like a banana overpowering the flavors in a smoothie? Or would it slide down her throat like her mother’s hot chocolate? Rich, creamy, satisfying, and scalding all at the same time . . . but faintly nipping at her vocal cords from the traces of cinnamon?

Was it unbecoming to hope Ladybug’s ears would bleed?

“I would love to.”

Unbecoming or not, it was her greatest desire, from both the deepest and shallowest crevices of her soul.

-----

I just released Chapter 7 over on AO3, so if you're itching for more, go check it out here and leave me some love in the comments. Comments are jet fuel for my creativity 🥰 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(5/?) Previous | Next

[zmediaoutlet]

(read on AO3)

Sam’s cast comes off in Youngstown, Ohio. Dean offers to buzz it off with a chainsaw and Sam rolls his eyes. They go to an Urgent Care instead. Dean sends Sam inside with a fake insurance card that says Scott Smalls and idles in the lot for a while, watching the sliding glass doors. It’s cold and he doesn’t want to be here. There’s nowhere else to be. He wants to be sitting in there with Sam making fun of him for getting his arm fucked up by some co-eds ghost. He wants—

A motel. Two beds because—two beds. He orders pizza, extra mushrooms and sausage, and walks to the liquor store next door, and the clerk is one of those guys who looks at Dean’s mouth before he meets Dean’s eyes. Dean adds a bag of chips from the impulse rack to his pile and smiles with lots of teeth.

He has a drink. He refills his flask. He sits on the bed with his bags on it and looks at the other bed, and then he gets out his shotgun and cleans it, trying to focus: there’s the barrel in his hands and the smooth sweep of the brush, and the oil that needs applying here, and there. The heavy action of the trigger. He points the barrel at the purple carpet between his boots and pulls the trigger, feeling it, and makes the pew gun sound to the empty room. He lets the barrel sink down to the floor and lets his head sink, too, his shoulders tight and his spine feeling like it’s slotted wrong into his back, somehow, like from the base of his skull all the way down to his tailbone it’s an inch off. How long since he slept well? He can’t remember. That haunted hotel—

The pizza arrives. He tips the kid a ten and asks for extra parmesan. First slice hot enough that he burns the roof of his mouth like always. He eats it fast, anyway, and then sits back in the weird vinyl bucket chair at the table, tipping his head back. He’s tired. Tired, tired. The ceiling has a stain like a coffee spill, a pale brown lake spread on the popcorn, and he looks at it. Imagines a lake of coffee to swim in. Imagines adding creamer, sweet’n’low. How it’d swirl through the seaweed. Caffeinated fish. Fuck, he’s tired. He’s tonguing the blister forming behind his front teeth when his phone beeps. Out in two minutes. Dean presses his tonguetip up into the tender spot where it aches, sits there and looks at the phone screen for a while, and then goes to get his brother.

Sam takes a shower when they get back, ignoring the pizza. “Getting cold,” Dean says, but Sam’s throwing off his big brown coat onto the same bed that Dean’s bags are on and he says, “I know, but—ugh, I forgot how weird this feels, I need to—” and he’s pulling off his shirts over his head so Dean doesn’t quite hear what he needs but there’s Sam smooth tanned back and his hair all ruffled up around his head before he finally makes it into the bathroom, and the water crashes on, and Dean turns his face away from Sam stripping all the way down and thinks, screw it, and has his share of the pizza while he’s waiting.

Sam smiled when he saw the car, even if Dean left him standing out there by the entrance for ten minutes. He waved so Dean could see his freed hand, and he'd blown into the passenger seat in a billow of cold air and the smell of antiseptic, and he'd sighed like it was a relief. "Doctor didn't cut my arm off," he said, with a smile like he was sharing a joke, and Dean found his mouth tugging up, like it hadn't done in, what. Six hundred miles. Since Massachusetts. It still worked. Imagine that.

Sam’s always fast in the shower, because he doesn’t appreciate the finer things in life. The water shuts off when Dean's uncapping a beer to wash down his half-a-pizza and so Dean uncaps a second and sets it on the other side of the table. Rattle of the shower rings, and then through the open rectangle of the doorway Sam's arm appears, weird pale flash as he yanks the purple towel off the rack above the crapper. Dean swivels his chair around to face the doorway and drinks his beer, stretching out in hopes that somehow his spine will align right if he gets long enough, and so he's watching when Sam reappears—same old boxers tugged on, white undershirt, rubbing his hair dry uncareful and fast. Dean swallows a too-big gulp of beer and coughs. Sam, hunched over the toilet, white shirt and sweat in his hair. A secret clanging in Dean's throat. But—no—Sam walks out into the room bringing the smell of pine-fresh and damp and he says, "Man, I needed that," and he says, "I'm starving, did you get—" and Dean pushes the extra parm packets toward him, and Sam drops down easy into the other stupid bucket chair like he hasn't got a care in the world, like everything's hunky-dory because he asked Dean please to kill him, if it weren't any trouble, if things got too bad. Cast off and hair clean and food in front of him and his world seems to be spinning right. He slept, all the way through Pennsylvania. There aren't any dark circles under his eyes.

Plenty of cold pizza in their past. Sam eats and makes a surprised sound at the second, third bite. "Actually pretty good," he says, through a half-full mouth, and Dean nods. Feels too hard to form a sentence. He tongues the blister, watches Sam. "You check the news?" Sam says, and the remote's right there on Dean's side of the open pizza box so he finds a channel. The volume's so low he can't make out the words as the anchor-lady's mouth shapes them. The caption below says Robberies Continue. Sam squints at the television and shrugs a shoulder, and sips his beer, and they sit there quiet while Sam finishes his dinner and watches the news, and Dean sits and watches Sam.

He's been bulking up. Dean doesn't see his shoulders bared like this, not enough. Not nearly enough. His shoulders, and his arms swelling out of the short sleeves of that undershirt. Tan, still, somehow, even when it's been so cold and half the time they're both bundled up under coats—except for his healed-up arm, skinny and pale, the hair on it dark enough to look black. Sam's wrist is white, so that the veins stand out thick blue when he lifts the beer bottle, and Dean's thinking, blueblood. Blood. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone. Where did he read that? Somewhere. A romance novel, maybe, or maybe somewhere else, but now that he's thought it it's stuck in his head. Sam finishes his beer and Dean's just sitting there, tired, and his back still hurts, and Sam's shoulders are beautiful, and those bones, they're Dean's, aren't they? The bones that make his shoulders that broad and that make him that tall, the ones in his wrist that healed up finally, the long solid bones of his thighs and his shin and his sharp knees that get Dean, sometimes, in the night, if they fall asleep somehow together. How could he ever think that Dean would. How could he make Dean make that promise. When it'd be like breaking his own arm. His spine.

He's had—a gulp of whiskey, a beer. Two beers. Not enough booze to be thinking about this. Sam pushes his better hand through his hair, settling messy and half-dry around his head, and holds his beer with the pale hand, and flexes his fingers around the brown glass, closing them again. Dean pushes his tongue hard around the hard ridge of the roof of his mouth and says, "Hey, Sammy," and it comes out brittle, weird. Sam looks at him. Mild furrow, mouth soft. The TV-light on his cheek. Dean licks his lips and Sam's eyes drop, like they do, when Dean licks his lips, when Sam sees his mouth and isn't thinking about other things. Dean wants not to think. It'll do.

The move to his knees isn't graceful. He sort of slumps out of his chair. Sam's already spun away from the table to watch the newscast and Dean can get right up inside the spread of his legs, and he grips Sam's shins and drags his hands up and Sam says, "What," startled, but just at the speed Dean thinks rather than at the action. He slides his hands up over Sam's knees and gets his thighs, ropy muscle rather than thick, and he squeezes up there where Sam's boxers end and Sam says, quiet, "Dean?" but Dean doesn't—he just doesn't want to talk about it, at all.

"You're killing me, Smalls," he says, a joke that's barely a joke so Sam'll just let him do it. And Sam huffs, and touches the back of his hand with the fingers of the hand that was hurt, and Dean ignores that and slides up and up inside the leg of Sam's boxer shorts until he finds—the warm heavy weight of his nuts, and his dick, soft now but warm, warm. Sam pulls in air above him and Dean kneels up higher, ass up on his bootheels, sliding his other hand around to Sam's hip, to his ass. Leaning in, over Sam's lap, and Sam's up above him and touches the back of his neck instead, inside the leather collar of his coat, his finger sliding underneath the cord of Dean's amulet, his nail scratching a little while Dean squeezes, feels. Warm—the surge of blood—and Dean knows how to do this, always has, and he switches his grip to underhand and pulls, feeling Sam lengthen, thicken up, the head bumping the inside of his wrist. A squeeze at his shoulder and he shifts, grips the sloped arm of the chair with his free hand instead. Sam's legs spread wider and Dean pushes up the leg of the shorts to see—Sam's dick, full and flushed, the rosy-red head and the weight of it, the ropy vein along the underside that Dean runs his fingers along, feeling. The heavy shape of his sack still caught up in the thin cotton, warm and full, and Sam's fingers curl against the back of his neck, his hips tipping flat in the chair, his breath—against the back of Dean's ear—and Dean dips, licks his mouth wet and sucks the head in, and Sam says, "Fuck," soft but meaning it, meaning it. His hand slides from Dean's shoulder to his back, between his shoulderblades, and Dean tips his head and bolsters Sam's dick up and slides down, filling his mouth. Tasting. Clean, but still that bite of salt that makes it—Sam. That familiar taste, curling up under his tongue, making his mouth water. Making it right.

Sam's quiet, mostly. Lets Dean work. Dean sucks slow, doesn't use the tricks he knows. Slicks his tongue fat against the sweet soft ridge there at the head and feels Sam's thighs clench, and sits with his lips broken-open and lets Sam pulse thick and needing up against his soft palate. He slides his hands back down Sam's thighs and grips under Sam's knee, feels it tip in and dig into his side. He hums and Sam says, "Jesus," quietly, and then he laughs a little and says, "You're killing me, man," and Dean pulls off and looks at him, holding the fat pole of his dick warm in one hand, and Sam's looking at him—dark red pooled in the hollows of his cheeks and streaked down his throat, and his hair all fluffed and dry, and his eyes dark, bright. Lips red. Dean reaches up, drags his thumb over them, and Sam lets him—lets Dean's thumb drag his lower lip down, so Dean can see the white of his teeth—and Dean pumps Sam's dick wet in his fist and then ducks back down and sucks it in, meaning to finish the job this time, and it's not long really before Sam's clenching and gripping at him and lifting his hips helpless and pumping into him, his thighs shaking, his hands greedily tight at the back of Dean's neck and then soft, apologizing. When the bruise is already there. Dean swallows, keeps his mouth there. Sam's thighs jerk and close around his shoulders and Dean holds his balls through the thin barrier of the boxers and sucks, steady, making Sam shudder and say, "Too—too much, jesus—Dean—" but he doesn't shove Dean off and so Dean doesn't stop, taking everything he can until Sam's soft, heavy and sore inside his mouth, and only then does Dean pull back, and tuck his forehead down against Sam's leg, and breathe, slow.

His lips feel fat, tender. He's got his hands curled around Sam's hips but they're loose, and his legs have gone to sleep from kneeling so long but—he doesn't feel like moving, so they can just stay that way. He lets his head tip and Sam's fingers touch the little hollowish spot right at the very top of his spine. "Can I…?" says Sam, but Dean shakes his head as much as he can caught there in Sam's lap. He's hard, sort of, but it feels distant. Sam's thumb slides behind his ear. Dean sighs. He realizes, after a while, that his back doesn't hurt.

"You going to stay there all night?" Sam says, later.

Dean lifts his head. The room feels bright although he knows it isn't. Sam's dick has gone small, curled against his thigh, and Dean tugs his boxer-leg down so it's hidden again. A snort, above. Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and his lips smear, tacky. He needs water. Sam's taste—bitter, but not as bitter as he could be—caught up in his mouth. He sits back and Sam sits forward, almost too fast, and he catches Dean's head between his hands and kisses him, shocky-quick, so Dean's still blinking and surprised when Sam lifts up, and looks him in the eyes. Dean licks his lips and it still tastes like Sam.

Sam thumb drags along his cheek. "C'mon," he says, and stands up, and pulls Dean along. Oh—rush of blood, pins and needles. Dean staggers and Sam catches him, steadies him. Even the thin arm with its fresh-healed bones, strong and sturdy. How does he manage it, Dean wonders. He's dizzy from the change in elevation, from being so tired. From taking Sam and yet never, ever being able to—to make Sam see—

"When did you sleep last?" Sam says, and drops Dean on the empty bed. Sam's bed. There's a glass of water, then, and Sam says, "Dude, take your boots off at least," so Dean drinks the water and takes off his boots, and his leather coat too, and lays down off-kilter. The mattress is softer than he thought it'd be. Sam sits next to him, backlit by the lamp, and Dean looks at the ends of his hair caught almost bronze, and the way the hairs on his arm gild the line of it, and how his body—his bones—

"Sorry," Sam says, but he doesn't sound sorry. Dean turns his head the other way on the pillow and squeezes his eyes closed. "I'll get you back in the morning. Will you even remember?"

I'll remember, Dean says, or maybe he only thinks it. Sam's weight sinks the bed at Dean's side, and he's just about to fall asleep when there's a shift and it's gone. He dreams of lakes, dark, and a cast on his arm dragging him down into the deep water.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2652 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 3 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The past few days have been exactly what you wanted a month ago, peacefully silent, yet somehow it doesn’t feel right. You were able to finish your paper in record time, fully concentrating on your work but part of you missed the incessant music from next door.

There was an odd comfort knowing Bucky was home playing, and with the knowledge of his musical talent you now wanted to hear what he would come up with. Getting to know him briefly was… well, it was something. It could have gone a lot better if you didn’t stick your foot in your mouth.

Bringing up the music related noise was one thing but how you ever managed to bring up the noise of his “nighttime activities” made you wish you could have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. You had done your best to avoid Bucky ever since, rushing out of or into your apartment as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure how you could ever face him again but you couldn’t deny that a small part wanted to.

Facing your shared wall you imagined where Bucky might be, picturing him on his couch, lounging across the cushions of the soft leather as he leisurely plucks away at the guitar strings, sounding out a melody. Or was he more focused, sitting upright and gliding his dexterous fingers across his keyboard? Was he at his computer editing his melodies? Was he thinking of you?

The silence was deafening. With your palm pressed against the wall you began to lean in with your ear, hoping you could hear anything. With a slight gasp you jumped back, there was noise but not any coming from next door. Your phone buzzed against the coffee table, with Steve’s face illuminating the screen.

“Hey Steve!”

“Guess who I saw going into Sweetgreen?” The strain in his voice clued you in to the right guess, Lillian. “Yup, and she wasn’t alone … yeah she’s still with Jason, for now,” he muttered under his breath, expecting her to cheat again.

“I’m sorry Steve. You know you deserve better than her, right? I know you know this.”

Steve sighed heavily. Even though he knew what you were saying was right, seeing his ex still hurt a lot.

“Thanks Y/N, I do know that, doesn’t mean I’m going to torture myself though and go in there so is it cool if I pick us up something else? I’m in the mood for carbs.”

Chuckling at Steve’s admission you couldn’t help but agree, salads were great and all but all this Bucky stress you’ve put on yourself definitely makes you crave heavier foods.

“Tacos?”

“Mmmm, yes tacos! Extra guac please Rogers!”

You set your table in preparation for Steve to come over with food, remembering to throw your wallet on the table to give him money. The last time he came over you had forgotten, being so caught up in reliving the terrible memory of your interaction with Bucky. Steve might have been right, if he handled talking to Bucky maybe you wouldn’t be so worried about running into him.

“Sam tells me you guys spoke,” Steve said, digging a tortilla chip into the container of guacamole.

You chewed quickly to swallow the bite you had taken. “Why do you always ask me a question mid-chew?” you joked. “But yes, we did speak and…” your voice lifted with anticipation as Steve’s eyes widened, waiting for you to continue. “He gave me the number for Elena Rodriguez. She’s head of the social work department and…”

“Oh my god Y/N please just tell me!” Steve begged.

“I set up an interview with her next week!”

Steve’s eyes crinkled with his excited smile though it faded shortly after as you nervously mused about fitting the internship into your schedule.

“One step at a time,” Steve offered with a small laugh.

He’s right. One step at a time. You didn’t even go on the interview yet, you might not even be hired for it; the thought of which worries you even more, but you remind yourself to breathe and take things as they come.

The elevator ascends slowly, filled with your eager coworkers looking to join the rush home. As it lets off on the ground floor, everyone dashes to the heavy glass doors as you leisurely stroll to the security desk.

Mr. Lee had a big smile on his face as he seemed to be in the middle of telling Steve a story. Slowly you approached the desk, seeing Steve smiling down at something in his hands.

“That’s what I said but Howard was ahead of his time. A comic book movie…” Mr. Lee chuckled. “It didn’t work in ’47 but it sure would be a hit now.”

“Oh, what’s this?” you asked.

Steve held up a sealed copy of a comic book, Kid Colt, which you were unfamiliar with.

Leaning over the desk towards you Mr. Lee spoke, “Tony found that for me in his father’s things. That’s how Howard and I met. He wanted to make a movie outta this. Stark Pictures. He never did though, the whole thing became a big tax write off.”

“I didn’t know you knew Howard Stark.”

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Lee boasted humbly, “Since I was seventeen. He was a good man. You know he was so proud to finally be a father. He worked a lot, probably more than he should have but he had Maria and the nannies bring little Tony over to the office. Tony Stank I’d call him. Oh boy, you could smell those diapers from a mile away it was so bad.”

Hearing Mr. Lee talk about the head of your company so freely like this made you laugh. It also made Tony Stark seem a bit more human. As far as you knew he was a workaholic who may or may not be seeing Pepper Potts. You’ve caught the way she looks at him though, with an extra twinkle in her eye or how she hesitates for the smallest moment to gather herself before going into his office.

“Tony Stank, that’s amazing,” you laughed, wondering if Pepper has ever heard this story before. “Well, have a good night Mr. Lee!”

Steve came around to the front of the desk standing tall, filling out his blue uniform with his broad stature. It was unfair how he could pig out on food with you and not show any sign of it. Meanwhile, your stomach has been rumbling all day from last night’s dinner.

“I’m on the late shift today,” he frowned.

“Poor Stevie,” you joked, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye. “Not that my night will be any better, I’ve got a shit ton of laundry to do.”

“Enjoy the sweaty laundromat then.”

“Oh I will,” you said sarcastically.

The steady hum of the running washing machines drowned out the sound of the newscast coming from a small TV mounted on the wall. It’s muggier inside than out, and even with the door open you can’t escape the permeating smell of cheap soap and mildew.

The wash cycle is nearly over so you move from the metal chair you had been uncomfortably sitting on, listening to music to pass the time, and lazily stroll over to the machine that is spinning your clothes. Quarters jingle in your pocket as you walk, ready to be placed in the dryer as you wait some more. You hate laundry day.

It’s crowded too, with all the chairs taken and other people leaning against the wall. A few kids were running around screaming, not helping their tired mother who looked too exhausted to even reprimand them as she folded all their clothes.

No one looked happy to be there, not even the attendants who had to apologize to the screaming man who didn’t understand why he couldn’t use one of their reserved machines. It was a cut throat world on laundry night, with other patrons fighting to stake claim for the next free machine.

A loud buzz lets you know your clothes are done, you wheel a basket over and open the door. The shadow of the clearly impatient person waiting for your machine blocks the dull light from the fluorescents above so you hope to grab everything quickly without dropping anything on the dirty linoleum floor.

“It’s all yours– oh.” Your mouth hung open, not expecting to see Bucky standing beside you. “H-hey.”

“Hey Y/N. Didn’t want to startle you,” he sheepishly said. “Uhmmm, is this free?” Bucky gestured to the obviously open machine.

You nodded quickly. Not knowing what else to say you stared awkwardly at the basket of damp clothes and said, “I’m gonna dry these.” Smooth.

Turning around you let out a deep breath and worried over what would happen next. It would be extremely rude to ignore Bucky and continue to listen to music. He hasn’t done anything wrong to you, not this week at least, but you were too scared to risk saying something stupid, again.

It would take at least a half hour for your clothes to dry so you put on a brave face and decided to walk back towards Bucky. Dressed in casual black shorts and a white t-shirt, his smooth, toned arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support column, squinting to read the poorly transcribed closed captioning on the TV.

“Hey neighbor,” you said, offering a small friendly wave as he turned his head.

Bucky smiled, standing upright as he turned to face you completely to greet you back. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which made you feel even worse for how you left things.

“I’m sorry if I made things weird the other day. I didn’t mean to,” you blurted out before your brain gave any thought to see if this was a good idea.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, the gaze of his ocean blue eyes staring right through you. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a cavalier air.

“So how’s the music coming along?” You were truly curious, having not heard any sound.

“It’s not bothering you, right?” Bucky winked.

“No, not at all,” you smiled softly. “Are you still working on that one piece?”

Bucky asked which one and you hummed the tune. Closing your eyes you missed the way his own lit up in delight hearing you repeat his melody.

“I know I complained about the noise but honestly it was so beautiful,” your voice lightened and he felt the weight of emotion even through the simple way you described it. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t focus.”

Bucky adjusted his weight, needing to ground himself after your words made him feel as light as air. His music meant so much to him, working tirelessly to bring to life the sound he envisioned in his mind, to know that the unfinished piece had such an effect already made his heart swell with pride.

He developed his music like a chef crafting a recipe. Each instrument was a different ingredient, carefully selected notes were gathered on the counter, waiting to come together in a symphonic skillet. The flavors of music combine, heating up together the piano is covered in the spice of an electric guitar, with the drumming rhythm simmering beneath the surface as the sound of strings are poured generously over the top.

In the end the dish is a delicious feast for the ears but here you were, happily devouring the unfinished ingredient in its raw form.

“Yeah…” his voice came out breathless. Catching himself Bucky cleared his throat. “It’s actually for an upcoming video game. I can’t say which, but it’s part of an emotional scene when the main character finds his family is gone.”

“I can sense the depth of it.”

“That’s not even the best part,” he explained as his face grew with a wide smile. Bucky became lost in describing the emotion of the violins that would come in. “They’re the voice of the character and when he’s lost everything I have them coming in, crying out in pain. It’s sharp and strong, and beautifully tragic.”

Listening to Bucky describe his music resonated in your soul. You saw the complete love and passion he had for it and once again you felt terrible about asking him to stop.

“I’d love to hear it, if that’s okay.”

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Bucky smiled, nodding before he spoke his answer. He couldn’t wait for you to hear everything together.

You passed the time by getting to know each other a little more. Bucky has a younger sibling named Rebecca who moved west to work as an avian veterinarian in a bird sanctuary.

“My parents are lost without them around,” Bucky joked. “Do you know how hard it is to try to explain how to use Skype to them over the phone?”

“Oh believe me, I know. Somehow my mom always calls at the worst time to have me explain the most basic function on her phone that she already knows because we’ve gone over it a million times but…” You threw your hands up as Bucky joined in with your laughter.

When your clothes were dry Bucky gave you some space to fold them alone which you appreciated, not wanting to showcase your intimate items in front of him. He was still a stranger, sort of, but you were glad you were getting to know him.

Checking the time you realized it was on the late side and you still needed to shower before bed. Your clothes were packed neatly into a laundry bag, well most of them were at least. One sock managed to get eaten by the dryer to your dismay, and you hoped its pair was somewhere on your floor having fallen out as you prepped the laundry.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you gripped the bottle of detergent with your other hand and walked towards Bucky.

“Hey,” you called out to Bucky who lifted his head from his phone. “I’ve got a few things to do tonight still so can I take a rain check on hearing your music?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky did his best to mask his disappointment but he understood. He noticed the slump of your shoulders, balancing the laundry bag high on one side and letting your other limb hang low with the weight of the heavy bottle.

“Do you want me to carry that back?” he asked.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I can manage.”

The apartment was only two blocks away, two long blocks but still, you didn’t want to inconvenience Bucky even though judging by the curve of his biceps it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bucky walked with you to the front of the laundromat as you smiled and said goodnight.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, watching as you walked down the sidewalk until he could no longer see you in the crowd.

The words stayed on his lips like they were always meant to be there and Bucky has a brief flash of a life he’s never thought about.

A warm bed, made even warmer by the figure curled against him. His breath syncs with theirs and he’s at peace. His heart beats to the rhythm of love and his lips purse together to plant a soft lingering kiss on their forehead. A smile secures itself on his face because he’s truly happy; surrounded by the comforting feeling knowing that when he wakes up that person, his love, will be by his side.

The machine buzzes at the end of its cycle dragging Bucky back to a reality that has him gasping for breath. He steps outside for a minute for air, needing to clear his mind of the vision that seemed so real it scared him; for better or worse he can’t quite say.

PART 5

[flannel-cladpika]

Avengers x Teen reader

The reader is a brilliant engineer, that makes (grade A+) battle armor & weapons. The Vulture and the reader works together by selling these illegal armor & weapons. (The Vulture even gives the reader profit because the reader lives alone) The reader learns at school (The R is the quiet/loner kid) about Vulture getting arrested and they soon decide to leave New York and disappear. They grab all their money and leave to Tennessee to start a new life. The ending could be the reader starting a new life

Sorry for the delay! Here it is!

Avengers x GN! Teen Reader

You weren’t always like this. 

You had a family once. Loving parents, 2 siblings that were annoying but still kind and sweet. A nice house on the outskirts of New York City. You had the perfect life.

Until the world started ending due to an psychotic AI wanting control of the world.

You’d been out getting groceries while your parents were taking your siblings into the city to pick up some take out for dinner and maybe get something from the Cheesecake Factory.

You’d gotten home earlier than them, which was to be expected.

That’s when you saw the news.

There was an invasion of robots descending on the city. You heard screams in the background of the newscaster. You hurriedly picked up your phone and called your parents. It took three rings until one of them finally answered.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?” you heard from the other line.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but where are you guys?! Tell me you’re headed home, ple-”

“Sweetie, I’m sorry...I love you...We all love you...No, no, no! God, no! PLEASE!! N-” and with that, the line went dead.

Later, when bodies were being identified, you found out that your family wasn’t among the survivors. That was the day you lost everything.

Timeskip~ 2 years later

You’d thrown yourself into your passion of engineering and tinkering, and worked like your life depended on it. You’d managed to make a name for yourself on the dark web and black market for being a fantastic engineer of unusual illegal weapons, like gloves that could shoot focused high-intensity soundwaves, causing an opponent’s ears to be in extreme pain and bleed, even causing horrible hearing loss.

You’d managed to make enough money from work to put yourself through school and even get yourself an apartment, though it wasn’t exactly the nicest place. But hey, you just needed a place to crash, keep all your equipment, and hide your money. A shady, rundown place was perfect. 

Through your work, you’d met some people. One of those being Adrian Toomes, aka, “The Vulture”. The guy had found out about you through a client of yours, and had apparently liked your products. He’d called you up on one of your  phones (you had several cells, to as to not be tracked), and asked for your help on a project of his. You’d heard of him, and knew he was a reliable guy in the underworld, so you agreed to meet him and see what you could do. Afterall, this guy had connections, which were invaluable in this business.

Turned out, the two of you worked really well together. He didn’t look down on you because of your age or treat you like a little kid. At the same time, he gave you space to work and listened to you. After a few more collaborations, you asked to move your tools into his warehouse, as your apartment wasn’t such a good workspace. He smiled and agreed. 

Adrian, or as you liked to call him “Vultch” was good to you. He would happen to bring extra food in his meals and offer you some. He’d even gotten you a new power drill for Christmas. He knew you were an orphan, and knew you lived on your own, but never pushed for details, which you were grateful for. He was like a father-figure, or at least a caring uncle.

When you met his daughter at school, you actually didn’t know who she was at first. Their last name was the same, but you figured that was probably just a coincidence. As a quiet kid who liked books and formulas more than most people, you didn’t really pay the popular pretty girl much mind.

That was, until you both were grouped together for a partner project. She offered to drive you over to her house after school, which you quietly agreed to.

You two started talking on the way there, and you realized that Liz was actually incredibly intelligent and not at all like the stereotypical popular kid. By the time you reached the Toomes residence, you guys were making horrible math puns.

“Well, we’re here! My mom and dad should be home, but don’t let them scare you. They’re overly affectionate and embarrassing, like every other parent. Come on!”

Liz opened the front door, her mother coming down the stairs with laundry immediately greeting you both. 

“Lizzie! You’re home! And who is this sweetie?” The woman asked her daughter.

“Mom! This is (Y/n). They’re my partner for a class project.”

You slowly raised your hand for a shake. “Hello, Mrs. Toomes. It’s nice to meet you.”

She smiled and shook your hand. “Nice to meet you too, sweetie.”

Suddenly, a voice came from the kitchen. A very familiar voice...

“Honey? Is that Lizzie?” 

Your eyes widened when you saw Liz’s dad come out from the kitchen, bowl of chips in hand.

When the Vulture’s eyes landed on you, he looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment, before shaking it off.

You knew better than to say anything about what you did for a living, and knew that other people in the business had lives outside of arms deals and engineering illegal weapons. You just never thought that Adrian would be Liz’s dad.

You shook your head lightly and stuck out your hand. “Hello Mr. Toomes. I’m (Y/n). Liz and I were partnered for a school project, so I hope you don’t mind my staying here to work on it.”

Adrian lightly smiled and shook your hand firmly. “Good to meet you (Y/n). As long as you two don’t cause any explosions or fires, your welcome to come on in.”

That was the start of an odd but fun relationship with the Toomes family.

Timeskip~

God, you hated superheroes. One minute, you were working with Vultch’s team on a new upgrade to the suit, and the next, you’re hearing of his arrest and trial. You went to the trial to say goodbye to him, holding back the tears. He gave you a warning to run. You promised you would soon.

At school, you hugged Liz goodbye, heartbroken, as she was like a sister to you.

You saw your friend Peter talking to her as she left. You wondered what he said to make her look even sadder.

You packed up what few belongings you had. Adrian had asked you to blow up the warehouse, so that your fingerprints wouldn’t be found. You did as asked via remote from 1/2 mile away.

You took out all the money that you kept underneath a loose floorboard and stuffed it in a backpack, covering the cash with your clothes and personal items.

You bought a ticket for a train heading out of the city, and from there, a bus that was headed towards Florida. You planned to get off in Tennessee so that no one who follow you.

That night, as you waited for the train to come, you heard your name being called. You looked around, the station nearly devoid of other people except one guy with air-pods in and a lady on a phone call

“(Y/n)! (Y/N)! WAIT!” 

You then turned around, seeing Peter running towards you. What the Hell was he doing here?

“Peter, what ar-”

“I know.”

You froze. What?

“What do you mean? What are you talking about Pete?”

“I know you worked with Toomes on creating illegal weapons. I know that you knew who he was.”

You tried acting dumb. “What? Peter, you know me. I w-”

He stared at you with a serious expression that you’d never seen on him.

“You’re right. I do know you. I know you’re a genius with mechanical and electrical engineering. I know you live alone in an apartment that you pay for, which no highschooler could make enough to do, especially if they went to our school, which has a high tuition. You’ve also never talked about your job. I’m not an idiot (Y/n). You have 2 choices, either turn yourself in, or come with me and we can see about putting your skills towards helping others.”

You sighed as you walked towards your friend. “That’s the thing about you Peter. You’ve never been an idiot. I liked that about you. If only you had been just a little less observant.” You said as you heard the train coming

You hugged Peter, making sure you were out of sight from any cameras. He was about to return the gesture, when you stuck a needle into his arm. 

“Wai-”

You whispered, “I’m truly sorry Petey, but I don’t think either of those options is for me. This stuff will wear off in about an hour. I’ll call Ned to come pick you up. I really am sorry, Peter. Goodbye. Maybe someday, we’ll see each other again.”

With that, you slung Peter’s arm over your shoulder, making it look like you were helping a drunk friend. You placed him on a bench before calling Ned, saying Peter passed out from a fight and was at the train station.

You boarded the train with your backpack and sighed as the train slowly started  moving. You looked behind you at Peter’s slumping body on the bench and at the New York City skyline. 

Man were you going to miss this place.

Maybe one day, when it was safe again, you’d be able to come back...

THE END

A/N: Hey! If you made it this far, THANK YOU for reading! 

[just-jordie-things]

Long Days - Peter Parker

word count: 3810 warnings: swearing summary: some days are harder than others, and some missions go worse than they should.  but Peter Parker is always there to lift up your spirits

___

The mission had gone terribly.  In fact, it probably was the worst case scenario of how missions could have gone.

(y/n) curled herself up on the jet ride home.  The others who had gone with her on the mission had tried consoling her, but had no luck.  She wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened, and quite frankly, she didn’t want to talk at all.

They were supposed to infiltrate a Hydra base, where it was believed that they’d been holding Shield hostages.  Steve led Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and (y/n) on the mission.  It was supposed to be a larger group for precaution, when really Steve and Sam alone could have gone with no trouble.  However, the extra Avengers came in handy when the incident occurred.

Natasha had come over and draped a blanket around the girl’s shoulders, smiling softly before leaving her be.  (y/n) could barely even look at her.

She felt sick to her stomach, like she could actually be sick if she thought about it any longer.  Her head was light and dizzy while somehow still pounding, and her heart was as rapid as her breathing.  Poor girl wished she could just pass out so she didn’t have to think about it anymore.

With her ability to control metal, fighting off the likes of Hydra agents was easy.  They relied on their weapons, guns, rods, tasers, all made of metal, making it simple for (y/n) to flick her wrists and force the weapons out of their hands.  She always loved the look on her enemies’ faces when she did so.

However, today, when she took the gun and cocked it, she hadn’t realized that it wasn’t a typical gun, and upon shooting it, it sent out an explosive throughout the building.

Luckily Sam was able to get Steve and Bucky out, and Wanda used her powers to retrieve (y/n) and Natasha.  None of the team was injured, but half the Hydra base ended up being destroyed, and the location of the hostages was still unknown.

The flight back to the compound in New York was tense. ___

(y/n) bolted straight to the elevator as soon as they’d arrived home, not wanting to talk to or even look at anyone.  Not while she was still unsure if the hostages were safe.  Leaving the others behind the debrief Tony on how the mission went.

Peter Parker had been waiting with Tony for them to get back, eager to see (y/n) again and show her the addition he’d made on his suit.  Since she’d joined the Avengers, the two had gotten very close.  So close in fact, that there was an obvious blush on Peter’s face every time she was around.

So you can understand the surprise he felt when she marched right past him and Tony when she’d gotten back from her mission.  She didn’t even look at him.

“Uh, what the hell?” Tony spoke, calling after (y/n), but she just kept on walking, paying no mind to the billionaire.

“(y/n)?” Peter called after her, about to follow her to see what was going on, but Steve called him back, and with a sign, took a seat in the common room.

“There was…” He trailed off, unsure of where to begin.

“There was what?” Tony demanded.  “What happened? What’s wrong with (y/n/n)?”

“There was an accident,” Natasha said calmly.  Tony’s eyes widened, and wasn’t able to find his voice.  “She got their guns, but when she used them they… they were explosives, instead of bullets”

“Oh… god…” Tony sighed, sitting down a few feet away from Steve, hanging his head in his hands.  “Poor kid… what’s the damage?”

“We aren’t sure yet, Sam left on his own as soon as we got here to check it out”

“Is she okay?” Peter asked, glancing back to where (y/n) had stormed off.

“She wouldn’t talk on the trip back,” Steve told him.  “She’s beating herself up pretty bad right now”

“But it was an accident,” Peter frowned.  “Accidents happen all the time-”

“This is (y/n) we’re talking about,” Natasha said with a weak chuckle.  “She’s more ‘fight for the greater good’ than Rogers,” The two shared a look, but Steve nodded in agreement.  “She’s scared about letting them down, letting us down.  She hurt herself more than anything”

“Not to mention when we picked her up… the incident at the high school…” Tony muttered into his hands.

“That’s not fair!” Peter argued.  “She didn’t know she’d had powers when that happened, and that guy wasn’t seriously hurt!”

“Alright Pete-”

“And maybe he should’ve thought about that before he cheated on her!” Peter went on, until Tony put his hand up to silence him and get him to calm down.

“Why don’t you take a breath kid, none of us are arguing with you,” He sighed.  “Can somebody check in with Sam and see what his update is please?” He asked, and Steve volunteered, taking his phone out and stepping out of the room.

Peter sat down next to Tony, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly.  He was worried about (y/n), and he was pissed that she was so upset with herself.

“Why don’t you go check on her?” Tony suggested.

“I don’t know, she probably wants some time to herself right now.  I don’t think she’d want to see me” Peter mumbled.

“If anyone, you’re the only one that she’d want to see,” Natasha told him.  Peter ducked his head down as his cheeks went pink.  “Tony’s right, you should check on her” The ex-assassin nodded her head to assure him that it was alright if he left.

“Okay” He agreed, and scrambled to leave and head up to her room.

(y/n) lived on the top floor with the few dormitories of the people who stayed full time at the compound.  Which meant her neighbors were Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff.  There were extra rooms that the others would stay in occasionally.  

Tony had his own suite on the other side of the building that he shared with Pepper.

(y/n) was currently in her own dorm, still wrapped in the blanket Natasha had given her, and wearing the protective body suit that she wore on missions.  She’d curled up on her bed while she watched the news on a loop talk about the incident.  And when the report was over, she’d rewind it and watch it again.

The reporters hadn’t found that the cause of the explosion was the Avengers’ youngest recruit, (y/n), but she knew it was only a matter of time before it was uncovered.

She ignored the knocks on her door, knowing it was probably Steve, or Sam, who were sent to check on her and make her talk about what happened.

When they kept on knocking, she chucked a pillow at it and yelled for them to leave her alone.

And when the knocking went on after that, she finally got up and stomped over to the door to whip it open angrily.

“What part of leave me alone don’t you-! Oh, Peter,” Her expression dropped to a softer one upon seeing him there.  “I thought you were…”

“Yeah, I figured,” He smiled gently at her.  “Look… I just wanted to say that you don’t have to talk about it right now, but you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it”

She blinked, unsure of what to say, so she just nodded.

Peter realized then that the news was on, reporting on the mission today.

“Have you been watching that since you got back?” He asked, and she nodded again.

“Yeah… um… I kind of couldn’t help it, it’s been on a loop,” She explained, walking back into her room and falling back to sit on the bed, rewinding the show once more, and rewatching the footage.  “They don’t know it’s me yet.  At least, I don’t think they do, I haven’t watched the whole report yet”

Peter walked in and stood next to her, curiously listening as the newscaster explained the situation.  Half the building went down in a mysterious explosion after the Avengers infiltrate it knowing it’s a Hydra base.

“You haven’t watched it to the end?” He asked, and she shook her head, eyes still trained on the television.  “How come?”

“I just…” She trailed off, embarrassed to admit that she was reliving her mistake as a form of self punishment.  “I have” She shrugged lamely, knowing her answer was bullshit and Peter could see right through it.

“(y/n),” Peter sighed, and she guiltily stared down at her hands.  “That’s not going to get you anywhere, or give you any new information”

He walked over to her, taking the remote and fast forwarding through the events they’d already watched, up to live tv, to see what was being reported about it now.

“The Avengers may have disappeared, but the hostages haven’t.  Thankfully, their lives were spared, and they all made it out of the damage safely”

(y/n) let out a heavy sigh, tears coming to her eyes as she leaned forward and put her face in her hands.

“Thank god,” She mumbled, over and over again into her palms.  Peter smiled down at her, only to see that she’d begun to cry.  Immediately he was crouching in front of her and pulling her hands away from her face.  “I’m sorry,” She cried weakly.  “I’m so sorry, I-I feel- I feel awful”

“No, no hey…” Peter spoke softly, brows knit together in confusion and worry.  “(y/n/n) why are you crying? It’s alright, everyone’s alright, you don’t have to worry anymore”

“I just- it’s just- it almost doesn’t matter that they’re safe because I still slipped up,” She told him, angrily wiping at the tears on her face.  “That’s on me”

“(y/n), you know that’s not true,” Peter tried to reassure her, but she didn’t seem to really be listening to him.  “Hey, really, you didn’t know about the gun-”

“They told you?” (y/n) asked, earning an awkward side to side nod.

“Uh.. yeah, well yeah,” He answered nervously.  “But (y/n), you’re not listening to me, you’re okay, they’re okay,” Peter took her hands in his, so she’d actually pay attention to what he was saying.  “You didn’t hurt anybody”

“There’s always an incident, Peter,” She whimpered.  “Back when I was in school, when I first joined the team, now, there’s always going to be an incident.  I’m always going to cause an accident and I’m so tired”

Peter’s thumbs stroked over the back of her hands as he shook his head.

“No, (y/n), come on, you can’t think of it that way.  You’ve made such great progress, you’ve done so well-”

“I hurt people, everytime I get close to progress.  Close to normal-”

She began to cry again, and Peter moved forward, shaking his head rapidly and hoping that she would stop crying.

“No, no no no,” He told her, taking her face and wiping her tears.  “(y/n), you’ve never hurt anyone… who didn’t deserve it,” She gave him a pointed glare, and Peter just smiled back at her.  “And I don’t know if you’ve looked at the rest of us… but normal is not a defining word of the Avengers”

“Peter…” (y/n) sighed, her eyes falling shut.  She knew he was trying to help, and that he wasn’t great with words most- or all- of the time.

“Really.  Steve and Barnes are like, a thousand years old-”

“One hundred-” She tried to correct him but he just went on.

“Wanda is an actual witch, Banner gets giant and green and mean, that Lang guy? He can shrink down real small, and get really big too.  And I, for some reason, can stick to walls.  And I’m also really strong”

(y/n) chuckled through her tears, smiling at him, genuinely.

She thought for a moment that maybe that was his superpower, lifting her up when she felt like she was at her worst.

“So really, you being able to do the whole magnet thing that you do isn’t all that special” He said proudly, grinning at her and dropping his hands from her face.  (y/n) laughed a little more at his unorthodox way of lifting her spirits.

“Thanks, Peter,” She told him sarcastically, before leaning over and wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug.  “You’re an idiot, but you’re a sweet idiot”

Peter had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling too wide when he hugged her back.  They were close, but usually not this close.

“I should probably go explain to the others,” She said softly when she pulled away.  “They deserve my side of it” Peter nodded in agreement as they both stood up to leave her room.

“Yeah, that’s fair, but hey, do you want to hang out in the lab later?” He asked, and she nodded back at him.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll meet you down there tonight.  I actually have some great ideas for your suit.  Mostly that it should be all black” She suggested playfully.

“Yeah, uh huh, still not happening but great try” He responded, as they left her dorm.

“See you around nine in the lab?” She asked, and Peter nodded eagerly before they went their separate ways. ___

Her talk with the Avengers went well, it turns out that they hadn’t put much blame on her as she’d assumed they would, and now her and Wanda were relaxing in the common room and watching tv.

“So, Peter Parker made you feel better?” The Scarlet Witch asked after a little while of comfortable silence.

“Yeah,” (y/n) smiled over at her before looking back to the television show.  “It was really sweet, he helped a lot”

Wanda hummed, quirking a suggestive eyebrow that didn’t go unnoticed by (y/n).

“What?” She asked, but Wanda just shrugged and pretended not to understand.  “Come on, what? What was that look for?”

“Oh, nothing,” Wanda sighed, indicating that it was definitely something.  (y/n) rolled her eyes, and angled her body sideways on the couch to face Wanda completely.  She impatiently waited for her to explain herself.  “Just thinking, is all” Wanda shrugged again.

“Alright, thinking about what?”

“You and Peter” She answered, staring at the younger girl seriously.  (y/n) forced out a laugh, but her face fell when Wanda began to smirk.

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, how much longer are you two going to dance around this?” The witch asked, propping her elbow on the top cushion of the couch, and leaning her head in her hand, watching (y/n) skeptically.

“What do you mean?” (y/n) asked softly, nervously.

“You know what I mean,” Wanda chuckled.  “Come on, seriously (y/n/n)-”

“I don’t know what you mean” She mumbled, pulling her legs to her chest and setting her chin on her knees.  Wanda cocked her head to the side with a smile that only grew wider as (y/n’s) cheeks got pinker.

“I can read your mind, honey,” Wanda said, and the two laughed quietly.  “I know you care about him.  And I don’t need to read Peter’s mind to know he cares about you too.  A lot.  Like it’s alarming we aren’t all making fun of him all the time for being so obvious about his feelings about you-”

“Okay, I get it,” (y/n) cut her off, lifting her head from her knees and anxiously pulling her hair back.  “I just don’t- I don’t know the right thing to do here, I don’t know the right way to go from friends to more than that, and quite honestly I’m a little worried about the whole ‘dating someone on the team with powers’ thing, like how-”

“Okay, breathe,” Wanda said playfully, and moved closer to (y/n) on the couch.  Here’s how you go about it, you walk up to him, you tell him how you feel, you listen to how he feels, and then you go to dinner and a movie”

(y/n) gave Wanda a blank look.

“I’m serious,” Wanda said.  “It’s exactly what I said to Vision”

“That’s different.  He was like- literally in love with you”

Wanda stared at (y/n) pointedly, and promptly picked up her mug of tea, and took a sip.

Nothing else needed to be said. ___

When nine o’clock rolled around, (y/n) eagerly rushed down to the lab, not surprised to see Peter was already there, coming up with a new algorithm for this suit.  She guessed that he’d been down here since they’d parted earlier, and that he’d probably stay down here until early in the morning.

“Hey,” She called when she walked in, shutting the door behind her.  Peter grinned up at her, finishing up some of the coding, not wanting to lose the rhythm her had going with it.  “How long have you been down here?”

“Like, two hours,” Peter said with a nervous laugh.  “How’d your talk go with Mr Stark and-”

“Do you like me?” She asked him abruptly, and he finally pulled himself away from the tech, staring up at her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.  “You know, like, as more than a friend?”

“Um-” Peter’s mouth opened and closed, and (y/n) giggled at how he looked like a fish.  He was trying so hard to form words, or even a coherent thought, to process what she’d just asked him.

“Cause look I… I really like you, Peter,” She told him softly, easing his nerves right away.  “You- you make me feel like a better person than I am.  And you make me want to be that better person and…” She smiled to herself as she    “And I was thinking that maybe if you liked me too then we could-”

“Yes,” Peter said rather quickly, dropping his things on the table and walking over to her.  “I like you too, I like you a lot”

“You do?” She asked, and Peter nodded his head rapidly, making her laugh.  “Good, because it’d be really awkward if you didn’t,” He laughed with her, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.  “So… you want to go out sometime?” She asked, cheeks rosy as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Yeah, yeah I would,” He agreed, making her grin ear to ear.  “So are you gonna show me your new ideas for my suit, or just admit that you want me to wear all black?”

(y/n) laughed as she followed him over to the work table. ___

“They’re so cute” Wanda gushed as her, Steve, Sam, Nat, and Bruce were watching (y/n) and Peter working in the lab.  They couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, due to the thick (bulletproof, actually) window, but there was a lot of smiling and laughing.

“Do you think he asked her out?” Bruce asked, and the other four chuckled, shaking their heads.

“No, definitely not” Sam said as kindly as he could.

“It was definitely her,” Natasha stated.  “Oh look!”

They all watched as Peter was tinkering with his suit, and (y/n) leaned over from behind him, pointing to different pieces and instructing him on what to do, until eventually she just used her powers and did it for him.

“Awww” Everyone cooed, grinning like proud parents as they watched them interact.

“It’s nice to see them finally together-” Steve started, but was quickly shushed by Wanda and Nat.

“They’re gonna kiss!” Natasha announced, everyone’s focus on the pair in the lab.  He’d turned around to look at her, smiles on their faces as they seemed to be celebrating.

“I think they figured out his repairs,” Sam said.  “Look at that, they’ve got heart eyes”

“He’s leaning!” Wanda announced, clapping her hands together.

“I can’t believe he’s gonna be the one to make the first move” Bruce mused.

“Second move” Wanda corrected.

(y/n’s) hand set on his shoulder as she leaned in closer to Peter, and his own hands held her at her waist, bringing her in, and just as they were about to close the gap-

BAM.

Bruce tripped, having leaned over too far, and slammed into the window, making Peter and (y/n) leap apart and whip around to see the group of Avengers spying on them.  They shared a surprised and embarrassed look before looking back at the group of adults with their faces pressed to the window.

“Uh oh” Sam muttered, as the pair in the lab came rushing over to the doors.

“Thanks a lot Bruce” Natasha hissed.

“Are you guys serious?” (y/n) scolded as she whipped open the door and pointed an accusatory finger towards them.  “What are you, five? Spying on us?”

“Maybe-” Bruce started, and before (y/n) could yell some more, Peter pulled her back and gave them an awkward smile.

“Hey guys, little weird that you were watching us-”

“We just thought you were cute, we didn’t mean to invade your privacy” Steve apologized like the diplomat he was.

“Still creepy” (y/n) replied.

“We just wanted to know if you were gonna go for it and kiss her, man” Sam said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah… still creepy” (y/n) repeated, while Peter ducked his head to hide his blush.  (y/n) leaned a little into his side comfortingly.

“We’ll leave you be now” Natasha said, being sure to grab Bruce and pull him away before he could slip and say something creepy.

Steve and Sam followed them, leaving Wanda to grin at (y/n).

“Don’t- don’t even say anything,” (y/n) said, putting a hand up to her face.  “Just give us some privacy and I’ll talk to you tomorrow”

“Alright, fine,” Wanda agreed, reaching forward and squeezing her hand lovingly.  “Talk to you tomorrow.  Goodnight, honey”

“Goodnight” (y/n) replied with a nod as Wanda left.

“Well,” Peter breathed out.  “That was pretty weird”

“Not for them it wasn’t,” (y/n) chuckled, and looked up at him with a soft smile.  “It was kinda sweet… but mostly creepy”

“Yeah it was more creepy than anything” He answered.

(y/n) grinned at him, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek gently, before she leaned up on the tips of her toes to kiss him.

It was a short kiss, but it was sweet and lovely and she tasted like sugar and strawberries.

When they parted, she grinned at him, and he couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Wanna make pancakes and prank all Tony?” She asked, almost affectionately.

“Yes!” Peter agreed excitedly, taking her hand as they raced to the kitchen.  “Best first date ever!”

___

taglist:  @writings-and-stuff @rofromtheashes @tomshufflepuff @steve-avengers-rogers @vibhati123 @dark-night-sky-99  @hollandhours @drakonwild @imofficiallyobsessed

xoxo ~ jordie

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter thirteen

Closing in on the end now!! I’m excited but nervous for this to end bc I honestly don’t know what I’ll do with my time next. Most of my free time has been dedicated to this fic so I’m going to be looking for new ideas here soon. Hope y’all enjoy and buckle up cause this chapter is a long one!

Watching Ainsley back on the newscast is a welcome normal to Jessica’s monotonous day. With Malcolm and Gil throwing themselves into investigating officers, she was put essentially on complete lockdown in Gil’s apartment. With Dani and JT cycling as her watchers, they feel more comfortable leaving. It’s irritating but the way Malcolm relaxes, knowing she’s safe. She does it for him.

“The search for the Needle’s Eye continues,” Ainsley rattles off, eyes disconnected from the words. It’s a tactic Jessica admired and feared when she was able to talk about such horrific things when not letting them in at all. Once on camera her face would clear, a determined one carrying over. “The officers in charge of the case are investigating a possible lead into Beverly Construction, where a body has been discovered. Police believe the man, identified to be Jason Carter, is one of the killers.” Ainsley stops, suddenly getting a far off look. Jessica knows she’s listening to someone in her ear. From the emotions that flash over her face in that split second she already knows what comes next. First is the bitter anger, then curiosity that blossoms into interest, all before she schools her face again. “Hold on a second, we have Dr. Martin Whitly, otherwise known as the surgeon dialing in. Dr. Whitly has provided insight into multiple investigations so it will be interesting to see what he makes of this new killer on the scene.”

Jessica braces herself for the impact that his voice will bring. It doesn’t help. Not for what happens next.

“He’s coming.” The voice on the other end of the call sends ice down her spine. It’s gruff, far from the animated speech of Martin. Ainsley’s face pales on the screen. She knows just as well as Jessica who is on the other side of this call.

“Who is this?” She tries to ask in her best investigative tone but the tremor shakes. It’s the first time she’s even seen her phased. Jessica must have made some kind of noise, deep from the back of her throat because the door opens behind her.

“Mrs. Whitly?” Dani stops in the doorway, eyes falling on the television.

“You brood of vipers, how can you, being evil, speak what is good?”

“Is that?” A few more steps and Dani is beside the couch, her phone in her hand frantically texting.

“Who is this?” Ainsley asks again, firmer.

“Do you know where your son is?” Just like that the floor goes out from under her feet. The call ends abruptly with Ainsley staring at the camera in horror and fury. The blonde curls bounce when she snaps her head around to someone off screen and the channel cuts to commercials.

“Mrs. Whitly.” Dani whispers, like she’s ready approaching an active bomb. Jessica’s heart thuds too quickly in her chest and they both jump when her phone begins ringing.

Claremont Psychiatric, the screen reads. Before Dani can make a move for it Jessica answers. She swallows, ready to do anything the person on the other line tells her. Anything to protect her son. He doesn’t deserve to face what she had. He’d been through more than enough.

“Jessie.” Martin’s voice calls out from the line, tense and thin. He begins rattling but she can’t hear him over the static filling her mind. All the words he spits out at rapid speed don’t even reach her as she stares blankly at the TV. Only one thought comes to her, so lost among the white noise.

He sounds terrified.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dani clutches the wheel tight in her grip, eyes casting to Mrs. Whitly. The silence in the car is a far too familiar one. Picking up the Whitlys when something terrible happens to Malcolm seems like it’s a part of her job description. Normally it’s Ainsley who fills the quiet with the unending questions one would expect from a journalist.

This is heavy, oppressive. She can see Mrs. Whitly pulling the bag closer to her with every turn of the car.

She doesn’t blame the anxiety. They’re on their way to Claremont. The Surgeon made her own skin crawl the first time she met him. But Claremont employees were the last ones to see Malcolm, according to the calls. She needs to talk to Dr. Whitly, he could have seen something. If Malcolm was nervous before, had he known he was being followed, anything. She almost feels sorry for her watching dread turn her face pale.

But something doesn’t feel right.

Her suspicions are confirmed the second her ringtone blares again. To Mrs. Whitly’s credit, she doesn’t immediately reach for her phone to answer it again. Rather, she looks to Dani after she reads the number holding it to her.

It’s marked as unknown, but in their area. It could just be a spam caller, but something tells Dani the Whitly’s don’t really have that problem. When you have enough money you can make the small nuisances of life disappear.

“Put it on speaker.” She tells Jessica, only diverting her eyes from the road for a second to make sure she understands. “We’re tracking the calls on both your phone and Ainsley’s. Keep him talking. If we can get a location pinned on him, we’ll be able to find Malcolm.” She nods, swallowing. 

The line crackles to life with a monotonous threat. “8640 Westshire Avenue. Come alone.” The call ends and Dani can see Mrs. Whitly’s hands shaking. Her mind flashes to Malcolm and she switches lanes. Abandoning the path to Claremont she speeds up towards the address. Westshire Avenue is a line of mostly abandoned warehouses, they’ve gotten calls there more than a few times. It doesn’t make her feel good about Malcolm’s chances. It’s remote. Quiet.

And the way Mrs. Whitly holds herself sitting a little too straight, she knows exactly where they’re going too. Her eyes fall to her lap, her hands white knuckled on the bag again. She recognizes the grip, having seen it too many times in suspects weighing their chances.

“What’s in the purse?” Dani asks slowly. She dreads the question but the way that she guards it, being extra careful that it doesn’t tip or shuffle. She knows. Out the corner of her eye she watches her flinch. She feigns innocence, not well. “How’d you get it?” She thinks for a moment, and the realization settles. “Malcolm.” It makes sense. They know she has a registered firearm. Malcolm would have grabbed it the night he and Edrisa went to pack her things. Extra protection. He wouldn’t take the chance if something went wrong with her or JT. That’s why he was more willing to leave back to the precinct without taking her with them. Knowing that she can protect herself would put him at ease.

He should have told them.

She pulls the car over turning to her. “What are you doing?”

“Give me the gun.” Dani holds a hand out but Jessica’s cover her purse. She tilts her head with a sigh. “Please. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Doesn’t it.” She straightens, a furious look shining in the dim light. “He took my son. Malcolm had nothing to do with this.”

“Neither did you.”

“But it had all to do with Martin.” She shakes her head not meeting her gaze. Dani knows she’s blinking away the tears. “I should have gotten it over with when I had the chance.” Dani’s head tilts, eyes widening for a split second. It was a small confession but one that set off so many alarms in her head. She almost asks what she means by that when she remembers.

The surgeon had been stabbed, supposedly by the woman across from her to protect an innocent’s life.

Looking at her now, Dani knows that isn’t what happened.

“I could turn this car around. Take you back to the station.” She threatens.

“You won’t.” The woman’s voice wavers with uncertainty. “Malcolm, he’s your friend. You won’t take that risk.” Dani runs her tongue along the back of her teeth, setting her jaw with determination. They are running out of time. “If Gil hadn’t seen the news, if he didn’t know. You’re telling me you wouldn’t run in as soon as you got there to save my son?”

She can’t answer that. Not truthfully, at least. She has, a dozen times, run after Malcolm. Running the numbers in her head. Calculating every single risk to grab his ass after he’s rushed in. She’s seen his anger, his panic, the desperation unfurling at every scene.

A needle full of poison, his hands pressed on a landmine, an axe raised high above his head with a wild look. Ready to do whatever it took.

Staring at the woman across from her it pains Dani to know she ever thought he got that from his dad. Not when Jessica’s eyes shine with the same bitterness towards the world who has kicked them a few times too many. Her voice draws, a deep rumble in her chest. “I’ve been married to a serial killer, dated another who stabbed maybe the only person who gave a damn about my children, I’ve pushed my daughter into a window to stop her from being hit by an axe. I’ve done everything in my power to protect them.”

“Will this protect him?” She sucks in a breath. “His dad is already a killer, Ainsley’s self defense plea almost ripped him apart and this? He will blame himself.”

“He can’t.”

“But he will. He will think about every single thing he could’ve done differently. To stop you from losing a part of yourself. Gil too.” 

“He has Ainsley, Gil, Edrisa, his team. He will be fine.”

“But he needs you.” Dani’s throat constricts emotion threatening to betray her. “He needs his mom.” That must get to her because her face begins to twitch. Her anger falls away to what truly lies beneath the surface, fear and grief. She lets go of the bag and Dani reaches inside securing the firearm.

The silence lapses again as they start back down the road. It’s different, less foreboding and more solemn. It takes a few minutes before Jessica speaks. “How do you get past this?” She casts a quick look over but she’s staring out the window, eyes not seeing the scenery flying past them. “You’ve seen dozens of horrors. The gruesome things we do to each other. How do you do it?”

Her hands grip the wheel tighter. “You don’t. Every case takes something. Some take more than others but they all do. I’ve tried shutting it down, leaving everything at work. But it doesn’t help.”

“No kidding.” She laughs bitterly.

“You have people. They push you past it.” Jessica looks to her, eyebrows furrowed. “Going at it alone, it’s too much. When you have people that care for you,” She sighs. “Well, it’s easier to do it when you’re doing it for someone else.”

“I did.” Her voice is thick, Dani looks away pretending not to see the tear that slides down her cheek. “I got out for them.”

A few more beats pass. She taps an even rhythm as she realizes they’re creeping closer to their destination. She should text Gil. “Find something that grounds you.”

“What does that even mean?” She swipes at her face looking away again. She needs to calm her down before she makes the connection herself.

“You pick something that keeps you here. And when everything feels like too much you think of that.”

“Like what?”

“A person, a memory-”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, I guess that could work.” Her eyes focus on the street signs, watching carefully for her next turn. “You find what you’re looking for, it stops. It keeps you from falling into your emotions. It’s a lot harder to be angry when you’re thinking about it.”

“And this is a memory for you? Isn’t it a little counterintuitive to move forwards when looking back?”

“Aren’t we all looking back?”

“No.” Dani’s eyes jump to her, clearly having struck a nerve. She curses herself in realization. Her happiness was also her greatest downfall. The person she loved was her ruin. No wonder she doesn’t want to look back on that. “You said a dream, you mind if I ask?”

“The first night when I was taken. I dreamt of Christmas, this year. Having my family all together. No cases, no Martin lingering in our minds. Gil put on music and we danced.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Truth be told, I don’t remember the last time I danced. It felt…”

“Like healing.”

Her eyes shine with tears, her voice barely a whisper. “I suppose so.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The turn into the warehouse brings the foreboding feeling back tenfold. Jessica’s anxiety settles in her stomach because they have no idea what they will find inside. Honestly, they don’t even truly know if he’s the only one left. There could be another partner. Malcolm could be hurt, he might need an ambulance.

Dani’s face firms when she looks at her phone. She knows what that look means in a second.

She can’t call for backup. They’re alone on this.

She parks the car gathering all she needs. “Stay here.” It’s more of a command than anything as she steps out. “I’m going to look for a payphone. He had to have used one to call you.” She disappears in the other direction, only her shadow from the overhead lights showing where she went from Jessica’s limited view.

Her eyes fall back on the door. The metal looms before her and she knows in her gut that this isn’t a trick. Her son is inside, alone and scared. God, he could be hurt and bleeding for all she knows. She wishes for only a moment that she didn’t give the gun over, that she could just end this without feeling the slightest bit of remorse.

She could still end this.

Her head whips back to where Dani went. It wouldn’t take long for her to find something to call Gil. She had to move quickly and quietly. She climbs from the car, the detective’s voice still ringing in her mind. He needs you. She’s absolutely certain this isn’t what she meant but she’s right regardless.

The metal door slides noisily and she knows she’s lost. The second she steps in she could be killed. But she pictures her little boy, slumped from being stabbed with his hand held close to his chest having smashed it to save her and his sister. The smell of blood and dirt from the memory washes over her harshly.

She pushes herself inside.

[feedmecookiesnow]

Can I Stay With You?

For @hopelessly-me who asked for a Winterhawk “Can I stay with you” from the prompt list:

Not NSFW, but we’ll say 18+ just to be safe.

***

At three am, there’s an unholy sound of someone pounding on his front door. Bucky stumbles out of bed, remembering at the last second to put pants on, and wrenches it open with a very irritated, “What?”

Clint is standing there, looking just as exhausted and annoyed as he is. “Hi,” he says. “Can I stay with you?”

Bucky rubs his eyes and tries to force his brain online. “What?”

“Can I stay with you?”

He stares at Clint for a moment, then opens the door a little more and gestures to the couch behind him. Then he turns and goes back to his own room. Behind him, he hears Clint close the door with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Bucky makes a sound that could maybe be described as “whatever” and is asleep again before his head hits the pillow.

It’s seven am the next time his eyes open,  He sits up fast, still covered in cold sweat from his last nightmare. Nothing unusual there.

What is unusual is the smell of pancakes drifting through the apartment. Burnt slightly, but still kind of appealing. Bucky rubs the grit from his eyes and gets up, tired and sore from sleeping wrong, and goes to investigate.

Clint is standing in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers with little purple things on them. Eggplants, maybe? His back is to Bucky, and he’s humming something quietly.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Clint jumps a little, dropping one of the pancakes onto the floor. “Hi. Good morning. You let me in last night, remember?”

“Yes.” Bucky rubs his forehead. “No. Kind of.”

“There was a gas leak in my building,” Clint says. “The fire department dragged me out of bed and made me leave.”

Bucky sits at his little kitchen table and looks at the two plates set out. “Why?”

“Why did they make me leave?” Clint raises an eyebrow. “It’s a gas leak, Barnes. The building could have exploded.”

“Why are you here?” It’s not that he doesn’t like Clint, but it’s weird that he’s here. At the very least, he would’ve thought Clint would try Natasha or someone first.

“Oh.” He grabs one of the plates and starts putting pancakes on it. “Because you live closest to me, it was three in the morning, and I was standing outside in my underwear?”

Well. That’s probably fair.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Clint says. “I wouldn’t have if I could’ve avoided it.”

Bucky waves a hand. “Whatever.” He takes the plate from Clint and looks at it. “Pancakes?”

“Consider it an apology breakfast.” Clint pours him a mug of coffee. “We can eat, wake up a little bit, and then I’ll go back to my place and see if I can get in. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The pancakes are good, if not slightly burnt, and the coffee is perfect. It’s nice, actually, to sit and eat breakfast. He usually skips it---either too keyed up from his nightmares, or too busy to have real food. “These are good.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky drains the coffee and gets up for another mug. “So...gas leak?”

Clint shrugs. “Apparently. I don’t know much. All I know is that I was sleeping, and next thing I know, there was some super hot fireman standing over my bed, shaking me awake and telling me to come with him. I thought it was a dream until I got outside and saw everyone else.”

Bucky laughs. “What about your roommate?”

“Kate’s with her dad in California. She’s got Lucky too, so it was just me in there.” He looks at his legs with dismay. “They didn’t even let me get real pants. I had to walk twelve blocks like this.”

“You can borrow some of my stuff,” Bucky says before even realizing he’s made the offer. “I won’t make you walk back wearing just eggplants.”

Clint smiles slightly and nods. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

They finish breakfast. Clint insists on doing the dishes too, so Bucky goes back to his room and tries to find some clothes that’ll fit him. He finally settles on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. “Here,” he says, handing them to Clint. “I think these’ll fit you? Might be a little short.”

“Curse of being tall,” Clint says with a grin. “Thanks, Barnes. Seriously.” He pulls the jeans on right there, almost tipping himself over while he hops around on one foot.

Bucky rolls his eyes and steadies him. “Are you capable of doing anything without injuring yourself?”

“Yes,” Clint says, sounding mildly offended. He buttons the jeans, then reaches up and pulls off his shirt, revealing a very muscular torso half-plastered with bandages and medical tape. He looks at himself for a moment, then adds, “This means nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky says, oddly disappointed when Clint puts the new shirt on. He takes the other one and tosses it in his laundry basket. “I’ll wash that and give it back.”

“You’re awesome,” Clint says. “Insults to my capabilities aside.”

Bucky grins. “Come on. Let’s go see if you can get into your place.”

They can’t. They can’t even get close to it. A main gas line has blown, apparently, and they’re not letting anyone in. The whole block is cordoned off. After an hour of fruitless negotiating, pleading, and begging, the best answer they get is “It’ll be about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Clint throws his arms out. “But I don’t have any stuff! What am I supposed to do for two weeks, be homeless?”

“Sorry, sir,” the fire chief says. “Can’t help you.”

He walks away. Clint stares after him. “Great,” he finally says, and tilts his head up to the sky. “What did I do to deserve this, huh?”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, not sure what to follow it with.

Clint waves a hand and rubs his forehead. “It’s fine. I’ll figure out something.”

“You can stay with me again,” Bucky offers. “It’s only two weeks. We can buy you some clothes, and I’ve got an extra toothbrush.”

“No, I don’t want to be in the way---”

“It’s not,” Bucky says quickly, for some reason desperate for him to say yes. “It’s fine. It would be nice to have a roommate. For a bit.”

Clint studies him. “You sure?”

“Definitely.” Bucky nudges him with an elbow. “I expect breakfast every morning, though.”

Clint laughs. “Okay. I can do that.”

So that’s how Bucky ends up with a temporary roommate. It’s weird at first, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself. He hasn’t lived with anyone since joining the Avengers, not even a guest, and it takes him awhile to get used to sharing a space---particularly the bathroom. But other than a couple of arguments, they manage to make it work, settling into a comfortable rhythm.

Three weeks into this new arrangement, Bucky comes back from the grocery store to find Clint packing his clothes into a duffle bag. He’s wearing Bucky’s jeans again, and Bucky can’t help but notice how tight they are, riding low across his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I’m good to move back,” Clint says, grinning at him. “Building is safe for habitation again.” He hefts the bag. “I’m just using this for transport. I’ll bring it back.”

“You can keep it, I don’t care.” He tears his eyes off the jeans and looks up. “Well. Congrats on getting your apartment back.”

“Thank you,” Clint says, apparently oblivious to the disappointment in Bucky’s voice. Bucky swallows it down and helps him pack the rest of his things. When they’re done, Clint shoulders the bag and looks at him. “Well. This has been fun.”

“It has,” Bucky agrees. “Do you need help moving in?”

“Nah, I’ve interfered in your life enough.” Clint taps his fingers on his thigh for a moment, then says, “Seriously, though. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says, trying to imbue the words with all the subtext he can. “I liked having you here.”

Clint looks like he wants to say something, but after a moment, he shakes his head. “I’ll see you at work?”

“Sure.”

He leaves, then. Bucky doesn’t close the door until he disappears around the corner. Then he turns to look at his apartment. It seems smaller, somehow, which definitely doesn’t make sense. It should feel bigger now that there’s not two grown men taking up space.

Maybe smaller is the wrong word. It’s not smaller. It’s empty. There’s a distinct sense of something missing. Like losing a tooth, Bucky thinks, and all he can do is probe at the blank space where there used to be something better.

“Get over it,” he says to himself, and starts picking up blankets from the couch. “It didn’t mean anything. You were just being a good friend. That’s all you want from him. You’re just friends.”

He keeps telling himself this. He repeats it all day.

He doesn’t believe a word of it.

A week later, he’s watching TV. He misses Clint’s running commentary, which usually ended with both of them laughing their assess off. It’s just not the same on his own.

His phone rings, and he answers without looking. “Barnes.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Bucky sits up straight and mutes the TV. “Clint? What’s up?”

“Kate’s back,” he says, “and she’s having a sleepover.” There’s a distinct shrieking of laughter in the background, and Bucky can almost hear Clint’s wince. “They’re loud and they’re very girly. Which is fine, but also they’re so loud. Did I mention they’re loud? We’re talking undiscovered decibels here.”

“I think you mentioned it, yeah.”

“Anyway. Can I stay with you?”

Bucky blinks. “What?”

“Just for tonight,” Clint rushes to add. “Not three weeks again. I just need a break. They’re loud. Have I said that yet?”

Can’t you just take your hearing aids out? is the first thing that comes to Bucky’s mind, and he almost says it.

Then he looks around at his empty apartment, and the newscaster on television, and instead says, “Bring something to drink.”

“Awesome,” Clint says. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up. Bucky stares at his phone for a moment, then looks around his apartment. It’s---well, it’s not a mess, but it’s not pretty. Not fit for company. He quickly gets up and does some frantic cleaning. He’s not sure why---Clint’s worse than he is, he makes Bucky look military neat---but he does it anyway.

He’s working on the dishes when the door opens. “Hey,” Clint calls. “Door’s unlocked, I’m coming in.”

“Hey,” Bucky calls back. He puts the last plate on the rack and dries his hands. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Clint says, flashing a smile, and Bucky’s chest gets a little tighter at the sight. “I brought beer.” He raises a six-pack.

“Works for me.” Bucky sticks it in the fridge. “So how’s Kate?”

Clint winces. “I love her, but man, when she gets together with her girlfriends...” He shudders and drops his bag by the couch. “I don’t think they communicate with words. I think it’s just high pitched squealing noises. Seriously.” He shakes his head.

Bucky pulls two beers out and drops on the couch next to him. “Well, you’re welcome over here anytime.”

“It’s very appreciated.”

They drink beer and watch TV. It’s like how it was before, stepping back into their routine with barely a beat missed, and Bucky can’t stop himself from smiling.

Clint notices. “What’re you so happy about?”

“I like having you here,” Bucky says honestly. “It’s nice.”

Clint blinks, and then a smile spreads across his face. “Yeah?”

“I liked living with you too.” He’s already started, he might as well keep going. “I didn’t realize until you left, but it was really nice to have someone around.”

“It’s nice,” Clint agrees. “Roommates can be awesome.”

They’re quiet for a while after that. Bucky tries to think of something to say, but he can’t focus. Clint is wearing his jeans again, and they’re still too tight, and they’re still obscenely low across his hips, and the casual way he’s sitting---

“Eyes up, soldier,” Clint says, watching him, and Bucky blushes hard. Clint grins at him and sips his beer.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, face still burning. “I’m---that was rude, I shouldn’t do that.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Clint winks. “I don’t mind. I know these look good on me.”

“They’d look better on my bedroom floor,” Bucky says without thinking, and then nearly drops his beer from shock as the statement hits him a second later. “I mean---that’s not---”

Clint is suddenly very still, eyes fixed on the beer in his hand. After a moment, Bucky stops stammering out excuses, and resigns himself to dying of embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mutters again, and wishes he could just disappear into the couch.

“You mean that?” Clint asks after a moment, He turns and sets his beer down, then looks at Bucky. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugs, trying for casual and definitely not making it. “Just a thought.”

“Just a thought,” Clint echoes. “Okay. And if I wanted it to be more than a thought?”

Bucky stares at him, barely daring to hope. “Wait. You do?”

“Uh, yeah.” He sounds a little breathless, a little excited. “Have you seen yourself? Of course I want that, you’re---”

He cuts off with a surprised noise, as Bucky leans forward and kisses him. Then he loses his balance and falls backwards, whacking his head on the arm of the couch with a soft, “Ow.”

Bucky chuckles. “Can’t do anything without hurting yourself, can you?”

“Your fault,” Clint pants, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down. “You knocked me over.”

“My bad.”

They kiss again, intense and hungry and heated. Part of Bucky feels like he should take it slow, make it a little softer. But then Clint’s leg hitches over him, pulling him closer, and all coherent thought flies out the window.

They break apart with a gasp, both panting. “Think we knocked your beer over,” Clint says.

“It’s empty,” Bucky says, kissing him again.

“Good.” Clint’s hand slips under his shirt. “Off.”

Bucky tugs his shirt off and tosses it somewhere. Clint puts a hand on his chest, skimming over his torso with an appreciative touch. “Your abs are unfair,” he says, poking them. “Seriously. Like, Greek god levels of unfair.”

“You’ve got abs.”

“Not like this.”

“Do more sit-ups, then.”

“I do sit-ups!”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“You---” Clint scowls up at him, and it’s honestly kind of adorable. “I don’t need your judgement. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, leaning back down. It’s a little slower this time, a little less frantic. Bucky hasn’t done this in a long time, but he’s missed it. He’d forgotten how nice it can be to get wrapped up in this, how easy it is to get lost in the taste of someone else---

They tip sideways and fall, Bucky twisting at the last second so he takes the impact instead of Clint. “Shit,” Clint says, flushing red. “Sorry, that was my fault.”

Bucky laughs. “It’s fine,” he says. “But why don’t we take this to my room before you really hurt yourself?”

“Works for me,” Clint says, standing up. He offers Bucky a hand, and pulls him to his feet. “I have been known to fall off beds, though. Fair warning.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky says. “I’m sure I can figure out a way to keep you in one place.” He winks. “For safety reasons, you know.”

“Looking forward to seeing your methods,” Clint says with a grin, and lets Bucky tug him down the hallway to the bedroom.

***

Charity Hawktion Self-Promo! If you like the things I write and would like me to write something specifically for you, you can bid on me here!  Winner will get a 5-10k word story of their choosing (possibly longer because I am a verbose motherfucker). If you can participate, I encourage you to do so, and if not, that’s okay too! Thank you for reading!

[olivediamonds]

Face-To-Face: chapter 3

By the time Keira woke up the sun had begun to set. She noticed as she climbed out of bed the sheets were fairy themed, her favorite type. Raihan's extra detail to make her comfortable made her smile and she made a note to herself to thank him for the sheets. She stepped out of the room after making sure her pokeball belt was strapped to her waist. As she stepped outside she noticed the hallway was dark and most of the light came from the end of the hall which she guessed was the living room. As she walked down the hall she saw Raihan with his back to her.

"Hey! You should have woken me up so I could've helped with my luggage!"

"Serena"

Keira froze and her smile slowly fell as she heard the name she hasn't been called in years.

"What did you say?"

Raihan turned around, an angry look on his face as he approached her.

"First you don't tell me you're a champion, then I find out Keira isn't even your name. Has there been anything that you've been honest about?"

"I was honest about everything we talked about! Just like you said, I didn't want anything to change between us."

He held out his phone and gestured to the article on the screen.

"But why didn't you tell me about this? You save the world and didn't even tell me?"

"Maybe I don't want to be remembered! Did that ever occur to you?!"

She pushed his phone out of her face and walked over to the window.

"Do you understand what it means to be known as a hero? Everyone thinks you can solve their problems and help them without any worry or care at all."

"But... you're a hero…"

"I was a child Rai!"

She whipped around, tears streaming down her cheeks as she remembered the fear she felt as she faced Lysandre.

"Do you know what it feels like to have the fate of the world on your shoulders? The knowledge that if you don't win then everyone you've ever loved will die? I was terrified! I just wanted to run home to my mom and hide under a blanket. This wasn't what I wanted, it's what was thrust upon me."

Keira could feel her throat tighten as she remembered the cries of her pokemon as she fought hard to stop Lysandre, the fear she felt as she was on her last pokemon and the terror when she watched as Lysandre was crushed right in front of her. Raihan's hand on her shoulder ripped her out of her memories and she shoved him away.

"Don't touch me! I thought you were different Rai, I thought you'd understand me...I guess I was wrong."

Before Raihan could say anything Keira pushed past him and headed to the door just as Leon walked in with food.

"I'm back! I brought...dinner…"

He stepped to the side as Keira stormed out, visibly distraught and Leon looked at Raihan as the door was slammed shut.

"What the hell happened while I was gone?"

Raihan flopped down on his couch and groaned. He felt sick as he remembered the pained look in Keira's eyes. He didn't mean to accuse her of anything but after being famous for so long he had trust issues due to being tricked by fake people trying to use him to get ahead.

"I accused her of lying to me because of her being Serena. I don't understand why she'd hide being Kalos' hero."

Leon sighed as he set the food on the table and sat down next to Raihan.

"I think I can understand."

Raihan looked over at Leon confused as Leon stared at the floor in front of him.

"It's not like in the movies, it's terrifying knowing you're the only one who can stop something. When Rose released eternatus I was terrified as I fought him. When I failed to capture him…"

His hands trembled as they curled into fists.

"I was afraid I was going to die, I feared for Hop's safety and if it wasn't for Gloria, we probably wouldn't be here right now."

He took a few calming breaths as he forced himself to relax.

"Sometimes I still wake up from nightmares of my fight with eternatus. I also check in on Hop and Gloria to make sure they're doing alright mentally too."

Raihan was silent throughout the whole story but he could feel himself getting sicker and sicker. He didn't realize Leon was going through so much. If this is how Leon felt now, he could only imagine how Keira felt as a child. He pulled himself off the couch and went to grab his shoes and pokemon.

"I'm going to go find her."

Leon gave him a small smile as he stood up, planning on helping him look for Keira.

"Try the wild area, that's where I go to clear my head. If she needs a place to calm down it'll probably be there."

Raihan nodded and walked out the door and started running in the direction on the town entrance.

----------------- Keira -------------------

Keira paced back and forth in the forest clearing as she tried to calm herself down. Her dearest pokemon a delphox named Inari and Xerneas watch her pace around. Inari is trying to even her breathing using her psychic ability while having Xerneas out naturally calms her.

"What if it was a mistake coming here? I probably just ruined my friendship with Rai and he's probably tossing my stuff out now!"

"Xer"

Keira sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. Xerneas leaned down to nuzzle her cheek in a comforting manner. Keira smiled as she stroked their neck. Ever since she caught Xerneas, they have made it a point to help comfort her whenever she felt a panic attack coming.

"You're right, he wouldn't be that cruel. I just...I just hoped for a little more time before telling him…"

Her thoughts were interrupted when she hear footsteps approaching. She immediately returned Xerneas to their ball as Inari readied her wand.

"Who's there?"

From the shadows stepped out a mimikyu followed by a young boy wearing a mask.

"Sorry if I scared you. Mimikyu told me he felt a hurt soul out here and I wanted to see if I could help."

You smiled lightly and sat down on a fallen log.

"Well he's right, I am hurting but I don't think you can help buddy."

The kid walked over and sat down next to Keira.

"I know I look young Miss Keira but I'm Galar's ghost type gym leader Allister. Helping hurt or lost souls is my specialty!"

Keira was surprised when he said he was a gym leader. She didn't think someone so young could be a gym leader! Though...she guessed it couldn't hurt to talk about her problems even if he might not be able to help her.

"Alright then Allister, I guess I should start from the beginning. It all started when I first started my journey as trainer."

----------------- Raihan -----------------

Raihan carefully walked through the forest, careful of stepping over branches so as not to scare any wild pokemon nearby. He had been looking for Keira for almost an hour and was beginning to worry. It was hard to find your way through the wild area at night and Keira didn't have a tent or blanket to keep her warm. He was about to call out for Keira when a voice made him pause.

"So what happened to Team Flare?"

That sounded like Allister. Raihan followed the voice until he could see through the trees Allister sitting on a log with Keira right next to him. He was about to make his presence known when it suddenly felt like weights were keeping him in place

"Please wait gym leader Raihan."

The echoing voice in his head made him pause and notice the delphox standing by Keira was staring right in his direction.

"Listen to her story and understand the reason for her deception."

Raihan nodded and the weight was released so he could sit down in his hiding spot and listen as Keira continued her story.

"After Team Flare disbanded I tried to continue my goal to beat the elite four but everywhere I went there were newscasters and people wanting to interview me. I tried to go home but they just followed me to my house. I couldn't take it anymore so mom and I moved to a secluded spot away from the public and I hid for a year. After all the hype about me died down, I changed my name and started my journey over again."

The sick feeling Raihan had felt earlier had returned as he listened to her story. Of course he didn't mind the attention but that's because he's older. He probably wouldn't have been able to stand all the attention on him when he was still small. He looked over at her delphox for permission to come out and when she nodded he stood up and stepped out, making Allister and Raihan look over at him.

"Rai? How did you find me?"

Raihan rubbed the back of his neck and looked down guilty.

"I've been looking for you and heard you talking. Listen, I'm sorry for being a jerk to you earlier. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I just got afraid that you were like all the other fake people I've dealt with. If...if you don't want to stay with me I'll understand and can put you in a hotel or Leon can take you."

You got up and walked over to him. He thought you were about to hug him but instead you smacked his cheek.

"Ow!"

"That's for being a dick."

You then kissed his sore cheek and then hugged him.

"That's because I forgive you."

Raihan felt his cheeks warm as he wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled softly. Before he could say anything he yelped in pain as he felt someone kick his shin.

"That's for making big sis cry!"

"Ow! What? Big sis?"

Keira laughed lightly and grinned.

"Oh yeah, I thought Allister was so adorable I said he's my new little brother."

"What?! I leave you alone for an hour and now you're adopting kids?! Ow! Allister I already apologized!"

When Leon finally found Raihan he couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Raihan running around as Allister chased him and Keira recording everything on her phone. It looks like things were going to be interesting from now on.

[waltzofthewifi]

Kota Chapter 12: A Nervous Wreck

Beginning | Table of Contents | Next

The next week was about as close to a normal life as Marinette ever got.

The Lila drama died down. Alya was still friendly with Lila, still giving her the benefit of the doubt, but there was a wariness to it too. When Lacy pointed out the class had almost excluded Marinette from an event, Alya and Nino spent the rest of the week making sure she was included in everything.

Akumas occurred almost twice a day, tiring the heroes out and forcing them to recruit allies more often than not. Alya was ecstatic to receive her miraculous again. Chat Noir was also starting to focus more, no longer bantering or flirting mid-battle as much as he used to.

"Moving my mouth takes too much energy," he complained one night after a four-akuma day, when Ladybug brought up his unnatural quietness.

Thankfully, Hawkmoth missed a day, and Marinette was able to catch up on sleep and her commissions (but not homework, which was still stressing her out). That night, she dreamed she was being eaten by piles of homework, while her parents scolded her for bad time management skills.

That morning, she overslept and barely made it to class in time.

The first thing Marinette noticed was how empty the class was.

"Where is everyone?" Marinette asked, sitting next to Nino.

"Akuma attack." Nino showed her his phone screen, which was streaming the Ladyblog. "Blocked half of the classes path to school. Been out there for about half an hour - still no sign of Ladybug."

"What?" How did she miss an akuma for that long?

"Don't worry, everyone's said in the group chat that they're safe," Mylene commented. "Well, at least I think so. It looks like Lacy might have fallen asleep mid text, and Adrien's didn't make much more sense."

"Alya's trying to film as much as she can," Nino added, his face tense. "I just hope she doesn't get too close."

"I hope Ladybug shows up soon," Alix complained from across the room. "I miss everyone. No offense to current company, or anything."

"I, uh, have to go- check on something-" Marinette muttered. "Be right back!"

She darted out the door, ramming into someone else as she did so.

"Juleka!" Marinette said. "I'm so sorry, I just have to - are you feeling okay?"

Juleka looked a little green, and she was grimacing, but she shook her head. "Just nerves."

"Oh, right, the modeling contest!" Marinette remembered. "When do results come out?"

"Today at lunch," Juleka whispered. She grimaced again.

"Here, why don't I take you down to the nurse?" Marinette said. "Maybe she knows some way to keep you calm before the results come out. It's not like we have class anyways - not with the akuma keeping half the school at home!"

"Thank you Marinette," Juleka said.

.

"Oh no you don't, Squabbie," Elisabeth said. "No falling back asleep on my watch."

Lacy blinked her eyes back open, noticing the footage on the TV screen hasn't changed much since before she closed her eyes.

"I'm not," Lacy argued. "I'm just bored."

She let her eyes flicker close again, wishing her parents would let her fall back asleep. The akuma rampaging down her street didn't look very close to being beaten, and if she could get a few more minutes of sleep...

The apartment shook violently, causing Lacy's stomach to jolt. So much for sleep.

"Looks like I'll have to cancel my next appointment too," her dad commented from where he was sitting at the dinner table.

Elisabeth frowned and checked her watch. "This one is definitely taking a while. And there's still no sign of Ladybug."

"She must live on the other side of Paris or something," Lacy figured.

"Or maybe she's just sleepy like you," Elisabeth teased, reaching from her chair to poke Lacy in the leg.

"You know, this would have been a perfect akuma for our literature test yesterday," Lacy said. "But no, he had to attack when we would have had a peaceful morning instead."

"As peaceful as class can be with Alix and Kim," her dad said, half under his breath.

Lacy chuckled. Her friends did make things interesting.

The TV screen changed suddenly, as the news reporter cheered loudly.

"- and Ladybug arrives at the scene!"

.

Ladybug could feel all of Paris looking at her right then.

The newscasters and videographers and bloggers following the battle all cheered when she landed, as did the civilians trapped around the akuma zone. Ladybug stayed where she landed for a moment, watching the battle raging on the street.

The akuma was large - maybe twice the height of Chat Noir with a thick build - and had chains attached to her hands. She wore all black, with a form-fitting leather jacket and black leggings, and had long, black hair that trailed behind her in a braid.

She raised her fist and slammed the chain down at Chat Noir. Chat Noir dodged effortlessly, and tremors shook were the chains landed.

Ladybug scanned the akuma again, not seeing a clear item that could hold the akuma. She would have to get closer.

She wrapped her yo-yo around a building and flew past the battle, landing next to Chat Noir.

"Sorry I'm late," Ladybug said.

"You're right on time," Chat Noir replied.

The akuma struck again, and Ladybug and Chat Noir bounded out of the way.

"Her name is Nervewrecker," Chat Noir reported. "I think she's one of the models participating in the contest that announces today. Her main powers are the chains and her heightened strength. Wherever the chains hit, powerful tremors follow."

Ladybug nodded. She had observed as much.

Nervewrecker struck again, forcing the two superheroes to dodge in opposite directions. Ladybug landed next to an apartment building, but Nervewrecker was already swinging her chains again. Ladybug bolted out of the way, and the chains swung into the apartment building. The tremors destroyed what little of the building wasn't affected by the original swing.

"We need to get her away from the civilians," Ladybug called.

Chat Noir landed next to her. "Exactly what I was thinking. The stadium?"

"You read my mind."

Moving together, Ladybug and Chat Noir launched themselves up onto the nearest rooftops. Ladybug swung her yo-yo to the nearest high point, Chat Noir extended his baton, and they soared towards the stadium.

They landed several blocks over, and Ladybug paused to check that Nervewrecker was following them.

"Looks like she's right behind us," Ladybug said. "Let's go."

Ladybug and Chat Noir bounded over another few blocks, landing only a few streets from the stadium. They paused, giving the akuma time to catch up with them.

"Any idea of where the akuma is?" Ladybug asked.

Chat Noir shook his head. "I was hoping you'd see something."

The ground shook, edging Ladybug and Chat Noir to continue on.

They landed on the edge of the stadium, and both jumped down into the center of the field.

"So she was akumatized from nerves from the contest, right?" Ladybug asked.

"From what I can gather," Chat Noir confirmed.

"Most akumas who are akumatized from nerves have some kind of a fidget or something related to the cause of the nerves as the akumatized object," Ladybug observed. "Like a bracelet they play with if they're nervous, or a letter or something they received from the contest."

"I didn't see anything like that," Chat Noir said.

"Me neither," Ladybug agreed. "But keep your eyes open."

Nervewrecker landed in the stadium with a boom.

"Hand over your miraculous," she commanded, flicking one of her chains. "And then leave me in peace."

"Hey, you're the one disturbing the peace," Ladybug argued.

Nervewrecker scowled, and raised a hand to strike.

Ladybug and Chat Noir dodged opposite ways.

"I don't see how this is helping with your nerves," Chat Noir commented.

"Oh, it's helping a lot," Nervewrecker replied. "I was shaking in anticipation, but now the whole world will." She struck again, forcing Chat Noir to dodge.

Ladybug watched, scanning Nervewrecker in search for the akumatized object.

Her attacks were one after the other, but as Ladybug watched, her right-handed attacks were more accurate than her left. And stronger.

"Chat Noir! Cataclysm the chains on her right hand!"

Chat Noir nodded briefly that he understood, before using his staff to launch himself over another swipe from Nervewrecker.

"Cataclysm!"

His hand brushed against Nervewrecker's right hand, and the chains turned to dust. She roared, trying to knock Chat Noir away, but he was already behind her.

Chat Noir landed in a roll and came up next to Ladybug.

"I think I saw a ring on her hand," Chat Noir commented.

Ladybug scowled. Rings were always hard to destroy.

"We're going to need something to break it without having to remove it from her hand," Ladybug commented. "Lucky Charm!"

A screwdriver fell in her hands.

"Looks like your Lucky charm might be from Ikea this time," Chat Noir commented.

Above them, news helicopters began to circle.

"Metal," Ladybug said. "We're going to need something large, and metal. Can you distract her for me?"

"Of course," Chat Noir replied.

Nervewrecker swung at the two superheroes, and they separated. Ladybug ran for the bleachers while Chat Noir began to taunt her.

She had to hunt for a few supplies, but eventually she found everything she needed. She quickly unscrewed several metal bleachers and attached them to each other with duct tape.

"Now, all I need is a ride," Ladybug thought. She sent her yo-yo straight up, tying it around the landing skids, and pulled herself up over the battle field.

The extra weight made the helicopter lean sideways suddenly, but Ladybug let got before it could crash. She fell straight down, guiding her contraception to Nervewreckers hand. She let go at the last moment, watching as the several pieces of heavy metal hit the ring, cracking it. A butterfly flew out

Still in free fall, Ladybug captured the akuma. A second later, she felt something slow her stop as Chat Noir reaches out for her, his baton extended in the air.

The two dropped down the field. Ladybug finished purifying the butterfly, watching as it flew away.

"Miraculous ladybug!"

.

Juleka approached Adrien almost the moment he got to school, looking like a nervous wreck.

"Any word?" Juleka asked.

Adrien shook his head. "But don't worry! You're application looked amazing. I'm sure you have a good chance at winning!"

The two headed into class, Adrien taking his seat next to Nino and Juleka hers by Rose.

"I really hope Juleka gets chosen for this contest," Adrien commented. "She definitely deserves it."

"Don't worry, dude," Nino replied. "You said it yourself - she has a great chance. And even if she doesn't win, didn't you say that several of your coworkers displayed interest in working with her anyways?"

"Yeah, you're right," Adrien agreed. "I guess her nerves are infectious."

"Sounds like she's not the only one," Alya said, leaning over towards the boys' desk. "Did you see the akuma this morning?"

"Nervewrecker?" Adrien asked. "Yeah, Nathalie wouldn't let me leave until she was defeated."

"I don't blame her," Alya said. "Did you see the damage she caused?"

Nino nodded. "Nathaniel said his entire apartment building got destroyed."

Marinette arrived and slipped into the seat next to Alya.

"Any word about the contest?" She asked.

"Not yet," Alya replied. "The anticipation is lethal."

Miss Bustier walked in soon after, quickly taking attendance.

"Looks like we're just waiting on Lila and Chloe," she noted.

"Wish it was always like that," Marinette muttered.

Her wish didn't last, though, and Chloe walked in seconds later.

"Miss Bustier," Chloe greeted. "I have something I want to tell the whole class."

Marinette groaned. "This will be fun."

"Marinette," Bustier admonished. "Let's listen to what Chloe has to say."

"Thank you," Chloe said.

"Would you maybe like to wait for Lila?" Bustier suggested.

Chloe made a face. "Ugh, no, not her."

"It's not nice-"

"I'm doing this now or never," Chloe interrupted. "I don't owe Rossi anything, but-" Chloe took a deep breath, glancing at Adrien.

Adrien has no clue what was going on, but Chloe needed reassurance, so he shot her a thumbs up.

"Okay, I'm just going to say it. I'm sorry."

.

Marinette had never, in her life, been so shocked.

"You're apologizing?" Alya blurted. "Should we be worried about an akuma? Is someone holding you for ransom?"

"No, Cesaire." Chloe took a deep breath. "I, Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of the mayor of Paris, of my own free will under no influence from akumas or Hawkmoth, formally apologize." She released the rest of her breath. "So, yeah, I'm sorry."

"What, why?"

Alya was obviously as blown away by this as Marinette was.

"Because of you," Chloe said. "You were right, Cesaire. Ladybug believed in me, that I could change, and I had done nothing to deserve that faith. But... I want to."

Marinette stared at Chloe, sure that she would take it all back. Or that an akuma was causing this. Or anything...

Anything but this.

This didn't make any sense.

At all.

Marinette dully noted that Alya's mouth was wide open.

"Thank you, Chloe," Bustier said. "That was well said, and I'm sure everyone accepts your apology."

That brought Marinette back to the present.

Did she accept Chloe's apology?

"We appreciate the sentiment, Chloe," Marinette finally said. "But actions speak louder than words."

Marinette thought back to the past week, trying to remember if she noticed any changes with Chloe since she had this supposed revelation.

And... nothing.

She hadn't noticed Chloe at all.

No akumas, no fusses, no big arguments, no nothing. Chloe hadn't terrorized anyone, spilled coffee on anyone's artwork, made fun of anything. In the morning, she gave a compliment - a real compliment - and kept to herself during the rest of the exercise.

She wasn't quiet, by any means, but her comments, while interruptive, hadn't been mean. No one had run out of room crying because of Chloe. Chloe hadn't run down Ladybug, demanding her miraculous or a photo.

Nothing.

"I think you've made an effort," Marinette finally decided.

"Yeah!" Alix agreed. "No akumas in the school for a whole week!"

"And you complimented my project yesterday," Rose added.

Most of the class nodded along, muttering about small things here and there. Alya was the only one not agreeing, but she still hadn't moved from the shock stage.

"I'm really proud of you, Chloe!" Adrien added.

Chloe blinked twice, turning a little red. "Th-Thanks. That means a lot."

Alya's mouth was still wide open as Chloe sat down, and Marinette leaned over it closed it for her.

Alya turned to Marinette. "Did that really happen?"

Marinette nodded. "I think it did."

"Oh, and another thing," Chloe said. "I heard from a very reliable source that the winner of the modeling contest is a student at our school."

"Did you hear that, Juleka?" Rose asked.

"Now, there's a lot of people in this school who applied, but," Chloe continued. "I think you have a good chance, Couffaine."

"There's definitely an akuma somewhere," Alya grumbled.

Marinette chuckled.

Adrien turned back to them. "This is actually a lot like how she was when we were younger. I knew she could still be nice."

"But she needed a good friend to push her along," Marinette said. "What you and Alya said to her - it must have finally hit her that she needed to change."

"And Ladybug, of course," Alya added.

"Ladybug inspires all of us to be better," Adrien agreed.

"Well said, dude," Nino added.

Marinette felt herself redden at the compliments, and hoped no one would wonder why.

Her good mood was ruined instantly when Lila entered, looking overly pleased with herself.

"You look happy, girl," Alya noted.

"I am," Lila confirmed, sitting next to Adrien. "All thanks to Adrien here."

Adrien looked very baffled.

"Adrien's such a good friend," Mylene commented. "I'm sure whatever he did for you was really nice!"

Marinette was sure that whatever he supposedly did, Adrien actually had no part in.

"Oh it was!" Lila agreed.

"What was it?" Rose questioned.

"Oh, I shouldn't tell," Lila said. "After all, it's not confirmed or anything. Not yet."

Marinette's stomach lurched. There was no way she had managed that, was there?

Adrien still looked completely baffled. Across the room, Marinette saw Lacy chewing her lip nervously.

Not good not good not good not g-

"Tell us!" Kim replied. "The anticipation is killing us."

"Okay, fine, fine." Lila flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "He promised he'd help me win that big modeling contest!"

The whole room went dead.

This time, it was Nino's turn to look completely baffled. Alya gave Lila a look Marinette couldn't parse, Chloe huffed, and Lacy hid her face in her hands.

"W-What?" Rose asked.

"Since when did you want to be a model?" Alix questioned.

Ivan shot Adrien a glare, and Adrien, for his part, looked pissed.

"No I didn't," Adrien ground out. "Lie about yourself all you want, but don't drag me into this."

"Lila that's great," Bustier said, completely oblivious. "And Adrien, that was sweet of you!"

"Yeah," Ivan snarled.

"I didn't," Adrien repeated.

"Oh, and he's so humble about it too," Lila continued.

"Lila, just shut up," Marinette said.

"I'm very confused," Nino stated.

Bustier glanced around the classroom, beginning to deduce that something was amiss. Lila's eyes were growing wide as she realized the class wasn't responding as she hoped.

Marinette opened her mouth to say something - explain why Lila was lying, without putting Juleka on the spot - but before she could speak, Juleka darted out of the classroom.

Marinette only hesitated a moment before following behind her.

.

One of the first things Marinette had learned about Juleka was that she had a favorite bathroom. Usually, when Juleka was upset, she would hide in the bathroom until either Marinette or Rose would talk her down.

This time, Juleka barely made it to the stairs, and Marinette knew it was bad.

Marinette stopped right behind her, and so did the two students who had also followed her out of the room.

Adrien let out an uncharacteristic curse, startling Juleka a little.

"That definitely wasn't cool of her," Rose agreed. She moved towards Juleka and sat next to her.

Marinette sat down on the other side of Juleka, and Adrien sat behind her.

Juleka's face was blank, and she was mindlessly fidgeting with the mirror on her bracelet.

"I promise I didn't do anything she said," Adrien clarified.

"You don't have to lie to me," Juleka whispered. "If I was cut out to be a model, then you should have just said so."

"You are!" Adrien argued.

"Lila's a liar," Marinette stated. "She has been lying ever since she got to this school."

"Why did I think I had a chance?" Juleka's voice broke, and she sniffled.

"Because you do," Adrien said. "Everyone I talked to said you do."

Marinette put a reassuring hand on Adrien's knee. I don't think she's listening to us.

Adrien sighed, and Marinette could see resignation on his face.

Rose leaned up against Juleka, and Juleka leaned her head against Rose's.

"Even if you don't win the contest, you're still a good model," Rose whispered. "And a good person. You're spiraling right now. Whatever you're thinking isn't true."

Juleka nodded.

"Just breathe," Rose whispered.

Marinette watched them for a moment, before standing up. She gestured for Adrien to follow her.

"I'm going to text Luka," Marinette whispered. She quickly sent off a text, and Luka replied almost instantly.

"He's on his way." Marinette looked up, noticing that Adrien wasn't watching her. He was glaring off into open air.

"You okay?" Marinette asked.

"Yeah," Adrien replied. He turned back to her and smiled his model smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Adrien's phone dinged, and he dug it out of his pockets.

"Results from the contest," Adrien said. Marinette watched as his face scrunched up in anger.

Adrien scowled and stood there for a moment, his breathing getting heavier, staring at his phone.

Then he moved, quick as lightning, and lodged his phone towards the other end of the school.

Marinette felt her stomach drop. "Lila won."

Adrien didn't move. "Lila won."

Rage pulsed through her veins, and Marinette cursed and rammed her fist into the closest wall.

"How?" Marinette growled. "How does she keep pulling this stuff off?"

Marinette turned to Adrien, who had straightened himself up. He clenched unclenches his fists, still not looking at Marinette.

"This sucks," he breathed. "She doesn't even want it, she just wants to be able to brag about it."

Marinette walked up to the railing and leaned on it, letting her anger and... and tiredness wash through her.

"I'm sick of this," Marinette replied. "I'm sick of her."

Adrien shook his head. "I'm an idiot. I can't believe I thought ignoring her would make her go away."

"It's not like anything I did helped," Marinette said.

"At least you tried," Adrien argued. "You did everything you could to help, but I thought that the best way to help was to do nothing, say nothing, like it'd all blow over like some tabloid."

Marinette stood there for a second, closing her eyes and just feeling the anger, the helplessness. Like a wave.

And for a moment, she could feel Adrien's too. One of his friends was hurt, too, and he felt anger. He felt helpless.

It was like they were in sync.

"She's going down," Marinette decided, turning away from the railing and marching back to the classroom, Adrien on her heels. She swung open the door, a little more forceful than necessary, and walked inside.

To a classroom that had already dissolved into chaos.

[forevfangirlwrites]

whenever you’re on the actress!annabeth vibe again it’d be cool if you did a jealous!annabeth story. I love jealous annabeth and I feel like you’d be so good at writing it

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

It’s a slow day. 

So slow that Percy has taken to watching Netflix on his phone, catching up on the new docuseries about the fashion industry, featuring Piper McLean and Thalia Grace (he wants to be able to talk about it next time he sees either of them).  

Never had he thought that would be his reason for watching a Netflix show.

Then again, there’s a lot he never expected from life, like intimately knowing his favorite actress. 

The bell on the door rings, signaling the first customer in like forever, and Percy pauses his show to walk up to the counter where a classic California brunette is scanning the menu. 

“Hi, welcome to Cali’s, how can I help you?” 

Her gaze drops to him at the words, immediately raising an eyebrow as her eyes continue to scan as much of him as the counter will allow.

Internally, Percy is burning in the most uncomfortable way. But he has a job to do, so he once again summons careless indifference paired with polite midwestern newscaster.

“Do you need help?” he prompts, since she still hasn’t said anything.

“Sure,” she says, leaning onto the counter a little with a sly smile. Percy takes half a step away and wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. It had not been an invitation. 

“Well I’d recommend the specials, they’re on that board.” He gestures to the board in hopes that she’ll turn her attention to it instead, but unfortunately, after a casual glance she turns back to him. 

The bell rings again and Percy is grateful for whoever just entered, because he’s not alone with this girl anymore, and she needs to hurry up now that there’s someone behind her in line.  

“But which one specifically would you recommend?” She leans against the counter a little more and he’s all too aware of the fact that her tank top is showing a modest amount of cleavage.

Honestly, she’s cute and not doing anything wrong (he recognizes how much courage it takes to flirt so openly like that), but he’s dating the love of his life and this poor girl just can’t compete.

“How about the vanilla bean frap?” he offers, mostly because it’s the easiest to make of all the specials. 

“Sure, if you recommend it, it has to be good,” she responds, sending another smile his way. 

“What size?” He asks, instead of acknowledging what she had said. He needs to nip this in the bud.

“Large.” The wink she throws makes him want to disappear into himself because no, he’s so not going there.

He does his best to maintain composure. “That’ll be $5.25.”

She hands him her card and their fingers brush, clearly something she had been planning for. Percy stifles a sigh and hands her the receipt. 

She takes it with another smile and starts to walk towards the pickup area and he gratefully turns his attention to the other customer. 

“Hi, welcome to Cali’s how can I he--”

And she’s back, poking her head in front of the other customer. “Sorry, you never got my name.”

He stares at her. 

“You know, for my drink,” she continues. 

“We call out by order.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind even though it is not true. 

She doesn’t quite buy it either. “Oh, are you sure?”

He wants to explain that it’s a slow enough day that he actually would call out by order, but that would mean more conversation. 

“I need to attend to this other customer,” he says instead, with an apologetic tone a midwesterner would be proud of. 

She smiles and walks away. “Right, sorry.”

He breathes a sigh of relief when she does, turning to the customer with a genuine apology on his lips.

“Hi, sorry about that, what can I get you?”

“A medium caramel macchiato,” a clipped voice responds, and his head snaps up. 

She’s got her hair in a ponytail, wearing a hat and sunglasses along with a hoodie—his hoodie. 

And even though she’s hiding most of herself, he still goes a little weak at the sight of her because, well did he mention she’s wearing his hoodie? 

“Sure thing,” he stutters out, punching in the order.

Her lips are set into a thin line and though he can’t see her eyes, he suspects they’re stormy (so what if he likes comparing his girlfriend’s eyes to the sky, he has the right to do that). 

He doesn’t really know why she’s mad and just hopes it’s not at him.

She doesn’t offer her card and he doesn’t ask, simply turning around to start making the vanilla bean frap, his mind running a mile a minute.

Why is she mad? Had he done something? He had been on his phone, she hadn’t texted him anything, or was it something he did last night?

(Though he remembers her really enjoying last night.)

Was it because she was annoyed at the other customer cutting her off? It is rude to get cut off and the other girl—

Wait.

Was she mad because the other girl was flirting?

His hands work on autopilot, pumping the vanilla into the cup, without really thinking about it as he formulates his theory. But even as he thinks about it, it sounds more absurd by the minute. Why would Annabeth Chase be jealous over some random girl? 

“Vanilla Bean frap,” he calls out, and the girl looks up from her phone, sauntering over to pick it up.

“Thank you!” she says brightly, immediately putting the straw in her mouth. “You’re right, it’s so good!”

“Glad you like it,” he responds politely. “Have a good day!”

And with that, he starts to move back in to make the caramel macchiato. 

“Actually,” she calls before he can do so. “I was wondering, if you wanted to maybe get a drink sometime?” 

“No, um, sorry, I’m not really interested…” he trails off awkwardly ‘cause he really hates doing this. Not that he’s constantly turning people down or anything, which is probably why he sucks at it. “Drinks really aren’t my thing,” he blurts.

“We could do lunch instead?” she offers.

“I, um, I can’t, sorry, um, hope you have a good day.” And with that he quickly shuffles back towards the espresso machine, picking up a glass to make himself look busy. 

“Okay,” she calls out, a little confused. But thankfully, she leaves.

He lets out a sigh of relief, setting down the glass and slumping against the counter once he hears the bell ring. 

“Are you just not going to make my drink?” The same clipped voice asks, and Annabeth removes her sunglasses, revealing, sure enough, dark eyes and creased eyebrow.

“Of course I will,” he says quickly, standing up. “Anything for you.”

He walks back over to the espresso machine, well aware of the palpable tension in the room. 

“So how was your day?” he asks casually over his shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to be normal.

“Should I leave?”

“No! No!” He turns around, horrified. “You visiting me is the best thing that’s happened all day!”

“You sure about that?” she says in the same surly tone.

“Of course, babe, what's going on?”

“Well, you seemed fine with that other girl for company.”

There’s a moment of silence as he interprets her words.

There’s no fucking way.

He can’t help it, He busts out laughing.

“What!” Annabeth angrily yells.

“Are you…” he can’t get the word out. “Are you jealous?”   

“No!” she yells, crossing her arms and he needs to stop laughing before he actually fucks something up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, holding his hands up in defense while trying to calm his laughter.

“It’s just.” He rubs the back of his neck, thinking that it’s completely unfair that his girlfriend looks this good even while mad. “It’s just, you’re…”

At a loss for words, he just gesticulates wildly. 

“I mean, you’re Annabeth Chase,” he leans closer to her while she remains firmly rooted in place. “Not only are you extremely talented and beautiful and smart, even if you weren’t the kickass actress that’s taken Hollywood by storm, you’re still…” he pauses.

Reaching out, he cups her face. “By some miracle, you’re still my Annabeth, and no one can hold a candle to you.”

At his words, her arms drop from her chest and she sighs, defeated.

“Okay.” 

And god, for a literal millionaire actress she looks so small and he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms. 

So he does.

Jumping the counter, he walks over and wraps his arms around her, letting her lean into his chest. He presses a kiss into her hair and holds her close until finally, muffled by the fabric of his shirt, she talks.

“I had a really rough day, it took forever to get one good take.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he mutters, running a hand down her back.

Sighing, she steps out of his embrace. “At least it’s over. When are you done?”

He glances at the clock. “I’ve got like an hour left.”

She looks entirely too cute when she pouts. 

“You’re welcome to stay, it’s been a slow day.”

She cheers slightly at his words. He leads her behind the counter, showing her the door to the employee room should she need to hide. 

“You weren’t…” he hesitates as he finally makes her caramel macchiato. 

“What?” she asks, leaning on the counter next to him, scrolling through her phone.

“You weren’t actually jealous right?”

She turns her attention back to her phone and shrugs infinitesimally, but he catches it. 

“Annabeth, how?” He cannot believe this, he refuses to.

She sighs. “It’s not easy dating me, I know, and maybe you’d prefer a more...normal relationship, where you don’t have to hide things. Plus,” she adds, even quieter. “You didn’t seem to hate it.”

He pours the shots of espresso in her drink and caps it. 

“Annabeth,” he says, walking over to hand her the drink. “I want you, I don’t care if I have to do extra things, I don’t want normal. And,” he stresses, “I did hate it. I just shouldn’t be rude to a customer. It’s called acting.” He adds a wink and she rolls his eyes, taking a sip of her drink in favor of responding.

“Besides,” he adds, completely changing the tone of the conversation by wiggling his eyebrows. “How many people can say they’ve had sex with Annabeth Chase?”

“Percy!” she smacks his arm, a blush coloring her face at the crude comment.

He just laughs and pulls her closer. 

“Maybe you need a reminder on just how much I’m yours,” he says in a low voice, inches away from her lips.

Annabeth doesn’t say anything, but she sets her coffee down and rests her hand on his chest. “Maybe,” she whispers.

It’s all the reason he needs to lean in and close the gap between them, capturing her lips in his and prying her mouth open.

She tastes like caramel macchiatos and the day is anything but slow. 

A/N: Thank you for the prompt! This is something  I actually wrote a while back because I too wanted to write jealous Annabeth so this was the perfect way to post it. I also got a request on ao3 for it so it seems to be a popular prompt lol I hope you liked this and it was what you were looking for! Thanks again for sending an ask!

[writingpaperghost]

I Would Offer It Happy With a Smile on My Face (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: Just a Tiny Star in a Different Form

It’s time for the city to see that Ultrawoman Grigio is here to help.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860734/chapters/60213679

“Aren’t those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?” Tomomi had insisted on making breakfast that morning, mumbling something about how Asahi being there giving him a reason to actually make it in the first place. Asahi figured that maybe he was one of those people who didn’t always eat breakfast, or at least not very much.

She looks down at her clothes, which were a little dirty after her fight with that Gomess the day before. Other than that though, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell she was wearing them for a second day. “Well... Yeah.” She responded, “I didn’t exactly plan to come here, so I couldn’t really pack any extra clothes.”

Tomomi didn’t immediately respond, instead finishing up breakfast, his face neutral. After they began to eat was when he spoke again, “I suppose we’ll have to see about getting you a few changes of clothes.” 

“Oh! That’s nice of you, but it’s not super necessary!” Really, he was already being far nicer than most people would be, especially given she’d just kind of shown up.

He raises his eyebrow, “Well,” He said, “You can’t exactly run around wearing he same clothes every day.”

Ah...Well, he does have a point... But still! Still... Okay she really couldn’t come up with much of an argument. At least... not one that she wasn’t positive Tomomi would reason away. Yeah, okay, so he had a point.

Noticing her lack of argument, Tomomi thought for a moment, “Tomorrow,” He decided, “Tomorrow we can get you some new clothes.”

Asahi decided that it wasn’t worth trying to argue otherwise. So she didn’t. Instead she cheerfully responds, “Yeah! Sounds good.”

Once they finished breakfast, Tomomi began gathering his things. Asahi watches him, not really sure what else to do with herself. He had said he was a journalist, so she supposed he probably had some work to do today, or something like that. But he was taking his time, so he must not have been in any real hurry.

“Hey, Tomomi?” She called, to which he responded with something that sounded like a “yeah” but she couldn’t make out exactly what he said. It didn’t matter though, she had his attention. “Can you tell me more about what Gomess can do? In case it shows up again today.”

He stops what he’s doing for a moment and looks at her, before returning to it. He thinks for a moment before answering, “The main things you need to watch out for, as you saw yesterday, is it’s fangs and it’s ability to dig underground.”

“Right!” Asahi nodded, recalling her previous fight with Gomess. It’s fangs weren’t horrible, she could pretty easily deal with that, but the digging might be harder. She couldn’t really find where it was when it did that. Maybe her best bet was to try to keep it from going underground... Yeah, probably.

“What ways does KPaRS have to deal with Kaijus?” They hadn’t really done much the day before, other than fly around. She was worried that they didn’t really have any way to defend against Kaijus.

“KPaRS mainly uses containment procedures.” He tells her, “Unfortunately, something about these rampaging Kaiju seems to prevent a lot of the sedatives from working. Without the sedatives, the nets and such used to remove them from the city are broken pretty easily.”

“So they just fly around and hope for the best?”

“Now,” He hefts his bag onto his shoulder, “It can certainly appear that way. Rumor is they’re developing more... violent means to try to stop the rampages, but for now they don’t seem to have anything special.”

Asahi nods, “Got it, so I might need to keep an eye on them for now. Would want anything to happen.”

“Right...” Tomomi grabs his phone off the table, “Now, I have stuff to do and will be busy until this evening. I’d recommend trying to familiarize yourself with the city, but you do whatever.”

“Okay!” She smiles in response, “See you later!” He waves and leaves, Asahi watching as he went. She was alone now, leaving her with her thoughts... She hoped her family wasn’t worrying too much...

Oh, who was she kidding? They were probably worried sick! She just falls through a portal and is no where to be found! But she didn’t have anyway to get in contact with them... Hell, even if she could, it wasn’t exactly like they had anyway to get to her or her to them. While their mom still had that device that can open portals to another dimension, Asahi wasn’t really sure how effective that would be here. Not that it mattered, they didn’t know she was here.

With a frustrated groan, Asahi stands up, deciding to take Tomomi’s advice. She was going to explore. She’d just have to make sure she didn’t get lost. Yep! That sounds like a great idea! Besides, if a monster shows up, she’ll be able to jump into dealing with it quicker.

Kurokita was like any other city she’d seen, which may not have been a lot, but still. She wasn’t even really sure where she was going, so was kind of just wandering. That was fine, she was mainly just kind of trying to just get a lay of the land, learn the city so she could run around without getting lost.

It was... a nice city, she supposed. There wasn’t exactly a lot to say, there wasn’t something in particular that stood out. Kurokita was, by all means, a normal city. It just happens to be on an Earth that has a Kaijus that just sort of... mind their own business, generally. Apparently.

To the side, like the day before, the news drones on, reporting on the attack yesterday. Asahi pauses to look at it, listening in on to what was being said. The newscaster, same as the day before, spoke “The giant appeared to be fighting the monster. We have little information as to why the giant has appeared or where it has came from.” They were talking about her. Or rather Grigio, which she needed to stop associating as a different person.

“KPaRS has released a statement, which declares that they will continue to try to contain the monsters, and if needed, this giant.” Well that wasn’t very friendly. Of course, even back on her Earth, even back in Ayaka, people still had mixed opinions about Rosso, Blu, and Grigio. It was worse when they first showed up, so she figured public opinion might change the longer she’s here.

“Honestly,” There’s a woman to her right, and the woman scoffed. “All anyone wants to talk about now is that giant.” Asahi looks at her. She had black hair pulled up into a bun and her skin was a bit darker than you’d normally see, but her physical characteristics weren’t what stood out. It was the clothing she was wearing. Dark red goggles lay around her neck, but more interesting was her jacket, a light grayish blue with orangeish yellow on the sides, high collar, and the end of the sleeves. On the front left was a logo, and that was the interesting part. It said “Kaiju Pacification and Reaction Squad”. This woman was apart of KPaRS, which might explain her annoyance. That and she clearly wasn’t very fond of Grigio.

“I guess you’re not fond of Gri- of the giant?” The woman spins around, clearly surprised that Asahi had responded. Judging by the look on her face, she might not have even realized that she had said anything at all.

“Well,” The woman began, “You have to admit, it’s kind of suspicious.”

She was expecting a fair amount of responses. She’d heard plenty of opinions about Ultras before, about her brothers and herself. But just saying “it’s kind of suspicious”? She hadn’t really heard that before.

“Suspicious?” Asahi echoed, “What do you mean?”

“That giant- it shows up right after these monsters start freaking out? They’re clearly connected.” She sounds pretty annoyed, but beyond that, there was clear suspicion in her voice.

“Maybe the giant showed up to help with the monsters?” Asahi offered, though it was a tad weak. Really, how does one respond to being accused of something like that, except you can’t say it’s you they’re accusing? She sure didn’t know, but she was trying.

The woman pondered that for a brief moment. A very brief moment. “Maybe... Or maybe it’s why the monsters are causing all this chaos.” She’s quiet, before shrugging and saying, “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

“Boredom?”

A shrug is her only response, or at least the only response to that suggestion. Instead, the woman changes the subject, “Ugh, I should be going.” Then much more quietly, almost beneath her breath, “ Can’t have anything happen and I have to run to base because I’m not there...”

Something tells Asahi she should keep KPaRS close, so to speak. She wasn’t sure if it was intuition or something else, but it seemed important. They wanted the same thing, after all. Asahi hated destroying Kaijus, she felt bad enough when her brothers did it. The main solace she could take back home is that the monsters there were usually summoned or created by something or someone else. But here that wasn’t the case.

“Hey!” She calls out, “You work for KPaRS, right?”

The woman raises her eyebrow, crosses her arms and responds, “Yeah, what of it?”

“Oh! Nothing, really!” Asahi waves her arms, “I just really appreciate how you all have been trying to calm the monsters and all. I’m sure a lot of people would find it just... easier to just kill them, or something...”

The woman scoffs, “You’re not wrong...” She stretches her arms, “Probably one of the first to appreciate what we do, though.”

“Ah... well... Hurting Kaijus unnecessarily is not happy!”

“Sounds like you’d fit in at KPaRS,” The woman laughed. She didn’t seem to put too much thought into her comment, at least not right away. “Pretty much everyone there feels the same way.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” Asahi pondered the response for a bit. While the topic of Grigio may have been a bit sour for this woman, she clearly took her job seriously. 

“You ever thought about joining KPaRS?” The question really just came out of nowhere and took Asahi back a bit. “Always looking for more people. Especially now that it seems things have been... changing.”

Asahi quickly put together what she thought would be a logical response. “I’ve never really thought about it...” Which was the truth. “But I might start.”

“You do that,” The woman said, placing her hand on her hip, “Name’s Jun Kumagai. I work as a pilot for KPaRS. And I’d love to stay and chat more, but I have to get to work.”

“Of course!” Asahi agrees, “It’s nice to meet you!” Jun soon disappeared into the crowd. It was only after she left that Asahi realized that she never introduced herself to Jun.

Well... She’d have to hope they cross passed again. Not to mention that it was an interesting conversation. Just from talking with Jun, Asahi felt like she got a better understanding of KPaRS as a whole, assuming that Jun was telling the truth.

Asahi continues to wander around the city after that. Nothing particularly special happened, the rest of the time she spent wandering was uneventful. After an hour or so of walking, she decided that she wanted to return to Tomomi’s home, tired of wandering around.

Thump... thud... thump... thud...

Oh, she recognized that sound, she’s heard it before. That was the sound of something very large walking around. And those quieter little sounds were probably things getting stepped on, cars and such. Which meant there was two options of what was causing those sounds. And since an evacuation is being announced, it was pretty clear what it is.

Looking around, she finds it. Gomess.

Right, time to deal with a Kaiju, and this time, she wasn’t going to get beat up. She was going to stop it, and she was going to prevent as much damage as possible. She would show everyone who doubt her, who doubt Grigio, that she was only here to help.

“Color me with your power, Grigio!”

She hadn’t noticed if it had happened the day before, but this time, at least, when she appeared, Gomess turned it’s attention immediately to her. Like the Kaiju she was fighting before she fell through the portal back in Ayaka. That was strange. Immediately, she summons her bow and launches a few arrows at the monster, wincing internally. She felt a bit bad about it.

Gomess roars and runs at her, baring it’s fangs like the day before. Except this time, Grigio made sure there was much more distance between them, so she could properly block the attack.

“Grigio Barrier!” The monster crashes into the barrier, unable to stop itself. It seemed a bit confused, for a moment, long enough for Grigio to pull an arrow back and launch a Grigio Scatter Shot.

As the monster staggered back, she reviewed her plan. She needed to tire and weaken the monster enough that when she bound it with Grigio Bind, it wouldn’t be able to break free like the day before. Hopefully, KPaRS would be able to take the monster away, or whatever it is they do with rampaging Kaiju.

Unfortunately, Grigio didn’t really have a lot of offensive moves. She was going to have to either get creative, or hope that Gomess didn’t learn how to dodge her arrows. She wasn’t sure how close she wanted to get to it, but at the same time, she needed to keep it from running away again.

She sees KPaRS’ jet fly into the fight, feeling a momentary twinge of annoyance. But she remembered her conversation with Jun earlier. Clearly KPaRS wanted to help, just like her. So she chased away the annoyance and just hoped that they would be fine.

Gomess roars, then begins to swat at the jet whenever it got remotely close. Shit. That wouldn’t be good. She’d have to keep it’s attention. So she levels her bow again and draws back, another arrow ready. She fires several arrows and more scatters shots, successfully bringing it’s attention back to her. The fight had reached a minute long and between that and the amount of arrows and scatter shots she’d used, she was starting to feel the drain of the fight.

Grigio couldn’t keep this up. She fired an arrow again, but this time, Gomess dodged. Crap. It learned how to dodge her arrows. Okay, she needed to change her strategy. Which meant she was probably going to have to use some hand to hand. Great.

She drops her bow down, letting it disappear from her grasp. She slips into a proper fighting stance and takes a deep breath. The monster begins to ran at her and she herself runs to meet it. It swings at her and she ducks, punching it in the stomach area. “Grigio Punch!”

The monster stumbles backward and she leaps away, trying to keep some distance as it swung it’s tail at her. She grabs at the tail, though it slips from her grasp and the monster swings it arm at her again. Grigio swings a kick at it, followed by another punch.

Gomess’ movements are slower now, so Grigio quickly moves back, putting as much distance between them as possible. As her color timer began to flash and beep, she prepares to finish the fight.

“Grigio Shot!” She crosses her arms into a the shape of a plus sign. From there a beam fires, nailing the monster in the chest, causing it to stumble back. Right, time to tie this up. “Grigio Bind!” This time, when Gomess is bound, it’s unable to break free, ultimately falling to it’s side in it’s struggling.

KPaRS flies by, seeming to examine the monster. Grigio gives them a wave and then jumps away, taking off into the sky to leave. She’d find somewhere to change back and then return to Tomomi’s home. 

---

When Tomomi gets home, several hours after Grigio’s fight with Gomess, he doesn’t seem horribly surprised to see Asahi. Which, to be fair, even if Gomess hadn’t appeared, she would have came back before him anyways.

“I take it you had an interesting day, huh?”

Asahi laughed, “No kidding!” She’s smiling, though, “I managed to tie him up and everything.”

Tomomi sets his bag down and gives her a smile, “Yeah, I think people will start to like you more... Though that brings the question, what’s your name, like that? When you’re a giant?”

“Oh!” She forgot she’d never told him, “Ultrawoman Grigio!”

“Ultrawoman?” His brow furrows, “Interesting name.”

She shrugs, “I’d give you a reason if I knew it.”

“And the flashing light?”

“Flashing light?”

“The one on Grigio’s- on your chest.” Tomomi clarified, pointing at his own chest.

Oh, “That’s my color timer. It starts flashing red and beeping after three minutes or when I’ve taken too much damage.”

“Why three minutes?”

“I’m not quite sure the reasoning,” Asahi said, “But I think I was told at some point that it had something to do with the Earth’s atmosphere blocking out sunlight or something. Since Ultras are beings of light - or something like that- on some planets we’re limited in how long we can stay in that form...”

“Or something like that?” He finishes, a smile curling on his lips.

She laughs in response, “Or something like that!”

---

A New Force of Good - Ultrawoman Grigio

By Tomomi Hashimoto

At the beginning of the week, the citizens of Kurokita found themselves witnessing an odd increase in violent Kaiju rampages. Two days ago, during one of those rampages, a silver and yellow giant appeared in a form of light. This giant fought the Kaiju, though she was unable to defeat it. Yesterday, that Kaiju returned, and so too did the giant. She fights and she fights until she has weakened it. Once weakened, the giant ties up the monster, allowing for KPaRS to safely move the Kaiju to a preservation for study.

Many may wonder who this giant is, where she came from, what her motivations are and her goals. All of those cannot be answered currently, though there is little doubt that this is the last we’ll see of her. There is a clear correlation between the monster’s appearance and the giant’s. But it’s not a negative one, clearly this giant seeks to defeat and contain the monsters, much like KPaRS. 

Regardless of where she came from, her goals are clear. She will protect us, during this time where we ourselves are struggling to do so. This leaves but one question. Who is this giant? What shall we call her?

Ultrawoman Grigio. And she will be a force of good.

The article caught Asahi’s attention right away. Or rather, the heading of the article. Well, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by it, Tomomi is a journalist. Maybe this can help people see she wants to help.

Asahi finishes reading it and smiles.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 2)

Clint x ofc

Chapter warnings: Mourning, grief, residual trauma, dead bodies, mention of child Dusting, mention of suicide

AN: Well, we’re here for chapter two. Again, keep in mind it will be a good while until our two people come together. They’ve got a long way to go and are about halfway across the country from each other. While we work to bring them together however, let’s explore what the world after the snap would have likely been like together, yea?

Thanks to @winterisakiller who’s outraged gasps fuel my soul and @tnystrk-exewho is always telling me to go the extra mile and throw in just one more dead body. 

The rest of the chapters are on my masterlist. Have a happy Friday <3

Chapter 2- The Dawn of a New Day

As the sun came up on a whole new world, the sky looked to be a fire of reds and oranges. Impossibly fine dust floated up on the slightest wind and left the sky in a constant hazy state, making the orange and red even more prevalent. Over and over again, Clint told himself that it was just regular dust though he knew it wasn’t.

He’d spent the whole of the day before in a panicked daze and looking back, it was hard to remember the details. One second he was standing with his daughter and his wife, Laura called to him. He looked away from his daughter, toward the rest of his family and when his attention returned to Lila, she was gone. Looking around, he had found himself alone with not even a clue as to what had happened.

He didn’t see it happen and so he looked for them. They should have still been there.

He ran around that field yelling their names. He searched the house, the basement and the shed. Every inch of the property was searched and searched again as panic clouded his mind. Even though all the vehicles were still parked, Clint jumped into the truck he called his own and drove, house arrest be damned.

He went down every back road looking for them, yelling their names for hours until his voice gave out. It was well passed noon when he made his way into town and filled his tank with gas. It was in town that he first got the slightest idea what may have happened to his family.

It wasn’t as if he was unaware if the events in New York. But none of his friends and past teammates had called him to assist. It seemed reasonable to expect they had everything under control. They would have called him if they needed his help. They should have called them if they needed him.

He could only assume that people turning into dust had something to do with what had happened the day before. Yet, he couldn’t even wrap his mind around whole people simply turning to dust, simply gone. There was were so many things that he didn’t understand about the universe but still, whole people turning to dust was something that he couldn’t fathom.

He needed to know how it happened. Why it happened. How could his friends, his old teammates fail so spectacularly as to allow whatever had happened to happen? Shops were abandoned, cars were abandoned and what people remained in the already small town clung to each other in small groups in the streets. Others seemed to mill about lost.

Clint walked into the small grocery and looked around. The doors were unlocked, the lights were on but the store was largely empty. He grabbed a bottle of water and sat down on a bench, pulling out his phone and dialing those who apparently lost the one fight that counted more than any of the rest only to get voicemail.

~~~~~<3

With a firm shake of his head, Clint pulled himself out of the memories. It was a new day and all be could do was continue pushing to find answers. Pulling out his cell phone, he began calling again. He didn’t know if the owners of the numbers he was calling were still around or if they had turned to dust as well but he needed someone to answer. He needed to know what happened and how to undo it.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna was confused when she woke, feeling like she was being cooked to death under a mountain of blankets. Her body was tired and she wanted nothing more than to sleep longer yet she feared going back to sleep. She had the most terrible nightmare during the night where her children had died. It had felt so real that the pain still ripped through her as she fought back blankets.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted with her children’s room. That wasn’t right. She never slept in the kids room. Hell, she hardly ever let the kids sleep in her bed. They somehow grew four extra limbs each, gain hulk strength and become violent in their sleep.

Looking around the room, a sick realization hit her. It wasn’t a dream though it was very much a nightmare.

As she gathered Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s doll, her movements felt robotic all the while. She left the room and turned off the light, not looking back. Part of her hoped that she would find the kids in the living room. Maybe if she pretended it hadn’t happened, somehow it would change the facts.

Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she made her way to the kitchen and made herself breakfast and a pot of coffee. Whether or not she could eat, she didn’t know but making breakfast was a habit. She quickly realized she had made enough to feed the family.

She wasn’t feeding a family. She’d never be feeding her family again. After all that she had gone through, she no longer had a family. It was just her and a kitchen with too much food. It took everything she had to ignore the plates still sitting on the counter from the day before with their dried out and remains of pancakes while she walked by toward the couch.

From the TV she could hear talking and rustling but there was no one currently standing in front of the camera and the sign was still sitting on the desk. But people were in the studio and she hoped that was a sign that an update would be coming soon.

It surprised her that she found herself able to slowly eat almost half of her breakfast. After the second cup of coffee, she felt something resembling human as she stood in front of the large living room window, looking out. There were some people on the streets and the sun still low on the horizon. A haze filled the sky and she wondered if it was from smoke or ash… or dust.

“It doesn’t feel right to say ‘Good Morning’ but Gold Beach, we’re here just the same.” Martha’s voice called from the TV as she made her way behind the desk, tucking the sign away. Deanna turned from the almost normal view outside the window and made her way toward the couch to listen.

“Information is still highly limited at this time however as always we urge all our viewers to be calm and good citizens.” Sean, the lead morning newscaster made his way into the frame and took a seat next to Martha, who looked like she had yet to sleep.

“What we know as of yet is this: There has been some sort of global mass casualty event, the cause of which is still unknown at this time. As you may or may not be aware, the United States government has declared a state of emergency and all citizens are urged to comply with all official orders. We have been advised that the National Guard is mobilizing and that each home will receive a visit from officials to provide rations and water. You are directed to stay home, stay safe.” Martha finished, running her hands through her hair and looking over to Sean, a much younger and newer face within the station.

“Public transportation systems are down and I recommend filling bathtubs and sinks with water in case the electrical gird goes down.” Sean spoke calmly, each word carefully rehearsed and each breath measured and controlled.

“No, they said we don’t have to-” Martha was shocked when Sean turned toward her, voice raising slightly. His carefully controlled exterior shattered.

“They said.” He snapped. “Have you seen a National Guard helicopter? Have you seen anyone outside of the military bases reporting any type of aid yet? We don’t know how long until they will actually get to us- if we are even a priority! They are telling the whole country the same thing. They are saying that the military is intact and that they hardly lost any men. I don’t fucking buy that.”

“Sean, you’re-”

“Scaring people? They should be scared. Mass amounts of people turned to dust with no warning and for no apparent reason. Where is word form the President? Where is his public address? Hell, it was an adviser that made the announcement and it wasn’t even broadcast correctly. We don’t even know if they are still alive.” Sean was nearly yelling now. His young face was flushed and tears were gathering in his eyes. Deanna could do nothing but watch as she sat on the couch.

“What I do know is approximately half the people I know cannot be reached. What I do know is my sister’s three week old baby turned to dust in her arms just over 24 hours ago. What I do know is that I found her hanging from the staircase this morning. I know that I drove by the burnt out shell of a school bus this morning. I know that people turned to dust and even more people died and everyone is acting like this is fucking okay. It’s not fucking okay. This is the end of the world and I’m not going to spend it waiting for the fucking government to save me. I’m getting the fuck out of here and you should too.” Sean flipped Martha the finger and stormed off the set leaving a stunned silence behind.

“I-” Martha’s voice cracked as she ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what to do. We just- we have to keep pressing forward. Taking care of each other.” Matt came into view, sitting where Sean had been and rubbed Martha’s back as she took deep breaths, trying to regain her composure no doubt. In Deanna’s living room on the other side of the city, her coffee cup slipped from her fingers.

“As always, we are committed to bringing you the facts as best we know them.” Matt started after taking a deep breath. His voice wasn’t as steady as it had been the night before and like Martha, he looked as if he had hardly slept. “There have been additional deaths at the hospital directly related to lack of staff and we urge anyone with any type of medical training or background to report to hospitals and inpatient medical facilities. Via internet reports we’ve had visuals of two downed passenger aircraft though it is unknown if there was any survivors. We can only assume there are others and that the cause was related to the events we have witnessed yesterday. I beg that you all embrace and take care of your fellow men and women as Americans and human beings.”

“We can only pray that God holds us in his hands.” Martha added, voice shaking.

“We’ll be back in a few hours with another update.” Matt added as he put up the sign again.

~~~~~<3

Deanna spent the day wrapped in her blanket. Sometimes she cried. At times she screamed and screamed until her voice gave out. She has no idea how she functioned for the rest of the day yet somehow she did. The day came to an end and again she found herself sleeping in her children’s room.

~~~~~<3

The next morning wasn’t any better. Nor was the rest of the week. She made food, ate some and drank coffee. She cried, screamed and sat in front of the TV. It could have gone on for weeks or months until she shriveled up and died.

But it didn’t.

What snapped her out of the state was being plunged into darkness. It was as if a switch flipped in her. Deanna stood, joints aching and stiff from the little movement she had done in the last week and slowly made her way over toward the window. Looking up and down the street, she simply saw darkness. It was a darkness like she had never seen before, a pure darkness unmarred by any distant glow.

Yet the longer she stood there, looking out into the darkness the more her eyes adjusted to it. There was comfort in the darkness. The moon shone brightly, reflecting off of cars and damp sidewalks. Stars filled the sky, more than she had ever seen before. It was calming and in a way forced her to see the world through a different light.

Something in the world around her had changed on a fundamental level. A good number of people all over the world was gone. The Avengers, those who proclaimed themselves to be the defenders of the Earth had battled a great enemy from somewhere she couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around and they had lost.

~~~~~<3

A week after the event that what remained of the world’s major news outlets dubbed ‘The Decimation’ it was clear that the world was struggling to figure out how to move forward. Listening to the emergency radio did nothing but prove that the world wasn’t going to just right itself any time soon. There were promises from the government that the National Guard would be providing aid but no additional information as to how or when.

They were advised time and time again to sit at home and wait. According to the news casters, some went out and opened shop or tried to distribute aid independently. No one had apparently heard from the President and many other world leaders were missing or confirmed ‘dusted’. Some had a designated next in command that was able to fill the space. Other countries were reportedly in chaos based on reports from within their boarders but in areas where the power had died, access to the internet died with cell phone batteries.

Deanna went out when the National Guard never came and went to the gas station near her home, driving along deserted roads. It was odd and peaceful. Birds chirped in trees though they were far and few between. There was a lack of birds and small creatures. It seemed that whatever being it was that decided what was worth being dusted took out avian populations along with feline.

Pulling into the parking lot, she noticed the shop windows were smashed in and glass sparkled on the pavement. It was almost pretty. Cutting the engine, Deanna stepped outside and that same glass crunched under her feet as she walked into the shop.

The shelves partially were nearly picked clean. Carefully, she gathered what supplies she could find. Every movement felt nearly automated. She hardly thought as she moved. It was better to not think, she found. If she didn’t think than she wouldn’t remember the times she had walked with the kids to this corner store to get ice cream in the summer. As she loaded up her car, the gleam of a metal baseball bat caught her eye, peeking out from behind the counter.

She debated for a moment and almost didn’t take it, then she remembered the broken windows. If people were beginning to start stealing from shops, was she really safe? One unsure step after another, she walked over toward the bat peeking out from behind the counter back inside the store. Glass crunched underfoot and reflected light. The world was silent.

Wrapping her hand around the smooth surface, she finally looked behind the counter and a scream was torn from her throat.

He must have been the shopkeeper at one time, based on his uniform. Blood pooled around the man’s misshapen head. Blood stained the green and yellow shirt a dirty brown and dried. One open eye looked out at her, accusingly. With fingers locked on the bat she jerked back, more a reaction than anything. The bat slipped out of his relaxed hand as she backed, palms scratching on glass on the ground.

She crawled away before managing to get to her feet, bat clutched in her and. Shaking legs did nothing to slow her down as she ran to her car, ripping the door open and slamming it shut before she had even fully settled into the seat. The force of the door hitting her hip would likely leave a bruise. Breaths were coming fast as she fought back panic.

Slamming the key into the ignition, she nearly screamed when the radio came to life with the same emergency deceleration message that had filled the airwaves all day. The car screeched as she rushed out of the parking lot and onto the road as if the man would rise up as a demon to claim her life for having the nerve to steal from him.

Tears gathered in her eyes but only a few escaped as she parked in front of her home. Grabbing the bat, she examined everything around her. How could she trust anyone with what she had just seen? Why? Swallowing bile, she decided it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the world she knew anymore. Nothing made sense anymore.

It took longer to unload the car and bring in the cans of food and water than she wanted or expected. Not once did she let go of the bat, causing the delay. Every Gust of wind caused her to startle. As she worked she could feel eyes on her. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end though as much as she looked around, she couldn’t spot anything different than any other day this week.

Once inside, she threw the deadbolt on the door. Going through the dark house, she checked every window and the back door. When she had purchased this home, not even a year ago she had loved the large picture windows that allowed her to keep an eye on the children playing outside. Now the large glass panes did nothing but fill her with dread.

Lighting an oil lamp that she had purchased mainly for decoration but was now very much thankful that in was functional, Deanna pulled the case of water into the hall and out of sight before going back for the bags of cans. She turned the volume down low on the emergency radio and set on the case of water. Lastly, she pulled Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s stuffed fox into the hall while clutching a can opener as if that would somehow protect her from demons.

Turning the wick down as low as she dared, she hoped no one would seek her out. On the radio, the same emergency declaration that had been playing nearly nonstop for the last few days abruptly cut off, plunging her into silence. The silence was oddly comforting, allowing her to hear the crickets outside chirping with the sun sinking behind the horizon by the minute. Part of her hoped that the silence would go on for the rest of the night. A gruff man’s voice filled the air, shattering that blessed silence.

“Good evening Cook County. Rejoice as you are now under rule of the Manson family. I am King Chris Manson and I expect that you will all kneel before me.” There was scuffling in the background before a second voice was heard, yelling in panic and fear both.

“You can’t do this. You can’t declare yourself King. This is America! We are Americans!” Rather than argue with the unknown man, gunfire filled the air.

“I can and I did.” The self proclaimed King Chris Manson calmly spoke. “For those who may be too dumb to figure it out- That man just learned what happens to those who oppose my rule. I expect as I tour my Kingdom that all residence offer a quarter of their supplies as Tax. Refuse and suffer. This isn’t America anymore. America died when it’s leaders were turned to dust. This is the Kingdom of Manson.”

“All hail King Manson!” A few voices cried out before static filled the air and Deanna turned off the radio, sitting in her self imposed silence as she tried to both think and not think. She wanted to cry but it felt like her tears had run dry. Still, the well of sadness was deep.

This was really happening. This was reality. The National Guard wasn’t coming to save her. The government wasn’t stepping in. People were dying still. People were killing each other.

~~~~~~~<3

The brittle sound of glass shattering woke her from her uneasy sleep. Deanna’s back was stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor or perhaps it was from the night prior on the Frankie’s too small bed. The lamp had gone dark at some point during the night, likely having run out of fuel.

Creeping around the corner while gripping the baseball bat, she peeked into the main room. Moonlight glittered off broken glass on the living room floor. For a moment she thought about how hard it would be to clean the glass up so that the kids didn’t find shards in the carpet. Then she remembered that it didn’t matter, she could leave the glass there for the rest of the month and the kids wouldn’t cut themselves on it. The kids won’t cut themselves on anything ever again.

The beam of a flashlight moved over the kitchen and someone was opening cabinets. They hadn’t seen her in the dark. She wasn’t well hidden but the shadows did enough to hide her. She wasn’t sure if she should just let them take what they wanted.

“Do you see Deanna?” A voice called from outside. It sounded like the children’s gym teacher, Mr. Rick.

“No.” The man in the kitchen called back as Mr. Rick walked closer, stepping over the broken window frame into the living room and Deanna realized it was the children’s teacher from the year prior, Mr. Taft. “Aurora said Deanna was always shopping. There’s lots of stuff here.”

“What are you doing?” Deanna stood, bat hanging limply from her hands as she realized she knew these people. “Why did you break the window?”

“We’re gathering supplies.” Mr. Rick said as the two beams of light settled on her, blinding her for a moment.

“That’s my food.” She dumbly observed as Mr. Taft loaded up a bag of canned goods regardless of the fact that she was standing there, watching.

“It’s ours now.” Mr. Rick answered, joining Mr. Taft in the kitchen and loading up everything he could grab. Deanna launched herself at them, dropping the bat and pulling at Mr. Taft’s arm.

“You’re a teacher for god’s sake!” She yelled.

“Was a teacher. There are no teachers anymore. There are no more students, no more schools.” Mr. Taft pushed her and she fell to the ground only for Mr. Rick to kick her, the blow connecting harshly.

Blindly she grabbed at the bat and swung. It took a few tries for the bat to connect the first time. She kept swinging until they backed away. Her chest was heaving and panic was welling inside of her as she swung and swung. Tears fueled by panic filled her eyes. It didn’t register that they had abandoned their spoils and left the way they had come until the bat was hitting nothing but cabinets and floor, the hollow sound filling the still air.

Deanna didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she crawled through her house, trying to accomplish her goals without drawing any attention to her home. Carefully, she pulled toward the front door a pillow and blankets. By dawn she had a pile of stuff that wouldn’t even begin to cover all her needs for the foreseeable future. Yet it would have to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3

@usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @dangertoozmanykids101, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl