#so like....obvious choice is 2 turn 2 the comfort of family for identity

[rollercoasterwords]

honestly thinking abt "i got mom'd" again in light of recent discoveries....imagine spending ur whole life trying to be a daughter who is a son who is trying to become her father so that maybe he'll be proud of her who like. so desperately does not want to turn into her mother. and then ur dad dies and ur no longer a daughter, and ur husband betrays u so ur no longer a wife, and ur brothers begin to close ranks so ur no longer a sister....shiv literally gets mom'd in this episode. all the other threads are being cut and the only one left is a growing umbilical cord

[gallierhouse]

Controversial but I think Louis was a worse father to Claudia than Lestat… Louis asked for her to be made, and then he didn’t protect her from Lestat. And I know Louis was a victim too and he was trapped in an impossible situation, but he still didn’t protect her. Even in 1.05 she’s still trying to protect him from Lestat, she’s the one who tries to defend him when Lestat is dragging Louis around, she’s the one who takes care of him when he’s injured and recovering, she’s the one who tries to set new rules when Lestat returns to protect both her and Louis. When they finally kill Lestat, Louis slams her against the wall and refuses to let her make sure his death is final because he still can’t pick her over Lestat! He can’t pick his daughter, the daughter he asked Lestat to make instead of taking her to the hospital, the daughter he trapped in his failing fucked up relationship with Lestat, over the man who abused both of them! In season 2 he resents her for leaving him for the coven, half-resents her for killing Lestat (the early episodes, in Romania, when it’s obvious their relationship is incredibly tense). Even when they’re traveling she’s the one who hunts and learns new languages. She’s the one providing for them. And I know Louis didn’t want to be there, and he went with her out of love, but he’s still passive and quietly resentful. Then in Paris he picks Armand over her. He won’t believe her when she tells him Armand picked her up and choked her, won’t intervene when Armand knocks out the coven at dinner, won’t even comfort her when she’s upset about her role or the blue dress. He’s just like, well, you joined the coven, so this is how it is. And I know she’s an adult and she made her own choices, but he’s still her father. He didn’t even tell her that Armand knew the truth about Lestat. He’s blind to the danger of Armand because he loves Armand, but he’s been blind to danger in the past because of love, and he still hasn’t learned his lesson! Even if Claudia spells it out for him he can’t see it and assumes she’s just bitter (their argument, when she says “Picked another one over me!” and even when she points out that their obvious attraction to each other clouds their judgment). And the thing is that Claudia needs him. She’s a child vampire. When they travel it’s his authority as her father figure that grants them passage through the borders. He helps her pass as a human. He’s the one who has to turn Madeleine, because she can’t do it herself. No matter how strong or independent she is, she’s still got a child’s body. She’s stuck in this cycle of needing his approval or agreement to get things she wants for herself. And when Louis finally turns Madeleine for her, he recalls saying something about how they’re finally “even.” He feels indebted to her. He’s sorry for everything he’s put her through. But all he can think is that they’re finally even and he finally doesn’t have to be the one “providing” for her, even though she’s been taking care of him since New Orleans! I know this is uncharitable towards Louis — it’s undeniable he loves her, and I don’t even think he loved Lestat or Armand more than he loved her, more that he loved them all and could never pick one over the other, which just disappointed and hurt everyone — but I do think that by the time they turn Madeleine he’s tired.

He’s tired of only being Claudia’s father and not Louis, the vampire, the artist, the art collector, the businessman, whatever. So much of his identity is wrapped up in serving someone else’s needs (first he provided for his human family, and it wasn’t freeing, it was an obligation and sometimes a burden, then he provided for Lestat by playing the role of a housewife, then he tried to provide for Claudia as her father and her brother) and he’s finally at a place where he thinks he might be free of obligation (his pretend D/S play with Armand lets him delude himself about the true nature of their relationship). And he’s depressed, and he’s been depressed and suicidal for a long time, and for once, after turning Madeleine, he might have the chance to do something for himself (he opens up his wounds, thinks about putting it all down, thinks about doing what he was going to do before Lestat turned him).

I feel for Louis, and I understand that he’s in pain, and he’s been trapped in a difficult position for a long time. But none of it excuses the fact that all he’s done since he met Claudia is make her needs secondary to the needs of the men he loves, and yeah, he loves her, but loving her wasn’t enough to undo the damage. It’s like Armand said — she loved you, but not the way Lestat did, not the way I do — and that’s what makes Louis snap. Armand’s pressing on an old wound, and it’s the truth. Louis knows that Claudia’s love for him wasn’t enough for him (and his love for her wasn’t enough for them, either) and that’s the part he had to play in her demise. He loved her, and she loved him, and it still wasn’t enough for him, and that’s how it went wrong (first in New Orleans, when he couldn’t pick her over Lestat, so he welcomes the monster back into their home, lets the monster live, then in Paris, when he couldn’t pick her over Armand, so he inadvertently leads them right back to the monster, the monster she tried to kill to protect him!). Of course he hates himself. It’s his fault! He wasn’t a good father, and loving someone doesn’t make you a good father, it just means you loved them! And feeling doesn’t save anyone, only action does.

[dc-ocs-200x]

FILE

Trigger Warnings: Beginning of Backstory delves into kid fights (like dog fights but with kids), murder, and imprisonment.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

General Information

Name: Wrath "Lucias"

Nicknames: Lu, Luce, Luci, Lu-Lu, Little Soldier, Braxie

Age: Melina years worth, physically appears to only be 22-24

Species: Embodiment of wrath, immortal being, once was a Cambion

Gender: AMAB, identities as agender

Pronouns: it/its/itself

Sexuality: Demisexual panromantic

D.O.B.: October 29th

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio ♏️

Alignment: Bounces between Chaotic Good and Neutral Neutral/Neutral Good depending on if it's angry or not

Classification: Alpha

Physical Appearance

Skin color: White with a reddish-tan tint

Hair Color: Half black (left side), half white (right side)

Hair Style: Doesn't put much effort into its hair, often leaving it messy looking, it's length often stays just below it's ears (per Cain's demands) but it has had it longer and shorter before

Eye Color: Red

Wears: Much like it's hairstyle, Wrath isn't fussy over what it wears, when it's in control of its outfits it usually goes with comfortable shirts, sometimes a hoody, and pants (grunge style pants either ripped, with chains, or with deigned patches), however when asked, it has been known to wear the more formal taste of it's uncles choices, frilly button ups and all

Personality

Personality: Wrath is the walking form of 'if looks could kill'. To be the barer of the sin of wrath, it is surprisingly calm and not one to immediately jump into conflict. When it is worked up, however, all hell breaks loose. It has a surprisingly big heart for that sin as well, willing to take on all the responsibility of everyone's safety against anyone or anything. Emotions are not Wrath's forte, seeing as it had been taught to suppress them from a young age but it has worked on better expressing itself, throughly interested in the emotions it can feel and how far those feelings can go. In pair with not being good with its feelings, it doesn't express them too much as a means of intimidation, it wants strangers to be weary of it, and in turn of its family, as a means to protect them. While having a stronger build due to its powers, Wrath is extremely skillful and agile, very light on its toes mainly from its days before it was sin barer of wrath. While not popping up all the time, Wrath can be extremely sensitive especially with its past as it can remember every fight it has gone through, every face of every child its fought (and killed), every outcome of the fights, on those days it tends to be more secluded and moody, though it tries not to make it obvious not wanting to worry its family. It has a photographic memory.

Likes: Cuddling, being held, cooking, protecting others, learning, being read to, emotions, rain and mud puddles, playful wrestling, coloring

Dislikes: Being seen as weak, nightmares, it's photographic memory, having its picture taken, pettiness, not having some kind of control over its emotions

Fears: Hurting others, being heavily reminded of its past, being seen/called evil, mild fear of strong storms

Quotes

Quote 1: "If you have something to say, then say it out loud, jackass."

Quote 2: "I am being nice. Do I make you angry, uneasy?"

Quote 3: "Preferred pronouns?"

Quote 4: "Alright, Lu. A bit easier, huh?"

Quote 5: "By choice. They can respect me regardless of what I go by. Can you?"

Quote 6: "So... we kinda have that in common, Uncle Cain? Your mark and my mark, as a reminder?"

Quote 7: "Stop asking me questions, I hate to see you cry."

Quote 8: "We are one in the same. Oh, you take all of the pain away."

Quote 9: "She.... she was... sweet... always looking out for me... tried shielding me from dad and his ways.... but, as he put it 'she couldn't do it forever'... she'd hug me close and tell me things about the human life every night. But every night it was something different. Lullabies, stories, sometimes she'd ramble random facts until I fell asleep."

Relationship With Other Characters

Envy "Raven": One of Wrath's best friends and one of two sins that it's willing to be a little more open with in regards to its insecurities and fears, Wrath refuses to let anyone hurt a hair on Envy's head and it dares anyone to try, it is willing to take Envy's vents, even going as far as to provoke his anger just to help his mood, letting him wrestle with it.

Pride "Athena": Sees Pride as its little sister making it protective over her, especially as it saw Envy and Pride practically glued to the hip when they all were children, it enjoys letting her fuss over its hair and outfits, gladly going along with whatever she wants to put it in.

Greed "Lux": Has a bad tendency to regard Greed like an immature child, often expecting him to break his toys and whine about it afterwards that said, Wrath does find something endearing about it, truly seeing Greed as it's baby brother.

Gluttony "Nyx": Like all the other sins, Gluttony was the youngest sibling it grew up with for a while, so that automatically makes it a lot more protective of her, this is where it's big sibling tendencies shine the brightest.

Sloth "Salem": The Yin to Wrath's Yang, Salem gets to see all sides of Wrath, except for its utter rage (something Wrath thankfully doesn't feel much of these days and is something it doesn't want to show Sloth, worried it will either hurt or scare them), the two balance each other out extremely well, Sloth being the only person that can quickly calm it back down.

Lust "Darcey": More often than not, these two do not get along, Wrath sees Lust as an annoying nuisance, and while Lust doesn't have a thing against Wrath himself, he definitely doesn't help his case by teasing it, that said Wrath still will not tolerate slander against Lust's name and is more than ready to protect and defend him.

Cain: Cain and Wrath do not always see eye to eye, that being said, Wrath is more than prepared to step up to defend Cain against anyone taking it as 'no one gets to say you're a piece of shit except for the people that live in this house', and Cain does hold plenty of endearment towards Wrath himself, finding its wrathful and even violent tendencies entertaining at times.

Abel: Abel was another adult that helped Wrath with its emotional regulation, while not quite to the extent Satan is due to Abel being a rather gentle soul, he was the best adult to calm it down, especially when it was still young, even now as an adult when it feels itself growing agitated but it's usual sources of comfort are busy with their own things, Wrath will be content to go and be simply held by Abel for a short time to settle itself.

Satan: While these two started off extremely rocky, they have an amazing relationship now, Satan helping teach Wrath some kinds of emotional regulation and ways to calm its anger, Satan is the one adult it feels understands its feelings and can help it the best.

Freyja: Sees Freyja as a part of the family, wholeheartedly, it doesn't think there could be anyone to better fit in with their ragtag bunch, and suit Pride so perfectly, that said it is a creature of few words towards her, not that Wrath is much of a talker to anyone.

Mina: Wrath throughly impressed and interested about Mina, seeing as it was one of the first to see that she was a lot more sneaky and clever than she let on, and then being able to survive Greed and his temper tantrums, it will playfully dismiss her as just as childish as Greed seeing as she is his 'playmate' but there obviously is a lot more respect for her than it let's on.

Achilles: Just like Amityville, it automatically took Achilles somewhat under its care, it's not the most present mentor but it is very willing to teach Achilles what it can, especially in regards to his demon powers having seen all of it in Hell, it was the first to point out that his wings are a weapon and not just in the sense they allow him to fly, it also offers what it can in regards to emotions controlling one's physical strength and how to balance the two out.

Amityville: As mentioned, Wrath became somewhat of a mentor to Amity, just as it is for Achilles, also teaching her about her demon powers especially in regards to her tail which also is not just there for decoration, it got to know Amity a little bit easier due to them having a lot of one on one time during the nights, with them both being night owls, it helps out whenever and wherever it can also in regards to emotions, it may not be good at expressing its own but there's no denying it has done its studying.

Backstory

Wrath was born to a woman, Clementine, who wanted children but was unable to have any, leading her to make a deal with an incubus who promised her a child, what the woman didn't realize was she was signing away her life. As soon as she became pregnant, she was locked away in Hell by said incubus. The pregnancy was rough and resulted in Lucias. The first year was as normal as things could be in Hell, but by age two, Lucias had its natural demon abilities peeking through as well as advancing far past the average human two-year-old making its father, Frollo, decide it was time for some 'fun'. He signed Wrath up for a local fight in Hell, 'kid fights' as they were called where demon children of all ages fought each other often times to the death, but at the very least severe injury. From there, that was what what its life consisted of. Training and fighting. It's only break from the horrific cycle was the nighttime, the only time Clementine was able to see her baby. She'd hold it close and soothe it to sleep with talk of the human world and what it was like, sometimes singing lullabies to it, sometimes random facts, stories, whatever she could think of at the time. This, tragically, came to a hard stop when Frollo finally fully drained Clementine of her life-force. He locked her away from Lucias and he forced it to continue fighting for his and other Hellish beings amusement. This was its life until it was about 11 when Cain and Abel got ahold of it. It being framed almost as a kidnapping Lucias was extremely weary of them at first, when it became immortal it took the illness better than most of the other kids, going practically comatose through the first day and sleeping it on and off through the second. Once better was when it first attacked Cain, but with Abel helping talk it back down, Lucias was able to begin its road to being the sin barer of Wrath. It first met Sloth when Cain and Abel brought home their limp body. Wrath was immediately fascinated and infatuated, often sneaking into the room even when not allowed. It was practically glued at the hip once it was able to be.

Extra Information

It's immortality tattoo is placed on the very center of its back, right on the spine which is said to be the most painful spot.

Wrath was originally named Abraxas by its parents, but when Cain and Abel found it, it came up with the first name it could and that eventually stuck. Wrath doesn't mind as it feels this seperates it from it's dad.

It has a scar on its right hand in the shape of a bite mark which it got from when it bit Cain upon still being new to the House of Mysteries.

Is (currently) the only sin that I've adapted to the Netflix version of Sandman, Lucias being a living embodiment of wrath made in order to keep the Waking world's wrath at bay.

While being Satan's sin barer of Wrath, Wrath also is the ruler of the Anger ring of hell.

During its time as a fighter it has seen children like each of the sins die, sometimes even by its own hands.

It has two full on fangs in place of its canines.

When it and Cain get into altercations (very rarely does it happen) both more try to restrain the other into submission more than hurt the other seeing as Cain's mark means Wrath gets hurt seven fold and Wrath is strong enough to cause a lot of physical hurt to Cain, neither want to see the other hurt though.

Despite how they look, Wrath's horns have a kind of velvety texture to them, it's also a bit of a pleasure spot for it in the same response a cat gives to being pet.

Wrath's powers include super strength and super stamina, it also has some lower grade demon powers like energy manipulation but it's been so long since it has used it that it would take some time and energy for it to tap back into it.

A very distinct speech pattern of Wrath's includes skipping letters in its words (some examples I've done in my writings include: 'nimals, suppose', and what're).

Has a love hate relationship with fire.

It's adoption day is celebrated August 5th.

It was the second child obtained but is the oldest in age.

Little Soldier is its special nickname from Cain and Abel, neither are really sure who started it but it simply stuck.

Playlist

You're Not Welcome, Naethan Apollo, 2:30

Mama, My Chemical Romance, 4:38 (♡Theme Song)

Hell's Coming With Me, Poor Man's Poison, 3:32

I Am Damaged, Barret Wilbert Weed & Ryan McCartan, 1:25

My Demons, STARSET, 4:47

Surface Pressure, Jessica Darrow, 3:21

Picrews made of it (not all include its horns or split hair because they weren't an option for the picrew)

One of my favorite Tik Toks of it (Very hard choice because I loved almost all of its)

Defending Cain against someone (idea gotten from the original Dreaming comics issue #8).

Tags: @p3achgutz-blog

[queensusanthemagnificent]

It’s Gushing About Cinderella 1997 Time Again

Okay, so instead of color theory, today, I’m looking at Cinderella’s journey with trust, the Prince’s inability to recognize her at the ball, and how that aspect of the original fairytale got utilized to further along the theme of learning to trust people to love you for who you are.

Part 1: The Prince Meets Cinderella

When the prince meets Cinderella just after The Sweetest Things, there is no magic involved at all, and he’s IMMEDIATELY smitten with her. Just thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and makes no bones about trying to figure out how to ask her out even after she’s excused herself to go about her day. Cinderella is visibly uncomfortable with the attention, but doesn’t completely turn him away. We know from The Sweetest Things that she WANTS love, that she yearns for it even, but the moment someone turns around and gives it to her, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with it anymore. She’s mostly confused by the prince’s behavior, but ultimately gains enough confidence and chutzpah to call him out on continuing to pester her even when she’s made it fairly clear she’s not interested by asking him if he even knows how to treat a woman.

And of course has her iconic line:

He sticks his foot in his mouth right after by saying she’s “not like most girls” which I will somewhat excuse as we know the prince has grown up massively sheltered and has likely not spoken to many women outside of the trappings of nobility who are all attempting to gain his or his parents’ favor, particularly as a suitor (we also know from a later scene that his mother has been attempting to set him up for a while and this is likely how he has met most women he’s ever interacted with).

Cinderella chooses to be forgiving and admits that she’s led a fairly sheltered life, thus how she’s gained her opinions I suppose, and the prince admits the same and they really seem to connect TOGETHER for the first time before the stepmother interrupts. Despite her choice to try to walk away from the prince when he initially showed interest in her, Cinderella risks her stepmother’s impatience and irritation by turning back one last time to watch the prince leave. She WANTS love, she WANTS to trust that someone could be interested in her like this, but she doesn’t completely trust it to happen or to last.

Part 2: The Prince sees Cinderella at the Ball

The next time the prince sees Cinderella is at the ball. He’s just spent the last several hours making nice with a bunch of women he doesn’t know and isn’t interested in so he can appease his mother. Presumably, he could probably expect the girl he met in the marketplace a few days ago might make an appearance given that the invite went out to all the girls in the kingdom, but he never mentions it. While it was clearly a nice connection to make in the moment, he seems to mostly chalk it up to a successful trip to the village, made nicer by a pretty girl and doesn’t think much about it afterwards, esp since the problem of the ball comes up immediately and his attention gets derailed.

In other words, the prince is not thinking about Cinderella anymore. Not maliciously, but he’s got other things on his mind, so when she shows up and he doesn’t recognize her despite having flirted with her only a few days ago, it’s somewhat understandable. Plus, she’s all made up with a completely different hairstyle and a nice dress and they have only met ONCE, for a few minutes total, several days ago.

But, that being said, while he doesn’t recognize her, he IS once again immediately smitten with her, and he does have that sense of familiarity, he just can’t place where. The problem then comes when he starts to try to guess how he knows her.

His guesses are all related to Cinderella being rich and/or nobility like him rather than considering that commoner girl he flirted with in the marketplace only a few days ago. Cinderella reacts fairly kindly to those guesses, telling him that she can’t swim, so she wouldn’t have been at the lake that summer, or that she’s never been to the mountains where his lodge is. But these assumptions eventually feed into Cinderella’s feelings of inadequacy and her fears that he won’t care for her when he finds out who she really is despite his initial reaction to her in the marketplace.

She starts to get flustered again when he calls her beautiful and her attention is drawn to how everyone around her is looking at them, but is effectively distracted by the Prince beginning to sing and only becomes flustered again once the King and Queen decide to insert themselves into the situation and get to know her and the reality of what seems to be happening hits her. She just intended to go to a fun party and dance a little, but now she’s gotten the attention of the Prince and it’s coming back to her that the point of the ball was for the Prince to find a WIFE. But she can tell, both from the Prince’s earlier comments and the ones made by the King and Queen asking who she is and who her family is, that they’re assuming things about her status that aren’t true.

Cinderella wants to keep living in a fantasy, though, where a Prince could love someone like her, so every time her reality comes into the conversation, she tries to move the conversation away. She wants to live in the bubble of romance the Prince is creating for her rather than talking about her family or what he wants in a wife.

And it works, right up until the clock strikes midnight and that reality crashes down on her like an avalanche.

Despite everything they’ve talked about that night, about how he knows she’s The One despite just having met her, about what he wants in a wife and how she seems to fit that description, about their feelings, Cinderella does not trust that he’s going to like her once he finds out who she is. Because despite how much time they’ve spent with each other (which, according to clock, is about 45 minutes now), he hasn’t recognized her as the girl from the marketplace ONCE.

Cinderella herself never mentions whether she recognizes the Prince from the marketplace or not, but we can fairly safely assume that she does. That moment meant a LOT to her, it was likely the first friendliness she had been shown in a while, especially by a stranger, and it hit her like a ton of bricks. It showed her that someone COULD be interested in her for who she is, could grow to love her.

And of course, meeting the Prince’s family at the ball gives her a sense of what it would be like to be part of HIS family, a family that already does seem to like her well enough and clearly care about their son. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of having, but they all believe her to be something she isn’t, and she can’t trust that they’d treat her the same if they knew. So instead of risking it all for love, for that dream, she runs again. She’d rather leave it one really good night and a lifelong what-if than get rejected one more time.

Cinderella runs home, back to what she knows, back to what’s comfortable. In the “Do I Want You” reprise, Cinderella appears wistful, but resigned. The Prince, on the other hand, seems almost more confident and determined. He’s smiling at the empty courtyard, even before he sees the shoe left behind. Cinderella is prepared to let everything go, but the Prince no longer is. She told him at the ball is that the problem with most people is that they only dream about things without ever doing anything about it.

So he does. He commits himself to finding her, even WITHOUT the shoe, he’s committed to finding her.

Part 3: The Prince Finds Cinderella

Obviously, the fact that the Prince has the need to go out and have everyone try on the shoe means he still has no idea who Cinderella is. He never asks her name at the ball, so he hasn’t connected her to the girl from the marketplace who DID tell him her name. He can’t just go into the village and ask for “Cinderella” yet. But the fact that he goes INTO the village at all means he has recognized that this girl could be literally anyone, commoner or nobility, and it doesn’t matter to him which it is. He’s making no assumptions about her identity anymore.

And then he sees her. In an obvious throwback to their first meeting, he finds her having just dropped all of her belongings in front of a carriage because it moved in front of her a little quickly.

Backing up, though. Cinderella’s gone through an entire journey during this time period. She left the Prince behind at the ball, ready to leave that dream behind as “impossible.” And gives it one last go with the family she was left with, trying to connect with them, be a part of it. And it fails. Again.

But it gives her the strength to realize that this was never going to work. And while she doesn’t believe she can be what a Prince wants, she DOES believe she deserves to be loved and deserves better than what her stepmother is dishing out.

So, the next day, while the Prince is out with a glass slipper, going through every eligible girl in the kingdom trying to find her, Cinderella is preparing to leave her childhood home and set out on her own. Even when she ostensibly DOES hear the Prince in the house, trying on the slipper with her family, she chooses not to make herself known to him, and walks away.

But not quite fast enough and the Prince sees her.

She is once again dressed as a commoner with no magic involved, and this time, the Prince immediately recognizes her both as the woman from the marketplace AND the woman from the ball. From behind. By referencing their first meeting where he initially made his interest known, he indicates that he still likes her despite now knowing her background, and perhaps even BECAUSE he now knows her background as the first woman he ever met who truly understood how he felt and treated him like a person, with kindness and respect, rather than like a Prince.

Cinderella has a choice here. He recognizes her, yes, but she doesn’t have to play along. She doesn’t have to turn around and admit to anything, she COULD, presumably, choose to keep running. But the fact that he RECOGNIZES her, finally, and still wants her, gives her just enough courage to turn around and trust him and confirm her identity, both as the girl in the marketplace and the girl who fits the slipper.

And it pays off. Trusting someone to love you as you are, having the courage to actually go after your dream, to let it come true, pays off.

Have I mentioned how much I love this movie recently? Because this is PEAK Cinderella, and I love this movie.

[mc-lukanette]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

—————

Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

—————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

[buffysummerslay]

I have watched Lucifer series finale yesterday and I am still reeling from feelings, feelings I need to work through to be able to move on.

Unfortunately, I am late to the party and I have started watching Lucifer (despite the show being on my radar for a few years already) when season 6 came out, and this turned avoiding spoilers about the ending as well as the show itself into an extremely hard task. I have, of course, seen some reactions to the ending and it was obvious that the viewers were divided between "the ending was amazing, they really did the story and the characters justice" and "what the fuck was that". I always take these reactions, especially when they come instantly after the episode has ended, with a grain of salt because, realistically, I haven't been fully satisfied with the way a tv show has ended - any tv show - since, like, 2010. However, I also know that there is a difference between "okay, the ending was anticlimactic/disappointing/etc, however, it is the journey that matters and I am still pretty happy with the show" and HIMYM type of ending where you are like "I want this show wiped from my memory because the final hour has ruined the entire experience for me". So, I took some time to reflect on the events that took place, gather my thoughts, and make my peace with the ending. After doing that, I can comfortably say that I am not fully satisfied with the ending because of one very simple reason - I can make sense of the choices taken by the character at the very end of the show only if I use "Lucifer gave Rory his word" rationale, and not because I believe in the theory they provided or the choices they make. So here are some of my thoughts about the ending of this beloved show, including both the things I liked and disliked. Be warned, there are spoilers ahead so if you haven't seen the show, the final season or the series finale, please stop reading because you don't want to manifest spoilery energy into your life!

The main thing I have a problem with is the time loop. I will begin by saying that I really dislike time travel in general - I think that it is an overly used plot divice that more than often creates holes in the story instead of driving the narrative where it needs to go, unless the concept of time travel is integral to the show, like for example in Timeless and Fringe. However, in this case, I dislike that the major characters have made a major decision (a serious, impactful, life-altering decision) based on a flimsy theory. And since they have told us exactly what will happen in the end, we simply didn't know why and how, I have expected a more bulletproof reasoning instead of a rushed conversation wrapped up in five minutes and sealed by a promise. Lucifer leaves Chloe and Rory and goes back to hell, Rory grows up resenting him and she becomes so angry she travels through time to confront him only to end up being the reason for his departure, therefore creating an unbreakable time loop. She makes her parents give her their word that they won't change a thing in order to make sure that Lucifer discovers his true calling, which is helping souls in Hell break their hell loops and ascend to Heaven. And the reason I am so hesitant to accept this is because of two reasons:

1. Lucifer has made amazing progress through the show when it comes to his character development, finding his worth and making peace with his identity, and yet you are trying to tell me that this is the only way he would discover his true calling, especially now when he has a higher level of understanding himself than ever before? And especially since these thoughts and doubts have already been in his mind aka him postponing to become God long before Rory's arrival into their timeline!

2. The consequences of our actions are the results of the choices we make, not the other way around. And sometimes, different choices can lead to different outcomes and sometimes the array of choices we make lead to the same outcome. It is absolutely possible that if they broke the time loop and made different choices, that their actions would lead them to the same outcome aka Lucifer finding his calling while remaining in their lives. I think that it is fully possible for them to make a timeline B (the timeline that would have been created if they broke the time loop) based on the discoveries from the timeline A (their current timeline). There's no reason for me to believe otherwise.

Apart from the discovery of Lucifer's calling, the only thing that came out of the time loop was pain, suffering and probably a lot of loneliness. Even the good things that came out of the time loop (like Lucifer and Rory bonding) are a consequence of the pain that it caused. Of course, if they broke a time loop and created a completely new timeline, choices they would make there could theoretically end up having worse consequences on their lives. They could also be better, or they could be completely the same. The thing is, we don't know, we can only speculate and that is exactly what bothers me. The main characters made a major decision based on a speculation. I don't necessarily have a problem with the things that have happened, but rather with how they happened and how they were explained. Or better to say, how they weren't. I think that they should have completely dedicated the season to exploring this and reassuring us that this is the right choice to make and the right way to go.

Also, the concept of free will and making one's own choices has been pretty integral to the show. We have watched Lucifer struggle with the concept since the beginning of the show because he was convinced he is only a puppet in his father's grand plans. There were many events in the show reinforcing that belief, like Chloe being the gift from God. It took him seasons to accept that he chose to stay in her life, to be close to her, to be her partner in work as well as in life and in that acceptance he finally found the strength to tell her that he loves her. He chose her and she chose him. And while one can argue that leaving them and going back to hell was Lucifer's choice (since, technically, he could have chosen to break his word to his daughter and change things), it is one he didn't want to make. In the final episode he says that he desires to watch his daughter grow up and before he leaves for Hell he tells Chloe he doesn't want to leave her (she even responds that she doesn't want him to leave either, but that this is the choice that they are making for Rory's sake), making me feel like he is making this choice out of duty, out of fear and not because he wants to. He finally accepted that the choices he makes are his and his only, and the final choice in the show was made for him instead by him - I really don't think that the character deserved this. Lucifer gave Rory his word and we know he always goes by his word - they have turned one of the most essential qualities of his character into a plot device and an instrument that caused pain. Additionally, since Rory asked him not to change anything, it was implied that Lucifer can't come back to Earth in order not to risk changing anything even though it is completely possible for him to balance his work hours in Hell and his family time on Earth, like Amenadiel did. I also found this completely unfair and it felt like Lucifer was "banished" to Hell, not only missing out on being with Chloe and watching Rory grow up, but also staying away from his friends and the life he had built for himself. However, on the brighter side, Lucifer doing this - something he doesn't completely understand, something he doesn't want to do - is incredibly selfless of him and only shows how much he has grown. A character who has been described as selfish and self-serving from the very beginning does something so ultimately selfless, something that doesn't serve him in any way - quite the opposite, it pains him. As I said, I don't necessarily mind how things played out, I mind the lack of guarantee that they had to be this way. The only thing we don't know is if Lucifer and Chloe were in contact over the years since Chloe could have kept in touch with him behind Rory's back - maybe she sent him pictures of Rory, and maybe they exchanged letters. I am very doubtful because this would probably make the whole situation harder on them nor do I think that they would risk it because they wouldn't be able to know if their actions are breaking the time loop or if they are a part of the original timeline but hey, this is the stuff that fan fictions are made of!

And finally, I very much disliked the parallel between Lucifer and God - Lucifer abandoning his child for the sake of doing his job and that child growing up resenting him - if it was their intention to draw such a parallel. I think that God somewhat "redeemed" himself in Lucifer's eyes and that through accepting himself Lucifer also learned how to stop resenting his father for the things that transpired between them, and I don't necessarily believe that Lucifer had to walk in his father's shoes to understand him. So, in my opinion, this was completely unnecessary. Something I did like was Lucifer's calling - I think that it shows nicely the full circle he has made and that the souls he thought he is supposed to torture he is now helping heal. In a way, Hell is also the reflection of who Lucifer is - when he saw himself as broken, as evil, as unworthy and undeserving, Hell was also a place of torture - it was a reflection of him. And now that he accepted himself and that others have accepted him for who he is as well, it is a place of healing. In the end, Hell is his kingdom and he can choose to rule it the way he wants to. He broke his own hell loop and he truly became a lightbringer.

And, of course, Lucifer and Chloe (they are so soft and I am so soft for them). Taking into consideration my very bad OTP track reckord, I kinda expected a much, much worse ending for them - I mean, the Devil falling in love with a human, what could possibly go wrong, right? I knew from the very beginning that they aren't getting a pure, wholeseome, family-like ending. In order for that to happen, she would either have to become immortal (leaving Trixie, losing her detective identity), or he would have to become mortal - both of these scenarios feel cheap and I never would have wanted this for them or the show. Another option was to give them their happy life on Earth but then they would either have to leave a somewhat open ending or deal with the fact that ultimately, as a mortal, Chloe will die. And if they were given their happy ending on Earth, who knows if they would end up together in afterlife. Even if they did, it definitely wouldn't feel as emotional and as gratifying as it does now. The thing is, it is easy to give in to the pain of their separation when we measure it by the pivotal moments of happiness and loss that drive the lives of humans - him not being there when Rory was born or when she grew wings or when she started school - and it is even harder when you know how much she needed him and how much he wanted to be there for her. It is even more painful when you think about Chloe spending her entire lifetime without him, carrying all that pain inside of her, and him spending what had to be centuries alone in Hell. However, this is a fantasy show and many of our characters are immortal, celestial beings who have a different understanding of time, so maybe the idea of what a happy ending is and the rules for measuring happiness aren't the same as they would have been under other circumstances. Chloe became lieutenant and tried to make a difference, and she got to raise her daughters and see them grow up, and Lucifer helped so many souls heal, doing so much good. And now they get to spend the eternity together, solving crimes and kicking ass in the afterlife! Many of their friends and family are immortal, celestial beings too and (I am pretty sure) they can pay a visit to their human friends in Heaven... or see them in Hell, but let's hope not! In the end, what is one lifetime compared to eternity? Of course, none of this makes for the time they have lost, the momories they didn't get to make and the moments he wasn't there for, but now there are so many new memories they will get to make and so many moments to catch up on. It is bittersweet, but I think that's how it was supposed to be - in the end, pain is part of life.

I also have a few (dis)honourable mentions:

1. I am really sad and disappointed Lucifer didn't get to say goodbye to Trixie. She was gone for the majority of the season, but she was also a very important person in his life and he loved her. And we know how much she loved him.

2. I can't get over Rory travelling through time to kill her father because she is angry at him... sis, you kill him before he makes you, you wipe yourself out of existence.

3. I can't believe that they were surprised that Chloe got pregnant after having loads of superhuman sex (without any protection, apparently) after another human already got pregnant with an angel not that long ago.

4. Lucifer saying goodbye to Maze will forever remain one of the most beautiful scenes in the show.

5. The final major scene between Chloe and Lucifer, where they say goodbye before he leaves for hell, lives in my head rent free. I was choking on tears watching that scene, I literally had to pause and rewind three times. Such a beautiful(ly painful) scene. Also, when you have a ship and a person A says to the person B "close your eyes", pain is coming. I swear I travelled back to 1999 when Buffy said the same thing to Angel before sending him to a hell dimension.

6. When Chloe dies and goes to Heaven and Amenadiel greets her and asks her if she's ready to go home and then takes her to Lucifer was so pure. Her Heaven is being in Hell with Lucifer and there's something deeply poetic about that.

7. Hearing hello detective for the last time cleared my skin.

I have really and truly enjoyed the show, and the minor inconsistencies I see in its ending can't change that. I loved the show because it told stories about people and it allowed them to drive the narrative, and I can't say many shows these days do that.

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you know of any fics that have John at the Surgery in them? It wasn't really explored in the show so... it can be just like one scene within a larger fic, but I haven't been able to find any fics with this. TIA

Hey Lovely!

Ahhhh you know, I have a lot of fics where he’s at the surgery, but I’ll be damned if I can remember them all!!! Here’re the ones I do remember! <3 Please add your own fics, my friends, if your fic is in the Surgery!

JOHN AT THE SURGERY

See Also: 

Hospital Fics

Hospitals Pt 2

Doctor / Caretaker John 

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 2 

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 3 

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 4

Excerpts from Purgatory by reapersun, what_alchemy (E, 5,829 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Doctor John, Reunion Fic, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Bottomlock, Fic with Pics)  – John serves community service in homeless shelters for chinning the superintendent. Unbeknownst to him, the Homeless Network has his back.

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong... Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

The Acronym by DancingGrimm (T, 15,057 w., 12 Ch. || Humour) – "'Bee Ay Em Eff'. Hm, that's a new one on me. Do you know what it means, Sherlock?" John might not know what it means, but there are many little ways in which he proves the acronym suits him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w., 58 Ch. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – "Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

MARKED FOR LATER (tagged with “Surgery”)

Milk, the Flu, and Harry by Inactive Account (sassybleu) (M, 1,609 w., 1 Ch. || Insecure Sherlock, Understanding John, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock’s Called ‘Freak’) – John leaves Sherlock for a few days (angsty) John says things he doesn’t mean (“you’re a freak”) Sherlock thinks he deserves it (he’s insecure) and packs John’s bags for him while he’s gone. John is to blame (bad day at surgery-Sherlock being Sherlock; he’s frustrated and snaps)

Inhale With Ease by Vulpesmellifera (E, 25,989 w., 8 Ch. || S4 Divergence, Covid-19/Quarantine, Jealous John, Love Letters, Victor Trevor, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending) – In the years after Vivian Norbury's capture, life seems to work out just as John planned. He's got that respectable job at the surgery and goes home to his wife and child. He joins Sherlock on cases a couple times per week. It's a rhythm he can live with - just enough adrenaline highs to balance out the drudgery of a normal bloke's life. Until a pandemic, and Victor Trevor, arrive in London.

Turned - Part I : Queen and Country by saintscully (E, 76,008 w., 20 Ch. || HLV Divergence / No TAB, Graphic Sherlock/OC, Spy Sherlock, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Army Homophobia, Emotional Infidelity, Physical Infidelity, Slow Burn, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Johnlock) – Moriarty’s message never gets broadcasted. The airplane taking Sherlock away never returns.As rumours begin to swirl about a British POW found alive in Gaza ten months later, Mycroft shows up at John’s surgery with some good news: Sherlock is alive, and he’s coming back. In this story, inspired by ‘Homeland’ and ‘Prisoners of War’, John and Sherlock are left with no choice but to re-examine everything about their relationship since Sherlock’s fall. Part 1 of the Turned series

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 937,347+ w. across 22 Stories || Series WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Autism Spectrum, Anaesthetist John / Neurosurgeon Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity, Additional Tags Under Link) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson and Holmes. (I haven’t read this one, but JUDGING by the topic of these stories, I imagine there’s a lot of surgery scenes lol)

[everlarkficexchange]

A Tale Of Broken Arrows.

Part 2 of 2, rated K.

Prompt 85: Arranged Marriage!Everlark. (Not medieval necessarily but ‘old time’ setting) Peeta and Katniss have been betrothed since they were children, but have only seen each other through portraits/paintings. Both grow resentful of their arranged marriage, and act up against it; K being as wild and unladylike as possible: hunting, wearing trousers, riding bareback; P being a rake, silver tongue con artist, etc. A month before their wedding, they meet at a The Hub (black market/pub/whatever disresputable place you want it to be) and bet at arm wrestling against each other. Is it love at first sight? Do they armwrestle each other? Do they recognize one another? Will there be smut because ‘hey, we’ll be marry in a month anyway’? Writers choice! [submitted by @alliswell21 ]

Written By: @albinokittens300 or @mellarked-katnisseverdeen

Summery: A secret trip to the underground market goes unexpectedly for Price Peeta Mellark when he happens to run into his betrothed, Lady Katniss Everdeen.

A/N- As promised, second part! As per usual…I love this AU. And defiantly want to do more with it. Perhaps in the future, that will happen but I hope you liked it where I left it off. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think if you feel like it :).

They set out to find a table, a place to fairly arm wrestle when something catches Peeta’s eye.

His future wife and temporary opponent follow him and Finnick with her two friends, both woman and blond. That’s when he notices their Ladies crest on the rings they wear. It makes him swivel his head to see if anyone is eyeing them suspiciously. Luckily he doesn’t catch any suspicious eyes on them.

But the rings mark them as nobles. Peeta is sure when he dares a second quick glance at them.

Panic sets in, and deeply as he realizes they could be discovered, the both of them. Their families’ wrath would be of little concern compared to what would happen if the whole crowd of people realized their leaders, royalty no less visited a place such as the Hob. His family would face the ruin of their Prince if he was found here, not to mention Katniss. Who would be subjected to even worse accusations as a woman.

“We need to get out of here,” Finnick whispers, having noticed what he has and elbowing his side. “Not only us, but for them as well. Now.” Nodding, Peeta glances around before stoping their group and turning to Katniss. Speaking in as hushed a voice as he could manage.

“Their rings?”

Confused, she looks to her friends and handmaids, Madge and Delly. Kind woman who, while they didn’t always see eye to eye with her yearning for freedom, cared for her as she did them.

With horror, Katniss looked and saw on both their hands had Lady Everdeen’s crest on their fingers. Recognizable and obvious. In fairness, she had not warned them to put away their jewelry and finery, as she had. For a moment, she is touched by Peeta’s warning, but it is fleeting. Their little wager would be dangerous. Any more attention could have their identity revealed by someone who looked even the littlest bit too close.

The idea made her heart race and stomach sink.

When she sees him gesture to a break in the crowd forming, Katniss acts quickly. Grabbing Delly and Madge’s hand and pulling them along. A shush silences their worries, and they follow her hastily. Though her blood runs ice cold when she hears a random voice speak.

“Do you recognize that girl? I swear I know her-”

Thankfully, they make it out of the ally where the Hob hides, and no one seems to pay them much mind despite someone coming far too close to the truth for comfort.

When they are several minutes away from the market, they stop. Deciding to get her friends to safety and have a more private conversation with the blond Prince, Katniss speaks up. “Madge, Delly, go back to the castle. I’ll be along shortly. Try to distract my mother if the two of you could.” She says.

“I’ll escort them, miss. It will be as if they took a stroll in the gardens.” Finnick says, and everyone agrees.

For a moment, the two of them watch their company leave before Peeta says something. “So, the Hob?” It is curious but also teasing and lightheaded. More importantly, not haughty. “I go there to sell my paintings, sometimes. But I always bring Finnick. Not a wholesome sort of place.”

“Yes, well. It will sell arrows to anyone…even a Lady whose been banned from her families weapons.” She points out. “Though, I also will bring my game there, too. My mother doesn’t know, and the commoners get fed. Though I don’t think I’ll be doing much hunting any time soon, now.” There is an uncomfortable silence after the words.

Peeta knows, from experience, the feeling Katniss was daring to express. His own parents had demanded he stop his painting- which is why he sold them at the Hobs for perhaps more than he should. It would do good to replace the paint and canvases he used. All of his friends who happened to be female, as well, were strictly forbidden, lest he establishes a reputation as a rake. Admittedly he could be teasing and agreeable…but none of them moved past flirting.

This marriage had made them both hide things clearly. And it was ironic this pain was something they could share. The fact grates at him, though, and he offers an olive branch.

“If you meet me here tomorrow, I will bring you the arrows that were broken. You bought them, fair and square.”

Katniss smiles, noting the meaning of his words. It relieved that her betrothed seemed to have no intention to try and stop her from hunting the way her family had. It still wasn’t the most pleasant thing, not having a choice in their marriage. But this Peeta seemed kind and intelligent. Surely she could make the most of her time with him.

“I look forward to it, Prince Peeta.” She says, smirking

“As do I, Lady Katniss.”

[thr-333]

Could you possibly do one where Mari/Mari and marine is/are the daughter/son of the joker?

I actually planned quite a lot for this after you asked but could never get my thoughts to make something comprehensive so I give up here's what I got!:

-Twins are Joker and Harleys kids born before the two split up(and so help me they will split up this story needs gay aunt Ivy)

-As you might know, these two clowns have another kid; Lucy. Harley left Lucy with her sister when she was born. In canon, she thinks Harley is her aunt but I would say in this fic she learned the truth when the twins were also dropped off.

-So the twins grew up in Gotham with their aunt and big sister knowing full well who their parents are; as such they make the responsible choice to suppress every part of themselves that resembles them and constantly dye their hair in an effort to avoid looking like them. You know healthy coping mechanisms. -

-Naturally, Marinette has brown hair with blue eyes and Marion blonde with brown eyes.

-Their personalities are a bit different from Mismatch. 

-Marion is still a trickster and a trouble maker but this time around has Marinette fully involved and responsible for his shenanigans. He has a bit of a habit of talking to himself(or singing random phrases), sometimes in the third person; he hates when he does, so Marinette always tells him off. He’s always gets the impulse of dying his hair outlandish colors and will vehemently deny his favorite color is green.

- Marinette is crafty, both figuratively and literally. She’s smart, her mother is a doctor after all she can be manipulative to people that arent her(close) family to protect the ones she cares about. She has a deep-seated fear of becoming a trophy, an object to be put on display like her mother and so dresses the opposite and pushes away her love for fashion.

-They will always call each other Mari but if someone else tries they both answer its a nickname they strictly use for each other.

-In a world where Gotham exists it makes absolutely no sense that Gabriel wouldn't start his reign as Hawkmoth in Gotham(the place with the most negative emotions like geez) so that works out perfectly for the twins becoming heroes(Adrien can move to Gotham or be left in Paris to be kept safe your choice)

-Instead of the twins proving themselves by helping an old man up off the street they go a step further is beating up the thugs that try to rob him(all Fu’s set up of course). When they come home to find two mysterious boxes on their beds they make the only rational conclusion children of the joker would; it’s a bomb!

-Not wanting to get the police involved for obvious reasons they find the security footage(which gets the police involved in a different way) and start tracking down fu to see why he’s trying to kill him.

-And as you may recall at this point in canon Ladybug and Chat Noir are defeating an Akuma, well they're not here they’re off to beat up an old man so thats Batman’s job for the time being.

-The twins get caught up in the fight as civilians and are saved by Batman who immediately recognizes them(you don't think Batman has case files on all of Jokers hellspawn?) so that’s gonna be a problem later but never mind that for now~

-The twins track down Fu, who is wondering why they aren’t out fighting the Akuma. Long story short Fu comes back to the house with them and proves they aren't bombs giving them the miraculous.

-I’m a bit indecisive on the names. I thought Marinette would be Red Bug and Marion Black Cat(yes I know that names already taken I don’t care). But I thought Crimson Bug would work better because then their names would start with the same letters. Then I wanted alliteration like Black Bug and Crimson Cat but that obviously doesn't make any sense since Chats color is green not red-- then I realized it would be completely in character for them to call themselves that confusing everyone in the process so no one quite sure whos name is who(if you wanna write it go with whatever I just thought it could be funny)

-As for costumes Marinette's probably wouldn't be skin tight because deep down she really doesn't want to look like that but more practical armor or less form-fitting at least. Marion's hair turns green when he transforms something he freaks out about and Marinette's turns red(glowing or not either would look cool)

-So anyway they go off to defeat the akuma blah blah blah Batman seeing these two young untrained superheroes can only think of one thing: I have to adopt them. So that’s gonna be fun!

-Anyway they go back home trying to be sneaky and immediately get caught by Lucy: ”Don’t tell Aunty!”-- ”Oh I already know” (her names Delia by the way)

- So now the twins get a support system and a family that will look out for them unbelievable right? This support system immediately threatens Fu making sure he actually trains them and doesn't just set them loose on Gotham.

Anyway that's the end of my semi-cohesive plan and here's a vague outline for the fic:

1. Becoming ladybug and chat noir setting up adoption, and school(Bruce invites them to Gotham academy to keep an eye on the jokers children)

2. First day at school setting up Artemis(and by extension young justice), and own passions, Adrien is also at this school now so Marinette falls, Jason finds out falling in love with Marion

3. Becoming friends with Artemis, convinces them to give their passions a try, Marion runs from hood, some let me adopt you stuff also Jason's spite for Cat Noir

4. Skip a bit of time a few months or so, young justice need help Artemis suggest mari and mari, Marinette has a smackdown with batman about their heritage, at odds with young justice Artemis comes to their defense. Young Justice have an ‘oh’ realization on the job when Marion sings a lullaby to a scared child, now the young justice form the mari and mari protection squad

5. Doing ladybug and cat stuff batman approaches them again this time luring them into adoption with a partnership on finding hawkmoth, Red Hood and cat fight. Marion comes back all huffy and there's a scene with Lucy this time comforting them, Marion goes out to get air runs into hood marion bristles stirring Jason to meet him as a civilian, class come to visit, at odds with lila

6. Doing well at school even made a few friends when the Paris class come to visit completely under lila’s control, lila tries to slander the twins for not worshiping her only to out herself when she tells everyone they laughed at her(the twins never laugh), Jason also drops by further discrediting her, lila tries to throw their heritage in their face but they get support openly working with heroes as civilians, this little section ends quite happily with them being sort of accepted at school and batman tolerating their existence for not attacking the person who tried to make their life miserable

7. Time skip few years out of high school now, ladybug and cat are working well with gothams vigilantes widely considered part of the batfam even if no one knows each other's identities. As mari and mari they are doing good work mainly outside of gotham. Marinette is starting a fashion boutique with a little financial help from Wayne enterprises she also does costume design for heroes and villains, villains mainly because she can't stand their current outfits. Marion quite likes his music but isn't sure how he will feel in the public eye is great friends with Jason and the skip picks up with them officially starting to go out identities unknown. They are still hesitant about their identities in civilian life Marinette starting her business under a false name and Marion cant start his because of his heritage. Jason officially has to admit they are going out to the family is met with grilling by aunt and sister, joy by harley once she tries giving them sex advice they leave, his brothers tease and both are tense about Bruces reaction but he begrudgingly accepts. Are out as ladybug and Cat still snippy with hood but it’s not as bad they are closing in on hawkmoth. Go to hang out with young justice as well they aren't well-liked in Gotham but they’re fine with that(not really)

8. NOW things can go to shit joker finally has enough of them deciding to get a hold of them but I think it should be as ladybug and chat revealing their identities to the world. The twins are terrified rightfully so. Get saved now it’s weird between hood and marion, marion feeling betrayed Jason knew who he was and knew who his father was but still decided to date him and he just can't understand why. Adrien was so scared for Marinette and now they both have to work out why. Gotham is at odds the heroes they admire are born from a villain they fear. Bats are a bit weird feeling like they were tricked while also kind of acknowledging the twins are good people

9. Harassed in their everyday life now the twins go to young justice where they get met with awe for being established independent heros, bats there are acting weird but the twins say something to shift perspective leaving to let them mull on it. Jason tries to apologise saying he doesn't see Marion like that blah blah Marion has a breakdown asking how he can be anything but a villain. Marinette's having whiplash going from loved to hated and still dealing with the trauma of seeing her father. They snap. In public a big ol scene and they get akumatised everyone sees it, it’s on tv. Hawkmoth comes out to get their miraculous the batfam can’t beat him. He’s monolouging probing at their deepest fears when they snap back to reality realizing none of it’s true every part of them has worked to be good people and they are they don't hand over their miraculous beating the akumatizaton and beating hawkmoth while akumatised.

10. They are released from the hospital a few days later, getting hesitant recognition on the streets. It's not thunderous applause but it is something. Their family comes to pick them up, Adrien is crying to Marinette about not scaring him like that(her family took him in when Gabriel was revealed). Marion gets picked up by Jason they patch things over. They get accepted into the batfam and work as ladybug and cat for everything. Marion decides to start playing music and Marinette reveals her face to her fashion brand.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

all the things we never said

Summary: Five times Nat and Tony watch over each other and the one time they don't need to any longer.

Word Count: 10k

Tags: Nat & Tony’s Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Blood and Injury, Sickfic, Recreational Drug Use, Angst and Banter and Humour, MCU canon compliant, Team as Family, Feelings

A/N: The tumblr version is out! Huge thanks to @whumphoarder​ for being the world's best beta reader and my personal punctuation fairy. And thank you to @quietlyimplode​ for all your continuing support.

Link to read on AO3

1. Trust Issues

It’s their third mission together, but the first one they have to tackle alone. Cap, Hawkeye and the Hulk are off defending Bulgaria from a sudden invasion of slimy goo monsters, but Nat has been planning this mission for months. She fought Fury tooth and nail to go through with the original plan until he begrudgingly agreed and sent Tony along for backup. 

So now it’s her, alone, inside the Hydra base instead of a team of two, and Tony is waiting outside in the forest with the quinjet, growing more restless every minute. 

“JARVIS, how long?” he asks, twirling a box of Tic Tacs between his thumb and index finger. He opens the cockpit window, sticking his head out and searching the forest for what must be the hundredth time in the last few hours.

“Agent Romanov was supposed to return to the meeting point seventeen minutes ago,” the AI replies matter-of-factly. 

“Twenty and I’ll go in,” Tony decides, letting out a long breath. “I told her she shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“Sir, the whole point of an undercover mission is for your identities to stay hidden. No offense, but neither your face nor your suit would contribute to that aim.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tony sasses back. “But I’m not gonna wait outside while our resident Scary Redheaded Assassin is getting murdered by a group of neo-nazis.”

“That is quite an honorable sentiment, sir. However,―” 

The AI doesn’t get a chance to continue, because at that very moment Tony makes out a familiar black-and-red shape emerging out of the green of the forest. She’s moving quickly―though not as quickly as he would have liked her to. Even from this distance he can see that Nat’s acquired a limp at some point during the three hours she was inside the base.

“Jet!” he thinks he can hear her shout even before he can clearly make out her face. 

“What?” he calls back. 

“Start – the fucking – jet!” 

Tony, of course, doesn’t listen. The suit is open next to him, already waiting, and he doesn’t hesitate a second before he gets inside and fires up the thrusters. There is no chance in hell anyone would mistake the red-and-gold armour for anything other than Iron Man, but something about the fact that Nat is currently being followed by at least a dozen Hydra agents tells Tony that their cover was blown long ago. 

He dials up to top speed, rushes over Natasha’s head and fires a round at the agents behind her―not enough to kill, but enough to hold them off for a while. Then he swoops down, and, for once glad about the lack of comms and his inability to hear her protests, scoops Nat up under her arms and flies her directly onto the quinjet. 

The landing through the half-open door is less elegant than he had hoped for. Nat ends up more or less crashing onto the ground while Tony quickly curbs the speed. When he opens the suit, the assassin is still lying there like a heap of bones, making no attempt to move—which, given her usual alertness, is frankly alarming. 

“Nat? You alive over there?” he inquires. 

The heap moves and her face becomes visible, paler than fresh snow against the dark red of her hair. “Get us out of here.”

“How bad are you―” 

“I’m fine,” she snaps with obvious strain in her voice.

“I thought you were better at lying.” 

“Stark. Start the fucking jet.” She glares at him, which is much less scary now that she’s practically lying on the ground, but still enough to make Tony turn on his heels and get into the pilot seat.

It’s a good thing he does, because the Hydra agents have apparently recovered and are less than half a mile away from the jet now, carrying heavy artillery. Tony lifts them up just in time and, resisting the urge to fly a victory lap over their heads since time is a priority now, evades the guns with an elegant loop. 

Maybe not the best idea, because the plane swerves and Nat’s body hits the jet’s opposite wall with an audible thump. She doesn’t cry out, but he knows she wants to from the way she gasps sharply before cutting herself off. Tony curses himself and concentrates on pulling the quinjet up at a gentler angle. The moment they reach flight level, he puts it on autopilot and heads back to check on his teammate.

Nat has maneuvered herself into a half-sitting position, leaning against the wall, but that’s about it. There’s blood on the ground around her, and more is marking the path she slid across the floor. Her breaths are coming out in small gasps of barely concealed pain. 

“That’s not looking too good, Widow,” Tony remarks while retrieving the first-aid-kit out from its storage unit in the wall. 

“Neither is your face.” She delivers the prepubescent insult with an expression so straight that it’s almost comical, before weakly stretching out one arm towards him. The left is curling around her stomach, blood spilling out in between her fingers in small gushes in rhythm with each breath. “Here, take this.” 

There’s a pen drive in her opened palm. Tony has to grin, and there’s a weak smile on her sweaty face too, because this means she was successful after all. He stores the pen drive in the pocket of his track pants, then crouches down and starts to remove Nat’s jacket. 

“What was the problem, huh?” he asks conversationally, mostly to distract her from the pain the movement must be causing her. “Someone recognised your phenomenally inconspicuous hair colour?”

“Fury’s fucking bullshit intel,” she says hoarsely, voice tense. “Gonna have a word with him when we get back.”

“I’ll be sure to clear out before that happens,” Tony remarks. He carefully helps her lie down on the ground, using her jacket as a makeshift pillow. “But I’d pay a fortune for the video.” 

Nat weakly flips him off, but Tony is suddenly too distracted trying to find the bullet hole in all the blood to continue the sass. “We need to take off your shirt,” he assesses, his voice sober now. 

There’s a beat where she just looks at him before clumsily starting to peel it off. There’s a lot in that look—doubt, calculation, resignation—and in the end he’s not sure whether it’s trust that’s winning her over or the knowledge that she doesn’t have any other choice. And that hurts a little, somewhere deep inside, because he couldn’t care less about Nat’s boobs while she is bleeding out in front of him. But then again, the circumstances in which they met probably put him in a less than favourable position. 

Nat is visibly having difficulty lifting her arms, so he helps her pull the shirt over the head, careful not to touch any more skin than necessary. There’s so much blood underneath the fabric that he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else even if he’d wanted to. Tony knows first aid in theory, but he’s never had to use it on someone with a bullet wound, never really had much contact with blood apart from his own. The last time he was in a similar position, it was Yinsen taking his last breaths under Tony’s hands in a cave in Afghanistan, and no, he’s so not going there now. 

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep and measured breath. “What do I do?”

With muttered instructions, Nat guides him through assessing the wound. They decide that the bullet has to stay in for now. The next friendly hospital is only half an hour out, but she’s fading fast, lost way too much blood, and putting pressure on it has priority until they arrive. 

“You could have just waited a few weeks and gone in with backup, you know," he comments while ripping open a packet of gauze, mostly to keep her talking; he doesn’t honestly expect anything he says would alter her stubbornness.

“Now where's the fun in that?" She slurs the words a little around the edges, but the sass is enough to reassure him that she’ll be alright.

Nat talks Tony through applying a pressure bandage, her body shaking more and more underneath his fingers, revealing just how much willpower it’s taking her not to pass out. Sometime around the point when Tony applies the last of the bandages, Nat’s eyes slip closed and her body goes limp in his grasp. She’s pulled through—through the procedure just as the mission—and Tony feels the weirdest swell of pride well up in him at being part of her team. 

Nat stays mostly unconscious when he contacts the hospital and starts the landing sequence. Tony carefully dresses her in one of Cap’s spare shirts, because you never know what kind of pervert will be filming their arrival. It makes her look a bit like a child wearing her father’s clothes. 

She wakes with a gasp when the paramedics enter and lift her onto a gurney, and Tony makes sure to stay in her field of vision to give her a familiar face to look at all the while until they enter surgery. 

As soon as the doors have closed behind her, Tony pulls out his phone. He’s gonna have that word with Fury himself. 

*

Three months later, when he reads a report about Natasha being shot on a solo mission and refusing anesthesia during the surgery at the local hospital, it dawns on him that the reason she let herself give into unconsciousness this time is because somehow, somewhere, there had to be a glimpse of trust.

2. Red Wine Stains

There was a time in his life when Tony used to like galas. Or maybe like is a bit of a strong term―he used to enjoy looking at dressed-up people and being looked at, flirting a little here and there, and, most importantly, the drinks. He definitely used to like the drinks.

Today, he wishes he could have some of that glamorous feeling back, just to get his adrenaline pumping a bit. The past week held a Doom Bots attack and a sewage robot gone wild and the launch of the new Stark phone and a fight with Pepper and a Dum-E malfunction, and it’s only Thursday. The wine is cheap, the food tasteless, the people boring, and Tony is tired. Fall-asleep-under-the-car-he-is-repairing kind of tired, because yes, that has happened before, much to Pepper’s dismay. 

But exhaustion is not something he admits to people, so sunglasses and make-up are his beloved companions this evening, closely followed by the group of misfits that moved into his tower not too long ago and are currently gathered around him, answering the questions of at least a dozen TV crews enclosing them in a semi-circle.

Thor, in a suit that seems to be from the 19th century and nevertheless look stylish on him, is telling a story about a gigantic wolf he once taught to play fetch, with Bruce nodding along, looking awkward as ever. Nat is wearing a stunning high-slit white gown, red curls made up in a fancy bun. She has been having her fun this evening introducing Steve to an endless number of pretty admirers, just to leave him alone in the middle of the conversation, much to his embarrassment. 

“And now a question for Iron Man,” the aritificially cheerful reporter announces, turning away from Thor and towards Tony. “Mr Stark, there were rumours that you underwent a heart surgery at the end of last year. While I’m pleased to see that you’re back in action,  I’m curious to know whether you’re concerned that your health issues affect the Avengers’ capability to defend us in case of another attack like the one of New York?”

Tony steps forward while the crowd of onlookers falls silent. The reporter pushes the microphone into Tony’s face, but the motion seems to slow down as it happens, the world coming to a screeching halt around him. 

Breathe, he thinks. Just breathe, you got this. And then: What if they come back? What if you aren’t strong enough? What if you can’t defend anyone this time? 

“Mr Stark?” the reporter asks again. 

Breathe. In, out, Tony tells himself. Come on, it’s not that hard.

“I, uhm…” He licks his lips, dimly aware of the cloud of reporters around him, the journalist in question regarding him with a frown. More aware though of his shaky hands, the sweat gathering on his forehead, his speeding heartbeat. “I think…”

In, out. In out. Inoutinoutinoutin― 

“I think I can answer this for him,” Natasha takes two steps towards him, reaching for the microphone, and the next thing he knows, she stumbles on her high heels and knocks her glass of cheap Burgundy all over his extremely expensive suit jacket. There’s ohhs and oh my gods coming from the crowd of reporters. Nat pretends to apologise and then all he can hear is his own ragged breathing while she is pulling him away towards a side door. 

“Tony―” she starts, a hand on his arm. He takes a step back, reflexively, his back hitting the wall behind him. 

“I’m f-fine,” he gasps, trying in vain to get his breathing under control, “Just a sec.” 

“I know, Tony,” she says calmly, not judging, not freaking out. He knows he shouldn’t, either. And he wants to calm down, god does he want to, but he’s past that point now, his heart galloping in his chest and his breaths turning into wheezes.

“I can’t―” 

Fight or flight kicks in and he stumbles away from her without caring where he is going, aware only of his racing heart and the ever-tightening grip around his chest until she pushes him through yet another door into a bathroom and Tony’s legs go weak under him. He sinks to the floor, wheezing. Hugs himself, clutching a hand to his chest. 

There’s no oxygen, no fucking oxygen in this room, and Tony needs to get out, needs some fresh air, but he can’t even get up right now. He’s going to die for sure, weeks before his 43rd birthday, on the floor of a men’s bathroom with red wine soaking through his shirt, and what a headline this will be. 

“You’re not dying,” Nat says, fierce and still almost annoyingly calm, and god, did he really say that out loud? Tony has just enough wherewithal left to feel a surge of embarrassment. “You’ve been through this before,” she continues. “You’re gonna be okay.”

The room is getting blurry around the edges and he knows that he really needs to breathe, but he’s got no idea how to get there. And then Nat kneels down in front of him, removes his tie and opens his shirt buttons with quick fingers, and there’s just the slightest bit more air getting into him with each wheeze.

Suddenly, his mouth is watering. Tony hunches over and Nat can just slide out of the way before he heaves up two mouthfuls of wine, coffee, and bile, coughing and choking as he does so. This is bad, he thinks dimly. He hasn’t been sick from a panic attack in a while now. He draws in a choking breath and then another and another before retching again. 

He really doesn’t want Black Widow out of everyone to witness him like this, but at least Nat doesn’t say anything stupid like “just breathe” or “calm down” or try to hug him, and that’s a marginal relief. What she does is cower down next to the puddle of sick and take Tony’s hands in hers, almost gently, and then presses them rhythmically. “Focus on that,” she orders, and, left with no other option, he does.

After minutes that feel like years, it finally becomes a little easier to draw in air. Panting, Tony rests his head back against the wall, his whole body bathed in sweat. Just breathes, in and out, while the bathroom slowly comes back into focus. He holds on to Nat’s hand for another minute or so, almost afraid he’s going to lose his tentative grasp of his mind if he lets go. It takes a while until he gathers himself enough to pull away from her. 

“Now you’ve got something for the paparazzi,” he says halfheartedly, trying to calm the trembling in his body.

She looks at him, not missing a beat. “Nah. Panic attacks are way less sexy than drug orgies. No coke, no headlines.”

Tony lets out a breath. “No luck for me then.” 

Nat gets up and starts pulling paper towels from the dispenser to clean up the mess on the ground. Her dress, Tony realises only now, also suffered in the red wine stunt. 

After a few more breaths, he makes it unsteadily to his feet to help her. She stops him midway, takes the sleeve of her suit jacket and wipes tears he didn’t notice before from his cheeks, a sober, almost kind look on her face that he’s not seen before. It confirms his suspicion that this wasn’t her first time seeing someone panic, and something makes him wonder whether she’s been on the other side as well. 

“Let’s get back to the action,” he tries to sound convincing as he makes for the door, then remembers the palm-sized red wine stain on his own shirt. “Or maybe I’ll get this cleaned first.”

“Like hell you’re going anywhere right now.”

“But―” 

“Nope.” With a movement faster than he can blink, she fishes his phone out of his suit jacket (purely showing off, because he knows she’s got her own communication device hidden away somewhere in that fancy long dress). 

Tony makes a weak attempt to snatch the phone back, which she doesn’t even acknowledge. The screen lights up upon receiving her fingerprint and she seems almost disappointed that there’s nothing to hack into.  

“Nat here,” she says into the speaker. “Meet us at the back entry.”

Tony can make out Happy grumpily giving an answer.

“Yes, the back entry. No, nobody’s hurt.” She raises an eyebrow at Tony. “No, Happy, you don’t need a gun. Meet you outside.”

They keep silent until they’re in the car. Tony is used to being the one to start conversations around Nat―around almost all the Avengers, actually―but the panic attack left him completely drained and somehow he doesn’t feel the need to pretend otherwise.

“You know,” she speaks up once they are halfway through Manhattan. “Steve had a breakdown when it was snowing last winter. Full-on flashbacks and all. Took me an hour and a bucket of tea to calm him down.”

Tony turns his head towards her, trying to keep his face neutral while she goes on. “Bruce sees a therapist once a week.” She hesitates, as if weighing whether to disclose anything else or not. “Clint and I… let’s say we’ve been there, too. We all know what it’s like.”

He swallows. “This… doesn’t make it any easier.” 

“I know that. But it means you’re not alone with it. It’s not a weakness, Tony.” 

“I never said it was.”

She regards him knowingly. “Do me a favour and get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Tony thinks of the laundry list of things he has to finish and of the talk he and Pepper have to have before he can ask her to stay with him when he goes to sleep, both of which―talking and sleeping―he’s been putting off for reasons. But Nat’s right―it has to happen at some point. 

“Yeah, okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thanks, Nat.”

"Thanking me?" Nat raises an eyebrow. "You sure you didn’t have too much to drink?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it,” Tony grumbles. 

“You owe me a new dress and another chance to set up a date for Steve,” she states. But when she looks at him, her eyes are warm.

*

The next day Nat convinces JARVIS―with help of some useful computer skills she picked up over the years―to disable all alarms and let Tony sleep in. At the breakfast table, she regards the newspaper Steve left lying around after coming back from his jog. The headline talks of the Black Widow’s inability to walk in high heels, and Nat, who did a roundhouse kick on four-inch stilettos just the other week, quietly smiles to herself.

3. Matchmaker

“Hey, Big Guy.” Tony rests an arm on Bruce’s shoulder, startling the scientist out of his chair by the hospital bed. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s finally asleep, I think,” Bruce answers quietly, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes.

“Damn.” Tony shuffles closer to the bed and looks at Nat, all frail and small in between a nest of blankets. She is deathly pale, except for the red fever spots on her cheeks, and her eyes are almost vanishing in the dark rings below them. There’s an oxygen cannula under her nose, and despite theoretically knowing that it had been bad, that pneumonia is something that regularly kills people, the seriousness of the situation hits him only now. “Damn, Bruce, she looks so young.” 

Too young for all of this, he doesn’t say.

“I know,” Bruce sighs. “Trust me, Tony, I know.” 

“‘m not asleep,” Nat protests belatedly, blinking an eye open and slowly turning over to them. “Hi.” She raises an eyebrow at Tony.

“Hi, disease monkey.”

“Fuck you, Tony.” Her voice catches on the last word and she tries to clear her throat, but ends up coughing, and then hacking, hunched forward over herself, until Bruce helps her to a half-upright position and holds her there until the fit subsides. No one mentions the flecks of blood on her hand when she pulls it away.

Bruce hands her a tissue and frowns down at her. “You know, this wouldn't have happened if you'd taken proper care of yourself.”

“Well,” she croaks, “Next time I infiltrate a Hydra prison, I’ll make sure to take a fluffy blanket and a hot water bottle along with me.”

Tony chuckles even while Bruce throws up his hands. “Why am I doing this job again?” the scientist complains. “I should just get a LinkedIn profile and be with people who don’t actively try to get themselves killed once a week.”

“You should get a nap,” Tony interjects. “You look like you’re about to join her.”

“I’m just tired,” he retorts.

“Which is why you should sleep, Big Green. Clint will be here in a couple hours and I’ll stay with her till then.” Tony nudges Bruce aside and settles down on the plastic chair next to the bed. “I got this.”

“You got what?” Nat croaks, but then redirects her gaze at Bruce. “Really, go sleep.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Bruce fidgets with the monitors. “You should take something before I leave—your temp’s almost up to 103 again.”

Nat rolls her eyes while Tony comments, “He’s terrible, isn’t he? How come you haven’t killed him yet?” He leaves a dramatic pause. “Oh, right, immortality and so on.”

“You’re so funny, Tony,” Bruce retorts, without any heat.

He hands Nat a fever reducer and helps her sit up enough that she can swallow it with a sip of water. Then he leaves, emphasizing again to call him in case anything happens.

“He likes you, you know that?” Tony drops casually once he’s gone.

“What are you doing here again?” Nat just gives him a look that’s probably supposed to be threatening but is mostly just tired, and doesn’t reveal any surprise at Tony’s observation. Tony might be good at reading people if he concentrates on it, but Nat is a natural.  

“Before you murder me with one of the knives I know you’re hiding somewhere in this bed, I’ve come bearing gifts.” Tony looks around to make sure Bruce is gone before pulling Nat’s tablet out of his leather jacket. 

“Ah.” She doesn’t say thanks, but her face lights up a little. While she texts Clint and probably hacks into some country’s police reports to make sure the aftermath of her mission was handled successfully, Tony goes to get a big mug of coffee and his own toy to fiddle with. 

The tablet has disappeared once he returns, undoubtedly hidden in the same place as her knives. Nat, meanwhile, is trying hard to hide the shivers now wracking her frame. A glance at the stats shows that her temp has ignored the fever reducers and hit 103, so it’s probably a good thing she put the tablet down on her own; Tony is not the person who’d like to try and convince her to rest. 

“You can leave,” she tries once more. “I’m fine on my own, and Bruce must be asleep by now.” 

Tony really wishes he could read her, just to know whether she actually believes he would go if she just asked him enough. 

“I would,” he says lightly. “Buuut, Pep kicked me out of the lab and this is the best pretense to keep upgrading my new gauntlet watch design.” He nods down to his own tablet he just produced.

It’s not true, strictly speaking; before coming here he’d been immersed deeply in SHIELD’s classified video feeds, observing Clint conduct the evacuation of the prison Nat managed to open for them the previous night. But that’s nothing she needs to know for now. 

Nat doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but gives up arguing. She flaps her hand tiredly. “Knock yourself out.”

A few minutes of silence and she’s coughing again, her whole body shaking under the strain of it. This time, she hacks up strings of red-tinged mucus into a small basin that was waiting on her bedside table. Tony isn’t one to comfort sick people and Nat isn’t one to accept comfort from anyone but a select few, so instead of putting a hand on her back and telling her she’ll be alright, he goes to grab another pillow that she can put behind her back to prop her up. 

“Water?” she asks when she can catch her breath again. 

Tony hands her a glass, then takes the basin with a barely concealed look of disgust and disposes of it in the sink in the adjacent room. “Try and catch some shuteye?” he suggests when he returns. 

Nat just shakes her head and clenches her teeth when another round of chills passes through her body. 

He recognises the look on her face. Bone-deep exhaustion, but still fighting against sleep, most likely because of the fever dreams. Been there, done that. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the Hydra goons wouldn’t touch Nat in the almost two weeks she spent in the prison until she gave the rest of the team a go for the mission. 

She’ll eventually have to talk to someone about whatever was done to her, but Tony isn’t that person. Neither of them is good with talking, not the serious type, anyway. She maybe―hopefully―has Barton for that, and Tony… has his bots. Well, and sometimes, when he’s drunk and tired or drunk from tiredness, he might have confessed a thought or two to Pepper. Most of it she figured out by herself. 

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. “So what are we gonna do then?” he asks.

“You’re the genius. Figure it out.”

She’s definitely too weak for video games and Tony’s not going to read to her, which leaves the TV. They’re in the tower’s medbay, so of course there’s plenty of streaming services to choose from, which only leaves what to choose. He knows that Nat hates cheap romances and likes Tarantino, but maybe a bloodbath is not the best after what she’s just been through. They both enjoy intelligent movies, but he probably shouldn’t do anything too taxing with her fever through the roof. 

“JARVIS, play Sherlock. The BBC series.” 

The corners of her mouth lift a little and he knows it was the right decision. 

If it had been Pepper or Bruce or even Clint, Tony wouldn’t have hesitated to crawl into the bed next to them. He craves touch when he’s ill, even if he doesn’t admit it, but he’s learned long ago that Nat’s different. So he just settles in the plastic chair next to the bed, makes sure the corners of the room are well lit, and increases the temperature enough for her shivers to finally ease down. 

She fights it, but finally falls asleep half an hour into the first episode, snoring ever so slightly through the congestion in her chest. Tony knows that not everyone’s nightmares are as visible on their faces as his own, but he thinks that despite the exhaustion and sickness, she looks a little bit more relaxed than before. 

After another ten minutes, Nat slides down the pillows and her nasal cannula slips out of place a little, so Tony bends over her to put it back. Her eyes snap open the moment he touches her face, alert and wary despite being bright from fever. 

“Easy tiger, just putting this back where it belongs.”

She nods minutely and her eyes slip back closed, her ragged breathing still a bit faster than before. He thinks she’s maybe fallen back asleep, but then she blinks again and mumbles something indiscernible.

“Huh?” Tony asks.

She doesn’t open her eyes when she mumbles, “I’m gonna die anyway.”

Tony swallows. “Come on, don’t be so dramatic.” 

“Not...now. But the thing with Bruce...this isn’t going to work. Either I’m gonna die or I’m gonna disappoint him. Don’t even know what’s worse.”

The thing is, Tony knows how it feels to have someone who is too good for you love you nevertheless. And he wishes he could tell her that she’s wrong without feeling like he’s lying. 

By the time he’s finally found his reply, she is already asleep again. 

“But you deserve to be happy,” he whispers into the air anyway.

*

Three hours later, Tony will be interrupted in designing his watch gauntlet by a very disheveled looking Bruce coming to check on Nat. Tony will follow him outside when he searches for his stethoscope, and, with a smirk on his face and a bittersweet feeling in his stomach, will tell him, “She likes you, you know? You should ask her out some time.”

4. Stoners

Nat extricates herself from the blankets with an agility acquired through years of experience in sneaking out of crowded dorm rooms without waking anyone. Bruce is asleep on the couch in Lila’s bedroom, curled a little into himself, looking rumpled and exhausted after today’s hulk-out. He passed out the moment his head touched the pillow, and Nat is honestly surprised he even made it through dinner. 

But there is no sleep for her tonight. Closing her eyes means going back to the places that the witch summoned up in her mind, and that’s something she really, really doesn’t want to do. 

Nat tiptoes down the wooden staircase, avoiding the legos littering her path and the creaky third step from the top. Clint would be her go-to person, if any, on nights when she feels like this. But Laura just got him back and it would be unfair to steal him away for something nobody can fix anyway. 

She commandeers the heavy booze in the highest cupboard behind the digital kitchen scale Laura never uses. She is in the process of filling a glass when, through the screen door, she sees the light coming from the garden. 

Nat finds Tony in the shed where he’s actually repairing the goddamn tractor. She isn’t particularly quiet while entering, but Tony still flinches when she taps him on the shoulder, raising the wrench in a gesture of defense. There’s something dark on his face, a feeling exactly matching hers. Nat hasn’t asked whether the witch has shown him something, too, but she thinks she can read the answer in his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, a little more casually after lowering the wrench, but his breathing is still too quick. 

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts. “Cap’s snoring like a steam engine. No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Nat grins, but she knows of course that’s not the real reason.  

She’s never told him, but once or twice she’s witnessed Tony waking from his nightmares on the couch in the common room or in the jet after a mission, whimpering, almost crying, barely able to catch his breath. His reason to not fall asleep in a room he shares with his teammate is the same as hers. 

She takes another sip from her Whiskey and then refills the glass before handing it to him. He downs it in one smooth motion and sets it on the dirty ground nearby, gesturing at her to refill before turning back to the tractor. 

“Can you fix it?” she asks, genuinely curious. The tractor has been in the garage for as long as she can remember, never working, so still that it's almost become part of the building itself. 

“I can fix anything.” It’s his go-to reply, and it’s a lie, but tonight she wishes it was the truth. 

Nat settles on a rusty paint can nearby while watching him work, taking sips from the bottle intermittently. His hands are moving over the vehicle like a doctor’s over a patient, both professional and intimate. There’s motor oil on his bare arms and dust coating his forehead and as much as she knows Tony loves his good looks and classy suits, now he doesn’t seem to register the dirt at all. There’s something cathartic about the way he completely immerses himself in the task. 

Nat does that sometimes when she has a bad night, or the few times Clint was laid up in medical with no visitors allowed. Goes to Tony’s lab and watches him fix things, build things, neither of them talking as is their way. Sometimes she finds herself waking up hours later on the lab bench with a stiff neck and a blanket over her shoulders to Tony proudly showcasing whatever he has finished.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he’d say and present her with a new set of Widow’s Bites or a more explosive arrow or a thicker uniform for Clint to keep him safe next time. 

He doesn’t look as satisfied now when the tractor finally starts tucking, and she suspects he wished for it to take longer, for more distraction in a night where the dark thoughts hang between them like thick clouds. 

“So, should we take this thing and drive it up to Clint’s window right now?” he asks while turning on the tap in the corner of the barn and washing his hands and face with cold water. 

“Sounds tempting,” Nat admits. “But I got a better idea. I know where Clint keeps the pot.” 

“That, Miss Romanov”―Tony spins around and points at her with a screwdriver―“is the best idea I’ve heard in days.”

They smoke on the old canopy swing on the porch, and Nat would like to say that it makes her feel better, but sometimes sadness is just a part of you that doesn’t go away. They share the silence like they share the joint, each contemplating their own ghosts. 

Nat’s thoughts circle back to the Red Room again and again. And she wonders: Why does it still hurt, after such a long time? Maybe because it illuminates what went wrong, where it went wrong, and because it makes all the other possibilities so clear. The alternatives she never got to live. What it would have been like to have a happy childhood. Parents who cared. No blood on her palms. How it would feel to live without the crushing weight of debt and death on her shoulders. 

The funny thing is that Tony might be the one who understands the feeling best. Clint knows her, knows more of her story than anyone, but he also knows―or at least, thinks he knows―where she is wrongly blaming herself, where her mistakes are not her fault anymore. For him it’s a battle she fought against the powers who wanted to make her someone else, someone horrible, and eventually she won. But on nights like this one, Nat doesn’t feel like a winner. 

And Tony, below his cocky arrogance and narcissism, still carries the guilt from his previous life around with him. They don’t talk, but as the bottle and the smoke circle back and forth between them, she gets the feeling that he has an idea of what’s going on in her head.

The night air grows colder around them and at some point Tony takes off the rough button-down he’d borrowed from Clint and wraps it around her shoulders, and tonight, just tonight, she lets him. Allows him this single gesture of chivalry because he does it out of kindness, and kindness is not something found in the memories that lurk beneath the surface, and because she knows it will make him feel like he did something right.  

When the smoke has turned to ash and the bottle is empty, Tony slides down a bit and leans his head on Natasha’s shoulder. If he’d done this when they first met, after her cover was blown, she would have punched him. Now, it feels almost good. His head grows heavy against her skin after a while and his breaths even out, the drugs and the many days without sleep finally catching up with him. 

Dawn breaks and brings with it an aura of finality, of something big drawing to its close. Nat has lived through so many endings and beginnings that it doesn’t scare her anymore. But she’s still human enough to feel sad. 

She thinks of a little red-headed girl in a huge hall with glass mirrors, turning and twisting under the ever-critical gaze of people who should have never been her replacement parents. Thinks of her, years later, taking lives without second thoughts. So many lives along the way. 

And if there’s a tear or two running down her cheek and dripping into the collar of Clint’s shirt that night, nobody will ever know. 

*

An hour later, when Tony has woken up in her lap and squinted at her and asked, “So, what do we do about the murder bot?” and Nat has mustered all her strength to store the memories away for the time being and fire up her brain cells, Laura will step out to hang clothes on the line in the yard. She will find them like this, frozen-through, exhausted, and more than slightly hungover, but with a battle plan.

4.5. Blueberry Muffin (the time they didn’t)

Natasha is not good with kids—never has been—so she is not surprised when Tony looks a bit wary as he hands his sleeping daughter over to her. She is even less surprised when the baby wakes up, regards Nat through her dark, thick eyelashes, and immediately starts to cry. 

“Here. Give her here,” Tony says, and Nat is happy enough to comply. Morgan’s sobs turn into hitching breaths and she brings her tiny fingers to her face, making discontented sounds at the back of her throat. 

Tony shushes her, almost automatically, and Nat feels a strange mixture of affection and sadness bloom in her chest. He looks at Morgan with a warmth in his eyes she recognises from the first time they met. It’s the same way he’s looked at Pepper for as long as Nat’s known him. Nat knows what it means: he’d do anything for the tiny person in his arms. It’s not something she’s ever felt for anyone, and certainly nothing anyone has ever felt for her.

“So.” He clears his throat. “How’s life at the compound? More interesting than changing diapers, I suppose?” 

Empty and lonely, she doesn’t say. “It’s a lot of work.”

He scoffs. “You and Captain Righteous against the rest of the world?” 

“Steve’s staying in the city,” she replies briskly. She knows Tony is just trying to provoke her, since Rhodey is surely keeping him updated about everything there is to know about the remnants of the team. “He’s running counselling groups, actually. I don’t see him that often.”

“Therapy with Captain America.” Tony snorts, bitterly. “Lesson One: Be honest with your friends. Lesson Two: Choose your side wisely.”

In a life before Thanos, Nat might have started an argument upon this sideblow, but losing half the world’s population put things into perspective. She’s simply too tired to react. 

Tony seems to realise that too, because he gives her a defiant glance and loses steam. Morgan makes a fussy noise and he softly runs his fingers over her head until she quiets again, burying her forehead in his t-shirt. It’s some kind of nerdy shirt with triangles and geometry equations on it, and the baby is drooling onto the Pythagorean theorem. 

The silence grows from uncomfortable to oppressive while Nat tries to think up what else to say about a kid that only sleeps and eats and cries.

“So, have you enrolled her in MIT yet?” she finally asks.

Tony musters a laugh that’s probably mostly meant to humour her. “Thought we might potty train her first.”

Nat smirks.

Pepper enters the room, saving them. “Have some blueberry muffins.” She sets a plate on the table in front of her. She is as neat and pretty as ever, even with an infant to take care of, making Nat acutely aware of her own unwashed hair, the worn-out leggings she didn’t bother to change before coming here, and the deep circles below her eyes. 

A phone rings somewhere in the other room and Pepper is on her feet again before even properly sitting down, but not before adding, “Tony made them.”

Nat stops dead in the middle of reaching for the muffin. Then she slowly turns towards the man in question. “You bake now,” she states, and it almost sounds like an accusation. 

And here’s the thing: Nat and Tony used to be founding members of the ‘Why Do I Even Own a Kitchen’ clubt. Nat is good at cooking because she had to learn it for undercover missions (nothing like chocolate mousse and a low-cut dress to seduce a target), but she’s never, ever done it for herself. Or for the team, or for anyone who doesn’t require her to. Tony considered it superfluous since he had enough money for takeout at any time of the day, which he never ceased to mention when asked. Their hate for this particular activity is one thing they had in common, along with flexible moral standards and their love for fast cars. 

“I dabble.” Tony shrugs lightly. “It helps, you know, to distract yourself. You would be surprised how cathartic it can be sometimes to watch an apple pie turn brown in the oven.” There’s a dark shadow on his face that makes her realise just how bad these sometimes get. 

Guilt—oh yeah, here’s another thing they both share. 

She takes the muffin and bites into it. It tastes horrible, which makes the whole situation only slightly more bearable. She understands now that when Tony pushed the arc reactor into Steve’s hands the day he returned from space, it wasn’t just Iron Man he said goodbye to. He renounced a whole way of life, and with it, all those who were a part of it. The one he leads now makes space for superheroes only in crayon drawings and bedtime stories.

Nat glances around in search of a new topic to start in on, but all she sees are baby photos, throw blankets, and handmade toys—all in soft, matching colours. Wooden walls and bamboo boxes, the opposite of the cutting edge interior design that used to be Tony’s preferred choice for the tower and compound. The lakehouse reminds Nat of the Barton farm, of Laura’s attention to make the smallest details homely. 

Suddenly, the domesticity of it all feels suffocating. 

“I―” she breathes out. “I need to go.” She sets down the muffin and takes a last look at the baby in Tony’s arms before getting to her feet in a rush. His halfhearted protests are lost in the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She passes Pepper in the hallway, who regards her with confusion and a bit of hurt. Nat’s throat is too tight to talk, but she sends a mental apology her way because none of the bad things that keep happening in her life have ever been the fault of Pepper Potts. 

Tony catches her when she is just about to close the car door. There’s honest surprise on his face when he glimpses the tears on her cheek. She wipes them away, angrily, silently dares him to say anything. 

“Look, this is the best possible way for me to deal with everything,” he explains, and his face looks almost like he’s in pain. “To get over what happened. Maybe you should try that some day.”

And here’s the final difference, Nat thinks as she closes the door and starts the engine. The thing he has to get over with was what made her life worthwhile.

“I’m happy for you, Tony,” she says honestly, and drives away.

*

10 years later, Morgan will scroll through old news footage in her holographic projection on the ceiling and find a photo of Nat and Tony, dressed up for one of the official Avengers events, sharing a laugh over something that’s lost to history. She’ll show it to Pepper and will listen disbelievingly to a story, told with wet eyes, about an assassin masquerading as a PA, who eventually became a friend masquerading as a teammate.

5. Time Travel

None of them sleep the night before the time heist, but at some point, sharing the anxiety makes things worse instead of better. They break up the group, pretending to go to bed. Nat hasn’t been in her own room since everyone moved back in; she’s been sleeping in Clint’s quarters or occasionally on the couch in the common room when the planning and plotting went on late into the night.

Years of going rogue have left their trace on Clint, and despite having lost none of the familiarity—that wordless understanding that has been between them forever—there are more and more times now when she senses his need to be alone. Tonight is one of them. So, instead of trying to sleep, she wanders aimlessly through the compound until she finds Tony sitting in the dimly-lit common room, staring out of the window in a rare moment of stillness. The helmet of his Iron Man suit is lying next to him on the table, blinking silently.

“Don’t turn the lights up,” he says hoarsely when she enters. Even without that warning, she would have recognised the crease in between his brows and the gesture with which he is pressing two fingers to his temple. Bad headache. Maybe even a migraine.

She doesn’t say anything, just steps near the chair and gives his shoulder a squeeze. They stay silent for a while until he shifts stiffly and turns toward her. 

“What would you do?” He looks up, really looks at her. “What would you do if this was potentially the last night of your life?”

Something in her heart clenches, although she can’t pretend that she wasn’t thinking the same. She settles on the arm of his chair before replying. “I’d spend it with my family.”

Tony looks at her wistfully. “I talked to Morgan earlier,” he says in a neutral voice. “Told her a bit about you all. She wanted to know every Avenger’s favourite ice cream flavour.” He shakes his head in disbelief, then winces at the pain it must be causing. “You know, before her, I’d forgotten how good humans can be. Literally innocent, before the world takes all that away.”

Nat huffs. “I don’t believe in innocence.”

“Well, she did try to trick me into bringing her back a ninja star.” Tony smirks.

Nat grins. “Now that sounds more like she’s related to you.”

“So…” he sighs. “In the improbable case that this goes down well and we don’t end up with Jack the Ripper or in the middle ages, I wouldn’t mind coming up here more often. And you should meet Morgan again―I mean it. Never too early for female role models.”

He squints up at her in the challenging way that is meant to hide his insecurity, and she knows what he is really asking for.

And Nat doesn’t say ‘You really think so?’, doesn’t admit to her surprise or the warm feeling welling up in her chest. But she preserves it, somewhere in her heart. 

“Sure,” she agrees instead. “But I can’t guarantee that I won’t give her a ninja star or two.”

“I think I can deal with that.” Tony rubs his hand over his eyes in a tired gesture. “So, tomorrow’s the big day. I’m gonna try and catch some shut-eye.” He gets upright, all colour draining from his face like it just flowed down into his feet. Nat’s hand shoots out to steady him, but he’s already caught himself on the armchair. “Or maybe I’ll go and puke first.”

She frowns, trying to judge whether he’s serious or not―it’s a 50-50 chance with almost anything he says―but then he gulps heavily and starts walking towards the toilet, supporting himself against the wall. 

Nat sighs as she gets to her feet, and, of course, follows him. 

He flinches against the bright bathroom lights and then opens the cabinet, squinting at the labels of the different medications lined up there until Nat takes pity in him and picks the right one. They've been there before, spent a whole night in this very bathroom once when one of Tony’s migraines hit so hard he didn’t want to move for hours. There's a reason Nat always kept up his stock of Imitrex—same with Clint’s Neosporin, and Steve's Zantac.

(Maybe she never really stopped hoping they’d come back.)

Nat shakes a pill out onto her palm and hands it to him along with a glass of water. He swallows and then lowers himself down next to the toilet, face in his hands, breathing carefully through his nose to keep himself from being sick. 

When the immediate danger seems to have passed, Tony leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Nat can’t stop thinking how much he has aged, all the lines in his face turned into valleys and the gray and black in his hair balancing each other out. He’s got 15 years on her, but Nat was never as aware of the age difference as she is today. 

He looks old and tired, but also... Nat would have never thought that soft would be a word she'd one day use to describe Tony Stark, but, looking at him in worn-out jeans and a wrinkled hoodie with a few sprinkles of glitter on them (undoubtedly courtesy to Morgan), that's the only word coming to her mind right now. It’s a different kind of softness than what he displayed during her one and only visit to the lakehouse. It doesn’t feel like a desperate escape strategy now, more like something he has grown to be without being aware of it himself.

Nat gets quietly to her feet, wets a washcloth and drapes it over his eyes, blocking out the lights. He grunts gratefully. She hesitates for a second, but then reaches down and starts kneading the tense muscles between his shoulders and neck. Tony makes a low sound in his throat somewhere between pain and pleasure. But he lets her be, and she feels a smile spread on her face. 

“I forgot how good that feels,” he sighs when she’s done, squinting up at her. “Pepper never really gets the pressure right.” He swallows. “I missed this,” he adds, and she knows he doesn’t just mean her massage skills. 

“Me too,” she quietly admits what she’s been thinking for days. 

“I’ll just”―he weakly waves his hand―“enjoy this bathroom for a bit longer. Feel free to leave.”

“Nah, I’m good here,” Nat assures. She settles down next to him with her legs crossed, not too close, not too far. “Remember that one time we all got food poisoning from that burger joint Steve insisted was the best in Brooklyn? And Bruce was the only one who didn’t eat them, and then he just ran between different bathrooms the whole night?”

“Hell, don’t remind me.” Tony groans. “Clint puked on my Prada pajamas. Had to incinerate them.”

“Your own fault for buying branded nightwear,” she retorts. 

They keep sitting and talking in low voices, and Nat doesn’t feel the desire to move, doesn’t feel the urge to let this night pass. It’s stolen time, all of it, a few days of glimpses into the life they had and that they always knew would never last. They all are aware that it’s going to end tomorrow, in one way or another. But just for now, she allows herself the illusion that it could last forever. 

*

Less than 12 hours later, Natasha has turned into a martyr, and Tony finally understands that she did get to spend her last day with her family after all.

+1. The Passage

Waking up without pain anywhere in his body is a feeling so unfamiliar to Tony that it immediately puts him on edge. His eyes snap open, his heart beating hard and fast in his throat, and there’s something important that’s slipping his mind, something vital, and he–

He looks around himself, and he’s in his Malibu mansion. The one that Killian Aldrich bombed to the ground almost ten years ago.

It doesn’t make sense.

There’s a boxing ring set up in the middle of the room, and on it, sitting cross-legged, her long braid in red and gold hanging over her shoulder, is a familiar figure.  

It can’t be. 

“Natasha?” Tony asks, and she looks up at him. 

And then Tony remembers. 

By the time he gets his wits back enough to come up with a joke, Nat has slipped out of the ring between the ropes and is holding him in her arms. She’s young as ever, but something in her eyes makes Tony feel like she’s aged years since the last time he’s seen her. 

“So this is Hell, huh? Less gargoyles than I imagined,” he quips. “And I was hoping for a better view of the Lake of Fire.” 

“Oh, we’re not in Hell,” she replies calmly, pulling back. “At least not yet.”

“Where –” Tony breathes, “Where are we then?”

“It’s like a passage,” she replies. “Neither here, nor there.”

“Okay. Fine. Great.” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to get his speeding breaths under control. “Run me through the whole thing.”

“After I jumped from the cliff at Vormir, I came to an agreement with Red Skull,” she explains. “He’s...he’s like a guard to whatever comes after. He let me wait here until… well, until someone came to let me know.”

“Let you know?” Tony echos. 

“If it was worth it.” She looks up at him, for the first time seeming as scared as Tony feels. “Was it, Tony?”

“Yes.” He nods, trying to pull himself together. He thinks of Peter and his heart jumps in triumph. “Yes, it worked, Nat. We got them back. All of them.”

“But something went wrong, didn’t it?”

He sighs. “Something always goes wrong. ” He walks her through what happened after the time heist, replaying the memories and almost unable to believe them himself. “I just― I snapped. And Pep-Pepper. Rhodey. They all were there, and―”

“Breathe, Tony.” Looking at him with both sadness and pride, she stretches out her hand to wipe something from his cheek, and Tony realises then that he is crying. 

“I,” he mumbles, his breath hitching. “I need to sit.” 

She leads him to the boxing mat and sits him down. Then it hits Tony, really hits him what this all means. 

Because he will never teach Morgan how to fly the suit he secretly designed to give her on  her eighth birthday. He will never ruin Pepper’s cooking again. He will never watch over Peter when he goes patrolling, will never snatch away Rhodey’s ice cream, will never share a late-night highway drive with Happy again. It’s gone, all of it. He’s gone. 

He’s crying like a child, unable to stop himself, and Nat hugs him without hesitation, holds him close. “S-Sorry,” he manages between sobs. She shushes him and strokes his back.

“It’s alright. I’ve been there too,” she whispers. 

“There are so many things I wanted to do,” he chokes out after a while. “S-So many things I didn’t get to share with them.” 

“I know, Tony.” She hesitates. “But they know too. Tony, you saved them. You saved them all.”

And he thinks back to Yinsen, to Don’t waste your life, Stark. To everyone he lost, everyone he outlived, everyone he killed. And he thinks, perhaps I didn’t do so bad after all.

Nat must have been having similar thoughts, because, in a quiet voice, she says, “Maybe I finally cleared my ledger.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?” he sniffs, wipes his face, and then takes her fingers into his hands, holds onto her tightly, sincerely, “None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t gotten the soul stone. We owe you. The whole universe owes you.” 

And here’s the final thing they share; they have both eventually settled their debts.

The waves are hitting at the shore outside in an endless rhythm of clapping and splashing. It’s a long time until either of them speaks again.

“So,” Tony asks eventually, and the tears have dried on his cheeks, leaving only salt behind, “you chose the setting?”

She offers the tiniest of smiles. “I thought you might appreciate the touch.” 

He knows that they are both thinking the same. Who would have thought, the first time they met each other, on a day when Tony was drinking chlorophyll and Nat pinned Happy onto the mat, that three-and-a-half potential apocalypses later they would end up here again?  

“We can’t stay,” he says. It’s not a question. 

“No,” she confirms, nodding towards the opposite wall. 

There is a door at the end of the room, heavy and wooden and ancient, that doesn’t belong with the mansion―neither in Tony’s memory nor from the looks of it.  

“What’s behind it?” he asks, although he already knows the answer. 

“Whatever comes next.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he says.

Nat swallows. “Would that even be so bad?”

He turns towards her. She looks ready, at peace, but also sad. And besides knowing it’s worth it, besides knowing that they both wouldn’t hesitate a moment to make that very same choice over and over again, he wishes that they’d had more time. 

They get to their feet and walk to the other end of the room. The gate seems to grow taller as they approach it until it takes up almost all of Tony’s vision. Next to him, Nat stretches out her hand and lets her fingers glide over the carvings in the wood that form patterns of leaves of a tree he doesn’t know the name of. He follows suit. The wood feels soft and warm under his touch. Alive. 

“Are you scared?” she asks. 

He shakes his head. “Not anymore.” And it’s true. Tony has been afraid for so many years of his life—ever since the sky above New York was torn apart. And now, he seems to be feeling everything all at once: grief, gratitude, and acceptance, wonder, loss, and love. But the fear is gone.

“Let’s go?” Nat squeezes his fingers and then lets go of his hand. And he knows, this is a step they must take on their own. 

He breathes in deeply. Takes a last look around. The sea, the house, the light reflecting in the red of Natasha’s hair. The calmness in her wide green eyes. He reaches for the handle of the door. “Okay.”

And they step through.

_______________

all my fics

[republictrooper]

Thoughts on S3E3 of Discovery

There’s an argument that this episode tied up a lot of plot elements far, far too neatly, but you know what? I’m not going to be one of the people making that argument, because with how horrible life is right now, it is just way too damn nice to have a show that says, screw it, everything more or less turns out as ok as it can sometimes. Even in darkness, there is light, and life, and the possibility of forgiveness.

As far as more spoilery stuff goes... Listen, I still kinda ship Mylvia, but I can’t hate Book/Burnham even a little bit. That have a chemistry and a witty repartee that is just to DIE for. Michael lovingly mocking him (Sorry Michael, he’s right about Grudge tho) and having him wrapped around her little finger but also trusting him with her life and the life of her new family. Book trusting her implicitly in return and unable to deny her anything but still being just a hint of roguish all the same. Their whole thing on the ship where yes, technically they aren’t romantic YET but the vibe is still Michael bringing her boyfriend to meet the family for the first time and Mirror Georgiou being Mom-like and sizing up her daughter’s new beau and whew. I was a little disappointed when he left at the end of the episode. I mean yeah, obviously he’s coming back, but I was hoping he just decide to stick around on the ship, even if not as a member of Starfleet.

Honestly, the family themes were so lovely. Michael hugging everyone. Michael and Tilly talking in the ship Corridor. The final thing where Saru and Michael stood side by side on the bridge and Michael said she didnt need to go down and visit earth because her place was here with Saru I am so glad they’ve made up and become surrogate siblings it’s so wonderful ;_;

I do find the way Michael’s storyline is shaping to be intriguing. Georgiou becomes the Devil on her shoulder, trying to pry her away from Starfleet after that year apart caused her to drift, and Saru trying to bring her back home. Georgiou has more Charisma on that front, but I believe in Michael. The storyline would admittedly probably be landing a bit better if we got an episode or two detailing what she did in that year of waiting instead of a short montage,yes, but with only 12 episodes on deck, I can understand why they glossed over it and I trust the story team made the best choice they could under the circumstances. 

I love Adira on a basic level. Smartass tech whiz kid is still a fun archetype, and I LOVE that they’re somehow bringing out Paul’s fatherly side??? When is he gonna break the news to Hugh that they’re dads now anyway? I wonder how the whole Trill thing worked out? Judging by Riker’s reaction, Humans can’t really carry Trills for a long period, IIRC? But I suppose either Adira’s young age or advanced medical technology might have helped that a bit, to be fair.

So on one hand, I am happy the NB person is an actual human and not the usual “Well, Aliens have a different concept of Gender” thing. On the other hand, weren’t they referred to as she pretty much every time it came up this episode? I suppose it’s possibly Adira is a she/they NB, or even just a she NB, but I feel like if you’re gonna hype up their status as NB, you should do a better job of explaining exactly what their deal is in the first episode, unless you get people confused and dismayed about the whole thing. Right now it’s unclear whether they’re flexible on their pronouns, or just getting casually misgendered. 

Hopefully the next episode will clarify that a bit, since it does look Adira-centric, or at least dealing directly with their symbiont.

The whole Earth storyline was... pretty wonderful, actually. Not only do we get Expanse echos of Belters vs. Earthers, we get Starfleet actually getting 2 sides to sit down and discuss things. It got a little bothsidesy when it was clear Earth was pretty much completely in the wrong, but I appreciate that it let talking WORK for once. It’s nice to escape to a universe where just talking works and gets people help. Hopefully its the first step in getting an earth that can open back and maybe be ready to rejoin the Federation when Discovery gets it back in working order.

It was also really nice to see the bridge crew down on earth. We’ve seen them all in the background, and they’ve deserved to step out into the light for a long time now, and they’re all so wonderful. 

I’m relieved that it looks pretty obvious now that we’re going for a PTSD/Trauma storyline for poor Keyla as opposed to a “Control in the implant” storyline, if only because the former has a much higher chance of her surviving. Let Joann and Keyla comfort each other and grow as people and kiss, Discovery. You owe them that. >:[

Anyway, other than the concerns about Adira’s exact gender identity vis-a-vis the advertisements trumpeting them as ST’s first NB Character, I loved the episode. Season 3 of Discovery, for whatever flaws it may have, continues to be the type of wonderful comfort food I was craving during this year. 

Also: Captain Saru is my favorite Captain.

[welcome--to--my--little--world]

So, I worked on Valentin's backstory and wrote it down. Also added some facts/ideas about his personality and what he likes and dislikes.

This is just a concept, so it's not really good or anything and I'm also pretty insecure about it, so please don't reblog this.

But if anyone wants to read about my boy, here you go.

Backstory:

• He was born into a relatively wealthy family and lived with his parents in South California until he was 18

• He was lucky enough to be able to go to school

• He has always been a smart boy. Always getting good grades. His parents and teachers constantly told him he had a bright future ahead of him.

• But he never quite fit in. Never found many friends, and when he finally did for once, they either ended up leaving him, lying to him, manipulating him or betraying him in the worst ways possible.

• He was bullied in his teen years... never undestood why, but he just figured he was the problem. They just attacked him for anything he was doing. Even if he was just sitting there, they'd spit on him, punch him or laugh at him. And whenever he tried to do something about it, things just got worse. So he just stopped trying and let them do whatever they want to him.

• All this lead to a lot of supressed anger. He was so angry at them. At the world, for doing him so dirty. At himself for all the things they made him believe he did wrong.

• People hating him for who he was, for existing, completely broke him. Their words made him believe he was a bad person. And then he kinda started acting like it. Like a bad person, so people hating on him would be justified. After all they had taught him how to betray and manipulate.

• In a fucked up way it gave him comfort back then. A sense of identity and control. But in reality he just fucked up every relationship he had left and felt even more miserable in the end. Ended up all alone.

• All this was too much for him. He started cutting and had suicidal thoughts (He was able to leave the self harming behind eventually, but every now and then when something goes wrong in his life, the thought of doing it again pops up in his head. Nowadays he just tries to drown the thoughts in alcohol when the thoughts get too loud).

• He also searched comfort in meaningless sex and drugs/alcohol. Just wanted to forget and numb himself. This pain and deep feeling of loneliness and emptiness inside him were too much to take and well, he tried to fill that void somehow.

• Besides all this, he still somehow managed to graduate.

• He wanted a new start and wanted to leave everything else behind, so he moved to Night City to study shortly after he turned 18.

• He changed his name to V cause Valentin reminded him too much of his past and of what he so desperately wanted to leave beind (he allows close friends to call him that tho)

• He then focused on his career, studied, got a job at Arasaka and even managed to work his way up by manipulating and betraying, and some other bad shit...

• He actually managed to build up a new life there in Night City. Got to start all over again, try all the things the corpo life had to offer. And with working for Arasaka he had many possibilities. Everything went finally somehow good for him. Or at least he thought so at first. He had money, got a bit of respect and whatever else. But soon he realized working for Arasaka was a fucking lonely life. By far not as bright as he had imagined. And it was fucked up too. Kinda had to sacrifice his soul to survive in that world.

• He saw and knew about all the bad shit going on behind closed doors. How people were lying to each other, backstabbing each other, just to make more money or get promoted. Or how people were exploited... or even just used as the others pleased. And the worst thing: as much as all this disgusted him and as much as it went against what was left of his morals, he either just looked away or even took part in all this treachery and their sickening behaviour. It was fucked up, but well, he did what he had to do. He hated himself so much for it, but he had no choice if he wanted to keep what was left of his life. Probably couldn't do much about it anyways.

• And of course his past was still haunting him. As much as he tried to forget, the things that had happened, the things he did to become so successful... they left deep scars on his soul.

• And well... then everything went to shit

• He blamed Arasaka for it. He got so fucking angry, cause they took away what he had worked so hard for. The only thing that gave him some sense of purpose in life. Smashed his life and future to pieces and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to see them suffer and burn for what they did to him.

• And now he hated himself even more for what has happened, cause it was all for nothing. He finally realized how fucked up he actually was. The guilt was suffocating him.

• He knew it was time for a change. And this time he'd do the right thing. Make the right choices. Try to be a better person. Kinda try to right his wrongs.

Personality:

• He hates being alone, but also has a hard time trusting people due to what he experienced in the past... this guy definitely has abandonment issues and trust issues. That makes any kind of relationship very difficult for him. He still tries very hard tho.

• He kinda has 3 sides:

1) Feral ferret: funny, horny, seemingly happy, joking, full of life and love. That's the side he shows most of the time. This side of him is him finally becoming himself again after completely losing himself trying to reach something that he could never reach. He's slowly finding his new identity, is trying out new things, doing chaotic shit he never got to try out in his fucked up past. And most of all he tries to be a better person.

2) Killing mode: His serious, professional, badass side. When he enters killing mode, he blocks out everything irrelevant and only focuses on his mission. Makes sure he makes no mistakes (all remains from working for Arasaka). And even if he'd never ever admit it... he likes the violence and the thrill he gets from it...

3) His sad/depressed/broken/traumatized side: He rarely ever shows this side of him (at least not to most people). His past haunts him. He hates himself for the things he did, hates himself for disappointing friends or even himself in the past. The memories of being treated like shit and getting hurt over and over again also sometimes come flashing back into his mind and he wishes this would just stop and he could forget.

• He can go from quirky and joking to killing mode or sad mode in less than a second -> PARCOUR 😎🤦🏻‍♀️

What he likes:

• Junkfood. Lots and lots of junkfood. Especially cheeseburgers or pizza or anything with cheese in general

• He loves fucking. This man is like constantly horny and he will do it anywhere anytime he gets the chance to.

• He loves taking funny, cute and pretty pics and is actually quite proud of the photos he takes

• He loves to just do chaotic, fun or dumb shit. It's kinda like a coping mechanism for him

• He likes just stopping for a while and watching the sunrise/sunset or admire the landscape. Especially at the beach or somewhere out of the rush and mess that the city is. Back when he still worked for Arasaka he didn't have time for things like this. It was all just work, work, work.

What he doesn't like:

• being alone

• things getting out of control

• the song "pon pon shit". He hates it with a burning passion and honestly, when it comes on on the radio he just wants to yeet his car off the road...

Other stuff:

• Chaos boi

• His spirit animal is a feral ferret

• Bisexual

• He can cloverleaf his tongue and wiggle it all weirdly. Good for either impressing people or creeping them out.

• That being said, he knows exactly how to use his tongue to make his partner feel real good and cry out his name 😏

• This man got a huge suit kink. If he sees a hot man or a sexy lady in a suit, he loses all ability to think clearly

• He loves wearing suits, and dress shirts.

• For special occasions and for beach days he got his golden hotpants

• Sometimes he will just say fuck it and wear some total fashion catastrophe™️ outfits, just because he can

• He's horny. Like, ALL the time

• Even tho this man loves to fuck hard and rough (ya know, with scratching, biting, hair pulling, chains, whips, handcuffs,...), he'll absolutely melt when you touch him gently. He likes the sex, of course, but he craves intimacy. He never got the chance for all this romantic stuff or intimacy in his past for obvious reasons. If you hold him gently he'll most certainly start crying.

• His sextoy collection is HUGE. Super impressive and he's got some of the good expensive stuff. Worth like 3000€$. Well spent cash.

• He's into public play 😏

• He would never ever say it out loud or admit it, but violence kinda turns him on (yeah, he's a bit messed up)

[heartless-error]

Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 2

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairings: Jonathan Kent x Damian Wayne (JonDami) & Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating: General, family feels, hurt/comfort

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

It was six years ago, and they had barely stood together since then, trying to stand up despite guilt and regret.

Damian was sure there was nothing to save, not after losing something that he didn’t know he cared about. But when a new opportunity to get back what they had lost appeared, he cannot help to doubt as his past decisions haunt him again.

If you love somebody, set them free. But you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Chapter 2

 Now.

 “Jon.” Damian said exasperated and turning around to look at him in the most stoic way as possible. “If you ask me again how I’m doing, I’m leaving.”

 Jon snorted with amusement and looked at him irritated, then shook his head and repeated to himself again that Damian seemed fine, he had shown no sign of otherwise and his boyfriend didn’t like when he acts as if he would break at any time, even when he was badly wounded.

But no one could blame him for being worried at all, not only by the fact that Damian had just woke up less than an hour ago after being unconscious for 36, but also because the “bat standards” for wounds and injuries consists on undervalue all of them, “Oh, this? I got stabbed twice last night, a slow patrol, you know.” “Can you pick me up? I can’t stand up anymore and I have an exam tomorrow, quickly.” “Don’t leave please, I have a concussion and I can’t sleep.” “Why are you crying? It’s just a gunshot.”

 “You won’t.” He replied with a sight, looking at Damian with a tired smile, who stared back at him and raised an eyebrow, as if this was a challenge or something.

 He won’t, because both were exhausted, either by sneaking around and nearly dying in an explosion, or by being up all-night waiting for the other to wake up. Different experiences, same result.

 Packing the few things Damian had was fast, and they were lucky that there was nobody around to question anything to them. So, they had time enough to prepare and fly away to Metropolis safely.

Jon had made sure to go slowly and prudent enough to not disturb Damian during the flight, but when they arrived the city he escaped from his grasp and started walking hastily to their apartment. That’s when Jon started to ask if he was fine, but maybe he had already reached that limit for today.

 “I could.” Damian said, still in his pride. “But you would chase after me.”

 He let out a surprised giggle and put on better the glasses he uses in his civilian identity, although is not necessary right now, when there was nobody outside at these hours and they were only three blocks away from the apartment.

 “Of course.” He said in a joke as he approached to him. “And If I caught you, I would ask again how you feel.”

 Damian snorted and rolled his eyed, but he didn’t get away when he came a little closer, and grabbed his hand back when he reached it, walking beside him and cradling their hands in silence.

Jon smiled, in love and leaving that soft and warm feeling flooding him for a moment. He always starts the touches and affectionate gestures, but Damian never denies them and always tries to give them back. And even if they usually didn’t do this in public -because of that extensive column courtesy by Vicky Vale about “Damian Wayne and his college boyfriend.”- today was an exception.

 They were a block away from the apartment, in their own world and in a comfortable silence when his phone vibrated in his pocket, again. He searched it into his pants with a grunt and a bitter feeling in his stomach.

 “Your father?” Damian asked indifferent.

 “You bet.” He answered upset and finally getting the phone to look at the screen. “Yes, of course.”

 He didn’t even have his number saved in contacts, but he knew it was him. It was the same number that called him multiple times every few days, that he leaves ringing without answer until finally stops.

Just what he was going to do now.

 “How many times he called today?” Damian asked again, walking into the building. They had finally arrived.

 “With this? About eleven.” He said annoyed and walking after him as the mobile screen turned off. “You should have seen him yesterday.”

 The other said nothing, he only called the elevator. There was not much to say after all, none of them were on good terms with their parents lately, and yesterday was a delicate date for everyone. He knew Clark hoped to talk to him because he always was more neurotic than usual then, especially with that incident two years ago.

Too bad he would not give him the chance.

 He had pressed the button to go to their floor when his phone rang again in his hand, making him twitch in anger. Really? He hadn’t even had time to do nothing before another call. It’s over. He grabbed the phone to turn it off when he realized the number was different.

 Both, he and Damian, were frozen for a few seconds, because it was a number they knew from memory, but they didn’t want to answer at all.

And when the elevator reached their floor and opened the doors, he reacted and in one swift movement he cut off the call.

 “It’s because I have mine off.” Damian explained after the tense silence, with a tired expression and getting off the elevator.

 “And he expected us to be in the cave, I know.” He answered following him and taking the keys, at this point he just want to lie down and sleep for three days as minimum.

 In normal circumstances, anybody would think staying in the cave to recover from their injuries and rest is the best choice. Which led some bats to assume that they would be there when they get back, which is clearly not happening.

And none of them was in the mood to deal with Dick Grayson, much less today. So, hang up and pretend they don’t see anything is the best course of action.

 When the door was finally opened, he had already muted his phone, and both rushed to take off their shoes while Jon closed it behind him.

Damian was laying them just as he liked when he suddenly stiffened and stood guard, and Jon took a few moments to realize it was because he had noticed the TV sound on the living room and the another presence in their apartment, which he forgot to tell him before.

 “It’s Kon.” He explained as he placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “I said him I would be here, and we were supposed to talk in the farm…”

 Yes, they supposed. Because he had to leave early when he heard the explosion and leave that conversation for another time, even if he and his brother clearly needed it. Kon understood, of course, even asked if he could help, but Jon refused, and he had been sending messages to him after everything was under control. That morning he told him that he could stay in the apartment if the farm was too much, which it was, apparently.

 Damian turned around and nodded, understanding what happened and letting out the tension of his body, it wasn’t the first time nor the last Kon stayed with them and slept on their couch -and vice versa-. Then he looked up and bowed his head reluctantly to the living room, in a kind of silent question.

 “No, it’s okay. I got this.” Jon shook his head and tilted slightly to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “You go and rest, you need help with…?”

 He asked that looking at the bandages on his head, and he didn’t want to think about how it has come to become part of their everyday life and normal for them to take care of his injuries.

But the bat shook his head and muttered again he was fine, and Jon had no choice to believe it.

 “Okay, then go. I will be there in a moment.” He agreed with a sigh and forcing himself to separate from Damian to let him go to their room.

 He took his stuff and get ahead to go to bed, what Jon was looking forward to doing so, but not without checking up his brother and tell him they were fine, of course. He watched his boyfriend go until he turned down the hallway and then Jon walked into the living room.

He was ready to tell Kon it was better to talk tomorrow, because he was too tired, frustrated and stressed out after all that had happened, but seeing the state of the other super when he walked in, that was not necessary.

 Kon-El was fallen asleep on the couch, in an awkward position, with the remains of his dinner and beers scattered around the table and the TV as a background noise.

 Jon looked at him quiet and holding his breath for two minutes approx. before deciding what to do. Then, he sighed deeply to focus, reminded himself how Kon had decided to be his big brother after all, and started to work.

 First, he turned off the TV, which was in the news and commenting about the devastating explosion in Zodome, apparently compounded by circumstances under investigation; He ignored it and then reached one of the blankets they had in the living room to cuddle on the couch, approaching it to accommodate Kon as he could. He did it with all the patience and care possible, because Kon was tall, big and used to move a lot while sleeping, so he laid him with tact and hoping he wouldn’t fall at night. Luckily, he was a heavy dreamer, so he didn’t even react when was laid and his head was rested on a cushion, just sighed heavily and wrapped himself in the blanket.

After making sure Kon was comfortable, Jon turned and picked up the trash from the table, which was nothing more than a pizza and beer, many beer cans.

 Jon complained, tired, as he walked into the kitchen with everything in his hands and tossed them away on the trash can without hesitation.

A few years earlier he would have wondered why Kon bothered to drink those beers and in such quantity, when it was obvious alcohol didn’t affect them at all because of their kryptonian metabolism and how this erase every toxin easily and quickly in their bodies. But he knew why, it was because of the feeling of being ordinary, normal and human, and those things could give them that. He had been there and had done that, because it’s almost the same reason why Clark and everyone have their civilian identities, but on a smaller scale.

They need to feel human, even if they aren’t. And Jon knows what it is, he knows it, he knows how it was growing up, being a teenager and seeing everyone around him drinking, going to parties, being careless, reckless, having fun, when he… He couldn’t, physically or mentally, because if the city or the world was attacked and Superman was too busy being a semi-absent father, who was going to leave the party earlier to fight back? Exactly, Superboy. Both of them.

 So, yes, if Jon drinks sometimes in a few parties or Wayne galas to feel normal and socially included, Kon could try to drown his sorrows in alcohol even if it didn’t affect him at all.

 Moreover, as he stared at the last beer he have to throw away in his hand, Jon remembered he was the last person with rights to judge his brother for something like this when he certainly drowned exactly those same sorrows in alcohol two years ago.

 He wasn’t even thinking, it was stupid.

 He was 17, it had been the same date, and everything had happened four years ago. He was in Kansas with Ma and Pa, trying to escape the emotional exhaustion that meant to him being in Metropolis those days and the thoughts that haunted him mind, not exactly happy. But just like Damian 36 hours ago, he hadn’t kept in mind the fact that he would be equally emotionally unstable wherever he was or whatever he did.

So, he was helping Pa doing some farm work, trying to get distracted and not to sink into the swamp that were his memories. When suddenly, his grandpa commented with sympathy, to liven up the atmosphere and surely comfort him, that every time Tim Drake was on the farm visiting Kon he offered himself to help in any way he could, but that didn’t go well because he was a tiny little city boy, who Pa also missed a lot because of his kindness and courage.

 The next thing Jon remembers was saying he needed rest and drink something, and because of some reason his mind came to the conclusion that “something” had to be a liquor from a distant planet which his father had kept in the barn during years, and seemed to affect kryptonians too.

He can’t explain exactly what he was thinking or why. When he found the bottles and began to open them one by one, his head was nothing but mixed and blurred thoughts, crashing and eddying a kind of static noise, and he only wanted to stop it, to stop it quickly and at any price. And the unmistakable memory of Billy Batson at his 19, in their comms, drunk, at 4 am and saying, “I forgot how to breathe, I’m gonna die?” was good enough to grab the first bottle and drink.

And while he drank, he recalled Jason Todd’s voice, smiling and cheerful, telling him about how children like him shouldn’t drink, but in Gotham everything was possible, and when he turns 18, maybe he took him and Damian somewhere to celebrate something.

 Liar. Fucking liar, he wasn’t going to do it. That wasn’t going to happen, and the reminder formed a lump in his throat that made him drank more and stronger.

 The rest of the day are pieces and brief flashes in his mind.

He remembers to cry, he remembers to mourn, and he remembers to fight against aliens whose race still don’t know but supposedly saved the planet from them. And he also remembers to send flying away the neighbor’s tractor sobbing, which was never found again, and he ended up paying with his money anonymously.

 If he did anything more that day, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember, and nobody had commented or asked anything rather than the damn tractor and why was an innocent victim of his drunk wrath.

Which he already knows, because he can get back at the exact moment when he left the barn, looked up and saw in the distance the red tractor, shining in the grass and laughing at him at the distance.

 Red.

 It was red.

 Red. Just like Red Robin’s uniform, like Red Hood’s helmet, like Tim’s favorite tie for the galas, like Jason’s favorite sweatshirt which Tim also used with a pleased smile, like Tim’s pencil case that he brought up to his house when helped him with homework, like the wrapping paper which had all the books that Jason gave him on special occasions, courtesy, according to him.

 Just like the blood on Robin’s gloves six years ago.

 The last beer was thrown away into the trash can with more strength needed, making the sound of metal and the trash crashing into the ground resound through the kitchen and the apartment in general.

 Jon looked absent at the front, clenching his fist and trying to control his breathing, to calm down. He knew he wasn’t being done himself any good drowning in his thoughts again, not now, not today, not after been in the cave waiting for Damian and fighting with his instincts not to run away at any time. If he hadn’t lost control then, now it doesn’t make any sense.

But he couldn’t help briefly turn his head to see the calendar on the fridge, to then look again into the living room where Kon was still sleeping, with no signs of waking up from the previous noises but frowning in dreams.

 Six years, six years.

 His brother had lost his best friend six years ago.

 He had lost Tim, his ally, his buddy, his mate, his partner, his Robin. And there was nobody in the entire multiverse able to know how important that was, how much it had to hurt, how miserable he had to feel, but Jon.

He could understand why he didn’t want to approach the farm, because the place was filled with memories of them together, and Ma and Pa sometimes gives them that look which seems to say “I’m sorry.”; And he could understand why he wanted to be with him this day and just talk, talk about nothing and everything, pretend that they are normal and nothing happened, even if their worlds aren’t the same. Because Kon had lost a part of himself, and Jon knew if something like that happened to him, if he loses his Robin, he would be crazy, insane.

 The lump in his throat had returned, with tears about to fall and sinking feelings in his chest that oppressed him. And this time he didn’t have anything to drink to make him forget, but neither wanted.

 Enough for tonight, it’s over.

 He swallowed, rubbed his eyes, shook his head and recomposed himself to get out from the kitchen and see Kon for the last time. He ended up wishing him a good night as covered him better with the blanket, leaving a soft kiss on his temple. After that, he turned off the lights and went to his own room, exhausted.

 When he entered, it was the sight of Damian, laid on his side and turning his back, what received him. And while he undressed and take off his glasses to get comfortable as soon as possible, he made sure Damian was sleeping by his deep and slow breathing, but surely uncomfortable because of the wounds, judging by the tension on his body.

 Again, a pang of worry and guilt kicked him as he get rid of his dirty and sweaty shirt to change it for a more loose and comfortable one, because he should have convinced Damian better to not go to Gamorra, he should have stayed at his side, he should have been with him instead of going to Kansas, he should have known better that none of them would think or act with his right mind yesterday, and he didn’t.

And he knew he couldn’t help it, he can’t be everywhere and not all was his fault, but at this point and after being in the cave, he was no longer sure about that.

 When he put on the rest of his pajamas, he reached his phone to see the last five missed calls in it. Two were from Clark, three were from Dick.

He ignored them all, turned off the phone and threw it over the mountain of clothes. He was not going to touch it again until the next morning, maybe more, he has the day off.

 He rushed to the bed, got under the blankets and within seconds he had pressed against Damian to embrace him from behind, putting his arm over his waist and sticking as much possible to spooning while sleeping, being sure that Damian would not get away from him or be mad at the morning, even he seemed to relax in his touch as the tension disappeared, making Jon sighed with relief.

 He buried his face in his Robin’s nape and closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on his breathing, his scent, the sensation of his body against him and at his side. He forced himself to sleep, hoping not to dream that night.

 But he did.

 Jon dreamed that night. He dreamed about many things, about memories turned into nightmares, some which already were, about shouts, cries and voices repeating the same things over and over again while accusing fingers full of hatred pointed at him, judged him.

 Six years, six years.

 In his dreams, he saw Bruce wandering in the cave just like the day before, like a ghost, walking and standing for hours in fronts of Red Hood and Red Robin’s suits; He saw Dick crying and looking at a fixed point on the cave’s floor, remembering something he shouldn’t; He saw Cass looking at everyone quiet, sad and melancholic, with an afflicted look and without knowing what to say or how to say it; He saw Stephanie being an indecisive and insecure disaster, so unusual in her; He saw Alfred putting two more dishes on the table without realizing it, and then take them back without a word; He saw Damian leaning against his room door, tears pouring his cheeks and ready to fall apart, making his heart hurts; And he saw Kon, his older brother, in panic, shouting desperate “I can’t hear him!” “I can’t hear anything!” “Nor his voice, nor his heartbeat, nothing!” “Why can’t I hear him?!” ��

 Six years. Tim and Jason vanished exactly six years ago.

 At the end of the night, Jon’s nightmares brought him to the cave again. To a dark and cold place where the voices and cries of all were stronger and resounded everywhere, sinking like daggers in his heart; Where the Batfamily pointed and looked at him with hatred and blame, again and again, shouting at him with disgust and aversion; Where an angry and a furious Batman threw in in the face how he had lost his sons, his children. All while he fell apart and crumbled right in front of where rested Red Robin and Red Hood’s suits, bent on the floor with a note stuck on them.

 Yes.

 Tim and Jason disappeared without a trace six years ago.

 And it was his fault.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

We. (Brujay fanfic) Part 2/4

Summary :

Alpha and Omega, more of a curse than a second gender. Theorized to be the nature’s solution of human’s close brush against extinction hundreds of thousands of years ago. It’s truly a blessing that their population is near extinction, not more than 5% of the total. The percentage of them meeting is slim to none. Yet here they are.

Word count : 3.1 k

Part 1

Click link to read on AO3

Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

 In a world where 95% of the population are betas, Jason is an omega, and Bruce is an alpha. No one ever knew their secondary gender, but each other.

Jason presented alone in a ditch after Talia lets him go. A late bloomer. It came as a painful shock, but he had other things to focus on than his gender. Thanks to suppressants and scent blockers, Jason passed as a beta.

Bruce presented when he was 13, at the back of his mind, he knew he’s going to be an alpha. He had scent neutralizing hygiene products to subdue his scent. There is no suppressant for Alphas, but he goes as far as creating one himself when he just can’t rely on the scent neutralizing soaps and deodorants. When he goes out as Batman, he goes for the most full-proof way, and that is scent blocker strips over his scent glands. Anything to make himself pass as a beta.

Between them, the first one who knew the other’s second gender is Jason. He caught a whiff of an alpha scent from Bruce. It was faint, and Jason was still his robin. Through meticulous observation, Jason could see the near-invisible scent blocker on Bruce’s neck. It was so foolproof that no Beta was supposed to notice. Jason had thought that he had a sensitive nose, little did he knew. Jason never confronted Bruce about the second gender, respecting his privacy, and understanding the danger of it ever getting out.

Even after their years-long fight, Jason said nothing. After he presented, he’s even more so careful with what he knows. It would be so easy to fight against Bruce using his weakness as an alpha, but as someone that’s also hiding his second gender, he’ll respect anyone that tried to hide it too.

Jason hides it for the sake of his safety as a whole. Omegas are easily weakened now that heat-inducing drugs are sold publicly as a sex stimulating drug. How easy his enemies can control him with an alpha’s scent and heat-inducing pheromones is like a middle finger from his body.

Even though Bruce can use his second gender to his benefit, he refuses to use it. Though alphas are strong, they’re easily manipulated by an omega scent. They became irrational or in some cases, feral at a scent of omegas in heat, which in some cases can be contained and reproduced.

Though Bruce can easily have his way as an alpha, he can’t risk his identities.

It was a life none of them want.

Jason can’t blindly ignore his second gender if he so desperately wants to. Source of his despise? Heats.

Jason would’ve taken suppressants for the rest of his life and never have heats if he can, but his wretched biology can’t function that way. Once every two years, his body needs to have his heat. Taking the suppressant consistently for more than two years could lead to addiction, drug tolerance, and irregular heats.

When Jason presented in a ditch. Fortunately, he was in a secluded area and the shock makes him forget a couple of days worth of time he spent lying there. Nothing happened to him other than the new smell and dying thirst and hunger.

Two years after that, he needed to have his heat.

Jason weighed his options. He could do this alone, or get some help. The first and obvious choice is to do it alone, and he did just that.

Painful would be an understatement. He had to fight himself for a week, and the worst is the first three days. His phone is destroyed because he was so close to calling anyone in his contact to come and help him... and breed him. Wriggling on top of his bed and never feel comfortable. His blood feels hot like molten lava in his vein, frying up all his senses. He had toys from skinny and long to a girth as thick as his arm, and they all could barely satisfy him. None of them are enough.

And he’s sore. All parts of his body whined and strained, and he’s always so fucking sore all the time.

It’s like being fucked by Satan’s talons, and Jason hates it.

When the second two years' annual heat is coming, and Jason weighs his options again.

He can go through all of this alone again, or have someone help him. Betas are less affected by Omega’s pheromone, makes them a perfect candidate to help him. What stopped him is Jason’s trust issues, none of his friends knew about him being an omega, and all his close friends are either gone or died.

Alphas can help too, the right one can be naturally dependable and caring. Their skin feels soothingly cold against the omega’s heated skin. And Jason only knows one Alpha. Bruce.

It never meant to start as blackmail. Jason just slides into Batcomputer’s encrypted CPU and told Bruce to meet him in a location because he knows Bruce is an alpha.

The location is a safe house that Jason created specifically for his heats. It’s an underground bunker abandoned since world war two. Jason stole the records of the bunker from the Register of Deeds and burns it. For the government and anyone alive, that place doesn’t exist. It was a bunker made by civilians back when the burned down apartment on top of it was farmlands. So it was fairly small and could tightly fit a hundred people in it.

In years between his first presenting heat and the incoming one, Jason turned it into an omega’s haven. A comfortable bed with tons of pillows and more on the closet. Fur carpeting is a must, pastel walls, and a working bathroom complete with a tub. But, just like any other safe house, there's guns on the secret compartment under his bed, a spare of his suit behind the cabinet, and aid kit in the bathroom.

Before the confrontation, Jason already got himself a birth control shot if things go his way. Birth control is hard to get, especially for omegas. As an omega, he could’ve conceived outside of heat with the same rate as a normal beta couple would. But in heat, the percentage of conceiving is 99%. And gods be damned if a child ever conceived between them.

Jason had taken all the precautions needed to be taken down to his words.

When the knight of Gotham entered the room, suspiciously easily when he must’ve expected a lot of alarm blaring, his shock is noticeable. Their dark suit of armor completely out of place in Jason’s pink green lavender pastel walls. Their grimy combat boots are stepping on the fragile soft wool carpeting.

Fighting is inevitable, especially with what Jason about to ask.

“I’m not telling anyone! That’s not why I called you here,” Jason finally snapped after they threw build up misunderstanding at each other.

“Then what is it?”

Shuddering, his hands damp with cold sweat, but he can feel himself turning up in heat. It’s coming and time is ticking against his favor.

This safe house is the most secure and isolated than the rest, and his king-sized super-cushioned bed is begging him to lay there. His helmet feels stuffy and his gear like a sauna. He just wants to peel his gear off and bask in the cold air conditioner.

Too embarrassed to say it, Jason peels off the scent blockers and lets his scent speak for itself.

Batman immediately steps back, and Jason can’t see his eyes in that mask, but his lips pursed deeply.

“No... You passed the age of presenting when you died,” Batman mumbled to himself.

“Guess I’m a late bloomer.” Jason takes off his helmet and takes a deep cool breath. “No one knows you’re an alpha, or me being an omega, so, I... want you to help me with my heat.” With eyes cast down to soft faux fur carpet, he waits.

“So, this is blackmail,” Batman hissed, but Jason caught the snippet of his hitched breath.

Biting off his smirk, Jason sneers, “We both got blackmail material on each other today. I’d say it’s pretty fair.”

Jason peels off his domino mask, and his leather jacket. He doesn’t know where this confidence is coming from. Perhaps seeing the ragged breath of the ever so composed Batman fed his ego.

“I’m not forcing you to help me. You can leave, the door is right there.” Jason drops himself on the side of the bed, taking off his boots and maintaining eye contact with Batman.

“And I’m not going to spill your secret as long as you don’t spill mine.” Jason takes off his body armor. Blood rushed to the surface of his skin, grateful for being unbound.

“And I’ll be right in this bed, writhing, fucking myself alone, begging for an alpha to take me.” The twitch on Batman’s face feeds on Jason’s ego. Not hiding his smirk, Jason takes off his gun holster, and unbuckle his belt.

“Maybe I’ll imagine you fucking me, with this guy over here,” Jason bends over to reach his drawers and pulls up a black knotted dildo.

“Or, you can stay, fuck your first omega, and I’ll treat you like an alpha you are.” By scooting back, his pants peel down.  “No work talk,” he slips his thumb under, “And absolutely no family talk,” and Jason pulls down his pants and it drops to his ankle.

It’s hard to see what’s under that body armor and that annoying bat symbol on his chest, but Batman’s breathing just hitched. Jason kicked his pants away, leaning back with hands sinking into the soft comfortable mattress. Pillows of all kinds surround him, even more, is in the closet. In his omega nest, he opened his legs with a smile that bares his teeth in hunger.

Never has he ever felt this hungry over someone. Jason can’t smell Bruce yet, but just by knowing he’s presenting himself to an alpha, he already feels damp between the legs.

Yet, because Jason knows he will get what he wants.

“Just an omega and an alpha, having a fun heat-induced sex. What are the chances that anyone gets to have this? You can’t find another omega like me, and I’m sure as hell can’t find another alpha...” Jason stares Batman’s gear from the combat boots to the pointy ears, imagining them gone, “...like you.”

By how Batman’s hands finally open from the former tight fists and the parted lips borderline panting, Jason knows he had won.

Black gloves pry opens the mask the blocks his most charming feature. Batman was gone, so was Bruce, and Jason sees a gaze of an alpha. Ice cold eyes lick his skin and leave the spots in shivers. The bright daylight white bulb hides nothing from both of them and Jason uses that in his favor.

Those eyes can see every drop slick between Jason’s legs, every crevice, and features. How long has it been that Jason only gets to see Batman and what remains of Bruce Wayne every time they meet? This time, he finally sees Bruce in a different light.

As Bruce starts to undress, the way he knits his eyebrows shows frustration, but his hands that take off his gear from gloves, cape, and body armor says that he’s undoubtedly willing.

No, Jason isn’t usually like this. He never had the privilege to seduce someone in his favor, they always offer themselves first, but baiting the alpha out of Batman is thrilling enough to make his heart drums. His hands trail from his knee, while piercing Bruce’s ice iris with his own, going up through the lines of muscles on his inner thigh and nest on his damp crotch. When Bruce is finally naked, Jason scoots back to the center of his bed.

“Come here, alpha,” Jason moaned, and obediently, Bruce approach with softer wrinkles on his face.

His rough muscular arms invite themself to loop on Jason’s naked waist, and sliding his knee under Jason’s thigh. Their naked crotch pressed together and Jason’s breath hitched at the contact. The older man dipped his nose right on the scent glands of his neck and inhaled deeply like a hungry man starved of food for days. Jason voluntarily bares his neck so Bruce can have more of him while he’s on a mission of his own.

Bruce’s scent blockers must’ve been his own handicraft. Almost invisible to the naked eye, even as Jason hooked his jaw on Bruce’s taut shoulder Jason couldn’t make it right away. The tips of his fingers nudge the edge of the strong patch, as if to ask permission. Another hand landed on top of Jason, not to stop it, but to grab the patch and strips it out.

Jason goes weak at the immediate scent of distinct musk. Smells of pinewood, with a hint of rose and smog, like dear home Gotham, and musk as the apparent scent of arousal.

Gulping, Jason loops his hand on Bruce’s neck and looks him in the eye. “Rules,” he asserted before he’ll be overcome with heat. “We are not mating, so, no biting on the neck.” Jason grabbed Bruce’s jaw, digging his nails to Bruce’s stubbled face.

Jason is not one to fool himself that he could overpower Bruce, his hormones are begging to submit, and Bruce can push him down and rape him with the power of his scent and growl alone. But Bruce is letting him do this, letting Jason raise his voice and assert his rules. It graces Jason’s face with a satisfied smile.

“I meant the no outside talk. We don’t bring the rest of our life when we do this here, and what we do here doesn’t exist outside this room.”

Jason unclenched his claws and caress Bruce’s face. Definitive jaws, cheekbones and brow bones on his rectangular face. Deep-set eyes that go dark with lust and pale blue irises that glints as Jason licks his lips. Thick, hard angled eyebrow furrows close to his eyes. Every feature of Bruce’s physical form screams alpha, a dashingly handsome one now that Jason gets to see him without the burden of their past and existing relationship.

The alpha finally smiles, making Jason’s heart do funny things. The quirk of his lips and his eyes that smiles along, makes the wrinkles deepen unfairly in his favor. Bruce has never looked this beautiful in his eyes.

“I agreed, what happens here, stays here. And we’ll leave our capes and names out of this,” Bruce’s eyes shamelessly lick him from top to bottom. Bruce finally puts his hand where it belonged, on the side of Jason’s tapered waist and helps himself to feel the crevices of the taut skin.

“Do you have your shots?” Bruce asked, ever the gentleman, a side Jason had never experienced personally before.

“Always.”

“Good.”

A pair of coarse hands clawed his back, holding him tight. A kiss started from the back of Jason’s jaw as the man on top of him breathes in as the kiss trails down to his scent glands. Bruce nips the skin right at the dip of his adam’s apple.

As his lips pressed there, Bruce complimented in a low whisper, “What a sweet omega, so good to me,” and Jason can feel the low rasp of his voice against his sensitive skin. Both the tone and his words set fire under every inch of his skin.

Seconds later he’s pinned down to his mattress by an alpha on rut.

They acted feral for the first time, Bruce bares his fangs, and Jason offers himself wholly. Feeling naked and bare yet safe and freeing at the same time, those components never go along together for them, but in this context, they do so harmoniously.

Jason hates to admit how good he feels under an alpha’s body. To be ravaged and taken. The scent of arousal mixing in the air. The sensation of running out of breath. How close and careful Bruce held him despite both of them on the very edge of losing each other’s control.

The climax is painfully long and hard to reach, but after a couple of rounds, the lust that clouded them has calmed down. The heat subdued. What’s left there is just Jason and Bruce, panting as the knight lay on top of him with arms around his waist and head on top of his chest. Bruce settled there between his legs while the slippery slick is dripping out of him. As he promised, Jason is full of bluing hickeys from his collar bone and down to his inner thighs, no bites.

“Will you regret this?” The words slipped out of Jason’s mouth before he could stop them.

Bruce whispered to his skin, “Never.”

They stopped after Jason’s heat finally ceased on the fifth day. Both lay satisfied as Bruce’s knot deflated while Jason is dripping in them.

After changing the sheets, they shower together, coping a little feel that goes too far that they have to shower again. The scent neutralizing soaps erases all evidence of their sexcapade. His alpha suits up and becomes Batman again.

Just before the knight left, Jason chirped, “See you in two years,” and the black figure stops by the door.

The omega that lay naked in bed to rest, looks up to the rigid form stuck in front of his doorstep.

“That is if you still want to help me with my heats. It’s up to you if you want to tap out.” Jason says incredulously with a grin because the five days they spent together and the shower that they just took shows otherwise.

“It’s not that.”

Jason cocks his eyebrow, “I’m on suppressant, so I only have my heats once every two years,” Jason explains.

“I know.”

Then Batman left, without even leaving a wind behind. Even for Batman’s standard, that behavior is weird, but Jason just shrugged as he takes his time to rest.

  They don’t talk about what they do in this Jason’s heat safe house, and they didn’t talk about who they are when they’re in this nest.

In Jason’s heat safe house, they exist only as an omega and an alpha. They leave their names and capes on the doorstep.

A moment of feral pleasure without ties.

At least, it’s what it supposed to be.

The first one to call is Bruce, a month after Jason has the first heat with him. He hates that this is what it has come to. He cursed the leap on his heart and the smile threatening to his face. Jason picked up to series of dates and times.

Sure enough, they’re back in his safe house with scent blockers off and no heat. Enjoying the rarest pleasure they can only have with each other. Being wholly themselves.

[multifics-canary]

Random nanowrimo fic #2

A/n: honestly I dont know where I was going with this but please bare with me. I havent been able to write for nanowrimo and I'm upset about it. So I'm throwing random pitches before it ends. Also keep sending me your version of Ruby!! :D

Being transported to another dimension was crazy. Being stuck in a universe with no way back was even worse. One minute Ruby waiting for her cousin Kara to get home from work to start training. The next, a portal opens from under her and she's in another universe, in Paris.

Luckily she had taken French many times and had J'onn help her study. In her earth, this was just a comic. One of her favorite comics none the less. So if that was the case, all young Ruby had to find the guardian of the miraculous. She didn't even have time to freak out before she heard the sound of school bells. Her thoughts were interrupted and Ruby turned, eyes wide as she stared a very famous school from her comic.

As she watched Marinette Dupain-Cheng leave the school ground. The girl walked alone, humming to herself as she ignored her surroundings. Ruby felt guilt, she saw how Marinette was being treated unfairly by a liar. She stared for a few more seconds, before plastering a smile and ran to where Marinette was.

"Excuse me, but are you Marinette?" The blue eyed girl looked startled by the random person asking for her. Looking like an american none the less. Honestly, Ruby couldn't blame her. She was aware she was attracting unpleasant eyes on her, but kept her focus on the ladybug holder.

"I-- yes, that would be me. Can-can I help you?" She asked shyly, and Ruby's smile widened.

"Please! Can I get an autograph? Your designs are just splendid! And the Jagged Stone cover album you did was my absolute favorite." Ruby gushed and watches as Marinette turned red at the praise. Ruby grabbed her hand gently, ignoring how soft her hands were.

"Also, if you don't mind, there's a comission I would like to talk to you about." She continued, guilt eating her away. Ruby hated lies just as much as Marinette, but she had no choice. This is was the only way they could talk alone. Unless she did ask for a comission.

"U-um sure!"

"Marinette, who is this?" Ruby almost scowled when she saw the girl in front of her pale drastically. Turning, Marinette looked up at the steps and saw Lila and Alya stare at her. Ruby resisted the urge to step forward. She didn't know if her powers worked properly here, but she had enough practice in controlling them. So she didn't worry as much about using her super speed.

"Are you new here? I could show you around instead. I helped a very well known family like time in my travel to New York." Lila supplies happily, her eyes holding a dangerous glint as she glanced at Marinette. Ruby's face twitched a bit as she resisted to use her super strength on the liar. Letting out a soft breath, she smiled at Lila.

"No thanks. I'm just here to ask for an autograph and a comission from Marinette. Did you know she also designed Jagged's glasses and album?! I wouldn't be surprised if she had his number personally."

Alya eyes widened before looking guilty at Marinette. Before Lila could come up with a lie to frame Marinette, Alya spoke first. "Girl I'm so sorry. I forgot you knew Jagged like that. It completely slipped my mind."

"Wait w-what?" Lila stuttered out, turning to Alya. Marinette stared at Ruby in shock, as the girl glared at Lila. Sensing the growing tension, Marinette spoke up quickly.

"You said you wanted a comission, right? We can talk about it in the park. " Marinette said quickly, grabbing Ruby's hand and dragged her quickly away from the liar. Ruby heard footsteps trying to follow them and quickly walked forward, grabbing Marinette by the waist.

The girl squeaked and immediately tried to break free. "Marinette please. We need to go somewhere far to talk, and Lila is trying to follow us. I need you and Tikki to trust me." Marinette froze, staring fearfully at Ruby, and she hated it.

Pushing down her guilt, she dragged her towards an alley passed the park and slowly lifted off the ground. Marinette gasped and wrapped her arms around Ruby's neck. Just as they reached the rooftop, Ruby told her to stay quiet as she heard Lila walk to where they were. They heard Lila snarl when she didn't see anyone, and quickly changed her expression when Alya joined her. The girls left afterwards, so Ruby let go of Marinette, just as the girl pushed her off.

"How do you know about to tikki? Who are you?" She demanded, the red kwami flying out of her purse and stared at Ruby. Slowly the girl kneeled down with surrendered hands. She never saw Marinette being this intimidating without the suit and definitely didn't think she would see it in person.

"Please, I just want to home. I have no one else I could go to. In my earth, you guys are just comics. And I know I lied earlier, but I hate lying too and my whole life is basically one. And Lila is just terrible too and--"

"Slow down!" Marinette spoke up. Ruby stopped when she realized she was rambling and turned red, looking down embarrassed. She's adorable. What.

"I'm sorry. When I'm nervous, I speak really fast and only my cousin understands me. Let me start again. My name is Ruby Danvers and I'm from a different universe." She said, looking up at the kwami and chosen.

"Tikki?" Marinette turned to her kwami, ignoring how uncharacteristically fast her heart was beating at the familiarity of the girl.

The red kwami flew towards Ruby, who stared back nervously and excitedly. Smiling, tikki turned back to Marinette.

"She's telling the truth, Marinette. We can ask the guardian for help." The little god said, and Ruby sagged in relief.

"You have no idea how much that means to me. I can tell you anything I know." Ruby said, looking at Marinette happily. The girl felt her face heat up and looked away, missing her kwami's knowing look.

"You said earlier we were comics in your world. I'm assuming that its the same with you as well?" She asked Ruby, causing the girl to frown.

"I have honestly no idea. It's only been a few hours since I got here and I tried not to move too much. But I would assume so. Try looking up Supergirl on your phone." Ruby sat comfortably on the floor as Marinette took out her phone and looked it up. After a few seconds, she heard the girl squeal.

"Oh my god! You're from my favorite show! I'm still waiting on that new season! Are you really Supergirl's cousin for real?" Marinette exclaimed, having gotten close to Ruby in her excitement. The girl calmed down after a bit and saw how close they were to each other. Both of them blushed and Marinette moved back quickly, as Ruby shuffled a bit back.

"U-um yeah. My brother is technically a few minutes older, but being stuck in a place where no time passes with your cousin, makes him a bit older." Ruby states shrugging a bit.

"Well we need to get you a new identity for now. Ruby Danvers is famous character." Marinette said, after calming down a bit. Ruby looked behind Marinette and stared in shock as Chat Noir jumped on the same rooftop as them.

"Hey, bugaboo. Who's this?" He said, walking over. He seemed calmed enough, but Ruby knew from experience that he was on edge. Especially since tikki was out in the open to a random stranger.

"Relax kitty. This person needs our help getting back home. She's from a different earth. We need to help her create an identity in the mean time." Marinette explains, placing a hand on her partner's shoulder. He seems to relax a little, but Ruby didn't move. Not until they all said it was okay. She had learned that a long time ago.

"Ruby, you don't have to stay there. No one is going to harm you." Tikki flew to the girl on the floor, and only received a smile. Chat and Marinette stared at Ruby.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure that all of you knew I wasn't a threat." She stared as Chat Noir's eyes widened and he turned to Marinette, who nodded at him. Sighing, Chat stopped forward to Ruby and held out a hand to her.

Ruby slowly took his hand as he called off his transformation and the young girl stood face to face with the Adrien Agreste.

"So, Ruby huh? What makes you special?" Adrien asked, and Ruby practically squealed at those words. Those words reminded her of when Kara told her when she first met the heroes of earth-1 for an invasion. She looked at Marinette for permission and got a nod. Smiling widely, she fixed her grip on the boy's hand, making sure to not hurt him.

"Let's go for a ride, kitty cat." And with that, Ruby lifted off the ground, laughing at Adrien's squeak of surprise as he gripped her arm. Plagg cackled, floating next to Ruby as they lifted at least 10 feet in the air.

"Oh I like her! Can we keep her, sugarcube?" Plagg said, once they floated down. Adrien scrambled behind Marinette, who was holding in her laughter.

"Ok ok. Let's think of something." Marinette said after finally calming down. Ruby floated slightly as Marinette and Adrien sat on the floor, the kwami's on their respective holder's head.

"Even though I have the hair and eyes similar, I can't be related to Marinette because I look far too American. I could say that I'm in a exchange program and old friends of yours." Ruby supplies, floating right above them. Adrien, having calmed down from his stupor, thinks it over.

"That could work. I could pull some strings to make sure it's real enough so no one questions it."

"Am I allowed to do anything about that lying snake?"

"No." Four voices said to Ruby at once. The girl frowned as she stared up. She could plan it later, maybe with Plagg's help. He can get her to Trixx in case.

"We still have to go to master about this."

"I could fly us there. But it would be a bit obvious since it's still day out. I can hear your classmates voices nearby." Ruby states, crossing her arms as she stopped floating, just staying above their heads.

"You have super speed, right? My house is right there. If you can get me a hoodie I have on the mannequin, some materials and some scissors, I could help disguise you. Make you look like a miraculous hero." Marinette looked up at Ruby, who had this look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down.

"You'd really do that?"

"Why wouldn't she? You could've used your powers to hurt us already. But you haven't, and considering you're from our favorite show, I don't think there's anything Marinette wouldn't do for her favorite character."

"Adrien!" Marinette turned red as the boy next to her laughs, easily escaping her clutches as Ruby stared at them both. Her cousin told her many things about the multiverse, and meeting one of her best friends from another earth was cool. But Ruby never thought she would never experience it herself.

She watches them bicker, the kwamis resting on her head and smiled. Even if did take a while to find a proper way home, Ruby honestly wouldn't change this for anything. Not even Lila Rossi or Hawkmoth would stop her from feeling this ecstatic.

Lila Rossi.

Now that was someone Ruby was going to enjoy destroying before she left. Watch out Paris, theres a new hero in town. And her name is Velocity.

Random tags: @natu123 @the-wlw-cafe @mcgrathandwives @baked-bean-bekah @beebeebombam @imagine-lcorp @ezio-demon @supergirlimagine @miraculous-of-salt