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jemiswumbo · 6 months ago

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I’d be fine (if I never saw you again)

luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

anon prompt: luke castellan and reader who are exes and see each other in the labyrinth. luke is aware of his fate (turning into chronos and eventually die) and reader can't change it. they have one last moment together. she later sees him turning into chronos (cause we love angst and heartbreak)

a/n: it’s been. roughly. 7 years since I wrote actual fanfic. pls be nice <3 I diverged a bit from canon events but it’s not important to the story. hope you enjoy :)

title from “i’d be fine (if i never saw you again) by all time low! the lyrics are very fitting lol

tags/warnings: blood mention, angst, use of y/n, probably like rated T.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t confused.

Annabeth Chase had finally had a quest bestowed upon her — she was tasked with braving the maze of the Labyrinth in order to locate Daedalus. She could take anyone in camp as her questmates. Percy Jackson was the obvious choice, as they had already been on a couple adventures together.

You, really, should’ve been dead last in her list of options.

To start, you had no special powers. You were a regular camper, unclaimed for years now. Despite various training exercises and endless amounts of camp activities, you still really hadn’t found your niche. The only thing you were somewhat decent at was fighting with a sword, but that was mostly because you had been trained by the best of the best. You sparred with him relentlessly over the years until you were of equal combat skill. It was special treatment, obviously, for him to train you with such vigour and fixation. He was your boyfriend after all.

Was.

Luke Castellan had taken a liking to you when you first rolled up to Camp Half-Blood; you reached the camp by a miracle, almost becoming monster food on your way in. You were a tired, bloody, sweaty 13 year old in dire need of training and a nap. He told you once, years later, that when he had first laid eyes on you, he thought of you as the most beautiful warrior he’d ever seen.

With his little crush in tow, he welcomed you to Hermes cabin as you were unclaimed. He personally showed you around camp, he sat next to you for all meals, and he helped you out with daily activities. It didn’t take long for you to begin admiring him back.

It was weeks later during a game of Capture the Flag when you two finally made it official. It had been a rare occasion of the game taking place at night. You had taken the initiative, pulling Luke behind a tree and kissing him under the moonlight. Since then, you’d been inseparable.

When Kronos started invading Luke’s dreams, he became distant.

To everyone else he seemed the same — training campers, smiling wide, basking in moments of glory. To you, he was a hollow version of himself. His frequent nightmares had him waking up in terror and chills. You coaxed him back to relaxation each and every night. You would press soft kisses to his curly hair, whispering phrases of adoration. He would tell you he loves you. You would say it back. But deep down you were choking on stress and fear and worry and bundles of negative emotions threatening to spill out of your raw, bitten lips. You cried more those nights than you did after he left.

After he betrayed the camp. After almost killing Percy Jackson. After giving you one last pleading look, begging you with his warm brown eyes to follow him and join him and be with him in his conquest of glory. You had told him you loved him. You had turned and ran away in the opposite direction.

You hadn’t seen him since.

It was almost 3 years since that fateful night. You had dreams and nightmares centering around your past relationship. You missed Luke, your Luke, but knew he was too far gone for saving. You walked around camp each day with a hole in your chest where your heart should’ve been. It was a filthy, gaping wound infected with regret. You were a apathetic and alone.

You were, without a doubt, not an ideal questmate.

So… why did Annabeth choose you?

ii.

The labyrinth was musty, damp, hot and downright uncomfortable. You had been in and out numerous times over the duration of the quest; every exit was like a gasp of relief, and every entry was a fearful plunge into the unknown. The maze of tunnels and odd rooms had you perpetually on the edge, anxiety causing your eyes to see things that weren’t actually there, and your ears to pick up on sounds otherwise ignored.

You tried to stay as close to Percy and Annabeth as possible, but you did occasionally give them space to talk. They were best friends (and clearly in love) and you were the odd third wheel in this situation. You were getting closer to them over the duration of the quest, friendship wise, but you still prioritized their relationship.

So, when a voice clearly called out your name in a hushed whisper, it made sense that only you had heard it. Percy and Annabeth were too far ahead of you to hear, immersed in their own private conversation.

The voice whispered, “Y/n.”

A chill flushed over your spine. You unsheathed your sword and spun on your heel, desperate to make out the source of the voice. You couldn’t have been hallucinating. The voice was sharp, articulate, and clear as day in the quiet tunnel.

There was no one behind you.

You turned back to where Percy and Annabeth should’ve been ahead of you. Instead, there was a person standing there, a person all too familiar to you.

You dropped your sword, letting it clatter against the tunnel floor.

His warm brown eyes met yours, and you let out a gasp of unbridled shock. Nausea churned in your stomach. It was him.

Luke Castellan was standing in front of you.

“You…” Your voice wavered off, too many emotions clogging your throat to produce a coherent thought.

You knew he’d be in the labyrinth. You’d psyched yourself up in preparation of facing him. But.. you thought you would’ve been facing him in the presence of your friends, not alone. Alone was worse. Being alone with Luke opened the floodgates to all the memories you had previously shut away.

Your first kiss in the woods. Cuddling in the Hermes’ cabin, much to the other campers dismay. Sparring and his cocky grin he flashed with every victory. When he returned from his failed quest with an ugly gash over his eye, and you helped nurse him back to health. The night he first said he loved you, under the light of the moon with your bare bodies intertwined on shores of the beach.

Nausea. Anxiety. Guilt. Fear —

Love.

Sadness. Regret. Anger —

Love.

He looked vastly different from how he did the moment he fled camp, the last time you had seen him. His skin was paler, his body leaner. His curly dark hair had grown longer. His eyes were sullen and sad. His normal camp clothes were covered with armour.

“Luke…” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “Oh, gods, Luke.. what are you doing?”

“Hey, there.” He said softly, giving you a small smirk as he stepped forward. “I’ve missed you.”

“You haven’t.” Your bottom lip wobbled. “Liar. You don’t care about me, so don’t lie and pretend like you do..”

“Y/n, I never stopped caring.” Luke reached his hand out to cup your cheek, using his thumb to stroke away one of your tears. The touch felt so familiar, yet so foreign. He felt like a ghost come back to life. “I’ve missed you every single day since I left. When I found out you’d be in the labyrinth, I made sure I’d do everything I could to find you.”

“I don’t understand,” you let out a sob, frozen in place, debating running away and forfeiting the stupid quest all together. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Luke leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It was gentle, and soft, and sweet, and so contradictory to every aspect of his behaviour the past 3 years. You should’ve hated him. Your instincts should’ve made you pick up your sword and stab him in his side and let him bleed out without remorse.

You didn’t, though. You couldn’t. Because deep down you still loved him. And part of you, a really small fragile part, had the audacity to believe he still loved you, too.

You squeezed your eyes shut and cried and let him press another kiss to your forehead, and another to your cheek, his hand trailing lower to rest gently at the base of your throat. You swallowed hard and met his eyes again, finding them to be clouded with a layer of guilt. Your heart lifted.

“I need you to know that I love you,” Luke said, voice hushed in a whisper. “This may be the last time I ever see you. I want to give you one last chance.”

You whimpered. “One last chance to do what?”

“Join me.” He said, eyes darting between yours. “Or let this be goodbye, forever.”

He pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped into the kiss, your hands reaching up to encircle his neck and grab his curls. He pulled your body flush against his, lifting your leg and holding your head. He kissed you like he was starving and you were the first thing he’d tasted in eons.

The kiss quickly became rough, teeth clashing and your fingers gripping his hair a little too tight. He growled low in his throat and pushed your back to the cavern wall. You didn’t give a damn that the wall was slick and slimy. All you felt was him. All you wanted was him.

Your lips were bruised and aching when he pulled away for air. The echos of your shaky breaths engulfed the chamber you stood in. Your heart was pounding in your chest, so hard you feared it was going to give out.

He kissed you again. You made the move to remove your camp shirt, letting it fall to the ground beside your discarded sword. Luke latched his mouth to the skin above your bra, sucking and kissing until bright red marks formed.

Luke unhooked his Celestial bronze breast plate and dropped it. As he leaned back in for another heated kiss, a voice called out —

“Now!”

You turned and saw Annabeth and Percy charging you, weapons drawn and ready to fight. Luke unsheathed his own blade in a flash, just in time to defend himself from their attacks.

The three demigods fought in the narrow corridor, dodging and striking in rapid succession. You couldn’t bring yourself to participate or to watch. You crumpled to the floor in your own personal defeat. Everything finally clicked into place.

At some point, the fight had ended with Luke managing a quick evasion down some secret pathway and successfully evading Percy and Annabeth’s hunt.

Once again, Luke Castellan was gone from your life. All you could manage to do was stare at the wall, knees pulled close to your chest, feeling a sensational numbness engulf you.

Annabeth returned and knelt beside you. She placed a comforting hand to your knee, as Percy stood behind her with a deep sadness in his eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked, voice laced with concern.

“You brought me on this quest as bait,” you said, your own voice hoarse from crying. “You knew Luke would find me. You knew you’d get a chance to strike if we were alone.”

“…That is true,” Annabeth admitted sheepishly. “I realize now that it would’ve been nice to tell you about that beforehand. But that’s not the only reason why I chose you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Of all the people at camp? I’m not special. I’m broken.”

“Y/n, you’re an incredible swordsman.” Annabeth chided. “You’re the only one who’s ever beat Luke in a fight.”

“And you’re fun to talk to,” Percy added. “You’ve helped keep us sane in this stupid maze.”

“We seriously could not have gotten this far without you,” Annabeth said with a small smile. “Again, I’m sorry for not telling you about the.. ‘bait’ plan. I thought you would turn down my quest invitation if you knew beforehand.”

“I definitely would have, you’re right.” You said with a sigh, wiping a stray tear that was gliding down your cheek. Momentarily, your heart clenched as you were reminded of Luke’s hand on your cheek, wiping your tears away only minutes prior. You pushed the feeling aside. “Sorry, Annie.”

“I’m the one that’s sorry here.” The other girl said. “Now, I understand if you’d like to go back to camp after that. But I’d really, really prefer if you finished this quest with us.

Annabeth stood up, holding out her hand to you.

You bit your lip. Going back to camp and curling up in a ball on your bed sounded really nice at that moment. But… you didn’t want to leave these kids to finish this task alone. You needed to help them see it through to the end.

You took Annabeth’s hand and rose to your feet.

iii.

The next time you see Luke, he’s laying in a golden sarcophagus, seemingly asleep.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, a husk of his old appearance. You lean forward to brush a stray curl off of his forehead and are overcome with a wave of sadness. He barely stirs in his sleep. Part of you wishes he’d wake up so you could see his warm brown eyes one last time.

As if he had somehow heard your thoughts, Luke awoke from his slumber.

His hand grips your wrist, halting your movements of fixing his hair. His eyes shoot open and you gasp.

This isn’t Luke.

His pupils are shockingly bright and golden, an evil aura radiating from his body.

This isn’t Luke.

This is Kronos.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo #pjo fanfic #luke castellan #jemiswriting

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minkydinks · 2 months ago

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Why HiveWings in canon do NOT have to be the result of tons of generations of detrimental incest (a hot take maybe)

@sarcasticrat @incorporeal-entity @daishitheprofessionalfool

It's a funny meme in the WoF community that HiveWings are incestuous abominations having all descended from a single dragon (Clearsight). But honestly I think a lot of the weirdness revolving around that idea is missing a fundamental piece of the way WoF genetics work.

It's relatively well known that when two dragon tribes hybridize, their offspring will primarily take after their mothers. Every. Single. Time. At most, there may be somewhat-even mixes of both parents, but the mother's tribe is still largely apparent. We see this with Whiteout, Darkstalker, Typhoon, and Sunny. Whiteout and Darkstalker appear primarily NightWing, like their mother Foeslayer (although Whiteout has a little more IceWing than Darkstalker). Sunny is mostly SandWing in appearance like her mother Thorn; enough that most regard Sunny as a regular SandWing that may just have a rare genetic anomaly. Typhoon confirms his mother as a SeaWing in his dialogue, when he mentions that his father is ill by the animus IceWing plague that Darkstalker caused.

What does this mean for HiveWings?

While it does still sound exhausting to have so many relatives, it's very plausible for her to have caused a branching new tribe with her genetics, WITHOUT inbreeding being involved in that process.

Because Clearsight is female, the VAST majority of her dragonets with BeetleWings would appear.... mostly NightWing! Mostly black scales!

Somewhat like this, if you assume this is relatively canon:

And, any of her daughters who decided to have dragonets themselves, would have ALSO had dragonets with primarily black scales, no matter WHO they married to. The black scales would have easily passed along hundreds (if not thousands) of dragons, without a single instance of genetically problematic inbreeding, so long as the direct descendants of Clearsight were female and had black scales. Regardless, no matter how many children Clearsight had, her daughters, granddaughters, great granddaughters and so on, would pass down her black scales to future generations; all of their Night/Beetle offspring would have taken after the mothers that appeared more NightWing-like, until eventually the form of HiveWings became most familiar because of the consistent mixing of the NightWing & BeetleWing physical traits.

Clearsight may well have only needed to EVER have 6 of her own dragonets total, for there to be a tribe split based on her genetics; depending on whether or not all of her dragonets chose to have families of their own (which we assume they all did). But, it is canon that Clearsight remarried several times, so we can assume she had more than 6; albeit probably not as many as your mind wanders into thinking. No slutshaming!!!! /j

Assuming she had 4 daughters and 2 sons, and each of her children had 3 dragonets of their own (predominantly female from her daughters and predominantly male from her sons), that would be 12 NightWing-dominant hybrids and 6 BeetleWing-dominant hybrids to kickstart the tribe splitting. It's perfectly plausible with the way canon genetics work.

What about SilkWings?

BeetleWings were a spread-out tribe, not existing purely in one location for their kingdom. So, while it's fun to theorize about SilkWings also being descendants of Clearsight, it's improbable at best (and disprovable at worst) that they're related in any way. It's theorized (and probably accurate) that BeetleWings had already been in the process of diverging into SilkWings, and Clearsight's arrival sped up that process significantly by reducing the population of non-diverging BeetleWings.

Incest had to happen at some point, didn't it?

I'm going to tentatively say, yes. But not in the way you're thinking.

At some point, after the BeetleWings had been bred out of existence and replaced by HiveWings and SilkWings, there HAS to be interbreeding of HiveWings at some point. And if ALL HiveWings are descended from Clearsight, that would mean that modern HiveWings are technically inbreeding by continuing to have eggs with other HiveWings, instead of more BeetleWings.

However, this is not as problematic as you'd think. (Stay with me here, this isn't proship territory. I promise.)

If we're looking at animals as a prospect, you'll notice that millions of extant species in REAL life are actually the result of similar conditions. Direct descendants of ancestors that they inherited their primary abilities and traits from, that have ultimately somewhat inbred.

You may be shocked (and even grossed out) to hear that we're actually all somewhat related, especially to those in our own countries. However, the reason incest between close relatives is considered immoral to people (and is illegal in many places, thankfully) is because of genetic anomaly. There is always risk to pass down genetic anomalies, I happen to have one myself! (A congenital defect of the heart that gives me two aortic valve flaps instead of three. This is a standard defect though and I promise I'm not an incest baby.) But the issue with inbreeding is just that it drastically increases the chances of such anomalies happening, the more closely related to an individual you are.

To put it more science-y, inbreeding only increases the chances of consequential or fatal anomalies if the offspring of two individuals contain alleles at the gene site that are identical from descent. In other words, there's a single ancestor shared from both the maternal and paternal sides. This becomes negligible when it's no longer probable to pass identical alleles from both sides; i.e, hitting about 6th degree (roughly second cousins once removed).

In other words, should someone interbreed with their second cousin-once removed, the chances of there being genetic anomalies or consequences are so low, that it's about as likely as if you had a child with any other person in the general population of your area. Your average shared DNA with that 2nd cousin-twice removed would be ~1.5%, which is actually lower than the default chance of any other average birth defect happening to the child of an unrelated couple (~3-4%). Genetic counsellors themselves state that they completely stop worrying about the potential for inbreeding-related fetal anomalies (AND moral code) once the relativity is 4th degree or further, because there is simply such a low chance of any defects, and it would be substantially different from marrying & reproducing with your siblings, parents, grandparents, and other direct relatives. Simply put, incestuous pairings are not black & white when it comes to more distant relation. Although direct relative pairings are inherently risky and therefore morally & ethically reprehensible by any means.

Dragons in Wings of Fire live to a maximum of about 130 years, and 2000 years had passed since Clearsight's arrival to Pantala. That's about 13 generations of dragons, give or take a few. We know based on the story told by Lady Scarab that a close relative of hers that she knew personally actually named the HiveWing tribe - implying that BeetleWings' extinction was actually relatively recent; within the last 200-400 years. Meaning that the genetic diversity of modern HiveWings is high enough that it would be incredibly unlikely for any random pair of HiveWings to pass down identical alleles to their child and cause significant issues.

So while, definition-wise, it is TECHNICALLY inbreeding, it is not a morally questionable issue because there are very few physically consequential results from their pairings; there have simply been FAR too many unrelated BeetleWings in their family trees for so long, that the VAST majority of HiveWings are as closely related to one another as the average city population in the United States.

Additionally, reptiles are not affected by incest the same way mammals are. The majority of unique pet trade reptile color morphs is a result of inbreeding for those colors; it's quite rare for them to have consequential anomalies as a result of such inbreeding as long as they aren't direct relatives only exclusively inbreeding with each other. Also these are magical fantasy dragons, so like. Shrug. I can't imagine incredibly distant relative consanguinity would affect them as badly as anything that's ever happened to British royalty.

(Also you didn't hear this from me, but MudWings are probably significantly more worrisome because of their monthly random breeding nights and no real semblance of family trees. I'd worry about them before worrying about tons of generations of hybrids with the genetic diversity of New York.)

#wof #wings of fire #wof theories #hivewings #beetlewings #silkwings #nightwings #wof hybrids #NOT PROSHIP

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deanwinchesterswitch · 2 years ago

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The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas

Part Six: Take the Freeway Down

Square: Road Trip ~ @spnchristmasbingo

Song: Run, Run Rudolph ~ Lynyrd Skynyrd

Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC

Summary: Nicole is reminded of how annoying Dean can be when he’s stuck riding shotgun. Challenges and frustration threaten to derail the journey before it’s barely begun.

Warnings: Angst, A bit of fluff, Implied sex, Language, Canon divergence

Word Count: 3,727

Beta: @princessmisery666

Credit: The stunning title card and dividers were made by @talesmaniac89.

Author’s Note: I promise good times lay ahead.

Series Master Post

“Awesome!” She pulls him into another hug, “You can do anything you set your mind to, Dean,” then steps back after a quick peck on his cheek and points toward the table. “Pack your gear. We’re headed out in ten.”

“What? Now?”

“Yep. I packed your duffle while you were in the shower. The car is stocked with our favorite snacks and ready to roll.”

She smiles broadly, her voice buzzing with excitement, but he stands frozen in place, feeling somewhat ambushed. “What if I had said no?” The smile falters, and the sparkle in her eyes diminishes, making him wish he hadn’t said anything. Biting his lip, he turns his head, not wanting to see the disappointment that he caused.

“Hey.” Her voice is as gentle as her touch, and he leans into the hand on his cheek as she urges him to meet her gaze. “Dean?”

Nic’s other hand strokes along his upper arm while she waits for him to look at her or say something. He feels a little like a petulant child but knows he’s being ridiculous. Nic never has and never would demean him or his feelings. A quiet moment passes, and he finally turns to face her. Instead of discontentment, he is met with a warm smile and a perceptive stare.

The moment his eyes meet hers, she declares, “I would have unpacked the car, and we would have devoured the snacks during a movie marathon. You know I would never willingly do anything to hurt you, and I’m not going to force you into anything.” Delicate fingers trace the shell of his ear, smooth palm coming to rest against his neck, as her softly calloused thumb strokes his jawline. “I’m asking you to keep an open mind, but the entire trip is about you …for you. If you don’t want to do something, we won’t do it. If you want to come back home, we will come back home.”

“Simple as that?” he breathes, chest tight with apprehension.

“Simple as that.”

Not for the first time, and most probably not for the last, he marvels at what a lucky son of a bitch he is to have her in his life. “Okay.” the agreement bursts from him in a rush of air, and a tiny ripple of excitement shimmers deep in his chest.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder, adding with a little more enthusiasm, “Let’s do it!”

“Alright. I’ll grab the things you need from the bathroom while you get all this together.’ With a quick pat on his arm, she heads out of the library. “Meet me in the garage.”

Dean walks into the garage with a minute to spare. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re not taking Baby?”

Closing the hatch on her Jeep, she turns to face him. “No.”

“How can you call it a road trip, then?”

Taking the camera bag from him, she places it on the passenger side backseat and walks around the front of the vehicle. “You know I love Baby, but you rarely let me drive her, and you don’t know where we’re going.” She holds up a hand, “No, I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”

“But-”

“You’re working for me, remember? Besides, we’re going to need the 4-wheel drive.”

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.” Pulling a cassette from her back pocket, she tosses it to him to try and forestall further questions. “I made you a mixtape for the trip.”

Lips pursed, his brow furrows as he reads the label. “Christmas rock?”

“Only a few are Christmas songs.” She shrugs. “I think you’ll like them, though, especially the one by Corey Taylor.”

“Who?”

“The guy from Slipknot.” Adding, as he nods, “That one’s right up your alley at the moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll understand when you listen to it,” she teases. “Come on. I wanna get on the road.”

Dean looks longingly at the Impala as he passes by, running a hand over her hood. “Sorry, Baby, the boss is being a bit of a tyrant.”

Laughing as she rolls her eyes, Nic climbs into the Jeep, quietly elated that Dean agreed to the trip. She knows she blindsided him, especially with the quick departure. However, she didn’t want to give him a chance to overthink it. While she does hope to change his attitude about not celebrating the holiday, her main goal is to help him understand the driving force of his emotional turmoil so he can find a way to process those feelings and move forward in a manner in which he’s comfortable.

“I can’t believe we’re taking a so-called road trip without Baby,” he whines as he slips into the passenger seat.

“Let it go, dude.” Holding her phone out of sight, fingertip hovering, she checks in with him one last time. “Do you choose to accept the mission?”

“You need to let it go.“ Laughing, he leans over to kiss her before settling back and fastening his seatbelt. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

She remains silent, the keys dangling from the ignition, and arches a brow when he looks at her expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” hands waving in the air, “I choose to accept the mission.”

Nic’s finger taps her phone screen, and the theme from Mission Impossible fills the car’s interior. With a howl of laughter from Dean, she starts the engine, and they set off.

They’re only about three hours into the drive when the leg bouncing starts.

Since it rarely occurred, and the last time it happened, she had slept through most of it while Sam drove, she’d almost forgotten how thoroughly annoying Dean could be as a passenger. First, there had been random bouts of tongue clicking along with other mouth noises, which alternated with finger tapping on the door frame and heavy sighs as he shifted in his seat, now the dull thud of his heel hitting the floorboard with every twitch of his leg.

“STOP!”

“What?” he asks, all innocent-like as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“The leg!” She flicks a hand at him. “Chill, dude. Or I’m going to pop that kneecap.”

“Let me drive for a while,” he huffs in response.

“Nope.” The corner of her lip curls as she stares at the road ahead. “Why don’t you take the time to get to know your equipment better.”

“Phfft. I think I know how to work my equipment just fine.”

Leave it to Dean to turn her innocent comment into a dirty little innuendo with an eye wiggle and a bit of added grit to his voice. Well, two can play that game. “Yeah, you do,” she breathes, doing her best Harley Quinn impersonation, biting into her bottom lip as she slides her palm along his thigh, fingers dragging over denim to play with a belt loop. The muscles of his legs tense, and he swallows hard. “But it doesn’t hurt to learn something new.”

“You never had any complaints before,” he growls.

Nic presses her thighs together. Her whole ploy nearly backfires as she strains to keep her voice even and the car on the road. “Oh, I’m not complaining. I’m protecting my interests.” She makes sure to hit his ticklish spot as her fingers dance over his side, and his body jerks in response. Silently laughing, she continues to tease him. “I want to make sure that you are prepared to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Pull over, and I’ll show you how prepared I am.”

That voice …hypnotic, throaty, and resonating with the promise of pleasurable torture.

Focus, Nicole!

He shivers as her fingers trace a path up his arm, nails scraping over the nape of his neck. She catches the movement of his hand as he adjusts his growing bulge and can feel his eyes boring into her profile. With a quick glance in his direction, she gives him a wink as she reaches behind his seat. “So… you know all about the F-stop values, shutter speeds, ISO, and metering modes for pictures taken during the blue hour versus the golden hour. Action versus still, midday versus midnight, ” she purrs, pulling the camera bag forward.

Dean grunts, smirk crumbling when she drops the case into his lap and giggles.

“You know you’re gonna pay for that later. Right?”

He tries to sound menacing, but it only makes her laugh harder. “Aww, come on, admit it. I got you.” She pokes him in the ribs, and he bats her hand away.

“Whatever.” He flips the case open and stares at the contents, looking a little like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You didn’t bring the manual, did you,” she chuckles, opening the console between them. She pulls out a small leather-bound journal and a copy of the manual and hands them to him.

“What’s- Oh,” he exclaims as he opens the journal. “It’s like your hardcover logs.”

“I thought you might prefer a leather one.” Returning his smile with a shrug. “I’ve added some notes on the first few pages. Tips I learned over the years.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” he bobs his head, reading one of the pages.

Removing the camera, he sets the case on the floorboard between his feet and lays the book open in his lap. Nic smiles and hums softly along to the radio as Dean becomes engrossed in camera settings.

When he gets bored of reading and tinkering with his new toy, which doesn’t take long, Nic tries to distract him with discussions of movies and music. As predicted, Dean likes Corey’s little ditty—enthusiastically shouting his agreement with each new line. Their conversation then somehow turns into dirty joke-telling until the banter gets so filthy that she has to pull over onto an overgrown dirt road so they can relieve some tension.

It went downhill quickly after that. A tire blew, and they found themselves stuck in a small village in the middle of nowhere until the local garage opened. Dean refused to go any further on the old spare than the twenty miles it took to get to the sleepy little town’s 24-hour diner across the street from the repair shop.

“I told you, nothing good happens,” he laments as they enter the restaurant. “With our luck, if we try to go further, the spare will blow, and we’ll die in the desert, vultures picking our eyes out.”

“Drama queen,” Nic coughs into her hand.

A dirty look is all she gets as he continues to rant. The only relief she gets from his fidgeting and complaining is during the four-hour nap he decides to take around two in the morning. As he lies in the backseat snoring, she sits on the hood of her car in the diner’s vacant parking lot. The tears staining her face glimmer like crystals in the starlight as she stares blankly into the indigo sky. Frustration burns through her. They’re only a few miles away from the dark sky community where she had wanted to spend the early morning hours watching the stars together. Eventually, she quietly slips into the car and manages to get about an hour’s sleep before he wakes her to get breakfast.

The first hour back on the road after the tire incident is silent and strained. Dean is the first to try to diffuse the stress, reaching over to run his hand over her thigh, “You doing okay?”

Tired, with disappointment still hovering near the surface, she doesn’t trust herself to keep from crying again and quickly responds, “I’m good.” The half smile plastered on her lips not fooling him.

Turning his hand palm up on her leg, he patiently waits until she entwines her fingers with his, then brings her hand to his lips and gently kisses each knuckle. Though the tension is broken, they each remain quiet, settling into their own thoughts.

Eventually, pen-clicking and complaining about the number of holiday songs on the radio began. At one point, she slaps his hand away from the dial after he zealously flipped through the channels for five minutes, using his words against him that the driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole before ramming the tape back in. When the leg bouncing starts again, Nic is done.

It’s still early in the day, but rather than knifehand him in the throat, she asks him to search for a hotel in the area, which again triggers his disapproval about not being allowed to drive. She loves the man dearly, but honestly, there’s only so much one person can take.

“It’s too early to stop.” Kicking the door closed behind him, he whines for the millionth time, “If you’d just let me drive, we could keep going.”

The planned nine-hour drive for their first day became a twenty-one hour, fourteen-minute, and thirty-two-second rollercoaster ride through Hell—yes, she knows precisely how long she’s spent in close proximity with the sexy and charming, but getting on her last nerve hunter. And yes, maybe she is exaggerating a bit, but dealing with Crowley had been less harrowing than having Dean Winchester as a passenger!

“Christ, would you shut up about driving already? I don’t want to keep going, Dean. It’s not a race. We’re not heading to a hunt to try and save someone. Can we just take a breather? Enjoy the time together?” she snaps, exasperated, immediately regretting it.

Turning to find the face of a scolded puppy, she sighs, her heart clenching with sadness. When his pout deepens, a laugh bubbles in her throat. She will probably never understand how he can make her want to go from wringing his neck to cradling him like a wounded animal to wanting to ravage his body in under thirty seconds.

Dean drops the duffles as she sets the laptop and camera bags on the table, “I’m sorry,” they apologize in unison, reaching for one another. He cradles her head against his chest, and she slips her hands beneath his shirt, flattening her palms against his back, trying to connect with as much skin as possible.

Nic pulls back first, “Dean-”

“No.” Framing her face with his hands, he squats down to her eye level. “I’ve been an ass most of this trip. I know it.”

She chokes on a laugh but shakes her head. “You-”

“Let me …” Tilting his head, he looks at her imploringly. “I need to say this.” When she nods in agreement, he scrubs a hand down his face and stands upright again. “I, uh …it’s strange, you know, it doesn’t feel right being on the road without a plan, not knowing where we’re going, the fact that there’s no monster to fight. It just feels …” Inhaling, he drops his head. Lips pressed together, the dimples make a brief appearance before he says in an explosion of air and uncertainty, “I don’t know …like I’m out of place. I have no clue what to do. I never believed I would have a chance at something like this …something more for us. I-“ he blinks, swallowing hard, “you know what, never mind. I told you all of this already.” Shaking his head, he shifts his gaze to stare despondently over her shoulder.

The slumped shoulders and defeated tone of his voice make her throat tighten with emotion. The whole reason for the trip was to help eliminate those feelings, not make them worse. “Dean …” she reaches for his hand, “I’m so sorry. This …this was a dumb idea.” Dropping his hand, she fishes the keys out of her pocket, holding them out to him. “Here. We can go back home. You can drive.” Jangling the set of keys, she attempts a smile. “I need to sleep anyway.”

“No, Nico, that’s not-” Jaw clenching as he turns and walks away, he runs a hand through his hair. “I- “ Spinning back to face her with watery eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, appearing to struggle with finding words but then sets his shoulders, locking eyes with her. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. I don’t want to go home. I want to relax. To take a breather and enjoy this. I just …I don’t know how. It’s not an excuse for how I’ve acted, though, and I am sorry for that.”

Swiping a tear from the corner of her eye, her lip trembles, “Uh …o- okay.”

“Oh, honey. C’mere.” Opening his arms, he strides toward her, folding her into an embrace as she falls into his chest, arms cinching tight around his waist. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Nico.”

She’s so damn tired that she doesn’t even try to stop the blubbering. “I just …just …wanted…”

“I know. It’s alright. ” Dean kisses the top of her head, shushing and cooing at her as he moves them toward the bed to sit, situating her in his lap as he gently rocks them.

They stay that way for several moments, and when the tears finally subside, she mumbles into his chest. “Will it help if I tell you where we’re going?” Dean loosens his hold, and she wipes her face on his dampened t-shirt before tilting her head to look at him.

Smiling gently at her, he thumbs a final tear from her cheek. “No, I don’t wanna know. Maybe getting out of my comfort zone is what I need to do.”

“Alright,” she sniffs, “but if you change your mind, I’ll tell you.”

Smoothing a hand over her hair, he smiles, “I won’t,” then kisses her forehead, lips lingering until she pats his chest.

“I need to pee.”

As she slides off his lap, Dean chuckles, asking, “Food or sleep.”

Stopping outside the bathroom door, she asks, “Can I take a look at your pictures?”

“Uh,” he rubs a hand over the side of his neck, “sure.”

“Yay. Pictures, food, then sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Seated in front of her laptop a few minutes later, she sees his smirk out of the corner of her eye while he settles on the edge of the bed as she clicks on the folder containing the pictures he’d taken that day. Halfway through the journey, and after everything that happened, she began to wonder if he would take any, but at a particularly scenic rest stop, she’d come out of the restroom to see him snapping a couple of shots. It’s hard to suppress the eye roll and snort of laughter as the thumbnails load.

All the images are of rocks.

Dean snickers softly, and she knows he’s waiting for her to admonish him or make a sarcastic remark. He thinks he’s so clever. Instead, she clicks open the first photo without a word. After a few moments of silence, he moves to the window and rocks on his heels as she studies the picture. “The composition is good,” she finally says. Reviewing the next image, she compliments him on the focus area.

After the fourth one, he sits beside her, laying the open journal on the table, asking questions, and taking notes on her suggestions.

A dull thud and the delicious scent of coffee greet her as she rolls to her side, snuggling deeper into the covers. Peeling an eyelid open, she’s assaulted with a blinding smile and glorious eye crinkles as Dean squats next to the bed. “Time to rise and shine, gorgeous,” he chirps.

“What time is it?” she groans. It feels like it’s way too early for so much cheeriness.

“About six.”

“SIX?” she grouses, covering her head with the blanket, continuing to mumble.

Dean pulls the bedding away from her face and chuckles, “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said …screw you,” she grumbles, clearer so he can’t miss it. “It’s too damn early. We don’t need to leave until eight.”

“Well, if we don’t need to leave until eight, you could screw me,” he teases.

Trying to wrestle the covers back, she huffs in annoyance and slaps at his hand, muttering about annoying, too-cheery morning people, but a tiny part of her is thrilled that he seems eager to carry on with the journey. Giving up when Dean yanks the bedding entirely off her, she whines, “There better be some damn good coffee in that cup.”

~~~~

Today’s stretch had gone a lot smoother than yesterday. They’d taken a detour into Farmington, NM, for lunch and spent a couple of hours walking around the city and taking in the local culture.

Dean was more at ease, a smile gracing his face more often than not. The crossbody leather strap sat on his shoulder, camera at the ready, resting against his hip. She noticed he’d taken more pictures throughout the day, too. He had fallen short of the quota yesterday with only twelve, but she wasn’t about to reprimand him like a kid who didn’t do his homework. She was just happy he’d made an attempt.

Dean whistles low as Nic pulls into the hotel's entrance that evening. “This is a helluva lot nicer than where we normally stay.” He winks, voice coated in exuberance and lush pink lips forming a mischievous grin. “Sammy’s gonna be pissed when he sees the credit card bill. First the camera equipment, now this.” He laughs, tilting his head out the window to look up at the ornate four-story structure.

Delight in his excitement spreads through her veins, and tears press at her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she missed seeing the joy he found in the simplest things and hopes the rest of the trip will bring more of that out of him. Before the emotions can take complete control, she blinks the tears back and climbs out of the car.

Opening the hatch, she hands the keys to the valet as another staff member places their bags on a luggage rack. Dean’s standing a couple of feet from the car, looking out over the desert scenery. Lifting the camera, he takes a couple of photos as the sun dips beyond the horizon.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing it’s not on the magic credit card,” she states, stepping up next to him. Dean’s confused expression is adorable, and she can’t help but giggle. Gripping his hand, she tugs him toward the revolving door. “Come on, handsome. This is just the beginning.”

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @michellethetvaddict // @mvdeanw // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

#spnchristmasbingo #road trip #tgwrc: part six #011123

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joyfuladorable · 1 year ago

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A continuation of the the spot is peni's dad au please I want to know what ha next?.

Continuation of this? Sure thing!

Okay, so, there’s two divergent possibilities here:

1) Peni’s dad has enough sense of mind to calmly approach Miles and ask for help

2) He doesn’t, and tries to Force Miles to help

I’ll address both under the cut cuz I have a feeling this is gonna get fairly long, lol

So! Option One: the Peaceful Approach

Miles is approached by a Mysterious Figure during a patrol. This figure cannot remember his name and cannot control the dimensional holes that appear over his body and the places around him. He knows that he is not of this world and that Spider-Man can help him return to his daughter. There is no hesitation from Miles to Help.

Timeline-wise, this figure approaches Miles weeks before he would’ve encounter canon Spot in the movie. So, Miles and this Figure (nicknamed several things but mostly called Blot) work together to experiment on making a gateway for Blot to return home (added bonus that Miles will finally be able to see his friends again). However, Blot’s unstable form complicates things in big and small ways, from misplacing things he needs to grab to holes appearing during crucial steps of experimentation that make them start over again.

It also doesn’t help that Blot can’t remember his past without experiencing pain and more instability. Something that Miles quickly realizes, so he knows to keep chatter light no matter how curious he is.

Blot cannot stay in Miles’ universe without glitching, so he takes regular, very reluctant, breaks in the endless space he’d been trapped in.

It’s during one long break that Gwen appears. Helping Blot has yielded the same concerns from Miles’ parents, so he’s still brooding in his room when they reunite. She convinces him to sneak out, they catch up, and Gwen explains the Spider Society.

Miles realizes they can help Blot (another added bonus that he gets to be with his friends if he joins the Society). Before he can explain, though, Gwen has to Leave to take care of some business. Miles follows.

During this time, Blot returns to their makeshift lab to continue experiments by himself. Frazzled by his time in the empty space and no friend to distract him with lighthearted chatter, Blot becomes unstable and sets off the machine they’re working on and is caught by the resulting explosion.

Gwen and Miles see the aftermath. Gwen scrambles to fix this, and Miles once again follows.

Blot’s been hopping from universe to universe, unstable and having trouble keeping his thoughts together and rambling about needing to find his daughter and unwittingly causing chaos with his dimensional holes. He’s confronted in Pavitr’s world and Miles puts himself at odds with the other Spideys and tries once again to explain. Blot is calmed somewhat by his presence but cannot stop himself from destabilizing again even more violently, causing a disaster that the Spideys have to manage while he slips away to another universe.

Miles isn’t shown a vision of Inspector Singh and his dad dying interposed with one another. He saves the Inspector despite that and is brought to the Spider Society. The Blot does not cause a huge hole in Pavitr’s world, so there’s less evidence for Miguel to tie Miles breaking a Canon Event as Bad (he’s still gonna be an ass about it though, lol). Miles is less focused on trying to be recruited as he is trying to find Blot and help him.

Canon Events are Not explained to him, yet. Miguel lets Miles interact with the Society so he can give information on the experiments he’d been working on with Blot. He’s brought to a lab where a bunch of Spideys are already working on tracking him down and gets another meeting with Margo and oh there’s Peni, too! And oh, she’s… why does she look so tired and sad? What Happened??

Miles continues to feel Out of the Loop and gets frustrated enough to Just Ask!! Peni, who’s probably been a bit dismissive to focus on calculations and stuff, relents and takes Miles aside, maybe with Gwen and Peter B, and they break the news about Canon Events.

Yes, his Uncle was meant to die. Yes, he Shouldn’t have saved Inspector Singh because a Police Captain important to a Spidey is always supposed to Die. And Miles gets quiet and says to them “My dad just became Captain…”

Now, he has no forewarning on What event could kill his dad, but he wants to go Home and Check. The others try to calm him down. Peni gets a bit nasty and says he should just cherish the time he has with him but they have More Important Things to worry about right now and turns away to keep tracking down Blot.

They work in awkward silence for a bit before Peni sighs and apologizes for her tone. She never had a chance to save her dad. She hadn’t even Known he’d been SP//dr until after he’d died. Since joining the Society, she’s done the math, and there’s really nothing she could’ve done (right?) for him nor for Addy or her Aunt May.

But Spidey can’t just give up, Miles thinks. There Has to be a way to save his dad!! But Peni’s right, he needs to Focus.

There’s a Ping on Blot’s location and lo-and-behold… he’s in Peni’s Universe.

Miles convinces the team Miguel assembles to take him with since he’d been mostly successful in calming Blot down last time.

Peni leads the charge in her new mech. Blot’s holes are once again causing Chaos. It splits the team up a bit trying to save folks while chasing him down. Peni realizes he’s heading for Oscorp and charges ahead with Miles to cut him off.

Imagine Blot shambling towards Oscorp, tripping though his holes and gaining distance in a jagged sort of movement. “I’m home I’m HOME” he mutters to himself. “Where is she? Where Is She??”

A wall of webs doesn’t stop him. He just keeps moving. Miles call out to him, and Blot finally pauses. He turns and recognizes Miles. He doesn’t recognize the mech but something in his head Tingles with a Connection.

Spider feels it, too. The little creature alerts Peni who narrows her eyes cuz no is supposed to be connected to Spider but her and-

Miles startles when he hears the mech cockpit open. Peni stares at Blot, no recognition on her face until he Speaks.

“Daughter…”

“…Dad??”

And now her world has Flipped and Miles realizes what this could mean cuz her dad’s death is supposed to be a Canon Event so what does that mean if her world hasn’t been affected by that for the years since his supposed Death??

Miguel is Definitely Not gonna like This.

I imagine this’d be a great and excruciating place for the movie to stop and leave it on a cliffhanger, lol

- - -

Okay, and Now: the Aggressive Approach

I think this would mostly play like the movie with a few key differences:

First, where meeting canon Spot was just a coincidence, Peni’s dad would actively be on the hunt for a Spider-Man. Maybe his dimensional holes would be causing problems for the neighborhood and Miles would investigate and be confronted by this figure.

Blot (name gained this time by citizens trying to describe the holes he makes) has more combat training than Spot so he’d probably give Miles way more trouble on top of being actively aggressive. He’d gain the upper hand at some point during the confrontation and demand Miles take him to his daughter which, of course, Miles is totally confused by!!

His lack of control over his powers would eventually kick him back into the Empty Space where he’d find that his hole can finally see to dimensions other that Miles’. He doesn’t need Spider-Man’s help. He just needs the Right Equipment.

Movie plays the same again for a bit. Where Spot had been seeking Alchemax labs to gain more power for revenge, Blot uses them as a jumping point to another universe because he keeps ending up in the Wrong Ones. He gets more and more agitated. He sees Spideys as villains for getting in his way because he Just Wants to get Home and see his Daughter.

Second main difference, when Miles clashes with Blot again, the vision he sees isn’t of Inspector Singh and his dad, it’s of a man holding the hand of a young girl wearing a backpack that looks Weirdly Familiar. He tries to reason with Blot, tell him that they could help him find his kid. But Blot’s too wrapped up in his own head to accept help at this point.

He’s been on his own for Years. He doesn’t Need Help anymore. He just needs to be Home.

The Blot would very clearly make the Big Hole in Pavitr’s world and disappear again. Miles is taken to the Spider Society. The scene with Miguel plays out the same until…

Peni.

He sees her, exhausted and the light gone from her eyes, and he remembers her Backpack. He asks her about it, derailing the gravity of the situation he’s in. She has it on her, of course she does. Her Dad gave it to her.

Miles connects the dots. In front of Miguel and Gwen and Peter and Hobie and all these other Spideys, he blurts out the Truth. Eyes shift from him to Peni who is looking at him with wide and tear-filled eyes. Her voice breaks.

“He’s Alive? My dad.. he’s ALIVE??”

Miguel tries to clear the room. Things have become very Very Complicated and the Whole Society is going to know very shortly. He needs a moment to think, to talk to Peni and grill Miles about How He Knows. Peter (with Mayday) and Gwen stay, because of course they do. Jess stands by Miguel. Hobie sticks around because this is about to be a Whole Show and he’s gonna stick with his drummer and the new guy and the old dude with the anarchist baby and the kid with a punk rock soul.

Miguel’s belief in the importance of maintaining Canon Events stands, despite seeing the mirror in Peni and her dad and Gabriella and him. He repeats what he said to Miles. To him, there is no choice in this matter. Blot being alive endangers the Multiverse.

He still places the blame on Miles, the one who destroyed Fisk’s super collider, the one who didn’t stop Blot when he first made his presence known. Peni is the first to his defense. Miles has hope that he can save his dad; and now that she knows hers is still alive, she has hope that she can save him, too. Him being alive after all these years is proof enough that Miguel is Wrong.

A chase. A scramble for transportation to the right universe. Miguel needs two teams now, one to stop Miles and the other to stop Peni. The news has spread. The Spideys are split. Sides are chosen, and Miguel sees the organization he has so carefully built breaking apart.

Gwen escapes during this madness, realizing her watch has sent her to her dad and No Longer Works. She reconciles with him, gains a new watch, and gathers the Spideys she can to help in this coming conflict.

Miles realizes he’s in the Wrong Universe. Peni uses all of the resources of her universe’s Oscorp to locate her dad. And her dad? Well, he’s losing hope, sees all these universes without him or his daughter striving and happy and that’s Not Fair.

Why do they deserve what he could never have? He remembers parts of his former life, of a service that took everything from him including time with his lonely daughter. If he couldn’t have happiness, why should THEY?

There are holes in his brain, in his heart, a void that keeps growing and growing and he’s close to ready to letting it consume Everything.

#spiderverse #peni parker #atsv #atsv spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #sea rambles #took me a bit to answer cuz I had to do some Thinking (TM)#honestly I cut off that other ask cuz I didn’t wanna think about it longer than I had lol #it’s too big an AU and I think I’m done with it now as a thought experiment #I have other things to work on #but hope y’all enjoy this!!#found out Peni’s dad was probably a Peter AFTER I started writing this and didn’t wanna try and work that in

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owls-reblogs · 2 years ago

Note

'Calamity Crew AU'.

No pressure, but go on--

(also hi :D)

Hi!

Okay so my Calamity Crew AU is my very first AU for the Amphibia fandom in addition to being one of my favorites that I’ve created

Get ready for a ramble

This AU is canon divergent starting at the end of True Colors. When Andrias stabs Marcy, his sword goes through and destroys the music box. The stones are destroyed and the full power of the stones is returned to the girls. Andrias is the only one to notice. Anne and Sasha are too distraught over Marcy’s death and Marcy can’t notice because she’s dead

Anne returns home, Sasha and Grime head off to Wartwood, Andrias puts Marcy in the rejuvenation tank.

But when Anne gets home she’s broken by everything that happened in True Colors and breaks down

Everything goes very similar to canon on her end, she’s just grieving for Marcy more. At least until Commander Anne.

Sasha’s side of the story is very different. Turning Point is the same, but when she starts leading the rebellion, she cracks under all the pressure and stress, causing her Calamity powers to activate. Grime tries to calm her down and she freaks out, lashing out at Grime. She thinks she hurt him and runs into the woods so that she doesn’t hurt anyone else.

And on Marcy’s end. The Core wants to possess Marcy, same as canon, but there’s that problem of Marcy being imbued with her powers. The Core knows that those powers rightfully belong to Marcy and so it knows that if Marcy decides to fight back and figures out how to use her Calamity powers, then it stands no chance. It still possesses her, but once inside her mind, they wipe a lot of her memories. Basically, they wipe anything that they think will give her the will to fight back, like memories of her friends.

Little do they know, Marcy was able to preserve those memories deep inside her own mind, thanks to the nature of her powers

Now before I go any further, I should probably tell you this. In this AU, their powers are different from canon in two major ways. The first way is that the three girl’s powers actually are what they say they are. Anne’s powers actually align with being the heart, Sasha’s align with strength, and Marcy’s align with wit.

Which means that Sasha’s powers boost her physical strength and bravery, Anne’s powers still boost her strength as seen in True Colors but not as much as Sasha’s powers boost her strength. Marcy’s powers align with mind control, telepathy, and telekinesis. Anne also has healing powers.

The other major difference in the powers is that they manifest differently. When Anne uses her powers, she has deer antlers, dragonfly wings, webbed hands, and deer legs. Sasha’s powers give her heron wings, a heron tail, heron feet, and horns. The horns are somewhat connected to her circlet, so when her powers manifest she can’t exactly take off the circlet. In addition, the horns are metallic to match the metal of her circlet. Marcy’s powers give her large luna moth wings, axolotl frills, webbed hands and feet, and an axolotl tail.

Another last thing about their powers is that after they use their powers for a long time, the traits their powers gave them start to stick with them.

During her time on earth, Anne never used her full power, which means that she never manifested those traits.

Anne and the Plantars get back to Wartwood to find Grime leading the Resistance. Anne wants to know where Sasha is and Grime tells her that Sasha disappeared into the woods a month ago shortly after Anne was teleported away.

Anne is worried about Sasha and sets off to find her. When she finally sees Sasha, she’s stunned.

Sasha’s powers are more intense than in canon because they align with strength. Ever since they activated, they’ve been driving Sasha crazy. She’s been run ragged trying to control her powers and failing.

When Anne sees Sasha, it’s almost as if her powers have possessed her, but there’s enough Sasha still in there that she’s terrified of hurting Anne. Anne tried to reassure her by telling Sasha that she didn’t hurt Grime and she knows Sasha would never hurt her. Sasha tried to fly away, but she’s exhausted and sick from battling her powers that she gives up. Anne takes her back to the resistance base. Once there, Grime greets them but is surprised that Anne managed to bring Sasha back. When he registers what a bad state Sasha’s in, he has her sent off to the medics to be taken care of.

I don’t know what happens for the rest of season 3B up until The Beginning of the End. All I know is that it’s probably somewhat similar to canon.

In this AU equivalent to All In, Sasha still fights Darcy, but it’s a full-on Calamity battle.

And I’m going to stop here so that I don’t spoil the ending.

If you have any suggestions, they would be greatly appreciated!

#Owl Answers on the Sideblog #Calamity Crew AU #sorry it took me so long to answer your question!#I just keep getting overwhelmed by not having motivation to do much of anything that I don’t have to do #like making art #or typing long things #so that’s why this took a few days #plus I’m not used to getting asks on my sideblog so I forgot about this ask for like a day

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anika-ann · 2 years ago

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So I love your criminal minds / MCU crossover as I’ve been honestly procrastinating to catch up on the chapters you released. But I’ve been buying a lot of marvels avengers and it talks a lot about a day and got me thinking. How would Steve react to finding out after that traumatic event of a-day that your parents disowned you and cut all ties with you just because of all that I am dead or whatever organization you want it could also be after Civil War. Like your The famous partner of the war criminal. But even after their name has been restored their family still treats them like dirt for no reason except for being petty. this is totally up to you if you want inks or fluff either way works and it could be both or it could be a completely different direction

Hello sweet 😊

I'm delighted you like Love on the Brain - thank you for letting me know you enjoy it💕 whatever reason you have for procrastinating reading the series further, I shall hope will cease to exist 😁

Honestly, I have no clue about A-Day. Sorry...

I would also love to take this as an opportunity to remind people that I don't take requests. I have my hands and mind full of the WIPs that I already have and they're stubborn little Steves Rogers that don't bend to my will - and I'm the one who CAME UP with them

So. I do not take requests. There.

...however 😅This ask caught me in the wee hours of the morning and my brain somewhat latched onto it. See what I mean?? Zero control.

You shall receive angst and fluff. Later.

Excerpt under cut. And thank you for reaching out 🥰

A/N: Canon divergence. Probably not an actual part of the series post Love on the Brain, but starring GG and Sparkles✨

...

It does work now.

You let it all out, until you have no tears to shed anymore, until the raft of emotions settles at a shore, safely brought back home; home built solid from cells, tissue and blood instead of bricks, roofed under a beautiful soul the world tried to tear to shreds so many times.

Steve gently combs your hair back as he feels your breathing change, your tension melt away. As you tip your head back, finding the sea of his eyes glassy with an unshed tear, he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart."

You’re sad; you’re outraged. You’re in love, still.

A small smile plays in the corner of your mouth as you squint at him, a little playful.

“Don't you give me that face, GG,” you reprimand him softly, causing the worried wrinkle on his forehead to deepen, before his right eyebrow arches.

“What, I cannot be sorry that you're hurting?”

There’s an unhappy note in his teasing. You brush your fingers over his creased forehead, long fingers catching your hand to cradle it gently.

“You, GG, can be anything. Even mine.”

He sighs, gaze tenderer than before, a promise – and he seems to think it is more of a life sentence – on his lips.

“I am. Always. And I am sorry,” he whispers and it would be foolish to doubt the truth behind his words.

You know this.

You understand.

But you don’t fully agree.

People who turn their back on you like your parents did do not deserve to weigh on his already heavy conscience.

Yep, Steve kept the beard for this btw. I don't make the rules🤷‍♀️😇

#asks #reply #anika replies #anika writes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers my beloved #fought the world sneak peek #nomad steve rogers

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windblooms · 4 years ago

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childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house. spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader. enemies to lovers soft spot syndrome. sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury. also childe briefly in foul legacy armor. canon-divergence. 2669 words (nice).

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear. while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating.

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to? because you ran. you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question. it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city. the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again. initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive. hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder. however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism.

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt. make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set. it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done. it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose. you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer. outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual. it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease. the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark. no lanterns, no lights. you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold. not typical of them at all.

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag. if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic. you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver. packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising. at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future. for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right. now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng. no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away. a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is. you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being. turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options. you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied. you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition. regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves.

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng. it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide. cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other. you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess. you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble. they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms. their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty. you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath. his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave.

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands. you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back. the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute. he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him. if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy. no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves. summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces. except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees. looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about. his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt.

you melt, and realize you should run away. you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health. you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either. you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death. “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness. “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch. is he trying to speak? no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?” you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound. the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it. the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face. you already know what you’re going to say. even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head. “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze. he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side. when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say. “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater. his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding. “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh. he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why. underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous? you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity. the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear. blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time. you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you. you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom. “do not touch me, fatui. i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant. if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach. you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth. he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut. “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this. you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words. your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp. archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command. the man repeats himself, before continuing, “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten. you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you. he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more. you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight. you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him. as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso. a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people. he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe scenarios #childe headcanons #hurt comfort #angst #enemies to lovers #childe stans are feral #but im friends with so many of them :^)

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epicstuckyficrecs · 4 years ago

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Weekly Recap | February 8-21 2021

You get two weeks worth of fics this time because I got too busy last weekend and didn't have time to do my weekly recap :)

Complete

Evanstan Week 2021 by luninosity/ @luninosity (Evanstan | 10K | Mature): All my Evanstan Week little fics!

1. dodger 2. kisses 3. on set 4. first times (a first kiss, at least) 5. in space (alternate universe) 6. fluff 7. holiday

💙 Remote Access by Kalee60/ @kalee60 (Modern AU, Roommates | 57K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes was in trouble. More trouble than he ever thought he could get into as a grown adult. And it was caused by two singular factors that should never have become entwined.One, his god-like housemate Steve Rogers, who was unfairly handsome and the perfect specimen of man in not only looks but personality - and completely out of Bucky’s league.Two, Bucky’s obsession with a new toy he’d purchased to fill his lonely nights (and other areas).But when Steve buys a new TV, suddenly these two seemingly separate parts of Bucky’s life crash together in a spectacular and obsessive way.Bucky soon finds himself not as in control as he thought - and that’s when things start to get interesting…

💙 Black and Blue by darter_blue/ @darter-blue, the1918/ @the1918 (Modern AU, Spies & Secret agents | 7K | Explicit): CIA Agent Bucky Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers, Army 207th, Military Intelligence, are two American spies working for two different intelligence agencies. They've developed somewhat of complicated relationship while chasing down the same leads.

Until One Day, We Won't Be by the1918/ @the1918 (Evanstan RPF | 8K | Explicit): Six times Chris and Sebastian were alone. [+ one time they were not.]

💙 How to Bang Your Weapon (in This World and the Next) by Brokenwords, elkane/ @elkane, Hark_bananas/ @harkbananas, kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria, Nospheratt/ @nospheratt, profoundalpacakitten/ @profoundalpacakitten, ScrambledScript, sublimepigeon/ @sublimepigeon, ursa (Canon Divergent, WS!Steve, WS\Bucky, Multiverse | 50K | Explicit): Hydra knows how to get the Asset to do their bidding. When they want a new Captain, a new Steven Grant Rogers from another universe to help grow Hydra’s collection of supersoldiers, of course they send the Asset. But little do they know that in any universe, a Bucky will always find a Steve, and a Steve will always protect a Bucky.

💙 What lies they told us by darter_blue/ @darter-blue (Mobster AU | 42K | Explicit): Steve Rogers might still see his ma every Sunday, but he isn’t the dutiful son. He gave up that life a long time ago. Bucky Barnes may be following in his fathers footsteps, but he wants to set a path to something more than where they’ll take him. Steve and Bucky’s lives have always intersected. There is something between them that exists, real and palpable. But they are opposite sides of a coin. Opposing families in a war for money and power. Blood and pain. And fate may bring them together, again and again, pulling them closer. But it always finds a way to rip them apart. What they need is a way to fight fate. To fight their families. To reach each other. To keep each other.

the prosecution rests by dirtybinary/ @dirtybinary (Post-WS | 3K | Teen): The Asset has to admit, ending a mission with Captain America crying into his lap is pretty unexpected. Even for him, and he is trained to anticipate all contingencies.

💙 The Seed and the Root by the1918/ @the1918 (Shrunkyclunks, Post-EG | 32K | Explicit): His hands and mouth are gentle on the outside, but on the inside, Steve is burning up. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted on the bed and land beneath him, and now it’s so much at once that he’s afraid he’ll combust into white, nuclear light. (Part 3 of 💙 Song of the Rolling Earth)

Burning For You by musette22/ @musette22 (Evanstan RPF, Non-Famous Sebastian | 3K | Teen): Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

At The Bottom Of Everything by Anonymous (Evanstan RPF | 12K | Teen): Six years. That’s what they’re celebrating. Six years, of them. Of this. That's what Chris is happy about. Until the phone rings. Until he turns on the news.

💙 Slip Of The Tongue by this_wayward_life (Shrunkyslunks, Soulmate AU | 6K | Explicit): Mr Perfect Ass is even prettier from the front. His braid is loose enough that strands of hair have fallen to frame his face, and an oversized scarf is pulled up to just below his pouty, red mouth. He's big, with wide shoulders and thick arms and thighs that are straining at his jeans, and he's staring at Steve with a blush on his face and the prettiest eyes Steve has ever seen."Oh, god," Steve blurts out. "Please sit on my face."

(series) Kinktober 2020 by this_wayward_life (31 works | 80K | Explicit)

The Best Handjob Of Bucky Barnes's Damn Life (Handjob)

Soft (Eating Out)

The Benefits of A Sugar Baby (Thigh Riding)

Black and Blue (Choking/Spanking)

Black Mesh, Red Leather (Daddy Kink)

Thank God For Company-Sanctioned Teambuilding Workshops (Blindfolded)

The Only Thing School Football Is Good For (Blowjob)

Your Body, On Crumpled Sheets (Voyeurism)

Feeling Just Peachy (Accidental Stimulation)

Blood-slick (Knife Kink)

Bury Me (Restraints)

Summer Nights (Fingering)

Beautiful Shackles (Public Sex)

You Are My First, And You'll Be My Last (Sixty-Nine)

Cover My Body (Size Difference)

All Plugged Up (Toys)

the tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks (Begging)

Sugar Cookies (In the kitchen)

Seeing Double (Threesome)

I'll crawl home to him (Edging)

Your Voice In My Ear (Phone sex)

Hold Me Close, Keep the Monsters at Bay (In the shower/tub)

Keep Me Warm (First Time)

He never asked me once about the wrong I did (BDSM/rough sex)

Unexpected (Caught masturbating)

Overcome (Overstimulation)

In the Crowd (Orgy)

Praise Your Baby (Praise kink)

Grab on my waist and put that body on me (Dirty talk)

Rediscovery (Mutual Masturbation)

Think I Found Myself a Cheerleader (Dressed up)

WIP

💙 Underneath the Shattered Sky by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Planet Hulk AU, Post-Endgame | 14/? | 55K | Mature): “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve sounded choked. “I’m sorry. It was out of line.” “It’s really okay.” “No, it’s not. You’re not him. You’re your own person, with your own history, your own thoughts and feelings. Your own life here. I can’t expect you to be him. It’s not fair. To either of you.” “Maybe not,” Bucky huffed back. “But in this universe, my Steve’s an asshole who left me. And in your universe, your Bucky was taken from you, so I don’t really know what’s fair anymore.”

💙 and the river flows beneath your skin by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Boarding School AU, Soulmates | 3/? | 20K | Mature): In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

💙 The Root and the Stalk by the1918/ @the1918 (Shrunkyclunks, Post-EG | 3/6 | 18K | Explicit): “My mom, she’s not perfect, but she always had this one saying. You can’t look right into the sunset, because the light will burn your eyes. So you have to face east, right?” Bucky tucks his forehead against Steve’s chest, staring down the gap between them, eyes on their feet. “And when you do, you can look at the ground, and you can see your own shadow.” Bucky raises his head after a contemplative silence and gazes up at Steve. Those stormy gray eyes are filled with luminance, iridescence, splintered rays of shining light. “Or—Mom would say—you can look in front of you.” His lashes kiss his cheeks in butterfly pulses every time he blinks. “And ‘God’s light at your back will show you everything.’” (Part 4 of 💙 Song of the Rolling Earth)

💙 Revenance by by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel, SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue) (The Old Guard AU/The Song of Achilles AU | 20/? | 62K | Mature | Warning: Violence, MCD): And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Or, the one where Steve and Bucky are immortal and used to be known as Achilles and Patroclus.

💙 my soul and my youth (it’s all for you to use) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Post-Endgame (non-compliant) | 1/2 | 7K | Explicit): He waits until Bucky’s got a happy mouthful of eggs and toast. “I want to fuck you when you’re asleep.” Steve smiles his sweetest smile, and Bucky’s eyes narrow further, until they’re luminous blue slits. He swallows. Steve helplessly tracks the bob of his throat and drags his eyes back up to Bucky’s. “Steven Grant,” Bucky says, tone somewhere between amusement and admonishment. “Way to spring that on a guy.”

Re-read

I [Heart] You by writeonclara (Canon, magic curse | 1K | General): “Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. Then again, Natasha would probably be calm if New York City spontaneously burst into flames. He lowered the coffee pot and squinted at her. “Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?” “The witch kept ranting about sexual repression and archaic moral principles,” she continued blithely.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap

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damienthepious · 3 years ago

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Arum needs one last hurrah of stupidity. I love him.

still need your teeth around my organs (chapter 10)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ao3] [ch 11] [epilogue?]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Enemies to Lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Dueling, Sexual Tension, (because they’re IDIOTS), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, mutual IDIOTS, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings, Polyamory, (eventually lmao), Polyamory Negotiations

Fic Summary: Damien won yesterday, Arum won today, and now all that’s left is to break the tie. The only issue, however, is that neither of them are willing to do so, not until they are both satisfied that they have fought fairly, and honorably, and one of them has truly won.

Chapter Summary: A fairly inevitable breakdown.

Chapter Notes: Yes, there will be one more chapter. Yes, I know i probably said that last time too. Yes, i have exactly zero control over this whole fuckign mess. But i am fairly confident this time. Next chapter should be the last one. Should be. Probably. Don't blame me, blame these fucking ridiculous flowers. Chapter specific WARNING for some pretty active suicidal ideation in this chapter, or at least, a sense of... acceptance of death. take care of yourselves please!!!

Damien is healing well. Extremely well. Amaryllis has even helped to modify less strenuous versions of his usual exercises, to help him rebuild his strength as he heals.

(Arum only knows this because the ridiculous knight is stubborn enough (or bored enough) to be out in the clearing next to Amaryllis' hut in the evening, shirtless and stretching as the dusk slowly gives way to night, breathing slow and measured, expression poised, when Arum slips from the trees.)

("While still bandaged, you ridiculous little fool," he growls, and Damien grins slyly, rolling his shoulders and shifting into his next set of stretches without pause.)

(Arum does not know what to do with the way his stomach pulses. He rolls his eyes, sweeps past the knight with a huff, and goes to join Amaryllis inside, instead. He pretends not to envy her position as they converse, leaning by the window to sip her tea, expression smug and hungry as she holds the curtains open with her other hand.)

Damien is healing well, which means that it is only a matter of time before he and Arum will duel again. Again, and for the last time, though he has not said as much to Sir Damien, just yet.

Arum doesn't know why he puts the conversation off. Perhaps it is because Sir Damien does not speak of their combat particularly often, during his recuperation. Perhaps Arum is simply following his lead. Perhaps it is because he does not want to cause any further anxiety while Damien still heals.

Amaryllis has explained Damien's paroxysms, his panic attacks, as she calls them. She has explained that he suffered one during the gap between two of Arum's visits, which set him back somewhat in his recovery, so draining they are to him, so much energy they steal. Arum would prefer not to cause another attack by forcing more stress upon Damien's healing, not until he is fully steady.

In the meantime.

Arum wins more games than he loses, now. Damien seems unbothered by the trend. He smiles wryly, in fact, and shakes his head, and he reminds Arum that he predicted as much before their very first game.

"I knew you were clever and strategic before I invited you to turn those talents against me on this particular battlefield, my dear rival," Damien murmurs, his eyes down as they both reset the board, and Arum pretends not to feel it like a static charge each time their fingers brush together over the pieces. "I can hardly complain now, can I? Besides," his eyes flick up, sharp warm amber, and Arum stills, "I do believe I am improving, anyway."

"Oh!" Rilla looks up from her almanac with a grin and a spark in her eyes. "Okay so- there's this specific, mildly magical species of moonvine that blooms exclusively on the new moon - newmoonvine, obviously, scientists aren't the most creative, speaking nomenclaturally - but that's not the only thing, it has this longer cycle, too, where, on a specific new moon once every nine years - every eight point eight five years, technically, but close enough - the flowers don't just bloom, they reach a point of magical accumulation in their cells that causes an overflow, and while they bloom, they glow, too." She pauses, grinning too hard to speak for a moment. "According to Cerastes-"

"Sage Cerastes," Damien pleads, clearly an automatic correction despite his own grin, and Amaryllis relents with a shrug.

"If the Sage noted the dates correctly," she continues, "there's going to be a glow-bloom in three months! And I," she says smugly, "just so happen to know the location of a grove of newmoonvine just about an hours' walk away."

Arum blinks, and- Amaryllis' excitement is catching, in an odd way. Clearly Damien is affected; he has that look in his eyes, that poetry look, all eagerness and art and pleasure, and Arum-

Arum can't pretend that he isn't fascinated by the idea. He has his own modified morning glories that will glow for him at various prompts, his own creations, but- it isn't the same as the phenomenon in the wild, a full grove of the flowers attracting luna moths and giant hawk moths, all glimmering with magical bioluminescence.

"It's still a few months off, and Damien, you'll be fine in like two weeks, so we don't need to worry about overexerting you! And they only bloom at night anyway, so the three of us could pack a basket, meet up around dusk. It'd only be a short hike, and then we could watch the whole thing together! I'd need to do just, like, a little bit of research to see how the reproductive structure of the flowers differs from their less-magical counterparts," she adds in a side-of-the-mouth rush, but she turns back with a grin, her eyes darting between the both of them. "But the rest of the night could be just for us! It coincides with the new moon, obviously, but the bioluminescence should be more than enough to see by and we could just relax, have a little midnight picnic, spend some time... together...?"

Her voice trails off. She must see the look on his face, whatever it is.

The truly painful part is that Arum can imagine it. Easily. He can imagine exactly how stunning they must look in full bloom, a full grove all growing tangled together, wild and thriving. He can imagine, as well, exactly how delighted Amaryllis will be to see them, exactly how fond Sir Damien will be to share in her delight, exactly how wide she will grin and how she will bounce on her heels. How she will snatch up Damien's hand, greedy-tight. How he will so fondly follow in the wake of her enthusiasm. How Arum-

The part he can't imagine: his own place, beside them.

(The part he cannot allow himself to contemplate: where he could be, beside them.)

"It's a long way off," Amaryllis says, her voice strained and high, truly nervous for perhaps the first time to his recollection. "We don't have to- I'm getting ahead of- it's not important, it's nothing."

It is important. He can hear it in her voice. He still does not know what he must be showing on his own face. It feels stiff. He feels hollow. He feels stupid.

Arum has been complacent. He has allowed all three of them to become far too comfortable with this- this nonsense arrangement, this temporary sheathing of claws while Damien heals, so comfortable that Amaryllis has clearly forgotten-

Death is the only ending his duels with Damien will be allowed. It is a cruelty to all three of them, to pretend otherwise. It is a cruelty to indulge in this comfort, when it will so soon be snatched away.

Arum would never be allowed to stay, not truly, not forever. Their positions- the Senate, the Crown, the war, they cannot, they will never be allowed anything between them besides violence, and it does not matter a single breath what they might want, what Arum might want-

Held breath. Prey-still, terror to the bone.

Does he- does he want?

No. Stupidity in the extreme. No.

But-

(Please-)

He does. He wants it.

This. Here. Them. The evening Amaryllis proposed. A thousand nights like this. Hearth-warmth. Tea with honey, Damien's voice, Amaryllis' laugh, the garden grove. A formless more that feels like a hot stone plunging through his stomach when he tries to place it. Amaryllis' hand on his shoulder. Damien's hand on his wrist. Hearth-warmth from something besides the hearth. He wants-

He wants all of it.

And he knows he cannot have it.

"Arum," Damien says quietly. "Are you alright?"

Of course not, honeysuckle. In two weeks you will be well, and I will be dead, and two and a half months after that, the both of you will hold each other in the glow of night and never need think of me again.

Arum stands, and both humans wince, sharing a look between them of obvious panic, and Arum feels a sting of strange embarrassment at their scrutiny.

"I-" his voice catches strangely, he flicks his tongue to pretend some intention in the fumble. "I need- to leave."

"Wait wait- wait, hang on, I didn't mean to-" Amaryllis reaches out, her palm almost pressing to his bicep, and he leans away just in time to avert the contact. "Arum. It's not a big deal! I just- I like- I like, spending time with you?" she tries, sounding uncertain and panicked, and Arum's stomach churns. "I thought- look, just because you'll be dueling again doesn't mean you won't still be welcome here. Be welcome with us. Okay? That's all I- I-"

"Don't be an imbecile," Arum snaps, and Amaryllis winces as Sir Damien stiffens at the edge of his vision.

"Arum," he says, his tone a quiet warning.

"It's nonsense. I- this is- this is my own fault," he mutters, shaking his head. "My fault for- I should never have come here in the first place, fell into stupidity drop by drop without even- I need to leave. Go back where I belong."

"Please," Amaryllis says, and this time she doesn't pull away when he tries to avoid her hand, she only steps closer and reaches to wrap her warm palm around his forearm, squeezing lightly. "I- Arum, I know I didn't do this right but I don't want to- I like having you around! I like being friends with you and when I thought about doing this it was just- it was just natural, to think that you would be there too, that it would be-" her smile breaks in the middle, her eyes overbright. "The three of us."

"I am a monster, and we are not friends," Arum snarls, and Amaryllis-

Amaryllis flinches, and pulls her hand back.

"Liar," she says after half a beat, but her voice wavers and her eyes- her dark eyes shine in a way that makes Arum want to dig his claws into his own scales. He turns away instead, moving stiffly for the door.

"Believe whatever you like," he mutters, stunned that his voice even catches on the words. "It does not matter. I don't plan on ever seeing you again anyway."

He slams the door closed behind him with his tail.

He moves swiftly, but not swiftly enough. He hears the door bang back open, hears Sir Damien's voice call out through the dark, hears footsteps crunching through the underbrush in his wake.

He ignores them. Tries to move more quickly, more quietly, but eventually, through the thumping of his own blood, his own harsh breaths, he hears-

Damien panting hard, hissing under his breath, audible pain-

He spins on his heel, bolting back and nearly running face first into the knight as he stumbles back, and Arum snarls, slashing a hand through the air between them.

"What are you doing?"

"Arum-"

"Go home, you idiot, your injury-"

"Will survive a light jog," Damien snaps, his brow furrowed with something that approaches actual anger as he exhales a panting breath. "Arum. Please. We can talk about this. You don't need to- to leave, to go hide away alone again when you could perfectly well continue to-"

"Do not act as if you know anything at all about my life," Arum hisses, stung by the realization of how accurate Damien's guess is.

He looks mildly abashed, however, and sighs before he takes another step closer. "Perhaps you're right. I do not know all that much about you, outside of the context of... us." He pauses, and Arum suppresses a flinch at the last word. "But... Arum, I would like to. Very much."

"You- what?"

"I want to know you. I want- I want the chance to know you. I have been... I have been grateful to have you near, to let you know me."

"Don't be an idiot," Arum growls. "Knight. The only reason you could possibly want more information on me is to better know how to slay my kind."

"But-"

"You are nearly healed. Two weeks, Amaryllis said. In two weeks, we will fall back into our proper places again and one of us will die, and all of this nonsense will be meaningless again."

"I... I understand, if you wish to return to our duels, as before, but- but Arum, it does not have to be- have to be all that we are, to each other, it truly doesn't, and my knighthood is-"

"I am finished with the charade, Sir Damien. This next time," Arum says, his voice coming dry as old leaves, "this duel will be the last. It is time we finally break the tie."

Damien stills, his expression washed of anything Arum could read. After a moment he inhales, slow and measured, and then he exhales with just as much control.

"May I ask," he says slowly, "what will make this next rematch so special, dear rival? I thought you would better like to judge our performance as it occurred, to see if we both manage to live up to each other's quite exacting standards."

"I can't keep doing this, Damien," Arum snaps. "We can't. We- it cannot go on forever."

Damien wets his lips, then takes a step closer. "Not forever," he says quietly. "No. Not forever, but- what has changed, then? What is so different now from before I- is this because of my injury? Arum, I acted foolishly and came to harm because of it, yes, but I think I have proven time and time again that I am a worthy match for you. The interference of another monster should not lower your estimation of my skills-"

"No." Arum shakes his head sharply. "No, that isn't- I do not think you unworthy, Sir Damien."

Rather painfully far from it, in fact.

"Then what is it? What have I done? Why-"

"I am tired," Arum snaps, but the simplicity and honesty of the statement burns his tongue after it escapes, and he shakes his head quickly. "I am tired of doing this. I am bored of the same match again and again, I am- I find I've lost interest in dragging this on and on and on," he lies, and he tries not to feel it curdle in his stomach, when the color drains from Damien's face, his expression stiffening in quite a different way. "This cannot go on forever, and- and I would rather kill it in one final battle while we are both still sharp and focused than to allow ourselves to wane and bore and- and-"

"I thought-"

Damien pauses, and Arum can hear his heartbeat thudding, hard enough that he expects the poet must find it uncomfortable. He does lift his hand, in fact, pressing it hard over the center of his chest as he bites his lip and forces his breathing slower.

"You said- I thought that you said that I need not worry, for that," he manages, his voice halfway to whisper, blank of expression. "That I need not worry about falling from your attention in my recovery."

Warm in Amaryllis' hut, drowsy and half-coherent-

Arum remembers. He knows what he said.

"You have my attention, Sir Damien," he says, voice flat. "My full attention. And when our final duel is over, one of us will have the full attention of the other for the last time."

"But-" Damien stumbles again, his face wincing before he rushes through his next words. "Please. I thought- I thought that this- this rivalry between us, I thought it meant something to you the way it means something to me-"

"Means something to- do you mean treason? To continue to allow me to live, despite your oaths? Monsters don't quite share the concept, exactly, but I certainly would not be ingratiated to any of monsterkind if they knew how long I had been playing with my prey without finishing the job."

"No, that isn't what I-" he shakes his head. "Arum. Listen- my injury, it was- I said, before, it was my own fault. I have been-" he pauses again. "Since we have had this- this- this understanding, it has been difficult- I have been unable to see other monsters as... as- as quarry, as I once did, and-"

"Nonsense."

"No. Listen. I have been- when I am sent out, I have- I have been trying, to reach out, to listen, to- to see things as they are, and not as I have been taught, not how I expect them to be, and this injury-"

Arum pulls his head back, horrified. "Was your latest idiotic attempt to- to do what? To try to make friends?"

Damien furrows his brow, huffing a breath. "It may not have been sentient," he admits. "Or perhaps it was unwilling to trust my intentions, rather understandably. That does not mean that I regret trying. There are other creatures, other monsters that have been- grateful, for a chance, or- suspicious, understandably, but still- monsterkind is not so simple as this monolith of evil, as I have been taught, and I have spoken to some, established a rapport with-"

"How good to know that after you slay me, then," Arum snaps, "you will have a brand new monster to entertain you and your bow."

Damien's expression cracks, opening with something like despair, but Arum cannot-

He does not understand, he cannot believe-

He spins. "The next time will be the last. Two weeks. Here. Midnight," he spits, and he does not listen to whatever Sir Damien calls out in his wake as he retreats into the dark.

Two weeks until their duel.

The Keep feels emptier, now, in a way he does not understand. They were never here, so- the feeling makes no sense.

He rejects three contracts outright. He is making enemies, likely, but he simply cannot-

(Eliminate the human infection. Laughable. Arum cannot even eliminate the way they have infected him.)

He will be dead in two weeks, anyway. Better not to commit to anything he knows he will never have the chance to fulfill.

Smaller contracts. Easier projects. Symbiotic combinations of shrubs and vines meant to grow into easy, natural fences, sturdy living walls. Hybrid bug-plants to be used as motion-detecting alarms. Blooms with sleep-inducing pollen. A new subspecies of macrachnid with a silk that happens to be the perfect tensile strength for a delicate, near-invisible bowstring-

The ache in his chest is constant. It pulses when he draws his claws through the silk, when he imagines-

Best not to imagine anything.

The silk will serve just as well as tripwire, anyway.

He works to keep his mind occupied, to exhaust himself past thought, to wrap up loose ends. When he is finished wearing himself out, he curls up with a cup of serrated palm tea (the ache again - he stuffs it down) and he speaks with the Keep. He listens. He thinks- he knows he has been a rotten Lord, belligerent and stubborn and intermittently cruel, despite himself, and-

It deserves better than the worst of him, for whatever time he has left.

It worries, buzzing through the boughs and eaves, but he only smiles as honestly as he is able, and asks for a new song. Something he has not heard, yet.

Arum does not need anything, anyone, besides his Keep, anyway. It was only ever foolishness to pretend otherwise.

(Amaryllis' laugh. The way she spoons the honey into their tea, and then takes one last little spoonful for herself, eyes slipping shut as she tastes the gold. Her absent humming.)

He does not care one way or another, for the lack of their company.

(Damien's gentle smile, his pleading eyes, his narrow, clever fingers and the way he draws them over his pieces on the board before he makes his move. His sleep-fluted voice shaping around Arum's name.)

It was only ever a distraction. Only moments between his last duel and his next. A distraction.

It does not matter, and their absence does not hurt.

Arum dreams-

Best to forget, really.

Arum breaks, just once, and the Keep (ridiculous thing) almost sounds relieved as it pulls the portal open for him to slink hurriedly through. The darkness cloaks him as he approaches, he does not even make enough noise to startle the fox hunting beneath him as he slithers through the trees.

Amaryllis' hut sits precisely as he last saw it, an island of mellow illumination in the jungle night, and he barely noses his face out of the bushes before he sees-

Amaryllis' door hangs open, and Arum's stomach clenches with dread before he sees the silhouettes sitting on the step, haloed by the hearth and the lanterns back inside. His eyes adjust, after a moment, enough to see them better.

One of Damien's arms wraps around Amaryllis' shoulder, her head tipped sideways, her nose tucked against his jaw as her body heaves with something like a sigh, and Arum can just barely see the edge of a wry little smile on the poet's lips.

Damien- murmurs something, Arum can hear only the edges of it, and Amaryllis shakes her head against him, very lightly.

"-my fault," she says, her voice rising and - Arum blinks, startled - on the tremulous edge of tears. "You were right and if I just knew how to leave well enough alone, he would-"

Another murmur from Damien, still too quiet to parse, and Arum- Arum resists the urge to creep closer. Too risky, too high a chance of them spotting the movement or the shine of his eyes.

"But it was," she insists, shifting away enough that she can look towards Damien, though she doesn't dislodge his arm from around her shoulder. "I forgot. I forgot that we were all still pretending that we don't- pretending that you're going to kill each other. I forgot that I'm not allowed to let him know that I want him here-"

Her voice cracks off like a branch breaking, a brittle noise, and Damien's face twists in sympathy as he pulls her close against his side again.

Damien murmurs, Arum's teeth clenching with the foolish desire for the poet to raise his damn voice, he just wants to hear-

"Fine," Amaryllis says, anger sharp above that layer of sorrow. "Fine. It's his fault then."

A vague tutting, still too quiet though Arum can hear the tone of gentle chastising, and Amaryllis scowls hard.

"He's deluded, I don't know why he won't just- just-"

Another quiet interjection. Arum bares his teeth, relents just a breath, slinks a foot or two closer, carefully low.

"I didn't- it's just so stupid, he can help me wash our dishes and play board games with you and snark about my research and spend night after night with us but the second I bring up the future like it's- like it's possible it scares him off? It's just so- I'm sorry, Damien, I shouldn't have-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. The way we want him isn't wrong," Damien says, calm and firm and steady, and Arum twitches-

And snaps a branch.

They stiffen on the step, both of their faces lifting in his direction, expressions obscured somewhat by the light pouring out the door behind them, and Arum- they can't possibly see him, can they? They can't- too much foliage around him, too much gloom for their limited eyes, they can't-

Damien shifts on the step, slowly standing.

"Arum?" he says, his voice gentle and hopeful.

Arum remains perfectly still. He focuses on stillness as a concept. Anything to keep from thinking about their voices, their faces, the strange sorrow of their embrace.

Damien glances towards Amaryllis as she stands as well, and they communicate something silently before- Damien takes the steps down, moving towards Arum, and he-

Panics, of course. This was- idiotic from the start. He should have known better than to come back- should have known better than to follow Amaryllis here in the first place. His claws slip and scratch against the muddy ground, the leaf litter, his cape catching and snapping more branches in his wake as he flees through the underbrush, and in his backwards scramble he watches Damien startle, watches Amaryllis jolt forward as if to give chase.

"Arum!" she calls, and Arum does not know if she truly saw him or if she is only hoping, but-

He does not falter, does not stop, bolts straight back towards his portal home. This was nonsense, anyway. This was weakness. The next time he sees Sir Damien-

The will duel, and one of them (he knows) will die, and it will be the end of all this absurdity.

It will be the end.

[↣]

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #the keep #still need your teeth around my organs

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phantomchick · 4 years ago

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Naruto Fic Rec Masterpost!

Adoption by Defenestration; or, A Family Can Be A Fox Demon, Its Jinchuuriki, and Three Dozen Highly-Trained Assassins by elumish Oneshot, Gen, Fluff, child neglect, Naruto gets unofficially adopted by his anbu guards and it’s incredibly cute Summary: He will not be the ANBU who let the jinchuuriki plummet to his death out a fourth story window. Let that be another ANBU’s legacy.

Being Over-Prepared is Impossible (and other mottos) by Pleasedial123 Longfic, Gen, Team Seven, team as family, Bamf Kakashi, Bamf team 7, au, kakashi pov, Complete but part of a three part series and the third part is still ongoing, still highly recommend, what team 7 should have been, Skilled Teacher! Kakashi Summary: In one world, Kakashi awoke, felt grieved at being assigned a team he sees his own in, and he let that grief make him a lazy teacher. He saw himself in Sasuke, Obito in Naruto, and Rin in Sakura. He woke, saw himself in them, and took a large step back, regretting accepting them as his new team. In that world he was quite hands off - merely a watcher because it was so very painful to watch. He saw himself and all his mistakes in this new team of his.

In this world, Kakashi awoke, saw the similarities, and instantly panicked.

He suddenly realised what he had done, passing a team. Kakashi was left scrambling not to repeat old mistakes and regrets. This team would not suffer the fate of his team.

In this world, simply put, Kakashi became a teacher. This is the beginning of a new team seven.

Something in the water by maldoror_gw Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up for language, hilarious, Tsunade pov, fluff, mild crack, pre-shippuden post naruto,

Summary: "Sakura...what is that man reading?" Tsunade asked in a dangerous voice. Sakura's gaze twitched away from her ex-teacher to her new - and temperamental - mentor. "Erm...a book...written by a...well-respected member of the community...about...romance?" Tsunade noted with passing approval that Sakura was demonstrating both loyalty and quite a lot of imagination in defending her one-time team leader (who was now trying to edge around a pillar to get away from Tsunade's venomous glare).

backslide by blackkat Time travel, time travel fix it, mature, fluff, team seven, m/m, slow build romance, Naruto adopts himself, Uzumaki heritage, bamf Naruto, complete longfic, Summary: Naruto’s friends are gone, his lover is dying, Konoha is destroyed, and Madara’s second return has pushed the entire world to the brink. Hunted and harried, Naruto is sent back in time to upend Madara’s plan before it even starts, and sets about changing everything. Butterfly effect nothing: the world is at stake, and Naruto is hardly about to let it fall to ruin once more. Not while he’s still breathing.

Tobirama Kicks Some Sense Into Konoha by allseer15 Hurt/comfort, whump, emotional whump, time travel, fix it, time travel fix it, The ‘what if Tobirama came to the future saw an orphaned Naruto and adopted the shit out of him’ Fic, Iconique, child neglect, child abandonment, fluff, so much fluff, completed longfic, look I have a weakness for the time travel fix it trope at the best of times but this fic is good even looking at it without focusing on that! Prolonged Tobirama content, Senju lore, senju feels, Summary: The Hidden Leaf Village in Naruto's time seems to have forgotten just why the village was founded and have lost their way. Through a mishap with a hiraishin seal, Tobirama finds himself during Naruto's time and he is having none of this nonsense. His brother may be gone, but he won't stand to have Hashirama's dream trampled so. And if he has to cause a civil war or burn the village down to the ground? Well that depends on how much resistance he meets. All Tobirama does know for certain is that no child will suffer underneath the protection of Konoha and if he has to take them in and care for them himself, then he will.

Hardest of hearts by blackkat Oneshot, Gen, look I really like blackkat’s naruto fic okay, part one of a completed three part series, all three parts are great, Fix its are the best, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix It, Orochimaru redemption story, the sheer shadenfreude of one baddie fucking over another baddie, in this case Danzo, Obito has a ‘bad guy but not that bad of a guy’ solidarity moment with Orochimaru at the start and I loved it so there’s that, featuring a low key constantly horrified at this turn of events Minato,

Summary: Orochimaru gets one more chance. Just maybe, it will be enough to save him—and the entire world as well.

A Snake In the Grass, a Wolf At the Door by blackkat Mature, Completed ten chapter fic, Orochimaru redemption story, Orochimaru/Kakashi’s dad, you read that right, quality Sakumo content, Families of Choice, Humour, Fluff and Angst, somewhat crackish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, baby Kakashi being a cutie Summary: Orochimaru is on the edge of breaking when someone unexpected pulls him back to solid ground. When the time comes, he returns the favour.

Nukenin by WhisperingDarkness Gen, dimension travel, team seven, team as family, Kakashi actually being a good sensei even when he’s not a sensei at all, possessive kakashi, Team Seven is his team, Kinda Fluffy, Protective Kakashi, the ‘this might as well happen’ adaptability is real, Kakashi adopts team seven and team seven adopts kakashi, even though he’s illegal, 4 chapter fic, marked as complete as author doesn’t plan to continue it, but even taking these chapters as stand alone this fic is great,

Summary: In the sealed scroll he finds a Bingo Book – his own page marking him as an S-class nukenin with flee-on-sight orders. “Ok. That is definitely different.” In his head he blames Naruto – even if his number one unpredictable student had been nowhere near him on this mission. When things go this stupidly impossibly wrong it must somehow be the future Hokage’s fault.

Ear to the Wall by Vodkassassin Ongoing, it’s really really good though! great Kakashi content, Minato is very stressed and I love him, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, whump, PTSD’d Kakashi gets to relive his childhood but gets a little bit of a real childhood along the way, ADHD Rin, time travel fix it, look I like what I like and what I like is fix its and time travel apparently, Kakashi adopts Orochimaru before he descends into douchbaggery, Orochimaru Redemption story, everyone is alive, Summary: The Minato-sensei beams at him, and replies, “Kakashi! I’m glad you’re awake,” and, yup, that’s Minato-sensei’s voice. Kakashi falls back down against the bed, closing his eyes. It’s too short of a way down, and he clenches hands that are too tiny and feeble and not his in dog-print sheets he hasn’t owned for decades.

How To Save The World With No One Even Realising by IncompleteSentanc (Erava) Gen, Teen and Up, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, time travel fix it, Canonically Accurate OP Team 7, SuperBadass!Sakura, SuperBadass!Sasuke, SuperBadass!Naruto, RegularBadass!Shikamaru, Canonically Violent Sasuke, Equally Violent Sakura, Saving The World One Murder At A Time, Various Jinchuuriki, Team 7 As Super Villains, Doing Super Villainy Stuff, Like Murder, And Professional Eyeball Removal, Poor Obito, Poor Minato, AKA The Worst Four Months of Minato's Life, And Everyone Else's Too, Dark Humor, Bittersweet Ending, Dark Comedy, Crack treated seriously, completed 3 chapter fic, Well worth the read, Team 7 To The End! Summary: Minato knows at the beginning of the week that it's going to be a hellish one. Mostly because it starts with the kidnapping of one of his two remaining students, only a year after they'd lost the first one. He just doesn't realise at the time that it's not going to be a hellish week - it's going to be hell for quite a bit longer than that. It all starts with Rin's kidnapping, and her subsequent rescue at the hands of a mysteriously appearing, monstrously strong, murderously violent woman. A woman with cotton candy pink hair. It only devolves from there.

Just Killing Time by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) Gen, Oneshot, Short and Sweet, Classic of The Fandom, Ficlet, Team 7, Kids being Kids, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Slice of Life, Cute Kids

Summary: After Wave Country and before the chuunin exam, Team 7 kills time while waiting for Kakashi to show up.

there lies a trail of fire behind us by BowAndDagger Gen, Madara is extremely confused but mostly on board, Time Travel au, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bamf Naruto Uzumaki, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except Zetsu, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fix-It, Founders Era, clan wars era, Pre-Slash, POV Uchiha Madara, the Completed part one of an Ongoing/Incomplete series, completed 4 chapter fic, Summary: As he returns from a mission, Madara makes a strange encounter with an even stranger shinobi. Then, he’s summarily kidnapped to go on a quest to save the world by said weird shinobi. (He absolutely did not choose to follow the stranger on his own free will. He was kidnapped. He did not give chase. He did not.)

A Political Perspective by VJ Riddle / MueraRashaye Ongoing, Possibly (Probably) Discontinued, Teen and Up, Gen, Team 7, training montage deluxe, Konoha is a murder village, Good Teacher! Kakashi, AU, slowly developing into Bamf team 7, Bamf Kakashi, slowly developing into Team as Family, lots of fun ideas, not crack, Minor Spoiler: Zabuza and Haku get x’d before their character development gets its chance to shine in this fic, Sometimes people don’t warn for that in the tags and it can be a dealbreaker in fic for me as I love those two, not a dealbreaker in the case of this fic though! Really good fic so far, kind of verging on dry in places but it always stays fun in the end with lots of interesting elements, I enjoy the character insight from the pov switching, and also how much of a headcase Kakashi is, graphic depictions of violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence,

Summary: Hatake Kakashi was a shinobi, and as a shinobi, the only people who could give him orders were his military superiors. The idea that a Council made up of civilians and peers was under the impression they could give him orders...displeased him. Or: He was ordered to pass Team 7. He was fine with that, until they actually passed.

Integrity by Liz_Starling Oneshot, Gen, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Compliant, Integrity, Child Neglect, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Reflections on Naruto’s inner workings as a person, promises,

Summary: Naruto keeps his word. Some people are loyal to their families. Some, their orders. Naruto is loyal to the only thing he’s been able to count on; the promises he makes.

Foundation (Build It Higher, Bury It Deeper) by RayShippouUchiha Ongoing, BUT EXCELLENT, it made me cry, Naruto feels, 6 chapter fic thus far, Bamf Naruto, Bamf Tsunade, Naruto deserved better, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mature, Team 7, Uzumaki Feels, Abandonment, Tsunade gives Naruto the personal talk he deserved instead of finding out from a chakra imprint when he was dying, so we stan, I love this fic

Summary: It’s just… he’d thought, given his fight against Neji and then his confrontation with Gaara, that someone would finally really acknowledge what he’d done. That beyond Iruka-sensei’s crushing hug and Kakashi-sensei’s absent pat, someone would actually notice that he’d won against both of them.

That he’d beaten a genius on his own and then had battled another jinchūriki to a stand still.

So while he hadn’t really expected to be promoted too he’d still ...

¦ part 1 ¦ part 2 ¦ part 3 ¦

#Naruto #fic rec list #fic recs #naruto fic rec list #fic rec masterpost #naruto fic recs #fanfic recs #team 7 #fic rec list masterpost #naruto fics #Uzumaki Naruto #subject to possible edits in the future #like if i wanna make a part 4 this baby's getting edited #believe it #lol #gen naruto fics

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revolversandlace · 2 years ago

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Blemished Silk | Chapter Fourteen - At the Back of Your Heels

Chapter Index

Arthur Morgan x f!OC

Mature Rating - 4.5k Words

Chapter Tags: f!POV, First Time Meeting, Angst, Canon Divergence

Summary: Amelia and Josiah meet with Arthur and Hosea to discuss their new employment at the estate.

Scarlett Meadows, April 1899

Amelia was growing increasingly concerned by the hour. She knew her uncle was hardly the punctual sort, but he was supposed to arrive three days ago with the security he had promised.

Every sound of a hammer on a nail, a horse’s neigh, or a drop of a fork, sent her heart into a frenzy, thinking that the men had returned to shoot down her estate and make way with her horses. Either that or her father.

She tried to push those thoughts to the side and concentrate on the ledger before her, knowing that dwelling on things that simply may never happen was an utter waste of her energy.

Still, it did not help quell her mind from either the robbery or that somehow her father knew where she was. The thought was enough to make her skin crawl as she felt her breath hitch in her chest. She hoped the day would give her some distraction, rather than allowing her mind to wander where it should not venture.

The sun crept through the curtains, sending shadows along the wooden floorboards as she began the tedious task of checking each number. It was a slow process, yet she kept at it nevertheless. Amelia, ever cautious and vigilant, continued to check every number before her whilst calculating the sums in her head.

She tried time and time again to do the mental arithmetic and yet somehow her mind continued to fail her. She had grown so distracted since the attempted robbery, so much so that even trying to complete the most basic of tasks seemed like a harrowing exercise.

She cursed Josiah in her mind, wishing that for once that he would take something seriously. Amelia knew she was being unkind, but damn him. More and more as the years went by, he grew more unreliable and her far more cynical.

Within the next month, she would be turning twenty-eight, more than a reasonable adult, a woman with her own enterprise, yet the only thing she wanted was the comfort of the uncle’s words and to not be let down by him yet again.

Her eyes were starting to glaze over from tiredness and a gentle purr on the side of her temple was making its presence felt.

She knew she was being unfair, regardless of how she felt. She was scared and exhausted, not just from the weeks prior, but from the world around her. The attack had frightened both her uncle and her. She had no idea where the thieves had come from, but the fact that she had fallen victim was all too real, all too vivid in her memory. And that was without the thinly veiled threats of Cornwall’s men.

The knock on the door nearly caused Amelia to fall from her seat, even though she pretended that it was because she was distracted by the ledgers in front of her.

‘Enter,’ she managed to address, taking a large sip of whiskey, hoping that it would calm her somewhat.

‘It’s your uncle, ma’am,’ Mr Jameson spoke, and he stepped through the threshold. ‘He has been seated with your guests in the parlour.’

Amelia’s eyebrows raised slightly before she leaned back into her chair. Finally, she sighed to herself, feeling as though the growing spring heat has finally abandoned her.

‘Thank you, Mr Jameson. Please tell them I will be down in a moment.’

With a nod of acknowledgement, he left the study, closing the door behind him. Amelia would certainly need a moment as she poured herself another large drink and raised it with shaking hands to her lips. It was probably not the best idea to attend to her audience three drinks in, but as the liquor burned down her throat; she needed something to help her focus.

It was a dreadful idea, for the room suddenly felt smaller than usual and the air grew even thicker. The heat behind her eyes crept up much more quickly than she thought it would, although it was hardly unsurprising.

Standing slowly, with a meagre attempt to gauge her state, she fluffed down her dark green fan skirt that had seemed to crumple around the back of her legs from her seating arrangement.

Pulling her hand mirror from the drawer of the desk, she inspected her face, ensuring that she did not look as cockeyed as she felt. Looking much more presentable than she had given herself credit for, she made her way downstairs. Gripping on for dear life to the curved bannister, she took each step gently in a desperate effort to compose herself.

Taking the stairs one at a time, she walked lightly over each step. By the time she reached the marbled entrance hall, she took one last deep breath, allowing the usual air of confidence that the dark brown liquid gave her to consume her mind.

Straightening her back, she tried her very best to appear as though nothing was amiss. If Mr Yates, who stood by the double doors guarding the parlour, noticed anything awry, he made no indication as he simply nodded and opened the door on her behalf.

She entered the room, which was by all measure, her least favourite in the house. Since she spent so little time in there, she never paid much mind to the sickly floral wallpaper, overly fringed seating, and palm ferns wherever she looked.

Within the room sat her uncle, as expected, sitting in the armchair, which was hardly unbecoming of him whilst two other men occupied the double seat opposite Josiah and faced the far wall. Mr Jameson had already taken station behind an empty armchair in the manner of a docile floor lamp.

‘Apologies for my delay,’ she announced with enough clarity it even surprised herself. ‘There was a matter that required my attention.’

Her step was replaced with her usual confidence, unlike what she had felt moments before. Her shoes clipped softly on the wooden floor as she announced herself.

As she spoke into the room, the two guests, one clearly much older than the other, turned over their shoulders to look at her. Standing promptly, they clearly already had drinks in hand. At the very least, Amelia could always rely on her uncle to retain the appropriate etiquette for any guests. It wouldn’t do to have the social standing of the house compromised, she supposed.

Striding towards them with a slight side-eye, she stood in the centre and turned herself to face the two guests. Holding out her hand in a gesture of introduction, the silver-haired man took it promptly with a more formal shake than she expected.

‘Mr Hosea Matthews, ma’am’ he said, placing his free hand on his chest and then gesturing to the man behind him, ‘and this is my colleague Mr Morgan.’

She smiled, her blue eyes fixed on both of them. Although both their faces were lined and weathered, when up close, both looked somewhat younger than she initially thought.

‘A pleasure,’ Amelia commented, smiling towards them both with her usual one-sided smirk. ‘Amelia Edwards.’

Making a point of addressing them both directly with eye contact - the way her uncle had always taught her - there was something about this Mr Morgan that made her drop her gaze almost immediately. However, she did not show her nerves by so much as flinching or blinking.

‘I see that my uncle has already provided the hospitality,’ she nodded at the filled glasses around her, ‘may I also introduce you to my advisor Mr Jameson,’ commenting on the man who stood behind her, arms folded behind his back.

Both men nodded politely, although it seemed to Amelia that they gave each other the briefest of glances.

Helping herself to the decanter and a spare glass that resided next to her on the round end table, she offered it first to Mr Jameson, who graciously declined with a small shake of his head. Bringing the glass into her lap, she eyed the two men opposite her.

‘I suppose that Uncle has already informed you of the situation?’ Amelia said, as she crossed her ankles and cradled her drink.

Mr Matthews pursed his lips together before nodding once in confirmation, whilst Mr Morgan continued to stare straight ahead. Shuffling slightly forward in his chair, the older of the two rested his elbow on the arm of the upholstered fabric.

‘Indeed. We have been told there was an attempted robbery upon your property?’ he commented, as he took another sip of his drink.

She nodded slowly, pondering his words whilst tilting her head slightly. For security, he was well spoken, but not without the typical American lilt. With a short nose and small, kind eyes, she already had a sense of warmth towards him.

His counterpart, however, sat without cheer, his arm resting on his knee seemingly looking at the floor just a foot before him. Evidently, one was the bargainer, the other the slinger.

‘Precisely,’ Amelia said, turning her attention back to Mr Matthews. ‘The most important element is that one of my staff was shot in the leg. Thankfully, he will make a strong recovery. However, it has been a distressing disturbance to the peace that we had here.’

Trailing off, she couldn’t help but picture Luke with a clenched mouth and blood pouring from his thigh, the look of sheer fear on his younger brother’s face as he clutched a pistol to his chest.

‘It appears that after the many years of building a home for us all, it is no longer as safe as it once was,’ she said with a level of moroseness that she couldn’t keep from her voice.

A small silence passed between them all as Amelia regarded her uncle from the corner of her eye with a slow inhale.

‘My uncle spoke of yourselves, trusted with personnel security.’

Josiah nodded sincerely in the rocking chair, placing his drink on the table next to him.

‘Their credentials are quite impressive, my dear,’ Josiah noted, and Amelia observed the two men.

Both calm and reserved, Amelia couldn’t find any good reason to not employ them and quite frankly, she was relieved with the help. They looked rough enough around the edges that she was confident they knew how to use a gun.

‘I apologies for my lack of information about the work,’ Amelia recited, having practised her words a few times prior to the meeting, ‘all I know is that I will do anything to protect my home and staff.’

Scripted or not, she was sincere in her words. The majority in her charge came from all sorts of unfortunate backgrounds: former outlaws, immigrants, natives, and orphans, all from some kind of misfortune. They had suffered enough, and she was not prepared for them to go through any more hardship.

‘Perhaps an evaluation of the grounds would be in order?’ Josiah suggested, standing and straightening out his jacket.

The men and Amelia followed suit, leaving their drinks behind as Josiah gestured with his arm stretched out.

Mr Jameson followed closely behind Amelia, enough that she felt as though he were a hovering eagle. In a rather predictable fashion, he leant forward to her ear, whispering in low enough tones for the rest of the party to not hear his words.

‘Ma’am, are you sure this is a good fit?’ his words were kind and cautionary as always, as his moustache tickled her ear ever so slightly.

Smiling, Amelia couldn’t help but feel a tenderness for the man. He always truly did have her best interests at heart. She gave a slight nod, just enough for him to see, as she continued to follow the rest of the group outside into the estate grounds.

The fresh spring air and the high sun hit her face immediately. Thankfully, the light grey Gibson shirt gave her some relief in the gentle breeze and she placed her hand on her brow, shielding her from the brightness of the day.

‘Mr Morgan,’ Josiah began, ‘My niece will escort you around the property and show you the ignoble damage.’

She tried to catch her uncle’s eye with no such luck. Why was she being lumped with a man that appeared to be nothing more than a mute? Not that one really needed to speak in order to assess security, but it would be bloody helpful.

‘Very well,’ Amelia smiled as best she could, through slightly gritted teeth. Never mind whose property it was, she supposed...

‘Mr Morgan, if you could follow me,’ with the slighted dip of her skirt toward her uncle and Mr Matthews, she began to walk into the grounds and towards the stables. It did not go unnoticed to her that Mr Jameson remained in tow, although at a slightly further distance than she would have liked. She quickened her step, feeling an increase of heat in her cheeks as her footfalls clicked loudly over the pebbled path.

‘The building you see before you,’ Amelia mentioned, pointing towards the two-story wooden structure about twenty yards in front of them, ‘that is the stables. I will show you there first as that is where we took most of the damage.’

Nothing. Not a single word. She really was beginning to think he was a mute after all.

He skulked beside her. He wore a jacket the colour of sand, a black leather hat, and a heavy stubble across his face, all of which she was sure had seen better days. Gathering from the snatched glances, she snuck in any way.

His lack of words made her both frustrated and inquisitive in equal measures. It wasn’t often she came by a man so... reserved. She wanted to put it down to a sheer lack of manners. Regardless of his connection to Josiah, he was clearly not all that familiar with anything other than eating beans out of a tin. Yet there was something about his silence that made her want to press him further.

The way that his eyes glanced at everything except her made her clench her jaw every so slightly, irritated with his disregard. If he was this impassive whilst learning about the job, Amelia couldn’t help but think of his incompetencies in filling out the role.

A stray lock of hair escaped the confines of her bun as it was buffeted gently by the wind. A little flutter caught in her eye and Amelia reached up, plucking the loose piece of hair free and tucking it behind her ear. She could feel Mr Morgan’s gaze on her for a slight moment as she kept her eyes focused on the building.

Her uncle made clear that these were not some low-level crooks hoping for a quick bit of dollar. They were contractors – professionals - she was assured. In her rational mind, a job such as this was far beyond both the reach and exhilaration that would entice a bounty hunter or outlaw, regardless of the pay. Not that Mr Matthews seemed to be of an age to chase bank robbers or to be a highwayman in the tundra. However, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of business Mr Morgan had with her uncle.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to distract herself from one’s thoughts, they approached the stable. She lifted her skirts slightly in order not to trip over them in the gravelly path. The smell of hay, horses and leather hit her nose. The scent made her stomach growl as Amelia slowed her steps.

‘As you can see,’ she began, noticing the workers becoming distracted by the new presence, ‘the stables took a fair bit of gunfire. We spent some time repairing the woodwork as best we could for a temporary fix -’

‘We?’ Mr Morgan commented, not attempting to hide the sarcasm from his low, gruff voice.

Not a mute then, Amelia thought as she turned to him with narrow eyes. She could see the flash of surprise on Mr Jameson’s face, the usual furrow of his eyebrows that came with any insubordination.

‘Yes, Mr Morgan. We.’ She narrowed her eyes at him, her pride far outweighing her malaise around the man. ‘Speak with my stable master, if you will. It took eight hours for us to finish the repairs to ensure that the horses were not affected by either weather or fear.’

Refusing to justify herself any further, she held her gaze with her guest. Insolence was a word Amelia rarely believe in, a perpetrator of it herself, but this was her home and she was not to be mocked by a stranger.

It was not the first, nor was she convinced that it would be the last that some damned man mistook her for some lady of silk and songs.

Although his face remained expressionless, it did not require too much imagination for her to see him coming up with some retort, as they often did. Before he could make any further quips, she continued.

‘Thankfully, the horses remained without too much of a fright, and as mentioned, although one of my hands was tragically shot in the exchange, he is recovering quite well.’

Turning her back towards Mr Morgan, she could feel the slow hum in her head. The sure sign that all of her indulgent drinking earlier in the day was beginning to wane.

Mr Morgan glared at her for a moment longer before nodding his head slightly.

‘They try and rob you the same day you got the horses?’ He said, his voice gruff and smokey.

‘Yes. The horses arrived in the late morning and the attack took place somewhere around midnight,’ she said, keeping her tone as formal as possible without letting her annoyance at the man creep through. Although she already found him rude and slightly questionable, she trusted her uncle to provide her with professionals.

They continued walking as Mr Morgan walked around the stable, examining it over with his steely eyes.

‘You know where they came from?’ he asked, inspecting the structure.

‘I didn’t see a great deal of it, I’m afraid,’ she shook her head, feeling slightly foolish at her lack of information.

He gave a low ‘hmm’ and tipped his leather hat back from his eyes, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket. He placed one in the corner of his mouth as he offered her one. Amelia looked up at him as she was slightly taken aback by the gesture but took one of the smokes, regardless. Mr Morgan also gestured the packet towards Mr Jameson, who refused.

Taking a match to the bottom of his shoe, he lit his own before offering the flame to Amelia behind a cupped hand. She stepped forward, putting the cigarette into the fire, her chest growing tense at the sudden lack of personal space. She avoided his gaze as she stepped back, taking a puff. The taste of the tobacco flooded her lungs, and with another long draw, she attempted to relax her shoulders.

She wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Mr Morgan that made her so nervous. She had only met the man this afternoon, and yet something seemed to unsettle her. Perhaps it’s simply that he intimidated her. He was an imposing presence, standing half a head taller than Amelia, with broad, thick shoulders.

However, Amelia had met plenty of men with similar builds, but none made her feel quite as uncomfortable as Mr Morgan. She supposed it was the eyes, a stormy blue with a hint of something dangerous in them. It felt as though there was a secret hidden away in each blink. A message of warning or even a threat.

Amelia found herself looking around, rather sheepishly. What must she be thinking? To allow such thoughts when meeting someone for the very first time was somewhat ridiculous. As if reading her mind, Mr Morgan cleared his throat, and Amelia gave a polite smile.

‘If you are all done here, Mr Morgan, we shall continue the discussion inside,’ she gestured with her arm back towards the property as the man prowled forward as she followed alongside him.

A few moments later, they were seated at the dining room table, with plates full of food and glasses filled with wine. Her uncle and Mr Matthews sat across from each other. Amelia took to the head of the table with Mr Morgan sitting to her right. As Millie put down the last plate of small potatoes covered in butter and mint, Amelia picked up her cutlery and started to cut into the poached salmon on her plate.

‘Mr Matthews, may I ask you a question?’ Amelia started, hoping to ease into the conversation.

‘Go ahead,’ he responded. His eyes were passive as the slight clink of silverware rang around the room.

‘Why did you choose to work for my uncle?’ She asked, ‘Was it simply because you have a talent for security? Or was there something else that drew you to the position?’

Placing the salmon delicately in her mouth, she chewed at the fish. For a moment, her uncle looked at her as though he had no idea what she was talking about. A curiosity layered over his expression.

‘Yes, there was. I have always admired your uncle, his business acumen, his attention to detail, his determination...’ Mr Matthews said, taking a sip of red wine. ‘As his niece, you also seem to possess many of these same qualities.’

‘So you did not take the job solely because of the money, then?’ Amelia continued with her tenacity. She could see the look Josiah was giving her from the corner of his eye. She was not willing to be told off like some petulant child, and what she asked of was for a good reason. She wasn’t about to let some strangers have free rein of the estate after everything that had happened recently.

Mr Matthews shook his head.

‘No, of course not. That would be ludicrous. However, I am aware of the way things go. I know how to keep my nose clean and I have experience dealing with criminals,’ he said as she continued to feel the glare from her uncle.

‘I see,’ Amelia replied, feeling somewhat relieved to hear the truth from the man. But as she continued to stare at her plate with the warmth of the salmon hitting her tongue, she was still left with a nagging worry.

A wry smirk hit her lips, and she leant back in the dining chair, reaching for her wine as she could see her uncle was less than pleased with her display whilst Mr Morgan looked between the group.

‘I have no doubt that my uncle has made the terms quite clear. Otherwise, Mr Matthews, I doubt you would be here,’ she chimed, wanting to see what else the man could bring to the exchange.

Mr Matthews nodded his agreement.

‘The terms have indeed been discussed with Mr Trelawney, and we can start our work as soon as that is convenient for you, Miss Edwards,’ Mr Matthews said, taking another mouthful.

‘I believe that four days a week at the property will suffice,’ Amelia said into her drink. ‘Adjustments can be made accordingly, but I believe next week will be a suitable start.’

After their luncheon was concluded and several pieces of small talk, Amelia and Josiah escorted their guests to the main door. As they stopped to bid them goodbye, Amelia stood beside the door, facing her new staff.

‘Thank you for agreeing to do this, gentlemen. You have brought me much needed relief,’ she said with a smile.

‘We appreciate the opportunity, Miss Edwards,’ Mr Matthews said as he put his hat back on.

With a curtsy, Amelia exited the house with Josiah and watched as her new employees mounted their horses, and rode by them on the porch. Both of the men tipped their hats to them as Amelia kept her gaze solely on Mr Matthews, avoiding the impenetrable stare of his counterpart.

‘Well, what do you think, my dear?’ Josiah turned to her as he waved off his guests.

‘Mr Matthews clearly seems competent,’ she noted as they returned to the front hall, refusing to comment any further.

The day was catching up with her swiftly, but she was glad she managed to eat the majority of her meal. She was sure it was the first meal she had in weeks. However, she was thankful that at least their meeting was over and she could speak with Josiah about the other pressing matter.

‘Uncle, I must speak with you,’ she gestured her head towards the parlour.

She closed the door behind them, ensuring no one else was around.

‘I had a visitor yesterday, another one of Cornwall’s representatives,’ she started, her voice slightly shaking. He looked at her with concerned eyes.

‘It was the usual sort of conversation, about buying out our assets...’ Amelia trailed off, biting her lip as she cast her eyes down, ‘when he left... He called me Miss Fairfax -‘

‘Good heavens,’ Josiah muttered, cutting her off. ‘How on earth did he know that?’

‘That wasn’t all.’ She was now visibly shaking, unable to control her emotions and the tears that welled up in her eyes. ‘He said... he said,’ her breath grew ragged as her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to control herself.

Josiah guided her to the chair, his face tense and concerned.

‘What did he say, my dear?’ He asked gently.

Amelia shook her head as if to deny it was true, as she sat down on the seat. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.

‘He said that my father,’ she nearly spat the word, ‘sends his regards.’

Josiah was quiet for some time as Amelia twisted her hands in her lap, staring at the floor. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she raised her eyes to meet her uncle.

‘It was always a chance this would catch up with us, Amelia,’ he said, as he knelt down before her, placing a tentative hand on her.

‘But how does he know?! How...?’ Her voice rose with anger and her eyes flashed in frustration.

‘My dear, I am afraid there is nothing we can do at this juncture,’ he replied, removing his hand from her knee. He stood and paced in front of his niece. ‘All I know,’ Josiah continued, ‘is that you will be safe. We have the help from the likes of Mr Matthews and Mr Morgan. The business is secure, the papers -‘

‘You know what he’s capable of!’ Amelia yelled, standing. ‘I’m not going back there,’ she said resoundingly.

Josiah grabbed her by the shoulders gingerly, with the most serious expression she had ever seen him wear in many, many years.

‘For now, we keep this to ourselves,’ he said firmly. ‘Amelia, my caneton, please do not fret. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

She nodded weakly, dropping her gaze as she wiped her nose. She knew that he meant well, and it was reassuring, yet she still felt a shiver down her spine. She wished she could just run away. But that was impossible and she knew she could endure whatever was thrown her way - even if it was her monstrous father. She had survived him once before and would do so once again.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #read dead fanfic #fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x oc #ao3 #longfic #rdr2 longfic #blemished silk #amelia edwards #rdr2 edit #rdr2 aesthetic #rdr2 mood board #ao3 fic

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bakubabes-and-ramble · 3 years ago

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Headcanon: The Gundalian culture is based on individualism, the Neathian culture is based on collectivism

Race interpretation part one: Neathia

Summary: The Neathian culture is built on the core values of communities and collective thinking. While conformity within the society is of a high level, they pursue a 'closed gate' diplomacy towards other races - resulting in a 'bubble' phenomenon and becoming vulnerable to losing their sense of belonging. Centralised urban system, with regional reciprocity and redistribution, whereby the Queen plays a coordinator role, and exists as a unifying symbol along with the military.

(Wall-of-text warning ; with block-breaker illustrations, but a huge amount of information ahead.)

Okay, this topic is something I was thinking about for a long time, and I finally hit the point to collect my thoughts and write them down. I've seen a lot of people trying to build up/further and enrich the cultural and social-political features of the alien races we've seen in the series (namely Vestals, Neathians and Gundalians), and I felt some inspiration to put my take on these things into words.

It's not only intriguing to try one's hand on the world-further-building, but I felt, I have to explain how I imagine the build-up of the Neathian and Gundalian culture and society to make the story of the 'Neathian Special Squad' ('NSS') more understandable 'symbolically' and from the aspect of a 'cultural clash'. /For those, who follow the NSS: This is something that definitely happens later on, you just don't know about it yet./

I have to put a small disclaimer here: This entire piece of writing was conspired out of fun and passion towards the series. It was not meant to be a 100% professor approved scientific research, but a seemingly logical untangling of my personal train of thoughts concerning the fantasy creatures of the third season. And this means, there is going to be some personal opinion mixed in as well (especially at the rewriting parts).

I wish the readers to enjoy reading it regardless. You are always free to disagree or not to take it seriously. :) To me, headcanonizing and imagining things always meant to be fun.

Side note: I'll add canon elements as examples or refer to the events of Gundalian Invaders, although I have to admit, I'll do this mostly from memory. So If I get anything wrong, or just remember incorrectly, you are welcome to add-in or correct me! :)

Season: Bakugan: Gundalian Invaders (and Mechtanium Surge)

Language: English dub

Okay, let's go!

Gundalian Invaders - Slightly rewritten

The first and foremost reason I actually started writing this post, is because I had some issues with the characterisation of the Gundalians and Neathians in the third season. One side is depicted blatantly, purposelessly and one-dimensionally evil, while the other is portrayed to be the goodie-two-shoes victims with no backlashes. I wanted to swing over this simplicity and make an attempt at explaining, how I imagined these races to function. These interpretations were explored with the intention of both keeping the main features of the races, staying canon-compliant where possible, but change canon elements/propose ideas to turn the races into interesting (and on a theoretical level functioning) societies.

For these added or assumed ideas to work, some lore elements have to be changed or removed: For example the way Bakugan got to be on the planets. For this explanation see: a further point below.

This post discusses only Neathia for now. (Gundalia will probably get it's own post, as there is much more canon-divergence to be talked about.)

Neathians

1. The beginnings and core values

Due to the power of the Sacred Orb, almost the entire planet have relished in a lush fertility since the beginnings. (And this is why there are huge plants in their jungles. The wildlife also experienced a great upsurge by the life-force of the Orb.) This prosperity quickly enabled the Neathian race to organize into a peaceful and sharing society, because the wars over resources became redundant and unnecessary. The established racial mindset reallocated the focus from the individual needs to the communal efforts, and gives a ground for the Neathian values and collective thinking up to even the days of the season.

Neathians think mainly in groups: Let those be pairs (e.g. Fabia and Jin as fiancés; Linus and Neo Zipperator as brawling partners), teams (Neathian Special Squad; Friendship circles), communities (Castle Knights), and the biggest of them all, their entire race. These are all bigger or smaller communities within communities, and they play a major role in how Neathians perceive the world and themselves. Being in these relationship structures defines their place, grants them their basic mental frame, which they are able to think in, and not only their resources, but also their goals are shared with each other. This kind of goal assimilation is what makes them really efficient team players, and also provides them a strong social support from a mentalhygiene perspective. This important role of the sense of belonging makes Neathians both empowered while being in close social constructs , and extremely susceptible to losing these connections.

Thinking like this, when Fabia lost her fiancè or Linus lost Neo, their grief extended further than their deaths or the traumatic events. Losing strong bonds like these put Neathians in a technical identity crisis, as it is a part of their personal perception and mental frame which were dismantled through these events. We have seen Fabia going to extremes to retrieve Aranaut - and to retrieve that part of her, which was lost with Jin. Just as when Rubanoid was handed to Linus, a new connection was formed to either replace or continue the old one in a different form. Fabia's communal bonds were successfully restored, when she also became a member of the brawlers.

The Neathian society is based on caring and cooperation to achieve a collective well-being. This is why communities play such a major role in their self-perception and world-perception.

2. Open-sources, but enclosed diplomacy

For most part, I've always imagined the Neathian race as an although proud and generous, but closed society. They share commodities with each other - within their society -, but it is very important, that only within it. The outside world (meaning outside of their habited planet) is fundamentally shut out of these transactions.

I often refer to this phenomenon of enclosedeness as the 'Neathian bubble':

Not only their mindset operates in closed communities, but their diplomacy too. They are generally passive towards other races, missing trust and a reason to pick up the communication /Up until the Gundalians came and the war started/. This perspective could be applied to understand, why could they be more insistent on and better at operating defensive mechanisms (layered shield generator), than initiating communication with the rest of the universe (Unlike Gundalians, Neathians have no ships or bigger means of transportation. Yes, teleportation is accessible for them, but I don't think they use it that often outside of Neathia.)

I treat this as an explanation for why Neathia had only asked for outside help after the second shield generator went down - the situation became desperate and already being involved in the conflict, it was time to try and reach out for aid. According to these headcanons, I also think, Serena wasn't putting - or at least shouldn't have put - faith in the Brawlers so easily. The reason they weren't tested to prove their trustworthiness further than one question, is because she trusted Fabia's judgement. Without the support of a Neathian, outlanders are almost automatically dismissed. Their (or their Queen's) empathy and compassion may overwrite this code, but even by then they have to be made certain by proving the cause.

Just as when Fabia accepted Ren, because she had seen how much he tried to prove himself. Winning Neathians’ trust is supposed to be a big and determining moment, because they ‘internalise’ you into their scoiety.

Neathians are capable of empathy and kindness (this is something they actively practice among each other), even towards outsiders, they just need time and proof to accept them. Trust is just not automatic towards them, and even so they keep their distance until they get used to it.

3. Personal paralel counterparts - Night elves and the Highborne of WoW

When I think about Neathians, I often put them into paralel with the Night elves and the Highborne from World of Warcraft. For most part, I use their artistic motives, architecture, fashion and cultural approach as an inspiration for Neathians, as they are recognised as 'The pretty space elves' in my book too.

Beside the above mentioned, what could be imported from their WoW counterparts is a rather matriarchal social apparat. For example, Neathians traditionally having a Queen, and women being present in the military or in higher positions, playing important roles. //Just as by the Night elves leadership, religious and military roles being traditionally occupied by women (priestesses, wardens, sentinels).//

Another elven impression, which is more or less universal, is their sense of pride (I like to say it as the expression of 'Neathian pride '). Highborne in World of Warcraft are a quite prestigious race and are usually said to be a little 'aristocratic'. I can imagine the Neathians being lightly less, but somewhat similar on these terms, when it comes down to interacting with their own or other races: For example being proud of their appearance (Emphasizing their unique V-shaped forehead with adequate clothing and accessories), structuring buildings and constructs based on aesthetic instead of real functionality (using diamond as the main material of construction, structuring buildings with elegant but futuristic shapes), or being confident and showing immovable standing and opinion on things (towards outsiders).

As far as I know, the Warcraft elves used to be similarly passive and uninitiative - even mistrusting - towards other races too. And in this, it played part, that they also had exclusive access to a powerful source of power and prosperity, the Well of Eternity (an almost one-on-one counterpart to the Sacred Orb).

While the half-tribal connections of the Night elves derive from their ancient bonds with nature and druidism, the Neathian society feels more likely being based on a futuristic envisionment of these social relations. A civilisation that perfectly blends technology (teleportation technology, communication devices) with classic fantasy elements (knights), while still remaining tribal in the core (shared communality is just put into a modern environment). /Although I like to lean more into the fantasy setting, the technical advancement is undeniable there./

4. Overall economy

If we wanted to negotiate about their economy, I would say reciprocity and localised redistribution are the dominant mechanisms of it. The basic definition of economy builds on the premise of distribution of scarce resources. In this case, resources are not scarce, in fact, due to the Orb they are very much prosperous and renewing. This accessibility discounts the value of the traditional market trading, and supports the establishment of semi-centralised recollection and redistribution. The semi-centralisation here means regional production and consumption, whereby the accomodation of the population happens mainly territorialy, but these regional centres still have a connection to each other and the capitol. This economy is based on caring and well-being, and the high level of conformity and trust within the collective society results in a lack of currency usage (so, my headcanon is basically, that they don't use money).

5. Urbanisation and territorial layout

The reason we talk about a more physical apsect of the planets, is because the core values of the races both play a role, and mutually affect how I imagine their civilised hubs being developed. Communities form hubs and cities with strong connections - just like their society!

When I mentioned localised redistribution, I was also refering to the urban structure of the Neathian planet. Important to note, that Neathia is not just a city, or a country - just like Gundalia, it's the entire planet. What we've seen in the show is the capital of their urban system - which makes sense to be technically built around / in the immediate enclosure of the Sacred Orb, for it's the source of the relishing power. Assuming this, along the capital there could be a centralised territorial layout with rural areas (cities, villages), and untouched wilderness (due to the overflourishing flora and fauna; the urbanisation doesn't affect the entirety of the planet, there are a lot of uninhabited/uncharted areas).

Here is a simple schematic illustration of the above.

The rural hubs not having physical connection with other centres due to the dangerous and untamable wilderness (see: Giant plants in the show) could have lead to the advancement of the teleportation technology. The cities are connected through this port-system, and also with the capital, which serves as the centre of the network.

6. The role of the queen and the military

The main purpose of the current Queen is an overall governance with the direct help of a council consisting of the local leaders of the hubs. The queen bears not only a political, but a symbolical importance to the people. The concept of the Queen is a unifying symbol, someone who watches over the nation. The Neathians can stand behind her and being represented by her. But it's important to note, that her status is not as glorified as to be a despotic being, and her power is not extending much further than overall policies, diplomatic representation and helping the transactions of the local leaderships. There is much more power and independence shifted into the regional governance, rendering the Queen's position to be an effective coordinator between them and unifier, who keeps the nation together. /Still thinking about the way the queen is chosen/comes to the throne, but I had the idea of the next Queen being elected by the current Queen, so the order of succession is not based on the Queen’s family, nor being a community vote of the people./

The peace-oriented existence in itself doesn't require a military to exists, therefore I treat the Castle Knights as a mainly defensive organisation. This military serves as Neathia's defenders, bearing symbolic and community building purposes. Among the Castle Knights - just as the name itself suggests - the traditional medieval knight values show up primarily, such as loyality, humility, courage, faithfulness and the act of mercy. In their comprehension, being a Castle Knight is an act of service towards their country and the Queen, and is not mainly for warfare reasons. (To some extent, I assume martial arts and other forms of fighting - even brawling - is essentially a spiritual activity, which they pursue in order to keep their inner- and physical balance.)

As we've seen it the show, I assume the Palace also functions as the military's operation base. The head of the military is the current commander (formerly Jin, recently Elright), and under them operate several divisions with captains as division leaders. The separate divisions are Physical Fighting (both with weapon, like those defensive shock-sticks the guards are using - formerly offensive melee weapons until the fall of NSS - and hand-to-hand combat, e.g. used by Fabia), Technical staff (operating the shield generators and overseeing their areas) and Bakugan Brawling (this headcanon part is still under construction, but Elright used to be the former leader of this, and the reason he was promoted to commander after Jin’s death, is because the Neathians' realisation of the war swinging in favor of the Bakugan fights, so it was logical to put him as the next 'general leader'). /There may be other divisions outside of these, I just put out some ideas here./ Every guard receives education to some extent in all of these fields, but they end up specialising in something.

//The Neathian Special Squad (NSS) had it’s own divison under Captain Pyrehart, they were a special strike team with a unusual task: Staggering, forcing back or just divide the Gundalian leadership’s attention from focusing on their assault. Basically poking them with melee weapons until they either go away, or can’t concentrate on helping their Bakugan on the field and their monsters get defeated. According to the story - made up by me of course - after a tragedic mission this unit wasn’t restored, and the war effort shifted onto long-range fighting with Bakugan, Gear and Bakugan Assaults.//

7. So...where are the Bakugan?

They have been mentioned here and there, but I'm sure, whoever made it this far into this theorising information dump, may wonder at this point: 'But what about the Bakugan?'

My simplest answer is, that I firmly want to believe, both Gundalia and Neathia had a civilised and established culture before the Bakugan appeared there.

According to the original lore, Bakugan existed on the planets since almost the beginnings. Now, this is part of those lore bits I would definitively change during a rewrite: I want to believe, Bakugan only appeared in their very recent history, almost as recently, as on Earth and Vestal itself.

Perhaps a Bakugan lore- and GI rewrite explanation deserved it's own post, but for the further understanding allow me to explain here a little: A similar event of raining cards - what the first season started with - occured on Neathia and Gundalia too, caused by the dimensional boom of Michael Gehabich and his transporter. The twist on this - and the effective solution to the problem of possible timeline inconsistencies - is that although the explosion caused this interference at one point in time, across cosmos and universes time flows differently. So technicaly the result of it - the raining cards and Bakugan being transported into the particular worlds - could happen at different point of their relative times - even years earlier or later! On Neathia and Gundalia it could happened a few years before on Earth, which covers most of the questions of the timeline-consistency /such as Ren being assigned to watch over Linehalt as a child etc./

Bakugan coming to these places has only an added effect: Just as on Earth, they are not (yet?) integrated into the society and culture of the planets so deeply to be any kind of pillar of their existence or basic civilisation. There could be a start (as having specialised researches, technology revolving around Bakugan, taking part in the war,..) regarding this internalisation process, but it still runs on the surface, and not in the 'veins' of the culture.

I hope this breakdown made sense in some form or another. I just felt an urge to pour out the content of my head. Looking back,this became longer and more detailed, than I originally intended, while also surely missing things because there is no worldbuilding without holes or further questions. The attempt to lay down the basics was made regardless haha!

As always, feel free to disagree and follow your own visions concerning the races and worldbuilding. :) This post was made to reflect back my personal interpretation of Neathians - just for fun and thinking out loud.

For the very end, I leave a disclamer here, which was supposed to go at the beginning, but it felt redundant to put there, so here it is:

I tried to approach it from a more sociological side, as focusing on a bigger, overall picture, common features, than create exact statements. (I would rather call this a speculation regarding the features of the races themselves, their core values, common attitudes, mindset - and this doesn't mean other questions are fully out of the picture. We are just discussing things, which can be derived from the features of the society itself, and make up a more or less coherent chain of thought for now. Other 'for fun' or miscellaneous headcanons, like fashion or physical traits will be covered another time.)

Thank you for coming to this TED mambling!

#bakugan #gundalian invaders #neathia #gundalia #headcanon #long post #text #bumblispeaks

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fracktastic · 3 years ago

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So you asked for prompts? How about Bill and Laura chaperoning a school trip? Maybe one lasting several days? Maybe there’s only one bed/tent? 🤣

School field trip? Only one bed, you say? This feels a bit out of my league, but I’ll see what I can do…

Let's call it a "choose your own adventure" fic. Like the canon-divergent AU where the Cylons never come to New Caprica? Stop at the section break. I might flesh this one out later, but here's the bones of it. ---

He would never have expected her to be an outdoorsy sort of person and to hear her tell it, she never really was. Back on Caprica, she had been a child of the city, content to pass the occasional tree or park but far more interested in museums and film festivals than hiking trails or fishing holes.

Perhaps through simple necessity, New Caprica, though, has brought out a different side to her. In the absence of chic restaurants or trendy galleries, there is little to do besides go to the one bar in the marketplace or explore the outskirts of the settlements and the wilderness that lays beyond, and increasingly, Laura seems drawn to the periphery

And so, although he hadn’t expected to hear she would be leading a camping trip for the graduating 8th grade class, he isn’t completely baffled by it, either. It’s the customary trip to Aquaria or Delphi that previous classes might have expected, but it seems like a meaningful rite of passage all the same. Bill had even agreed to go along as a chaperone, as his imminent retirement meant more and more days of shore leave with Helo or Lee in charge of the remainder of the orbital fleet.

After 3 years without contact from the Cylons, the settlement on New Caprica had begun to take on a more stable, permanent character. Various buildings had gone up, and boardwalks of wooden planks had replaced the dirt paths in central parts of the settlement. Since his last visit, several of the market stalls had been upgraded to wood and scrap metal structures; the first masonry building had become a small hospital, and there were rumors of apartment buildings in the works.

People no longer thought they would live out the rest of their lives in tents or grounded ships. Even the concept that it is an 8th grade class and not just a handful of the older kids from the one-room school-tent seems like a sign of the progress that’s been made. They are starting to resemble a civilization again, he realizes, and to reacquire the signs and structures of something like a normal life.

Bill is oblivious to the realities of chaperoning a group of twelve 8th graders - especially ones who are still acclimating to the realities of their new lives. He hadn’t realized that when he’d agreed to the trip, but it’s becoming increasingly apparent to him now. Being equally oblivious to the rigors of the trail, he’s opted for fatigues, a fully loaded pack, and heavy military boots. Laura, meanwhile, seems to have adapted to this new life with somewhat greater aplom. Her pack is lighter, her shoes are lighter, and she seems to know the trail.

It is a disappointment, albeit entirely rational, that they’re at opposite ends of the line as their little band of miscreant teenagers follows the path that’s scarcely more than a game-trail. She leads while he brings up the rear. He wants to believe there’s some tactical benefit to him taking this position, but he quickly realizes it’s because he knows nothing about the plants. Three times, he’s nearly walked straight into stinging plants, only to be warned off by the students. He hardly knows this world, he realizes sadly, but he’ll probably spend the rest of his life here.

He watches as she moves along the trail in long, steady strides. In that moment, she is a greater survival asset than he, for she knows which plants will cause a rash and where to find the stream or dry wood, and perhaps even which berries if they can add to the trail rations they've brought for the overnight camp out. It bruises his ego a bit to admit it, but he is a realist.

He cannot help but feel a bit chagrined, for he had imagined playing the masculine hero in a traditional sense but realizes now that his presence is as much to keep testy teenage boys in line as to help with a heavy pack or pitch a tent.

“I hope we're not wearing you out too badly, Admiral,” she says in a flirty tone when they stop beside a creek to refill their canteens.

He frowns at her quizzically and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Is that a gray hair?” he asks wryly.

She shoots him a dirty look although good humor is evident behind her mock glare. After quickly glancing around to make sure nobody is looking, she emphasizes her mock outrage with a gentle elbow to his side.

“Do I finally get to see the spot for that cabin you've been going on about?'' he asks her with a smile.

“Not yet,'' she replies. “I'm not sure I'm ready for students to find it. Besides, I'm definitely not ready for them to find out about those plants.”

“You know,” he says quietly, “one of these days, somebody is going to find out about those plants of yours.”

“I've already told a few people. Selectively, of course.”

“Oh, and who's that?” he asks, genuinely curious now. He knows she’s started to get friendlier with a few people in the settlement. He keeps seeing certain, familiar names in the notes that make it to him on Galactica.

“Well, Cottle for one. He’s run out of some pretty basic medications, and it seems to help with nausea and pain.”

“Thought he’d set up a lab to try to deal with some of that?”

Laura shrugs, “He did. He’s been prioritizing a few of the most critical things, though. Antibiotics. Insulin. Comfort measures are a lower priority.”

Bill cringes a little as he hears that. He has wanted to convince himself - and her - that this place could be home and that she should build her cabin, but the more time he spends down here, the more he’s reminded of how much has been lost. “Who else?” he asks after a moment.

“Just Maya and Soraya at the school. It's not quite the same as a glass of chablis and a hot bath after a long day, but it's better than nothing.”

“How much farther?” a recalcitrant, light-eyed girl asks as the gaggle of adolescents begins to re-form at the trail.

Laura glances up at the sky and down at her hand-drawn map, “not much farther,” she assures them. “We’ll be there with plenty of daylight to set up if we hustle.”

The rest of the trail is mercifully level and when she drops her pack at a clearing by a pond, he wonders if this isn’t secretly the spot Laura’s told him about. “It’s over there,” she says, pointing to a ridge to the northeast, “another three hours or so.”

“And you really didn’t take them just because of the plants?”

She shrugs. “The terrain gets a bit worse heading that way,” she answers him quietly, glancing over toward a small gathering of students, “Jenna’s got a bad ankle - broke it last year, and it didn’t heal quite right. I’m not sure she’d have made it.”

“Cottle didn’t look at it?”

“He looked at it, but he didn’t have the equipment to operate,” she replies. A vague sadness drifts across her face, “They’ve all missed out on so much. I didn’t want to leave her out.”

He expects - again - to have an opportunity to demonstrate his chivalry, or at least his utility, when it’s finally time to make camp. Laura’s tent, however, appears to be a simple civilian one, designed to be light and quick to put up. In fact, she’s set hers up before he’s found his tent stakes.

“You’ll freeze in that,” he teases, trying to distract from the mass of canvas and tangled ropes at his feet. He’s always hated these military tents - so impractical for such a short stay.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she says knowingly, tossing the last of her things inside. “Do you need a hand with that?”

“No, thank you. Why don’t you go help a few of the students?” he suggests, hoping to distract her.

She hums at him and nods before heading back toward the main clearing, where the students are setting up their bivouacs and lean-tos. She returns some time later to find that the Admiral is still staring at an unstructured pile of canvas and rope.

“Having difficulties?” she asks, and he can tell she’s fighting back a giggle.

Reluctantly, he admits, “I grabbed the pack from our quartermaster. Didn’t check for all the parts.”

“So,” she leans in and whispers to him, “You brought a heavy-duty tent canvas and ropes, but no bedroll, no stakes, and no tent poles?”

He glances away, trying to hide his embarrassment, “That appears to be the situation, yes.”

“Well now, that’s not going to do anybody any good, is it, Admiral Adama?”

“I’ll improvise.”

“I’m sure you will,” she says with a hint of a smile, “or we could just be practical about things.”

“Practical?”

“We’re both adults,” she replies, her fingers lightly touching his shoulder, “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Miss Roslin, what would the children think?” he asks in mock indignation.

“I think a well-respected Admiral could explain that gender-neutral living quarters are a widespread feature of modern military life, and that one thing is a practical extension of the other.”

“And when they ask if they can bunk-up coeducationally?” he asks.

“Abso-frakking-lutely not.”

“Bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“They’re too young for the military,” she answers matter-of-factly, with an affected aloofness.

“You know, I’m not sure your tent will be big enough for both of us.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to pitch a different kind of tent to ensure we’re both accommodated,” she retorts with a saucy smile before heading back to the students.

He watches them all in the glow of the campfires that evening. The songs hardly enter his consciousness - what strikes him first (well, second) is how different these students are from the ones he’d known before the fall. He sees it in their gestures and expressions that are somehow both ancient and far too juvenile in turn. They’ve felt losses and lived through horrors that nobody so young should have to face, and it shows. And in other moments, it seems that they’re 8 or 9 again, as if on some level, they’re still the ages they were when the colonies fell. As he watches Laura with them, he knows she sees it, too.

He and Laura sit by the fire a bit longer after the students gradually retire for the night. He watches her as she watches the flames from her perch on a fallen log. In this light, her hair seems to glow; her eyes seem far away. He rises and walks around the fire to join her on the log, sitting close enough to feel the warmth emanating from her skin.

“I’m glad you came, Bill,” she says warmly, leaning up against him, “Thank you.”

He runs a hand up her bac, settling it around her shoulder, “I’m glad you asked.”

“You’re really leaving Galactica?” she asks, and he hears the hope in her voice. It’s been a sticking point between them for so long now, but she’s waited.

“Three months from tomorrow.”

“I’ll show you where I want to build the cabin,” she says, “next time you’re down here.”

“I’d like that,” he says, turning his face to hers.

Her lips are warm, like the embers crackling beside them, and he feels her hand roving up his chest. Then, abruptly, she pulls away.

“We should really head back to the tent.”

---

He wakes with a grunt, roused by the buzz of the comm line in his quarters. “Worst frakking moment,” he mumbles to himself before lifting the receiver.

“The raptor is back, sir.”

“And?”

“No contact with the ground, Admiral. The cylons are still jamming all frequencies,” Hoshi reports. Day in, day out, it’s the same frakking news.

“Keep trying. They’ll get through eventually, or we will.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer answers.

“Anything else to report?”

“No, sir.”

Adama lays down the receiver. He sits for a moment, then slams his fist into the pillow. He shakes his head, rises, and sulks to the head to wash his face and begin the day.

#bsg fanfiction #battlestar galactica #laura roslin #bill adama #new caprica #space parents #build the frakking cabin you idiots

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missmonsters2 · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Lines || X

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Oof I came back and DELIVERED 👏👏 it’s really long I’m sorry. I legit said we’re ending this arc today LOL

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII || PART IX

PART X of XX

Count: 11,007

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's something about the way the golden sky hits the horizon of this quiet countryside field.

It's quiet.

At least in comparison to the city.

You like the tall grass that surrounds the stand-alone home. The air is cleaner, crisper. There's a serene peace that settles in the area, and it makes you nostalgic for things you haven't had.

You can hear children running around inside, and the sink running in the kitchen along with food sizzling. Looking over at Natasha, there's a softness that has fallen over her face, a look you're somewhat familiar with, but in a different context.

This might be home for her, too, you realize.

"A safe house?" Tony tilts his head as everyone stares at the farmhouse.

"Let's hope," Clint mutters as everyone enters into the house. "Honey, I'm home!"

You tilt your head, curious when the woman you assume to be Clint's wife walks into the kitchen. You knew she was carrying based on the conversation you overhead, but you were still surprised to find her heavily pregnant.

She was due soon.

"Hi, company," Clint says in a rush as he gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Sorry, I didn't call ahead."

"Hey," the woman replies as she kisses Clint. You hear Tony make a comment to Thor about the strangeness of this, but you were focused on her stomach.

You tilted your head as you could hear its heartbeat.

"Gentlemen and gentle...women," Clint stares at you and Natasha. "This is Laura. My wife."

"I know all your names," Laura smiles while everyone looks at her rather awkwardly because no one but Natasha, you and, David knew about her.

David seemed the most curious, but he has always loved kids and got along with them easily.

"You're due soon," he tells Laura with a smile as he sneaks around you to stand closer to inspect Laura respectfully.

"You can tell?" Laura looks down at her stomach as David nods.

"Yes," he says. "A couple months at the most."

"How can you tell?" Laura asks as you hear tiny rumbling footsteps running towards this room.

"We can smell it," David informs her.

"Incoming," Clint says, kneeling down as his son and daughter excitedly burst into the room.

"Dad!" His daughter jumps in Clint's arm. Clint picks her up as he stands and kisses his son's head.

"Tinier agents," Tony blinks at the scene while Steve looks completely flabbergasted.

"This is Lila and Cooper," Clint smiles softly.

"Did you bring Auntie Nat?" The little girl says, and Natasha turns as she smiles.

"Why don't you hug her and find out?" Natasha starts to walk while Lila runs into her arms.

Natasha picks her up with ease, holding her close as she kisses Lila on the cheek. She comes back to you and tense ever so slightly before you relax.

Of course, you spent a lot of time with Allison as you took care of her, but sometimes, being around young kids would cause just a quick flashback of the ones you couldn't save.

Natasha smiles at you, and you return it lightly.

"This is Lila," Natasha introduces you to her and then telling Lila your name.

"Is she your friend?" Lila asks as she stares at you, and Natasha laughs.

"Yes, she's...my special friend," Natasha looks at you with a smirk to which you roll your eyes gently in response.

"I like your braids," you tell Lila softly, who smiles shyly at you in thanks.

"Sorry to drop by in like this," Steve says to Laura.

"Yeah, we would've, but we were too busy not knowing you existed," Tony chirped in.

Clint smiles as he stands next to his wife and has his hand on Cooper's shoulder.

"Yeah, Fury helped me set this up and kept it off SHIELD's files. I'd like to keep it that way, I figured this is a good place to lay low."

Laura laughed suddenly, and everyone turned to see David giving family photos to her.

"Okay, as low as we can," Clint corrects.

Natasha sets down Lila as she drags you closer to Laura.

"Ah, honey, I missed you," Laura pulls Natasha into a hug before giving you a kind smile.

Your nose twitches as you get closer, and you can smell Laura's pregnancy in more detail.

"And how's little Natasha?" Natasha coos as she bends down to touch Laura's stomach gently.

"You mean Nathaniel?" David snickers and you elbow him in the rib.

"What?" Natasha says as she stands up, looking at David before she turns back to Laura.

"Sorry," Laura gives her an apologetic look that confirms what David said.

Natasha leans back down to Laura's stomach, "Traitor."

"Thor," Steve calls out.

You turn your attention as Thor leaves the house with Steve following him.

You hear Thor say how he saw something in his dream and how he won't find his answers here before flying off.

Everyone seems to have reached their limit and wants to get some rest. You, Natasha, and David decided to stay in one room since the two of you don't sleep. David said he'd be out working on a lot of other things anyways.

"Mind if I shower first?" He asks you and Natasha.

"Go for it," Natasha nods.

"If you use all the hot water, I'll kill you," you tell him, and David just pretends to look offended that you would even insinuate he would before walking off.

You could hear Clint and Laura talking in the next room where he's updating her on the mission and what he'll do once this mission is done. You try to drown it out as you turn and focus on Natasha before you.

"How are you feeling?" You ask softly as you lift your hand to her face.

Natasha presses more firmly into your hold. A part of her wishes she could feel the warmth of your actual hand, but she doesn't want to push you, and you were clearly nowhere ready to touch her with your bare hands.

It didn't stop her from fantasizing about it, though.

"Better," Natasha rasps, "I've stopped hearing the lingering voices."

You nodded, using your thumb to stroke her cheek.

"How was it?" Natasha asks, breaking the silence, and you know what she's referring to.

Slowing dropping your hand, you went to sit at the seat beside the window.

"It was..." you sighed, "I don't know. Hard."

Natasha takes a seat next to you, combing her fingers through your hair, and your eyes fluttered at the serene feeling.

"Talk to me," Natasha softly says. She knows you've probably been refraining from trying to talk about it with her after that night. You must think she may not like it.

But Natasha doesn't care about such things like that. Tatyana was a big part of your life, and even though you haven't said anything about it yet, Natasha knows Wanda will be too.

In what capacity will depend on what you'll allow, what you think Natasha will allow.

"I suppose...I didn't expect her to look so much like Tatyana," you smile weakly. "Looking at her is like nearly looking at a spitting image. Pietro has similar features, being twins, but it's easier to ignore that he's a descendant."

Natasha nods, understanding as she continues to comb through your hair.

"I'm still working on confirming something," you tell her honestly.

"And if what you suspect is true?" Natasha asks.

You purse your lips.

"Then, we have a new set of problems."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The day continues on, and everyone, for the most part, has freshened up. You leave Natasha to her own devices with showering even though earlier she had given you a look that suggested that they could save water if they showered together.

You had felt a hot liquid pool form in your lower stomach as you licked your lips.

But now was neither nor the time to engage in such activities, though you did give her a languid kiss before excusing yourself.

You could hear Tony and Steve talking--passive-aggressively arguing outside. You were about to go out to break it up when your eyes honed in on something.

"Just great," you huffed under your breath as you headed out to the field where there was a tractor.

"Thank you, Laura," a deep voice spoke as he caught your eye as you came up to them.

Laura greeted you, and you nodded in response as she slipped out to do her task.

"Maria tell you to come out here?" You asked, looking at Nick Fury.

"She thought it would be best for me to assess the situation," he shrugs. "I wanted a little word with Stark, anyways."

You shake your head. "Your words will mean nothing to him, you know."

"Then perhaps I should talk with you," Fury redirects. "I hear you're quite involved with this case."

You remain silent, not taking his bait.

"What do you suggest I do?" Fury says, curious about what you'll say.

Before you could answer, you hear Tony approaching, catching the two of you after looking at the tractor.

"Ah, Mrs. Barton, that little minx. What are the two of you doing here? Did Maria call you?" Tony asks as he turns to look at Fury.

"Artificial intelligence, you didn't even hesitate," Fury cocked his brow at Tony.

You tune out the two of them talking as you focus your attention elsewhere. You could hear Steve a little ways away, still ripping woods apart with his bare hands. Inside the house, you could hear the water being turned off, indicating that Natasha was done with her shower, and you decided you would go in soon to shower yourself before helping where you could.

"--you didn't," you catch the end of what Fury said before the man walked off, leaving you alone with the genius billionaire.

He was frustrated--annoyed, you could tell by just looking at his face. The light grimace and pinch between his eyebrow were a clear indication.

Tony catches you staring at him, looking miffed as he peers at you.

"Well, I suppose you have something to say, too, huh?" Tony mutters.

You take a long minute to stare at him, his conversation with Fury not lost on you.

"Not really," you say in the end. "Nothing I haven't already told you, anyways."

"Right, like my ego being too big, and I'm not the be-all, end-all."

You shrug. "No one is the be-all, end-all. If the world had to only rely on one man, we would've gone extinct before cavemen even had the chance to evolve."

"And I'm the man that's going to cause that," Tony persisted.

"No," you shook your head. "You know as well as I do that it was only your fear being shown to you."

"Do I?" Tony scoffed. "All I know is that I saw all my friends dead, and I caused it because I couldn't save them. Who are you to say it's not the future I saw?"

"Because she can't show you the future!" You burst at him, grimacing at your own outburst. You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "That's not what her power is. In the best-case scenario, she can use telepathy to read your mind to experience your memories and thoughts, and then using that to project hallucinations onto you. In the worst-case scenario, she can use her powers to alter reality to make what she wants to come true. I don't think she's there yet."

"And how do you know all that?" Tony asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You know that I came on this mission for my own personal reasons."

"And what? That Maximoff girl is your personal reason?"

"They both are," you tell him. "Her powers aren't entirely unfamiliar to me. Different, yes, I imagine from the scepter, but not unfamiliar."

"I don't see the difference between her powers and my future." Tony blinks at you.

You grumbled, sighing as you try to explain. "It means, dumbass, that Wanda either doesn't realize that she can alter reality or that she doesn't have enough control of her powers to do so yet. I'm betting it's a mix of the two. I felt it when I fought with her. She's chaotic, and her powers are unrefined. Because of that, she can only snoop into your mind and then send you your worst fear in the form of a hallucination. You weren't shown the future, Tony, you were emotionally exploited."

You wanted Tony to understand, not so sure why you were so concerned with it. Tony, like everyone else, was a complex person with a multitude of different faces and layers. On the surface, he was a nonchalant, cocky dickhead (though, you were also sure some of that was truly him on the inside too), but he was also someone who cared.

A lot.

And people who tend to care a lot always overdid everything to protect everything and everyone they care about.

Tony was already hurting.

And Wanda was making it worse.

It was a painful reminder that Tatyana had hurt people too, and you couldn't stop her.

"How do you know that isn't the future for sure? How can you confirm that's not my legacy?" Tony murmurs quietly, looking at the sky as if the low volume would allow him to admit his fear without you hearing.

You stare at him for a long minute, biting your tongue before you draw a long sigh that gets Tony's attention.

Tony watches you, taking off one glove, pressing your lips together as you do so.

You hold out your hand to him.

"If you tell Natasha I touched you before her, I'll break your dick."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Dinner is a pleasant affair. You had gone back into the kitchen swiftly after finishing your talk with Tony. Laura was starting to make dinner, and you let her know not to worry about you and David as the two of you don't eat.

You had taken a step out with David while everyone was bustling around before dinner. It had been a while since you last fed, and you had a feeling things were going to start happening back to back, and you needed to be prepared for it.

The two of you headed into town to the nearest hospital, compelling a nurse to bring you both a blood bag to feed on and forget.

It wasn't a lot, but it would be enough to get through the mission without damage, hopefully. You didn't want to end up taking too much from the hospital and causing a problem, even though the two of you were too far from your own stash.

It would've been better to go to a blood bank, but this town was so small they didn't have one.

You were sitting closely next to Natasha as she ate her dinner, your arm around her, and you fought the urge to hide your face into her neck.

"You should head to NEXUS in Oslo to pick up JARVIS," David tells Tony.

"Is that where he is?" Tony hums. "Smart guy to head to the fastest internet hub on the earth. I'm such a proud dad," Tony pretends to tear up.

"Great, you got one good kid and one fuck up, classic!" You say over Natasha's head while Tony scrunches his nose at you.

"Why did I come?" Fury muttered rather loudly. Seems like all the information he was bringing was already brought up by David.

"For a good time, boss. But you wouldn't happen to have anything else, would you?" Natasha pulled a piece of her bread apart.

"I have you," Fury shrugged. "We ain't got nothing but our wit and our will to save the world. So stand up and take out that platinum bastard."

"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk," Natasha teases.

"You know what, Romanoff?" Steve jokingly threatens while she smiles mischievously at him.

You had been only half-focusing on the conversation at hand, jumping in here and there to throw in remarks. You were thrumming your fingers at your side quietly.

There was something about that first night you had all encountered Ultron.

"So, what does he want?" Fury asked.

"To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies," Steve licked his bottom lip.

"Person bodies. We're outmoded, biologically speaking, but he keeps coming back to it," Tony leaned back in his chair.

"He wants the human race to evolve; therefore, he needs to evolve himself," Banner mused.

"I don't think evolving the human race is his goal," David muttered.

"How's he going to do that?" Fury asked.

And then it occurred to you.

"Has anyone talked to Dr. Cho?" You pursed your lips.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There was a lot of noise as everyone was getting ready to leave the Barton household.

Thor was still out on his own, so no one held high hopes he would be coming back for this one.

"Alright, I'll head to you guys as soon as I collect JARVIS from NEXUS," Tony, lets everyone know.

"I'll take David and Banner to the Stark Tower," Fury said. " "Mind if I borrow Miss Hill?"

"All yours," Tony nodded. "What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know, something dramatic, I hope," Fury shrugs.

"Alright, everyone else goes with me," Steve attached his shield onto his back.

You nod as you stood next to Natasha.

"You know, I miss the days when I was the weirdest thing science created," Steve mused.

"What do you mean?" You looked at him with a smirk. "You still are."

"I swear to God--"

"Swearing is not good, Steve," Natasha joined in on the teasing.

"I hate you both," Steve shook his head with a good spirit.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There was something that rubbed you the wrong way when you entered the laboratory.

Sparks from exposed wires filled the air, and you could smell blood and hear the shallow breathing of a woman.

You recognized the scent.

"Dr. Cho is in there," you say quietly for Steve to hear, and the two of you race in to see that she was sitting on the floor, resting against a cabinet as she was clutching her stomach tightly. She had blood dripping from her head and lips, but she was still alive.

"Dr. Cho!" Steve called out as he race to her, bending down to see if she was okay.

"He's uploading himself into the body," Dr. Cho heavily breathes. "You can't just destroy the cradle. You need to get it to Stark."

"I got to find it first," Steve tells her.

"Go," she nods in the direction of outside. He purses her lip at her, but she nods to let Steve know she'll be okay.

He starts to head out but then looks at you.

"I'll catch up," you say offhandedly as you bend down to assess the doctor.

She was bleeding profusely through her stomach, where Ultron shot her. Dr. Cho had done her best to stop the bleeding, but it started to soak through the cloth. You looked around to find her technicians dead, and you frowned.

"Maybe I will get your venom after all," Dr. Cho says with a smirk, bringing your attention back to her.

You cocked your brow at her with a smile. "It's quite the risqué position. I don't know if my girlfriend would like that."

"I'm sure she won't mind you helping a frail, dying girl," Dr. Cho jokes but winces in pain shortly after.

You snort at the word frail but lick your lips nonetheless. "Listen, Doc, I don't wanna catch you doing experiments on yourself after getting my venom, alright?"

She nods, and you lift her hand away along with the cloth. You lower herself down her body, feeling the venom pool in your mouth.

You hear her breath hitch, and you're not sure if it's because she's in pain. You remind yourself you need to be careful. While you could drink the blood that was pouring out from Dr. Cho, you opted not to.

Dr. Cho realized this as you were carefully licking her wound, feeling something amazing happening on her skin under your mouth as she was being healed.

"What a loyal girlfriend you are," Dr. Cho mutters.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I'm always picking up after you boys," Natasha grunts as she Steve's shield and gives it to you to hold.

You were on your way to Steve when Natasha dropped from the sky on a motorbike, and you found yourself hopping on the back of it as she passed you.

"Seriously, Steve, I've seen people treat their trash better than how often you drop this thing," you joke.

"Little busy, guys," Steve grunts back, "wouldn't say no to some help."

As you get closer to the truck where Ultron and Steve are, you whip his shield to him, and Steve uses it to knock Ultron's arm off of him. Ultron falls, catching sight of you two and uses his power to lift a piece of the ground up to stop Natasha in her tracks.

"Go!" Natasha tells you, and you get up on the motorbike before using your strength to propel yourself onto the truck as you leap.

Ultron sees you and immediately uses his ability to manipulate gravity to launch himself towards you.

But if Pietro was too quick for him, you were just a step behind. You blur to the side, back kicking him with a brute amount of force as Ultron passed you.

The strength of the kick alone had done a lot of damage. Your foot had impaled him halfway as he passed, bolts, and gears falling out of the hole you created.

"Look at us," you look at Steve, "we're a dream team."

"I always wanted to tag team with you," Steve smiles.

"Of course you do," you say as if it was obvious, "I'm your favorite."

"Ugh!" Ultron screams as he flies into Steve's direction this time, but Steve uses the momentum to take them both into the train that was moving next to them.

You followed as you spoke into the intercom, "We're taking the party elsewhere. The truck's all yours with the surprise inside, baby."

"I love when you leave gifts for me, so romantic," Natasha cooed.

"Please stop, or I will vomit," Clint says.

You snort as you follow through the hole Ultron and Steve created when they crashed into the train. You land with grace, noticing there are passengers on the cart.

Steve hits Ultron with enough force to send him flying, and you move as fast as you can over to a young teen to force her lower onto the ground from her seat to avoid being crushed.

"I guess I've got civilian-watching duty," you say almost glumly.

"I'd be happy to trade," Steve huffs as he stands up straight.

You could hear Natasha and Clint talking through your earpiece, and for a second, you wished you had stayed with your girlfriend when you hear that the truck is airborne, but you knew she could handle it.

"No, you seem like you got it," you shake your head with a smile. Luckily with a psychotic robot and turbulence on the train, it was too hard for anyone to grab their phone and record.

Ultron barrels into Steve, knocking him into the corner before Steve uses his foot to kick back.

"Of course," Steve puffs.

Even though you had said that you still helped out when you could, with the narrow pathway the train provided, the two of you had to be careful of making sure civilians didn't get hurt.

Ultron was extremely diligent in keeping you at a distance from him, realizing you were nearly as fast as Pietro and much, much stronger.

But then you heard it.

The light footsteps atop the train at first, then then your eyes easily adjusted to a blur that went past you, knocking into Ultron.

It was Pietro.

Your eyes easily found their way to Wanda as you turned around. She was looking at you, unsure what to think when your eyes met.

Ultron turned back to start towards Pietro, but two metal railings were bent to prevent him from doing so. Ultron turned back to see Wanda, and it was clear on his robotic face that he was hurt, but he also knew he couldn't best Wanda.

"Please, don't do this," Ultron's tone soft and pleading.

"What choice do we have?" Wanda's thick accent hung in the air, and you bit your tongue.

Ultron stilled for a millisecond before he turned around, shooting a blast out from his hand. Everyone dodged, and the explosion shot straight through to the train's front where the conductor was. Taking the momentary distraction, Ultron bolted out of the train and flew away.

With the conductor out, the train started to sway unsteadily, everyone losing their footing, and no one could go after Ultron.

Steve hopped up, heading to the front to check if the conductor was okay, but she was out cold. "We've lost him! He's headed your way."

The train flew off its railing, and everyone hung on the best they could as it kept going even on concrete and dirt.

"Nat!" Clint shouted through the intercom. "Cap, do you see Nat?" His voice was panicked and strained.

You looked out the window of the train in the sky. You could see Quinjet, but Natasha was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell do you mean, Clint?!" You shouted.

"I got the cradle, but Ultron grabbed her the last second we got it. Do you have eyes on her?!" Clint asked, his head moving jerkily as he looked around out the windows.

"If you have the package, get it to Stark!" Steve instructed. "Go!"

You heard Clint frustratedly curse an expletive before he flew the Quinjet away in the other direction.

Warning bells were already going off in your head as you were about to take off the train and see if you could locate Natasha, but Steve's voice stopped you.

"I need you to help stop the train, or these people might die," Steve's jaw was tight, and you knew that he didn't want this either. If he could stop the train on his own or trusted the two twins enough, he would want you out there looking for Natasha too.

You looked around, seeing the humans' petrified faces, all sorts of people on this train, no doubt children too.

You clenched your jaw, swallowing painfully, but you resolved to trust that Natasha was okay and could take care of herself. She had been long before you, you reminded yourself.

"Alright," you breathe out in a huff.

"Civilians are in the path," Steve told Pietro, who rushed off.

"I need you to help me stop this train," you turn to Wanda.

She stares at you but nods once firmly.

You make your way to the front of the train, hopping over the conductor and a few feet away from the train, turning as it approaches you.

Steeling yourself by digging your feet into the ground as you get into a stance with your hands out, the train collides into you. Instead of crushing you like it would an average human, your body hardens to take the shock, and the train pushes you back, gravel and dirt flying everywhere.

It slows down slightly, but it won't come to a complete stop before the train would barrel right into a building. You can see Pietro working around you, and Wanda uses her power to stop the wheels from turning.

The train comes to a full stop smoothly with all three of you, and no one was harmed. People began to exit the train, and Steve came out to check on you while Wanda checked on Pietro.

"I'm fine, just need a second," you breathe, hearing Pietro say something similar to Wanda.

"Did you get the cradle?" Wanda asks, her eyes floating to you. Your eyes caught hers for a moment, but you turned quickly to your intercoms.

You had tried to contact Natasha, but it was obviously a bust as she didn't answer back. Your next contact was with David to tell him to start searching.

"Stark will handle it," Steve tells Wanda.

"No, he won't," Wanda looked distraught.

"You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know him," Steve defended Tony while Wanda looked more upset as the seconds passed.

"He will do anything to make it right," Wanda says, knowing what she saw in his head. "Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and killing it...where do you think he gets that from?"

Steve pursed his lips because as much as he didn't want to admit it, the girl had a point, and Steve was still miffed about how Tony had kept all this artificial intelligence stuff a secret.

"Stark, anyone, come in?" Steve said into his comms, but it was silent.

You turn around, jaw clenched as you were upset about Natasha taken.

"It'll be fine," you tell the three of them, the confidence in your voice that made everyone quiet. "We need to head back."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You were pissed.

And everyone could tell.

Natasha was taken, and no one knew where Ultron may have taken her. You understood at the time that Steve needed you there to help him, but it didn't help that Natasha was gone.

You were mostly pissed at yourself.

"Well, she's not dead," Tony says as if in an attempt to make you feel better. "If she were, Ultron would be rubbing it in our faces."

You didn't say anything in response, jaw still clenched tightly.

Wanda watched from the other side of the room, looking at you peculiarly with her head slightly tilted and arms crossed together just under her chest. She had gathered that you and Natasha were together, and from the information she got from reading other people's minds, it seemed that it was still relatively a new development.

There was something in Wanda's chest that flared annoyingly at the sight of you so...so worried over the redhead. She didn't quite understand it herself or what was the underlying cause of it. But you looked different with that expression on your face.

"You think Natasha might've left something for you outside the internet? Any old-school spy stuff?" Tony asked as he turned to Clint.

"I can cast some nets to see if I catch anything," Clint pressed his lips together, also eager to find his friend.

Your eyes were glowing red angrily as you tried to control your emotions. David came up to you, putting his hand on your shoulder to try to ground you.

"I'll find her," David promises you.

You were gripping a countertop as you were slightly hunched over it.

You needed air.

Suddenly, the edge of the countertop snapped under your grip, crumbling into smaller pieces, and you let it go as you stood straight.

"Find her within the hour," you tell David, walking briskly out of the room.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When you came back, everything was in chaos.

Everyone was arguing about the body in the cradle and what to do with it. You could see from the corner of your eye that Bruce was angry with Wanda and picking a fight with her.

It was escalating so fast. All of a sudden, Pietro took off as he started destroying lab equipment.

"No, go on," Pietro stood next to Bruce, but the next second afterward, the glass floor shattered underneath him, and he fell through where Clint was.

"Pietro!" Wanda went to help her brother, but then Bruce grabbed her from behind.

Tony and Steve were fighting each other, and you blinked before clenching your jaw.

You blurred over, and just before Steve and Tony were about to collide again, you intercepted, grabbing both their wrists and twisting.

"Ah!" They both yelled as they staggered, almost kneeling on the ground.

The room stilled as everyone look at you.

"We do not fight each other," you snarled at them, looking at Steve and Tony pointedly. "Keep this up, and I'll snap both your wrists."

You grip just slightly tighter in warning before letting them both go, and they stumble a little as they stand up straighter.

"Jesus Christ, I could feel the armor just about to give," Tony says, holding his hand up to inspect his suit while Steve rubs his wrist gingerly.

You then blur over to where Bruce and Wanda to separate them, shoving Bruce a little harder when he refused to let go of Wanda.

Wanda stumbles into your arms when Bruce is forced to let her go. You steady her with your hand on her back. Your scent fills Wanda's nose, and she's almost reeling at how it invades her.

"I get that you're beyond pissed, and what she did was not okay," you tell Bruce, eyes flickering to meet Wanda's for a second before looking back at him. "But clearly the situation has changed, and for now, she's with us. Steve brought them here. This isn't the time. Focus on the mission at hand, figure it out with her after."

"You want me to forgive what she did?" Bruce said incredulously.

"No," you shake your head, "I want you to be an Avenger and put it aside for now because your teammate has been captured, and there's still a maniac robot out there hellbent on making humans extinct."

Your words hit Bruce and seem to sober him from his anger, and he relaxes his clenched jaw as he sighs and nods. You pat him on the shoulder twice before you walk away, leading Wanda with you.

Best to not tempt it again if they're too close together.

Wanda looks at you as you walk with her. The words, 'are you upset with me?' want to leave her mouth, but she forces them in. Of course, you'd be upset with her. She had done so many things to the Avengers, including harming your girlfriend with hallucinations.

Wanda looks away and grits her teeth because she shouldn't care if you're upset with her or not.

But then she feels a light pat on her back.

Wanda looks at you. You aren't looking back at her, there's no indication that you had done that as you keep your head straight ahead.

Still.

Wanda had understood the gesture regardless, hearing your voice in her head.

'It's not okay, but I understand. You will get a chance to make it up to Bruce, and he will forgive you. Give it time.'

Before Wanda could say anything, Tony and Steve were at it again, but this time using their words.

"Tony," Steve's face daunt and tight in disapproval, "shut it down!" Steve demanded.

"And I'm telling you, this is will work!" Tony shot back as he caught you coming up to them.

"Tell them!" Tony looks at you, drawing Steve's attention to you as well. "Tell them what you--"

You shoot Tony a warning look, getting him to shut up.

Sighing, you looked at Steve. "Trust me when I say that it will be okay."

"You want him to bring another android to life?" Steve said in disbelief. "We haven't even defeated the first one yet!"

Before you could argue some more, Thor flew in, bringing his lightning hammer on the cradle, bringing the body to life.

"Wait!" Bruce yelled, but it was too late.

For a moment, it was silent, but suddenly, the body smashed out of its cradle.

Glass flew everywhere in its surrounding area. You immediately grabbed Wanda, pulling her to shield her from the flying glass as you used your hand to protect her head.

You felt a piece of glass slice through your cheek on the surface, momentarily stinging before it mended itself.

When everyone stood straighter as the glass settled, there was a giant red android standing in his naked glory, and a giant yellow stone plastered into his forehead.

You had known this was coming when you touched Tony's hand. You had seen quite far ahead; everything from this, to the fight with Ultron in Tony's perspective, and even a little after that.

When the government and the United Nations wanted to be involved in the Avengers' affairs.

That would be a tricky one to navigate, and you wanted more time to think about it.

When you had relayed what you had seen back to him on the farm, you reassured him that he doesn't kill anyone in the next while, but you didn't exactly tell him what he will do in the future in detail as it could cause counterproductive results and change the future again.

All you could tell Tony was that he was on the right path, he was going to create something to help win the battle, and a heat seal would come in handy.

But back to the matter at hand, you knew this was coming, and yet, actually seeing the giant red walking toaster rubbed you the wrong way, and you weren't quite sure why.

He was floating and quickly flew towards Thor, who easily deterred the android away.

Thor raised his hands as Steve and Clint were ready to fight. Pietro came back, looking at you with a quirk of his brow when he saw you still holding Wanda.

You let go awkwardly because you were distracted, forgetting that you were still protecting her.

Why Pietro was staring at you like that, you didn't know. It's not like Wanda stepped out of your arms, either.

"I'm sorry," the android came back, sounding very similar to JARVIS. "That was odd...thank you," he looked at Thor.

"Thor, you helped create this?" Steve said as he eyed the being before him.

"I had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its center is that," Thor says, pointing to the stone in the android's head.

"What? The gem?" Bruce clarified.

"It's the Mind Stone. It's one of the six Infinity Stones, the greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities," Thor explained.

"Then why would you bring it to life..." Steve pursed his lips, even more suspicious of the new being.

"Because Stark is right," Thor says, almost looking pained to admit.

"That's just gonna unnecessarily inflate his ego," you mutter while Tony was accessing what he helped bring to life.

"We can't defeat Ultron," Thor says, but then catches David entering the room. "Okay, well, maybe he can, but he seems like he has a lot to do."

"Help is good," the android tilted his head.

"Why does your 'vision' sound a lot like JARVIS," Steve's brows furrowed.

"We...configured JARVIS' matrix to create something new," Tony explained.

"I think I've had enough of the new," Steve pursed his lips, never taking his eyes off the android.

The android looked over to Steve. "You think I'm a child of Ultron?"

"You're not?" Steve countered back.

The android shook his head. "I'm not Ultron. I'm not Jarvis...I am...I am." Since he had yet to name himself, and due to Thor's vision, everyone decided that's what his name would be.

Wanda looked at Vision suspiciously. Her eyes narrowing at him. "I looked in your head and saw annihilation."

"Look again," he prompted her, staring at her intensely, and you resisted the urge to curl your lip back.

Wanda does what he says, a curious look on her face.

"Yeah, her seal of approval means jack-shit to me," Clint says.

You watched as everyone goes back and forth, with Vision ending with a long, windy, talk about himself and that they need to go. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Sokovia. Natasha's there too," David answered, giving you a look when everyone questions where they were going.

"Then let's go," you lick your lips.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The ride back to Sokovia feels long, even with Tony flying the Quinjet as fast as possible.

You stand in the back, looking out the window as the clouds pass by. You hear someone come up to you, but you don't move.

The smell of cinnamon and orange blossom floats you're way, so you don't have to know who it was.

The two of you stand in silence, appreciating the view outside.

"Sometimes...sometimes I can see a glimpse into your head," Wanda says quietly, so the others don't hear.

Your eyes peer over to her before slowly looking back out.

"It's not polite to snoop," you say equally as quiet.

"I can't exactly control it..." Wanda mumbles.

"Even so, you should at least pretend you don't know," you moisten your lips.

It's quiet for a moment before Wanda speaks up again.

"I...saw someone. Things I can't explain," Wanda says unsurely, and you know what she's talking about.

Even though you know she can't help it, you can't help but also feel a little miffed.

You knew that Wanda had a right to know, and yet, you didn't say anything.

"You were looking for me..." Wanda realizes.

"And Pietro," you add, giving her a look, almost laughing when she scrunches her nose.

"We're...connected," Wanda slowly says, turning to face you more.

You swallow as you turn to face her as well.

Wanda's staring at you intensely as if drawing in every little detail about your face and committing it to memory. There's a tight feeling in both her stomach and chest, and she doesn't understand.

She doesn't understand you.

You nod softly.

"Will you tell me about it?" Wanda asks.

"After everything has settled," you tell her.

Wanda swallows.

"You want me to stay?"

She says it so softly, you're surprised such a tone can come out of her when lately she's been an angry bull.

With the time you have, you take in her features. Her long dark hair behind her ears, round face, with define cheeks and jawline was familiar. Her long lashes framed her eyes, and her dark eyeliner and the lighting inside the craft dimmed the color of her eyes.

Still.

She looked at you with an intensity that made you dizzy.

"Yeah," you rasp. "How else will you make it up to Banner?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha hears you calling her name as you run-up to her cell. She stands up, meeting you on the other side, her hand touches yours.

"You okay?" You ask her, accessing her thoroughly for any kind of injuries.

"Yeah," she tells you, smiling a little at your protective behavior, and once you're satisfied that she's relatively unharmed, you look back to her face.

"We gotta get going, team's already out there, and we're missing all the action," you say, liking the way Natasha smirks.

"Don't suppose you found a key just lying around on your way in, did you?"

You tilt your head, looking at the built-in lock on the cell door. Placing your hand over it, you yanked with a substantial amount of strength, forcing the metal underneath to give way.

You threw the hunk of metal behind your back and looked at your girlfriend. She smiled at you as she slides the door open, jumping into you to hug you briefly.

"Let's go," she says as she pulls back.

The two of you navigate your way through, but the ground begins to shake as you're almost out of there. The two of you stumble slightly before steadying yourselves.

"What's the situation?" You ask into the comms.

"Ultron's got Vibranium under the city. We're up in the air," Tony advises.

"Shit, we need to get out here," you say, turning to Natasha. "We're not going to make it on foot, so I'm going to carry you on my back."

Natasha nods, and you turn around, lower yourself so she can get on. Once she's secured on with her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, you adjust here once more before you're satisfied.

"Keep your head down and close to me," you tell her, feeling her following your instructions. The speed you'd be going at could accidentally break her neck if you weren't careful.

With that, you race out, quickly reaching the outside. Everything seems to be crumbling at you begin to maneuver onto the rocks, leaping onto another one as they fall. Eventually, you reach the cliffside wall, using your hands along with your feet to climb up.

When you reach safe ground, Natasha gets off.

"Didn't even break a sweat, huh?" She says to you.

"I have great stamina," you joke, but Natasha raises her brow at her, quirking her lip on one side into a seductive smirk.

"I'll be sure to test that out one day."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You feel awful.

Sokovia is falling apart, people are screaming and crying, and it's a war zone out here.

You separated from Natasha, warning her to not get kidnapped again because you don't think you could live with that kind of worry. She merely kisses your cheek before she races off to go help Steve and Thor.

You met up with David, who was huddled up with one of Ultron's robots, and a laptop next to him. The robot was powered down by David, who had his hands on its chest intensely.

"What are you doing?" You ask, looking at his laptop screen to see he was uploading something.

David didn't break his concentration or even open his eyes, but he answered you. "I'm trying to reprogram this bot's mainframe. The Vision is deleting Ultron off the net, so if I can do this, then I can turn this bot over to help us, and then spread it over to all Ultron's other bots."

"That would definitely turn the tide on this," you say, crushing a flying robot towards David.

"I...I got it!" David exclaimed, powering up the robot in hand. It stood up, accessing you, and you stood on guard, but it started to attack its own kind as a threat in the next moment.

"I just need to finish uploading the software to be spread," David picked up his laptop. "I'm going to take cover to finish this, and then find The Vision. I'm good here, you should go."

You nod at him before you take off at high speed. On your way, you bumped into Clint and Wanda. They were being overpowered as they tried to help civilians out of the area.

A group of bots begin to close in. It seems David is still in the process of uploading the software, so the attacks haven't ceased. You notice a bot hellbent on self-destruction as it plummets towards the ground.

Clint is already moving towards Wanda, shouting at her to move. You rush towards the two of them, jumping and pushing them through a building window just as an explosion hits. There are shots still being fired even as the three of you take cover.

Clint's already sitting up, alert as he tries to look at the situation outside without getting shot. Wanda crawls towards the wall, gasping and whimpering.

"How could I let this happen?" She's so distraught.

"Hey, hey, are you alright?" Clint asks, but you put your hand on his shoulder.

Clint looks at you. The situation outside still needs to be handled, and he seems like he doesn't have the time to try to give her a pep talk. You nod at him, and he nods back. Getting up, Clint readies his arrows before he kicks open the door.

"This is all our fault," Wanda cries quietly.

You grab her face, getting her to look up at you. "Look at me," you tell her. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is. It's your fault, my fault, it's everyone's fault. Regardless, this is happening."

She looks at you, breathing harshly as she blinks rapidly.

"I know you're hurting, but this is your homeland, and it's up in the air. Literally. Hopefully, if David manages, we won't be fighting an entire army of robots, but we still got one bad guy to fight," you swallow before hearing something approach as you push and move Wanda out of the way just as a shot fires through the wall.

Wanda looks even more frightened, and she's hanging on the front of your jacket as you readjust to move away from the wall.

"We can't change what we've done, we can only try to fix it going forward. I don't care about anything you did or who you were before this."

"I can't fix this," she bellows to you.

"Yes, you can," you backfire immediately at her. "If you scared and want to let everyone else clean up your mess, I'm fine with letting you do that. You'll be safe here, and Pietro can come to get you. But you can't sit here and tell me that you're okay with letting your fear control you. You can do this, I know you can."

Wanda stares at you, eyes shaking as bites her tongue, letting the silence fall.

"Why do you believe in me so much? Care about me so much?" Wanda asks quietly, feeling something stir in her stomach.

You look back at her, noticing that Wanda seems calmer. Maybe because you feel like you're looking at someone so similar to Tatyana in many ways. That Wanda feels like she's the villain who had caused this.

Perhaps thought she had wanted to be a villain at the start.

But it wretches your gut painfully.

"If anyone could become a hero, it'd be you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"David, please tell me you're almost finished," you say into the comms as you, Wanda, and Clint fight the rest of the robots in your area.

The three of you need to work your way to Steve and the rest of the gang when Pietro flew in to take Wanda.

"Keep up, old man!" He teasingly says as he darts off.

"I hate him so much," Clint breathes deeply.

"If you want, I can carry you," you shrug.

"I both want to and hate the idea," Clint scrunches his nose but allows you to carry him.

"I'm really close guys, just hang tight!" David tells everyone.

"The next wave is going to hit any minute," Steve says. "What do you have, Stark?"

"Working on a heat seal," he tells everyone.

"We don't have the time," Thor says, "Ultron is trying to get to the core. We need to make a choice."

"That's not a solution," Steve firmly says.

"There's no math here, Steve. Everyone up here versus everyone down there?"

"I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it," Steve doesn't budge.

"I'm not saying we should go," Natasha counters back, nodding her head back and forth as she considers something. "There are worse ways to go. Besides, where else am I going to get a view like this?"

"I have at least fifteen other places that have better views than this."

Natasha looks over to see you had shown up with a disapproving look on your face.

"I think we might have to settle," Natasha gives you a self-deprecating smile that shows all too much that this is the only way.

"I don't settle."

With that, another voice comes on the radio.

"Glad you think the view is nice, hopefully, you think this is much better," Fury comes in with a Helicarrier in view. "Nice, right? I pulled her out of the mothballs with a couple old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do."

"Fury, you son of a bitch!" Steve says with a smile.

"Ooh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Fury replies in teasing.

Natasha looks over to you, smiling as you come up to her.

"Did you know?" She asks, and you shrug, not wanting to tell her that you touched Tony.

"If Fury decided to show up at the farm with actually nothing else planned, I think we would have to vote him off the island," you offer instead.

"That's comforting," Fury sarcastically said.

"Anytime," you reply.

Within seconds, lifeboats are deployed, and everyone is helping with the evacuation.

"The odds aren't looking too great here," Thor interrupts. "The core is getting bombarded."

"Rhodey, get everyone on the Helicarrier!" Tony says as he flies towards Thor to help.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"This is exactly what I wanted. All of you against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?"

"Like the old man said," Tony looks at Steve. "Together."

The bots begin to rush towards everyone, and you swallow.

"Wait, guys!" You hear David through the comms. "I...got it!"

Just like that, the bots stop dead in their tracks and power down before powering back up again.

This time, they turn their attention towards Ultron.

"Are you kidding me?" Ultron grumbles as the bots rush towards him, firing shots away that Ultron easily deflects.

Because The Vision burned him off the net, Ultron has no way of accessing the software David created to try to change the bots back to his side.

The Hulk rushes towards Ultron, punching him square in the chest and sending him flying miles away.

Everyone turns to look at each other as David blurs into the area with his laptop.

"I feel like we missed a very epic battle scene," Tony says, "like a defining moment in a movie."

"Oh, I'm sorry," David says sarcastically, "if you want, I can totally fix that for you."

"Nope, we're good," Steve says quickly. "We still need to get the stragglers, but if Ultron comes back to the core, we're doomed."

"I'll protect it," Wanda interjects, looking at you as she does. "There's no one better than me."

You nod as Clint looks at Nat.

"Nat, let's go," he nods outside. She looks at you, and you nod at her as it would be faster for you to find civilians on your own.

You look at David. "Alright, nerd, you're going with me. I think you had enough alone time for today."

"You are so ungrateful, oh my god."

"I love you," you smile.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Tony is using the extra bots to help push the rock further into the sky. If they can get it into space, using the heat seal would cause the least amount of damage to Sokovia.

"I can't believe I'm going into space again," Tony mumbled, glad he had made the adjustments to his suit so it would be suitable to go into space better this time.

He had been prepared since the alien invasion.

"Maybe you chose the wrong career path and should've become an astronaut instead," you joke, getting a low chuckle in return.

You had run the perimeter with David, seeing that there were no civilians left.

Natasha volunteered to try to convince The Hulk to either change back or get his ass on the Helicarrier. You would've volunteered, but you don't think The Hulk would be happy to see you, and you can't keep biting the man to force him to change back either.

"I think I can hear a woman screaming," David mumbled. "I'll go check."

He takes off, and you are about to head back when you hear shots fired in the distance. You turn and speed over.

You felt your stomach dropping when you approach the scene. Everything seems to happen in slow motion.

Ultron in his jet, shooting down at Clint, who has a little boy in his arms. You turn your head to see Pietro.

He looks at you, giving you a smirk that feels all too familiar like it's his last one.

Pietro is a step faster than you, he probably always will be. But that doesn't stop you. You force yourself to run. Run faster. Run harder. The sheer amount of force causes a sickening crack in your legs, but you make it just in time.

Pietro only gets shot once through his stomach before you push him out of the way and cover Clint and the child.

The shooting stops as Ultron flies away.

The silence settles, and Clint looks up to see you standing straight before him. You've been shot all over, multiple times in multiple areas.

You suddenly puke up blood as you fall to your knees.

Pietro immediately gets up from the ground rushing over to you, catching you in his arms.

"Why did you do that?!" He yells at you, hands over your body, but he doesn't know which areas to stop the bleeding.

"You idiot," you tell him. "Can you heal from being shot? I don't think so."

Though you say that, the only thing that healed, even though rather slowly, was the crack in your leg.

"You're not healing," Clint says, his tone urgent. He looks at you as blood pours out. "Why aren't you healing?"

"She doesn't have enough blood in her system."

Clint turns over to see David, looking horrified. He kneels down, taking you from Pietro's arms.

"I told you, you fucking idiot, that we should've just taken more blood bags from the hospital," David scolds you.

"This is hardly the time for, 'I told you so,'" You reply weakly.

"Get the kid onto the boat," David looks at Clint and then looks at Pietro. "You need to go collect your sister. There are no more civilians, and we're reaching the stratosphere soon."

"What about--"

"I got this," David says as he bites into your neck. You hiss at the sudden pain. Clint and Pietro have more questions, but they do as David says and take off.

"You better pray to God that we make it back in time," David purses his lips as he pushes your sleeve up to bite in various places.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The damage to Sokovia is still devastating. It's not entirely obliterated, and people will be able to rebuild their country.

The Hulk, unfortunately, had taken off on his own in stealth mode. He didn't want to be found.

It seems The Vision has taken care of completely destroying Ultron, taking this chapter to an end.

It's not the perfect ending, but it could be a lot worse.

There was only one problem left.

You were dying.

Or at least, on your way to either going completely feral for blood to help you heal or going to a deep slumber until you were fed.

Either one was on the table at this point.

"What do we do?" Natasha asks David sharply as they're still in the air being transported back.

They were on the Helicarrier in their own private section away from the people as they didn't know what you were going to do.

"I only temporarily closed her wounds to stop the bleeding," David tells everyone, explaining why he bit you earlier. He was injecting his healing venom. "Venom doesn't quite work the same way on vampires as it does on humans. She still has a lot of internal bleeding that won't stop, and the only thing that can stop it is if she drinks blood."

"We don't have any blood bags on here!" Steve says as he looks at you, full of worry.

"We could...we could cut and drain our own blood," Natasha looks at you before looking back at David. "She can drink the blood as long as she's not biting us, right?"

David purses his lips as if to consider it but then shakes his head. "She's too badly wounded, it won't be enough. Plus, none of you are in the state to lose any more blood, even if you guys all donate. I can heal your wounds, but I can't make your body produce more blood."

"Then what do we do?" Natasha wants to scream. She can't lose you. She just can't.

At that moment, Pietro and Wanda come in. Pietro can hardly stand up himself, so Wanda is supporting him. They had heard part of the conversation as they came in.

Pietro looks at you, face full of anguish because you're only like this because you saved him.

You're tense on the table, occasionally arching your back up in pain and need. David is holding you down by your arm in case you suddenly get a burst of energy and massacre everyone in this room for blood.

Wanda looks at you, jaw clenched.

The feeling of loss is threatening her on her doorstep. You had saved Pietro, God knows if she could survive to lose her only family.

But Wanda was not ready to let you go either.

It has occurred to Wanda that outside of Pietro, the only person in this world that may understand her, believe in her, protect her, care for her...would be you.

There was something there, something undefined and frightening. Wanda was sure you felt it too with her, though ignoring it for Natasha.

David looked at Wanda. He knew that he shouldn't.

Yet before he could even stop himself, Wanda looks sharply over at him, catching his thoughts.

You would be entirely beyond pissed at him.

It would cause a whole new set of problems for everyone.

He was sure you would rather die.

But David wasn't willing to risk the chance of you going feral, which was almost guaranteed at this point, or your death.

He just wasn't.

"She can drink my blood," Wanda says, drawing everyone's attention. Wanda was the only person who hadn't sustained any significant damage or got shot. She could afford to lose blood.

"What?" Steve looks at David, who has his lips pursed.

"It would work, wouldn't it?" Wanda also looks at you, your eyes glowing a red she's all too familiar in seeing in herself. "It would be even better than drinking from a blood bag to feed directly from me."

Wanda doesn't fully understand what you are, or the concept of vampires, but she catches pieces here and there from everyone around the room.

And there's a feeling of intrigue and possession that flutters knowing that she was the only one you could drink blood from, aside from her brother.

Pietro grips his sister's arms tighter, torn because if you could drink her blood, you could drink his, but he was also in no shape to lose any more blood.

Wanda pats his arms to assure him she'll be fine. Pietro leans against the wall as Wanda comes closer to you.

"It...would, but..." David's eyes shift over to Natasha.

Natasha clenches her jaw.

The words about how feeding can be an incredibly intimate and private act come back to her.

It's not that Natasha is particularly jealous of Wanda in that way. She's more jealous that she can't do anything to help you herself.

Natasha can't muster the words out of her mouth, so she tersely nods.

With that, Wanda stands right next to your lying body on the bed.

"Everyone, stand back," David says, trying to keep you still, but it's like you can smell how close to feeding you are.

The burst of energy does come, but you use to break out of David's grip as you fling him across the room.

"Shit!" David yells, convinced that you're going to kill Wanda to drain her blood. He stands up, reading to try to fight you even though it would be a losing battle.

But he stops.

You merely stand before Wanda, her face in your hands as you tilt her head up to expose her neck.

You press your nose against her neck, taking a long inhale as you purr at the scent.

Wanda can hear alarm bells in her head that tell her you're a predator, and she's your prey, but she doesn't tremble. Instead, she brings her hands up to hold your wrists as if to keep them in place.

You chuckle throatily, attitude nothing like your usual self, "How brave."

Wanda swallows slowly, the action very visible as the muscles in her neck move.

"It was you who taught me that I could be a hero," she says quietly as if it's only for your ears.

The words seem to trigger something in you as you sink your teeth into her neck, a mouthful of blood rushing into you.

It's been too long, you almost forgot what it was like.

It was hot in your mouth, as fresh as it was.

You could feel a warm body being pressed you, hear a heart beating, and smell the arousal.

A deep moan left Wanda's mouth, unable to control it. A hot, liquid fire shot down to her lower stomach, pooling in her gut.

Wanda couldn't describe how it felt, what she was experiencing, but you were doing something to her as you drank from her, holding her close to you.

You suddenly lift her into the air, wrapping her legs around your waist as you blurred over to the drawer cabinet against the wall, pushing Wanda up on it roughly. Your hands held her possessively.

Wanda was pressed to the wall as she sat on the cabinet, her legs still wrapped against you tightly as she fisted her hand into the back of your hair.

Everyone watched in astonishment of the act, David biting on his tongue as he looked at Natasha, who had no expression on her face to indicate what she was feeling.

Blood was rushing into your mouth, and it was delicious, making you delirious, but that didn't stop you from realizing there was a crowd in the room watching you feed, watching Wanda unravel.

You released your mouth from her neck.

"Leave," you demanded lowly and roughly, hardly coherent before you resume sinking your teeth back into Wanda.

Natasha stared at you, you seemed lost in your own world as you fed, and Natasha knows that you are only like this due to how injured you are.

Still.

As everyone leaves the room, Natasha looks at the two of you once more. Wanda's hand is buried in your hair while she's arching into you.

As she exits the room, Natasha catches Wanda's eyes, staring at her intensely with an unknown meaning in them before her eyes flutter close just as the door shuts.

PART XI

#mm: my fics #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #Natasha romanoff x you #wanda maxmimoff x you #avengers reader insert #marvel reader insert #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #series: Between the Lines

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