#they might be a little salty about the whole assassination thing

[lordfabian]

hello lord fabian i love you

Hello, anonymous person with good taste. I am glad you are of sounder judgment than most of England.

[makethatelevenrings]

Coexist // D. Grayson x assassin!reader

A/N: I'm alive. This is...a Lot. Maybe taking a break from writing was a mistake lol

Requested? yes but also no. I took an idea and decided to try and rival Usain Bolt with this sprint

Warnings (PLS READ FOR THIS ONE): a lotttt of introspective thoughts, existential crisis, grief, allusion to child loss, reader's past as an assassin, confusing language as a representation of the confusing and frustrating world we live in

the gif is really just bc i need something to break up the wall of text and his face is pretty

Assassin!Verse masterlist

You barely recall being awoken. On the precipice of sleep and wakefulness, you allowed yourself to reside in that quiet place. For so long you lived alert to the latent dangers of the world, but there was no prickle of anxiety on your skin this time. Not when Dick sat so closely next to you.

His hands rested, one on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. He had woken you when the sky was still dark, but the phantom calls of birds rang out amongst the stars as they searched for the coming sun. His touch was gentle, as it always was with you, and his words spoken gentler so he didn’t wake Damian who had declared himself your guardian.

The faux leather upholstery was cool against your cheek and you savored the way it soothed your burning cheeks. You don’t know when the salty tang of tears began to drip down your cheeks. Had you been crying for the whole drive? Or had the tears always been a part of you, but only now they were exposing themselves as your mask slowly chipped away?

He pulled the car into a small lot that was composed of a few concrete blocks that functioned as parking barriers and grass trampled by hundreds of feet. Dick wordlessly exited the car and took a moment to inhale before he rounded to your side and opened the door. You felt clumsy and shy, like a newborn foal trying to walk for the first time. What happened to the grace that was instilled in you? It wasn’t lost, you knew that, but today was not about who they had made you to be.

He pressed the stems of the bouquet into your hands and the presence of soft, bumpy earth bit into your skin with a mental sharpness that rivaled thorns. The sharp exhale and inhale of your breath mixed in a tentative dance with the cool air that nipped at your skin. It was bitterly cold. It was practically frozen.

It was a perfect reminder of your mortality. You loved it.

Dick walked in tandem with you. Up the lane, past the wrought iron gates that creaked in greeting, and past the weathered stones and marble blocks that showed so little of so lived a life. He faltered in his steps once you caught sight of the small stone and his hand fell from its careful place in the crook of your elbow. You surged forward and let your heart carry you with all its heaviness.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to fall to your knees and present the bundle of red and white spider lilies, but it happened and there you were. You were here and there. You were the lines of etchings engraved into stone and you were the finger touching the worn surface. Other flowers crowded you as you sank into the unfathomable realization.

Most people (you cannot bring yourself to say all because you are proof that it is not all, and you know others who struggle with this realization) only live one life. There is no guidebook that explains step by step how to proceed in this big, scary world around you. Every person from the barista at the corner coffee shop to your own mother are all experiencing the world for the first time. They are experiencing the profound joy of the simple things and the devastating loss of the greatest loves of their lives.

You are one of these people. You are not one of these people.

Before you sat an epithet to the person you were. There is no space in your mind to consider the life you might have lived if the things that happened to you hadn’t happened at all. But would that have been you? You have had these discussions with Alfred many times late at night, raving at a God who, if he exists, destined you to a life with stains of blood on your hands placed there by people who should have protected you.

The sun crests the hill and bathes the world in an unfelt warmth and it ignites the anger in your veins. How dare these people weep for a child they barely knew? You hate yourself for thinking it. How dare you grow angry at the love of a parent?

They knew you. They don’t know you.

You are two people; a ghost and a mirage kneel side by side on the frozen ground that covers an empty casket. Your name marks the stone, but it is not the name you call yourself. It does not ignite the warmth of familiarity that it does when it comes from the tongue of your found family.

You don’t know how long you stay there, grieving the loss of who you once were and coming to terms with the choice laid before you. The sun has decided to cling to you and despite the chill, you can feel the way it bites at your skin.

It is simple, the answer to your choice.

You were once a child. You are now an adult. These two things can coexist.

But you were once this child. You are now this adult.

The fabric of the small toy seated at the grave is rotten with weather and age. The plastic eyes are scratched, but they gaze up at you with a sincerity you know only in one other person’s eyes.

Dick had been here before you. He laid this small robin at the foot of your grave and you nearly weep at the sight.

Instead, you slowly pull yourself to your feet, draw yourself up high, and let who you once were lay protected and loved.

His hand enclosed around yours and you let yourself fall into the warmth of his embrace. The two of you turn your back to the past and, together, step into your choice.

To live, to love, to feel.

To exist as your own.

You were you. And now you are your own.

These two things can coexist.

Tag List:

@someoneimsure@perpetual-fangirl900@visagebrise@cursedandromedablack@alexxavicry@the-wayward-daughter@raging-trash-of-mind@khaylin27

[mishkakagehishka]

i totally get the AC thing like i was soooo skeptical abt origins bc it felt so wonky?? like i love odyssey but it doesn't really feel like assassin's creed, yanno? it feels like it's own entire like... game. like sure there's abstergo and the assassin-templar shit going on but like. it doesn't really have that AC vibe.

ngl i feel like 1-3 with Desmond was like. Peak AC. a nice blend of historical fiction, modern-time stuff (that actually makes you feel connected with the world) and like, sort of actual reasons for things to be happening? and then Desmond got merk'd. like 4 i think was silly but i enjoyed playing as a silly little intern fucking up abstergo's plans and stuff. and syndicate ! that was fun even though i think the modern-day player character took a backseat in that one (if there even really was a modern-day pc? i don't remember anymore).

but yeah. ac feels so... different. as if it's a whole secondary franchise just living in the desiccated carcass of the AC name for extra revenue.

SO real. 1-3 were peak, i think the Ezio trilogy is overrated, but it's beloved for good reason (except for Revelations, what the fuck was that about). They're clunky in their own ways (tho the gameplay haul in 3, I think, was really good, I actually love the gameplay in 3 and Unity-Syndicate the most), but the Desmond saga also had a really good modern-historical story balance, the lore wasn't as overwhelming (/neg) with the fantastical elements, but it still had something to draw you in with the "more than what meets the eye". The historical story in Black Flag was absolutely beautiful, I can write essays about it, I enjoyed it immensely, but the modern day story was more fun and full of easter eggs than carrying much importance (even tho the 4 modern story is when things really started going crazy, I think that's when the whole. Juno's husband's reincarnations with heterophobia in his eyes started going, and from then just the whole thing went wild, I couldn't really follow it).

Unity didn't even have a modern story to my knowledge. But i'll forever be salty ab the way they blueballed me. They put us. In REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE. and did NOTHING with that setting. You escape Bastille and that's It. Co-op missions had more lore on that, but like. Let me tell you. Nobody's fucking playing Unity co-op missions and they're impossible to solo.

Syndicate also had nothing. I love Syndicate, would probs love it more if Ubi didn't pussy out of putting real people as targets bc "living descendants might get offended wah wah" like. Okay. The modern segments, tho. I remember nothing ??? Shaun and Rebecca were there.

But wah, right. Assassin's Creed as the name used to market, but it feels distinctly different. Like if you play Assassin's Creed 2 and then Odyssey straight after, or just read the scripts, it's two entirely different universes. One is fantasy with historical elements, the other is historical with hints of fantasy (that could tbh be mistaken for sci-fi, i actually think originally the precursors... were more sci-fi than anything else)

[coconutstars]

An eye for an eye

Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Reader  Summary: Working as an assassin for the CIA can make you a lot of allies but it can also make you a lot of vengeful enemies. Mitch Rapp is about to find that out the hard way.  A/N: I’ve been in a major Mitch phase lately. So vóila, here is a polished piece of dirt from me to you. Merry Christmas. If you’re interested in more Rapp content please let me know! xoxo Julie. _______________________________________________________

You were in a good mood. A fantastic mood actually. Mitch and you were on your way to a CIA event. You were wearing the tulle gown you’d bought especially for the occasion and Mitch was dressed in a navy suit. The whole thing was very fancy. “You okay babe?” Mitch asked, grabbing your hand. You’d been looking distantly out the window for the past ten minutes. Turning to face him, you curved your lips into a soft smile and massaged the back of his hand with your thumb. “Yeah, just zoned out for a minute” You’d been busy thinking about what to do for your upcoming two year anniversary. You really wanted to go somewhere. Perhaps Venice, Barcelona or Paris. But you were terrified of flying. Mitch looked at you for a minute. He’d been having a weird feeling the pit of his stomach all day. An inkling almost, like something bad was going to happen. He was scared it might have something to do with you but so far everything seemed okay. “Are you?” you asked, looking at your husband with a concerned frown. His worry line was deeper than usual which meant something was bothering him. He shook his head dismissively.   “yeah, it’s nothing” he said, lifting your entwined fingers to place a kiss on the back of your hand. A few minutes later, Mitch pulled into a parking garage. Swiftly backing into a slot, he cut the engine and placed a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll get the ticket” You nodded and you both got out of the car. As Mitch jogged over to the ticket machine, you walked to the back of the car, weighing slightly on the back of your strap heels as you waited for him to come back.

You were straightening out a small wrinkle in your dress, waiting patiently for Mitch to return when a figure appeared beside you. You were startled, totally unprepared for a person to be standing so close. The person, a man, was wearing simple black clothes and a cap to cover his hair. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but there was something off with this man. The entire air around him was eerie, so much so that it sent a chill down you spine. Automatically you took a step back. “Hi-“ you began but was immediately interrupted. The man uttered a sentence in a language you couldn’t really identify and placed a hand on your shoulder. He was leaning in so close your faces were almost touching. Suddenly a stabbing pain hit you in the chest. Your eyes travelled down to the source. A ruby red stain was pooling on the front of your dress like ink dropped on paper.

The blood seemed to be leaking out of you like an open faucet. It was strange, you knew you should be intense pain, but your mind was too busy trying to comprehend what had just happened. It had all happened so fast. Somewhere in an ocean of white noise buzzing in your ears, you could hear your name being called. With your hands pressing against the blood-soaked fabric covering the wound, you slowly turned around. It was Mitch. He had been making his way back to the car when he noticed your unusual stance. As soon as his eyes connected with the dark pool of blood, he sprinted over, his hands already digging for his phone. You heard your name being called again, but this time the sound was so far away you weren’t entirely sure you’d actually heard it or imagined it. Loosing so much blood under such a limited amount of time had forced your body into shock. All your senses were shutting down as your body fought to protect itself. It was a very weird feeling. Almost like experiencing the world through a glass bubble. Its right there but still unreachable.  

You could see Mitch screaming something into his phone, his hands pressing down on your chest. His gaze kept shifting between you and the garage entrance. He looked so desperate. Vulnerable.  You wanted to reach out to him. Stroke his cheek and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but your arms were heavy as lead. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just your arms it was your whole body that was heavy. Mitch was saying something to you. You could see his lips move but there was no sound coming out. His eyes were red with salty tears and he peppered your ashen face with kisses. He was trying to keep you alive and the only thing going through your mind was that he was getting his suit dirty. And your dress. Oh god your dress. There was no way you’d be able to get the stains out of the delicate tulle fabric. You’d worn it for less than an hour and it was already a goner. If you’d known this, you would’ve put on something entirely different.

You closed your eyes for a moment. The darkness was a nice break from the bright lights illuminating the parking lot.  Your head had actually started to hurt a little from the white glow. When you opened your eyes again, you were no longer laying on the cold concrete ground. Instead, you were standing in the middle of the dancefloor at the Hilton hotel, on the very night you saw Mitch Rapp for the first time. It was beautiful really, how you had known from the moment your eyes first met that he was your forever. Gosh, he’d been so snappy to you at first. He’d rejected you entirely when you first walked up to him. But he’d eventually come around and you’d spent hours talking before ending up back at your hotel room. You turned to look at the bar where you knew Mitch would be sitting. But it was no longer there. The hotel was gone, and you were now laying on the couch back at your old apartment with Mitch sleeping soundly with his head in your lap. It was the same night he asked you to move in with him. You lifted your hand to stroke his cheek, and as your fingers brushed against the soft skin, the living room walls collapsed, and you were laying on a blanket under the stars. “I love you” you said, under starlit sky. You’d just asked him to marry you. “I love you too” Mitch replied, pulling you to him. Breathing in the scent of familiarity and comfort, you snuggled into him and closed your eyes, ultimately falling into a dreamless sleep.

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

Banner credit

This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse.  Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent  world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

[takaraphoenix]

Buffy Season 8: Review

It’s bad. It’s just... really... bad. That’s the TL;DR of this review. There was one (1) good thing about this season and that was the return of Oz. So if you’re looking for something that hypes season 8? This is not it. If you are confused, angry or salty about season 8? Hi, yes, me too.

Starting at the beginning. At first, I was really happy that they introduced more characters of color, with Renee and Satsu. And when Renee was then even “promoted” to Xander’s love interest? Nice. The two were even cute.

But no. That was all just the set-up to fridge her. Which, I am so very tired of that trope. And that is what that was. That wasn’t just a slayer dying during a fight. The entire issue of her death focused on her and Xander, building up to their relationship, setting them up for their first date, having her be prominently featured, just to then kill her off and have Xander avenge her.

What made it feel even worse - worse than just the fridging - was that they really had to fridge one of their very few women of color. And, to top it off, spend the entire issue in which she dies having her subjected to racism. Just great. Really, you managed to make an already shitty trope even worse. That’s impressive.

The racism itself too. Dracula. They just decided to make Dracula totally racist now, huh? and it doesn’t get a pass just because Xander points out in the comic that he doesn’t remember Dracula being this racist. Because he wasn’t. This Dracula just throws around slurs left and right in a way that feels more like the writers just really wanted to use slurs. Because the character? He was suave, charming, heck he charmed the straight men and the lesbians too when he was on the show. He was a smooth talker. This Dracula? He just... He was just racist and rude in general. Why.

Moving on from the racism to the next failure in rep. The gays. At this point in time I am simply convinced that Joss Whedon is entirely unfamiliar with the concept of bisexuality.

I know I’ve already made a separate post complaining about this, but it needs mentioning in the review of the season too. Having Buffy hook up with a lesbian twice, but #NoHomo, just a straight girl in her “experimental phase”. That’s just cringey and also offensive. Just... make her... come out as a bisexual? It’s not like the writing in the show hadn’t already set her up with quite the bi vibes.

Instead, the narrative made it sound like the only options would be to be straight or to now suddenly turn “into” a lesbian. Which is also offensive on itself, because - as this very show had proven on screen - lesbians can come out later in life and genuinely, I adore Willow’s arc. For her narrative, it fit to have her come out as a lesbian, the circumstances and her life fit for that. I absolutely agree that it would have been weird for Buffy to have a sudden coming out as a lesbian at that point in her life and after everything, but referring to it as turning into a dyke was just not great.

And lesbian wasn’t the only option. Though, I’m unsure Whedon knows that, considering that 6/6 canon queer characters are homosexual and 4/4 wlw are lesbians. They just keep introducing more lesbians - which, as a lesbian I am always in favor of more lesbians. However, when you have a very small number (2) of queer characters, it figures you can not cover all the sexualities and it’s even fair that even with two, you still choose to have them both be the same sexuality. But... the more you add? The more questionable it becomes that you limit it to one sexuality only.

This arc would have so beautifully set up for Buffy to come out as bi. But no.

And while we’re on the wlw; one of the things I always loved about Buffy was that the lesbians weren’t just there for the male gaze, they weren’t oversexualized. They desired each other, they even had sex. But... in a normal frame work, to a normal amount, meaning equal to how the straights were handled. I always liked that, because especially in early days, lesbians were usually just there to look really hot and have hot sex that straight men could get off to. Well, consider me very unimpressed with the comics, because... man are lesbians sexualized now. Willow gets a hot constantly naked snake goddess girlfriend whom she can only contact by - and I am not making this up - having an orgasm. So we prelude the trip by her having sex with Kennedy, before waking up all nude in snake goddess’ realm and usually having am makeout session or sex with her too while doing whatever business she has with her. So much nakedness, so much oversexualization. Really... disappointing.

Staying on the romance but turning to the other Summers sister, I truly can’t believe they made Xander/Dawn canon. Like, I can not comprehend they decided to make that a canon ship.

Sure, Dawnie’s had a crush on Xander since the literal beginning of Dawn. And that was... cute, honestly. Fifteen year old girls have crushes on cute older guys who are nice to them. Figures. Adorable. But she kind of... grew out of that over the course of the show? Or so it seemed...

And Xander. One of the things I loved about Xander was that Dawn was always a total no go. She was Buffy’s sister, heck, she was kind of every Scoobie’s little sister. He had always had brotherly advise for her. Heck, in this comic he points out that it’s weird since he’s known her since she was little - and yeah it is. It’s not weird when two people were both little together, but when one was sixteen when the other was eleven and one has babysat the other? That’s weird.

Getting infinitely more disturbing by the fact that she... literally... just turned eighteen. If they had put this into a rather later season, or a bigger time skip, had Dawn been A WomanTM for a few years now and Xander had gotten around to separating the idea of kiddo!Dawnie from the woman she has become, but Dawn is only eighteen, she hasn’t become a woman yet. She just turned legal to bang and thus, a switch was flipped in Xander’s mind, putting her on his radar. And just... no. Why.

And even beyond this decision; Dawn spends the first third of this season being slut-shamed in ridiculous ways. Which is also tiresome. I am the last person to defend cheaters, but there’s a difference between “You cheated and are being held accountable for it” and “You cheated so now you are cursed to be a giant, a centaur and then a porcellain doll for weeks at a time, being publicly humiliated and having control over your body taken away from you”. That was... sure a choice.

Moving on to the actual main problem of this season. The plot.

Starting with the incomprehensibly dumb idea of “hey let’s retreat to Tibet, put a huge target on Oz’s new home and get rid of all of our magic. surely that will not come to bite us in the arse when the bad guys find us”. Naturally, it came back to bite them in their collective asses. This was just... No one objected or pointed out how dumb that plan was? Really? No one? Really?

Anyway, let’s talk villains. And work our way up there. The return of Amy and Warren. Once again, I ask why. I’m still salty about the 180° Amy did from sweet Wiccan to wicked bitch after her stint as a rat, but having her now... hook up with Warren, the second biggest misogynist on this show, who is also skinless. She used a spell to keep him alive but she couldn’t... give the spell a color? Anything? Anything to not make him look flayed? Because this was just unnecessarily gross body-horror.

Not to mention the... lack of reaction? Sure, some spoke grumpily against working with Warren. But... this is Warren. The guy who killed Tara when he was trying to kill Buffy. There really should have been more breather-scenes of the Scoobies talking about this, digesting the fact that the guy was still alive and more so when they worked with him.

But nevermind them, because they’re working for Angel. Because Angel’s the villain behind this season. I mean, he was manipulated into that by Twilight, but manipulated means he still chose to do it.

Now let me preface that I might not ship Angel/Buffy, but that really only factors marginally in here, because this plot would be bullshit even if it were my OTP.

We now retcon the creation of the Slayers as not just being something dirty old men did in a cave, it was now all the greater plan of the universe. Which. Might have worked had Slayers been... naturally occuring. And not created by men, forcing this upon a young woman. Sure, what people do can be seen as the greater plan of the universe too if you will, but that seems like a cop-out that absolves bad people of their bad choices and deeds.

Anyway. The universe created Slayers and vampires and the ““balance”“ between them (which is bullshit anyway because 1 Slayer vs thousands of vampires... not balanced at all), including the now supposedly destined romance between Angel and Buffy.

Both get rewarded with super-powers now so they can super-fuck and thus give birth to a new universe. That universe is called Twilight and manifests as a burning, winged, green lion who can talk (because that sure is how I always headcanoned Angel/Buffy’s children to look like /s) and who, through time-travel shenannigans, has been manipulating Angel into his own creation.

The magic pull between them is so strong that it overrides the “Angel just caused the death of over two-hundred Slayers” so Buffy fucks him.

At which point I just... this season was flat-out character assassination of Angel? He was manipulated by the bad guy. Not controlled, manipulated. He caused the death of hundreds. He threw everything he stood for and believed in out the window for the promise of a paradise where he could be with Buffy, when the real Angel has chosen other things, higher goals, over being with Buffy over and over again, because that’s what they do. That is their whole thing, they choose the good of the world over being together. They have always been a “will they/won’t they?” where the answer is they won’t, because they know they are needed elsewhere, by others. But now Angel just... doesn’t care about all that anymore, or heck about his own son and his friends, ready to abandon everything for this.

And then when Twilight is born and consequently abandoned by Buffy, who still prioritizes her friends, family and the world over being with Angel, Angel actually... needs convincing in the abandoning? Because, again, character assassination. Ultimately, Angel gets controlled by Twilight and used to kill Giles and try to kill Buffy.

But thanks to the Deus Ex Machina of Spike dropping in in the final arc, they know how to stop this. He hasn’t been in this season so far, because - truly in line with this season - he was off being the king of a race of alien bugs, traveling in their space-ship.

To stop this all, they go back to Sunnydale, where of course the “heart of the Earth” is located, the seed that contains all magic, and destroy it, and with it all magic. Also, the Master was apparently always just there to guard that seed. He is now back from the dead!

Let me summarize that once more, just for emphasis: The universe wanted Buffy and Angel to fuck so they can give birth to a new universe that personifies as a green, winged, burning lion but before it can destroy our universe, Spike, now king of an alien bug race, delivers the solution to go back to Sunnydale and destroy the seed of all magic that is being guarded by a resurrected Master.

How do you read that with a straight face? How do you pitch that? This is just so incomprehensibly stupid.

We end the comic with Buffy as a waitress, hated by many, Xander and Dawn now have an apartment and are playing house, Willow broke up with Kennedy because she realized she is in love with the snake goddess she will now never get to see again, Giles is dead, Faith somehow inherited everything from Giles and she is also the designated Angel-sitter now.

[myuntoldstory]

saeran after end after thought

it took me a ducking month and some change because i had to farm hourglasses. when i started playing i kept getting the bad ends and i got so frustrated i didn’t touch the app for two weeks. i had to consult a guide to finally reach the end.

i wanted to play this because i needed to see where jihyun ended up and... well... we all know what happened there. anyway...

i have many thoughts and feelings about this ae. i don’t know if i can ever properly organise them, but i’ll put it in bullet points for now. this is my personal feelings, not any kind of fact. i have nothing against nearly anything and anyone (character or real) involved in this game. i’ll always love and appreciate them for being in this game, for creating this game, for giving us something to love for the past four or five years.

these thoughts are rather unfiltered. this is me coming out hours after finishing the ae. i might change my mind after letting it marinate for a while and after reading up some more about it.

it’s all under the cut. it’s long and rambling. there’s no need to read this, really; the ae is a month old after all, but i just needed to get this out. also, it’s salty as hell. literally saltier than the dead sea. it will dehydrate you... best to not bother with this.

also spoilers.

1. during the first playthrough the game mechanics were wonderful, novel, and immersive. but years later and for the sake of an ae? unnecessary. it’s too long. it’s too much work. i did my due when i played the game during ray’s route. why do i also have to work for something that should have been my reward? why do i still have to worry about hearts, choices, and game branches? why do i have to go through multiple endings? it’s an after end. it’s after the ending.

of course i love new content, i love more content, but not like this. and i know i sound super entitled. if i was impatient i should have justt read the wiki, but i wanted the experience, but not this specific experience. lucky it’s the pandemic and i have more time on my hands, but in normal circumstances my life is very different from what it was in 2016. i can’t be waiting for chats and making plans around it to get to the after ending. honestly i expected something like the secret ends or even similar to the style of jihyun’s ae... but no. apparently, chertiz thinks it’s fun to make us spend three and a half days to reach an AFTER END.

2. saeran choi needs love... but, in my opinion, not ours. not mc’s. the love he needs is his brother’s. the person he needs most is saeyoung choi. he’s suffered so much, endured many things no person should ever endure. of course he deserves romantic love, but i feel like he needed to recover first. that’s why after all this im firmly in the very bare, maybe even empty camp of preferring secret end saeran choi over ray route saeran choi.

3. never in my life has a game made me exhausted about the act of forgiveness. i feel a little sick. it’s terrible to say that, i know, but i am just so emotionally exhausted. there is this heavy feeling in my chest that makes me want to cry because i feel like i somehow destroyed a part of myself?

first it’s the saviour in jihyun’s ae. it’s still her in this ae. but in addition to that there’s also the prime minister? when does it stop? at this point we might as well forgive the twins’ mother too. she imprisoned her own sons to benefit from their father; beat the shit out of and starved saeran to the point that he wanted to die, but there must be a reason behind it, right? like all the villains in this game her choices are not her own; they are the product of their circumstances and we have to understand that.

i just... i understand what cheritz is trying to convey here. and granted saeyoung is not as forgiving, but this isn’t his story. it felt like the forgiveness was nearing some extreme by the end of it. i don’t think there’s anything wrong if you’e unable to forgive. if the only way for you to move forward is to not do so i feel that’s valid. as long as you’re not hurting anyone and that you’re not hurting yourself, you do whatever you need to recover. forgiving is not the only way, the noble way. not everyone’s backstory you have to understand and take into consideration in order to move on. even if they realise what they did was wrong, it’s okay not to forgive. sometimes that’s what we need to take care of ourselves.

im rambling on this point, but im going through this currently. it’s not as extreme as the choi twins or the rfa, but all my life i’ve been forgiving and understanding and it chipped away at me. even at my expense i forgave everything and it landed me in a place im struggling to get out of. i needed justice and this ae didn’t give me a bit of that... at least not in the way i needed.

4. cheritz said this is the grand finale, but... it didn’t feel like it? again this is me being entitled, but i expected something more. something bigger. something poignant because after this mystic messenger is over. i expected some kind of epilogues in the form of story modes. of course i appreciate everything the company has done, especially the efforts of the writers, artists, voice actors, and everyone, but... it’s so rushed? it such a short farewell that instead of getting catharsis and satisfaction i felt... drained. and i feel sad that it’s all over because im not ready to say goodbye and that goodbye is far too short for me.

i don’t know im just sad it’s all over.

also, the conclusion they come to is the dissolution of the rfa once everyone found their happy ending. i... this is a group that has been through some shit and that doesn’t make them closer somehow? the rfa app lies neglected and abandoned as everyone moves on with their lives? that is so... lonely? at least for me.

i mean, of course, not all endings have to be necessarily happy in the “everyone gets together once a week for dinners” kind, but i just... i dont know i expected them to be closer somehow. maybe they are. maybe outside the app they’re all closer, but... i don’t know. i feel sad they’re abandoning the app.

5. and then there’s kim jihyun.

and im... i dont know anymore. if you know me, follow me, or have read any of my fics you know im a jihyun fan. i love that man and YES i know his sins. we all do.

as i played the ae i started to hope that he’d die in the end instead of suffering through this egregious character assassination. yes, i literally preferred that he died and that i go through that pain instead of suffering whatever this is. obviously i dont want him to die, but this is like killing him anyway. they killed the essence of him, who he is as a person. hell, they probably killed him already and just installed a stranger in the ae because that v is not our v. all throughout the game he’s been kind and compassionate and selfless. his whole thing is about protecting the rfa, the mc, saving the saviour, and sacrificing himself for them. this is the idiot who gives you his hearts when you’re being actively nice to his abuser and saeran in his route. his ultimate happy ending involves everyone being happy, reunited, and given the proper mental care. he went away for two years, putting a much needed pause in your budding relationship, not only to recover from his trauma, but also to rescue saeran and help him recover too.

yes, v enabled the saviour even before another story. he lied. he put everyone in danger. he’s reckless and he keeps secrets way more than what’s natural. but he will never let any of them come to harm. my memory is fuzzy but im sure he never lets the rfa get in danger. he was devastated when yoosung got injured. he also tried to rescue seven and mc in the secret ends thats why he got shot. this guy always looks out for everyone. 

in what world is he okay with drugging the twins? making deals with the villains? the idea of trapping the twins in the saviour’s delusional, twisted family life? he’s not the type to be okay just standing there when his best friend’s life is falling apart or for even causing it. when zen, jaehee, and yoosung get backed into the corner he wouldn’t have been just idle. but in this ae all he does is play stacking chairs, buy strawberry yoghurt, and echo the saviour’s words like a puppet. he asks only mc to save herself and like... jesus christ he never gets a break. he doesn’t even get the same gesture of forgiveness everyone and their father gets. he goes through a trial and jail, which is fair enough, but he’s also a victim of abuse and suffering and despair and mental illness. but somehow because it’s v it’s okay that this is all he gets. somehow he doesn’t deserve any compassionate resolution.

literally the only time he’s happy is his route and after end and even then that happiness is not his own. even then there were concessions to be made before he could get it.

seriously. it seems like cheritz hates him. they think little to nothing of him. if that’s the case why even make content for him? he’s not even meant to be romanceable in the original stories. they could’ve just ignored the petitions and left him as a side character. i mean, i dont know if i prefer that honestly, i do appreciate the content we got, but as his fan it hurts to see all this half-hearted decisions. and to see all this hate still pouring out for him, now magnified because of this ae.

this is like a tiring odyssey, starting way back when he got shot and killed all because he loved someone. he loved the wrong person and it’s the wrong kind of love and he committed his crimes because of it. he had a hand in making the rfa and mc suffer, but still all he did was love. and i know that sounds blind and naive and ignorant and im sorry for not picking up the nuances of his relationship with the saviour, but that’s all i saw. i saw a guy loving the wrong person and it made him make all the wrong choices leading to a bad life.

gah. i am drained people. i am drained, and frustrated, and tired.

[andorerso]

I have a rebelcaptain prompt for you if you wish to take it: Pirates (You can use it any way you want, feks the gang dresses up as a pirate crew, or that they are pirates)

Thanks so much for the prompt! I wasn’t gonna write anything for Halloween but it really inspired me. I'm really not a pirate person though, so I don't have a lot of knowledge about... pirate stuff, I guess. Basically, I just based the setting on my memories of playing Assassin's Creed: Black Flag. Italics are flashbacks, the rest is present day. Hope you enjoy and happy Halloween, guys! :)

She’s close, after all this time, she’s finally close to finding the goblet. She can taste it in the air, in the saltiness of the water; something is coming, something is changing.

Bodhi says, as he’s been saying for years, that she should forget about it. Move on and pillage other ships like normal pirates do. But how could she? She’s spent the last nine years looking for Captain Skywalker’s chest and she can’t give up before the finish line. No matter how dangerous it gets.

Bodhi, bless his heart, is just a little superstitious. Most pirates are, to be honest.

“It’s haunted,” he often warns her.

“I’ve heard,” Jyn responds every time.

It doesn’t scare her. She’s haunted too, has been her whole life, and she’s managed just fine so far. A few more ghosts won’t bother her. It’s the absence of them that might.

Jyn stands barefoot in the sand at sunrise, watching the waves crash against the bank. The early morning sun paints everything in a lovely shade of pink and gold, its warm rays like gentle fingertips across her skin, the soft breeze caressing her body. Nothing exists but her and the water – and memories long-gone of a life she never truly got to live.

She’s buried them all at sea, and times like these are when she feels most connected to her dead, each of them waiting below the surface. She feels almost as if they’re calling out to her from the deep, asking her to join them.

She couldn’t, not yet, but when the time was right, she would walk into the sea and disappear for good. Let the waves claim her body, let her become a part of them forever. It’s a peaceful thought. She’s always belonged to the sea, and she belongs with the rest of them, the ones that the water has already claimed for itself. It’s home to her, and home is calling her back.

For now, she settles for the sunrise. Just take a moment and watch the sunrise, a voice whispers in her ear, in her memories. Just come watch the sunrise with me, Jyn. Come on and be with me. You’ll have time for sparring later.

Jyn lets out a quiet breath and kneels next to the bank, her fingers grazing the water as if touching skin she’s once worshipped, as if reaching for a lover she’s once had. It’s a connection between them, this water. A link to him, a link to the past, a link between her and wherever he is now. Somewhere peaceful, she hopes.

A soft but sad smile tugs at her lips. “This one’s for you, my love.”

Jyn sits in a seedy tavern in Havana, eyeing Captain Andor with suspicion and a glare that screams, ‘try me and see what I can do.’ She has a hand on her knife in her pocket, the other lazily resting on the pistol in her holster. It’s an open warning, almost a challenge, but Captain Andor doesn’t rise to the bait.

If anything, he seems unbothered. Almost frustratingly calm.

Jyn would think that’s foolish or cocky, or perhaps he’s underestimating her simply because she’s a woman; but somehow, she doesn’t believe this is the case. There’s something about him that’s genuine. It’s not cockiness, she thinks, it’s confidence – and his confidence is earned.

He’s a dangerous man if the stories are true, but she’s a dangerous woman herself. If they could learn to trust each other, there would be no one better to find the hidden treasure of Captain Skywalker than the two of them.

The trust part, she’s not good with. But although she’s not sure yet what to make of the man in front of her, she’s willing to see if it works out in her favor.

“The goblet is haunted,” he comments lazily, though he doesn’t sound like he believes it. Jyn raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve heard.” Her tone is dismissive.

“According to legend, it brings back the dead you’ve lost,” he continues. “You find it and it gives them back to you.” A wry smile twists on his lips. “But then they will drag you down to hell with them.”

Jyn holds back a bitter laugh. How many times has she heard that story? How many times has her father conveniently forgot about the last part? How many times has she been left at strange ports with strange people while he went on his wild adventures to find the goblet that would bring back her dead mother? Her father had been a man of science once, but the loss of his wife weighed heavily on him, and sinister voices whispering in his ear convinced him that finding the goblet was a way to make their family whole again.

In truth, Orson Krennic was probably just a money-hungry, cruel, and bored aristocrat who had nothing better to do than manipulate vulnerable men into doing the dirty work for him. Jyn resents both him and her father for that.

No, she doesn’t want the goblet to bring back dead people from the grave. She doesn’t believe in those childish stories anymore. She wants the goblet to sell it.

And she wants it to prove that she could do it. Do what her father couldn’t. Finish what he started.

But she isn’t about to share that with Captain Andor.

“It’s a golden goblet with ruby stones. It’s just money.” She pauses, shrugging her shoulders. “And the legends make it easier to sell. What naïve and wealthy widow wouldn’t want a relic that brings back their beloved spouse?”

Captain Andor’s lips quirk up, barely noticeable. “If you leave out the part about being dragged to hell.”

Jyn finally lets go of her pistol and reaches for the jug of beer on the table. “I find that part,” she begins, her tone conversational, “is very easy to forget.”

This is the one.

Jyn knows in her heart that she’s found it. The island is unmarked on any maps, and the entrance to the cave is underwater, hidden by seaweed and algae. Her lungs burn when she breaks surface, gasping for breath as she pulls herself up to the cave floor.

This is the one.

It sings in her veins, pulses through her body. She’s going to find it, finally, the goblet, the treasure – everything she’s been looking for in the past nine years.

“It’s haunted,” Bodhi’s voice echoes in her mind.

Jyn stands, undeterred, and marches forward to the heart of the cave.

She hopes it is.

Jyn glares menacingly at the cruel-faced guard as he opens her cage and walks towards her. Her hands might be shackled but she has a mean kick, and if he tries anything –

To her surprise, the man reaches for the chains behind her and unlocks her hands. They clatter to the floor with a loud noise, but Jyn continues glaring at the guard in suspicion.

“You’re free to go,” he grunts.

“What?” She doesn’t trust this one bit.

Where’s the catch? Henry ‘Scar Face’ Whitlock is not known for his mercy. She stole his goods, blew up one of his (smaller) ships, and stabbed three of his crew members. One of them bled out. Another lost an arm.

She expected to be hanged or quartered for it – made an example, for certain.

He can’t just be letting her go now. It has to be a trap.

But what would he gain from such a lie?

“Move,” the guard says and gives her an unnecessarily forceful shove that sends her flying against the walls of the cage. If it wasn’t for the small chance that she was about to walk out of here scot-free, she would have kicked his legs out for that.

But if she’s really free… could it be true?

As she gets up and uncertainly walks up to the main deck, she half expects to be stabbed in the back. It’s just too easy – but she can’t figure out why they would trick her like this when they could just tie stones to her feet and throw her overboard. It’s only when she sees Cassian waiting for her next to Captain Whitlock that the situation begins to dawn on her.

He’s saved her somehow. Of course he has.

For a wild second, she thinks he traded himself for her – he would be entirely capable of it, but where’s the profit in that for Whitlock? He has no grudge against Cassian, only against her, and she can’t see why he would accept such a deal unless he realized that Cassian’s death would be a greater punishment than her own.

But she’s not that transparent yet. She thinks.

She hopes.

Then Whitlock gives her a foul grimace that says he would still very much kill her if he could, and gestures, with some reluctance, towards the ramp leading to the harbor.

“Get out of my sight, Erso. And don’t fuck with me or my crew again, or even your captain won’t be able to save you next time.”

Jyn doesn’t say anything until they reach the shore safely, burning with a thousand questions. A part of her still expects them to be ambushed at the last minute, but Whitlock and his crew watch in silence as they walk off the ramp and disappear into the night. How Cassian managed to pull it off is beyond her, but if anyone could, it would be him.

When they’re an appropriate distance away, Jyn can’t hold herself back anymore. She stops and rounds on Cassian, eyes wide and demanding.

“What did you give him?” she asks because if she’s sure of one thing, it’s that Whitlock didn’t just let her go for free.

Cassian lets out a quiet sigh and shrugs. His eyes, glowing in the soft light of the moon, won’t quite meet hers. There’s something strange about him. Like he’s trying desperately to underplay it.

Which doesn’t bode well for them. Jyn’s heart lurches – what the hell did he do?

“I gave him my ship,” Cassian admits quietly. For a moment, Jyn hears nothing but the song of the cicadas as she tries to process this information.

“You gave him your ship?” she echoes, breathless and eyes wide.

“Yes,” he confirms, very even, very steady.

“Cassian,” she begins, her words slow as if she was talking to a child, “captains need a ship. We need a ship. Where are we going to get a new one? We don’t have that kind of money! What about the crew? Kay is going to kill you –”

“Jyn, he had you,” he cuts her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. As if that trumped everything else. Jyn blinks at him in shock, half delirious with – with –

“You’re crazy,” she breathes in awe. She can’t take her eyes off him. Nobody has ever…

Nobody has felt – nobody has done –

Nobody has made her feel like this before. Like she matters. Like she’s loved.

“You treated your ship for me?” she asks, half laughing, hardly daring to believe it.

Cassian shrugs again, but there’s a smile on his lips, a smile just for her. It’s small and kind and full of devotion.

“It’s just a ship. What kind of captain would I be if I let my first mate die?”

“You’re crazy,” she laughs again, and that same second, impulsively, springs forward to kiss him. It’s been a long time coming, she thinks as Cassian kisses her back without hesitation, his hands tangling in her hair. Two years of working together, two years of building a relationship that couldn’t be betrayed, couldn’t be replaced. Jyn doesn’t remember a time that his presence didn’t leave her breathless, that a soft comforting touch on her shoulder didn’t make her long for more. Maybe in those first few days, in the beginning – but quickly, very quickly, he became everything to her, and she could never go on without him.

It’s been a long time coming, yes. And now she’s going to enjoy it.

It doesn’t bring her peace.

She didn’t think it would. But she thought it would give her satisfaction, at least. Look, Krennic, I got your little treasure. Look, Papa, I finished what you started. Look, Cassian, I did this for you. For us.

But it’s just… underwhelming. She can’t even bring herself to sell it. It would be worth more than the rest of the treasure combined, but she stares at it in her cabin during the night and she can’t sell it.

What use is it? Nothing would bring them back, bring him back. The money she’d get from the goblet, it’d just feel tainted, wrong. Blood money.

Maybe she’s irrationally attached but who can blame her? Her father spent half his life looking for the damned thing until a storm swallowed his ship whole and he was never heard from again. His obsession with the goblet had killed him and Jyn had hated it then, hated it more than ever, but still, she’d become similarly obsessed. Just to prove something.

And then it brought her Cassian. It gave her something after it took so much. The years they spent looking for it together, that was her treasure.

And now that he’s gone, she can’t relinquish it. If she does, what else is left of them? Only her memories – and memories rot.

Jyn sighs under her breath, sitting at a corner table of an inn with Bodhi, drumming her fingers on the wood as she stares out of her head. What is she meant to do now?

Bodhi watches her in silence for several minutes and Jyn is distantly aware that he seems contemplative, but she’s too lost in her own head to question it. Eventually, he lifts a hand to still her fingers.

“Liana,” he begins, and Jyn’s eyes snap to his. Bodhi is a good man and she trusts him more than she trusts anyone else, but even he doesn’t know her real name. It’s just easier this way – Jyn Erso dropped off the face of the earth five years ago, and she had to stay gone. But she thinks Bodhi has always known it’s not her true name, and he doesn’t mind. “Have you noticed anything weird since?”

She rolls her eyes and begins drumming her fingers again. “Don’t start, Bodhi. I’m not haunted.”

“I’m just asking. You should really sell it.”

She knows why he’s saying that. The legends, of course. Whoever is in possession of the goblet will be dragged to hell by their dead loved ones. Well, she’s been the proud owner for a few days now and she’s seen no signs of ghosts and no signs of hellfire. But if any is yet to come, Jyn is sure it’ll be entertaining.

“I can’t.”

“Isn’t that why you wanted it?”

“Yes,” she says, then stops. “No.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes.”

Jyn snorts, looking away. “I don’t understand me sometimes.”

And that should be the end of it. Jyn with her goblet and her money and the lack of purpose in her life now.

But fate has a different plan for her. And maybe she is fucking haunted.

Because when her gaze sweeps over the tavern, she swears she sees a familiar face push through the crowd and disappear out into the night.

Jyn stares at the door for long a time, frozen in place, her heartbeat running wild in her chest. The white noise in her head blocks out everything else. She thinks Bodhi might be calling her name, asking if she’s okay, but she can’t answer, can’t even turn her head to look at him. She stands on trembling legs, her body carrying her towards the doors – and then she’s running, taking off in the direction that she saw him heading.

The streets are dark and deserted. Only the sound of waves and the singing of cicadas break the silence. She looks around wildly, looking for a retreating shadow in the night or perhaps the sound of footsteps nearby, but there’s nothing. Nothing but the wind and her loudly beating heart.

She couldn’t have… did she imagine it? Perhaps she had too much to drink, Bodhi stuffing her head with his nonsense, but she could have sworn…

Jyn shakes her head, trying to let the fresh air clear her hazy mind of these childish thoughts. Bodhi is panting behind her, calling her name, her fake name, and Jyn finally turns to look at him, seeing his wide eyes filled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

Jyn gives a sharp nod, trying to ignore the wild beating of her heart. Better not to plague Bodhi with her hallucinations, he’s worried enough about her as it is. No need to fuel the fire.

“Just thought I saw someone who owes me some money,” she lies, ignoring the skeptical look he gives her. “It’s not a big deal.”

It can’t be.

She would be very cross with Cassian if he was really here to drag her to hell.

Cassian’s fingers are soft on her cheek, stroking her skin, carding through her hair. Her own hand rests on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady under her palm. They’ve been silent for minutes but she hasn’t stopped looking at him, couldn’t stop touching him. She’s never felt intimacy like this before. Like someone could look at you, see your soul, see all the darkness and pain that you hide inside, and still choose to stay. Still decide that you’re worth the trouble.

She’s naked in front of him in more ways than one and she’s never thought it would feel so wonderful. So freeing.

Cassian has taught her a lot more than just love.

“Did you think we’d end up here when we first met?” she wonders, her tone quiet, matching the tranquility between them. Cassian chuckles.

“I thought you’d kill me in my sleep one day.”

She scoffs at that. “You didn’t seem afraid.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Hmpf. So ready to throw yourself at death’s door. You know, I actually thought you might have traded yourself for me.”

“I would have,” he admits, honest as always. “If that’s what it took. But not unless there’s no other choice.” His eyes bore into hers, dark and deep and almost frightening in its intensity. Her heart beats a little faster at the sight. “I don’t want to leave you behind.”

She swallows. “Please don’t.”

Cassian strokes her cheek, a gentle smile on his lips.

“I love you.”

It’s not a promise but it’s enough. Jyn beams back at him.

“I love you too.”

Who cares about the stupid goblet as long as she has him?

Jyn wakes to the sound of music in the middle of the night. For a second, her mind is pleasantly blank, merely enjoying the soft melody filtering through the window of her room.

Then she thinks:

Cassian. Cassian used to play like that.

And then:

Cassian is gone.

Blinking herself awake, Jyn sits up in bed. Her eyes dart around the room she’s rented for the night but nothing seems amiss. Her hand hovers above the lantern on the nightstand but a strange irrational part of her doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. She blames Bodhi for that.

His words, and Cassian’s, ring in her mind.

It’s haunted.

You find it and it gives them back to you. But then they will drag you down to hell with them.

Thinking about the sighting of Cassian from earlier, she gets out of bed and ambles to the window. The curtains are drawn and her fingers hover above the fabric, hesitant, somehow, to withdraw them. She’s trembling.

Jyn takes a deep breath and pulls back the curtains.

Cassian sits on a bench on the street, his eyes trained on his banjo. Jyn gasps in shock and reels back from the window like she’s been burned. He seems… so real. Sitting there, his fingers flying over the instrument, playing some slow, sorrowful melody that tugs at her heartstrings. A song of lost love.

He’s come for her after all.

Frozen on the spot, her breathing harsh and gasping, all she can do is watch as he plays his banjo. He never takes off his eyes the instrument and he doesn’t seem to notice her. Her room is on the second floor so she has a perfect view of him sitting outside, illuminated by the moonlight, while she remains shrouded in the darkness of her room.

But if he’s come for her… surely, he knows she’s here.

Jyn’s legs give out, and she sits under her window, pressing herself tightly against the wall to just… listen. She listens to his song. Listens to the melody, haunting and beautiful, like he is himself. Every sound, every note pulls at her heartstrings. A song for the lost and the dead.

And Jyn sobs. For him and for herself, for her parents, for everyone she’s ever lost. She sobs, quiet and gasping, until she has no more tears left, lulled back to sleep on the floor by the melancholy tune that Cassian’s ghost is playing.

Cassian comes to her in a dream. It’s a familiar one; one she’s seen many times before, and one she will see many times more. He’s not dead and not alive – he’s a revenant and he’s hers, just for tonight, until dawn breaks and morning takes him away.

But he’s different this time. Sturdier, steadier. Buzzing with a kind of unquiet energy that she’s not used to. Like he’s waiting for something. Jyn doesn’t want to mention it, their stolen moments together too precious to tarnish, but it weighs her mind with questions.

When their time comes and he gets up and heads to the door, she reaches after him. She does this on every occasion, tries to convince him to stay, tries to forcibly, physically make him stay – but her words are different this time, her desperation becoming an inferno, and his response is a mystery.

“Cassian,” she calls out to him, struggling to sit up and catch his arm. He’s already at the doorway, between life and death, between her and the sea, looking back at her and hesitating. “Don’t go. How could I live in a world where you don’t?”

He takes a step through the door, where nothing but the empty awaits him and gives her the strangest of smiles. “It’s almost time, my love. Almost time.”

“I think I’m haunted,” Jyn admits to Bodhi the next day, and he gives her a hard look. She thinks it’s the tone of her voice, sad and defeated, that stops him from telling her “I told you so.”

“What happened?” he asks instead, and Jyn shrugs, eyes downcast, looking at the mug on the table, the tea untouched and growing cold.

“I saw… someone,” Jyn admits slowly, pausing before she adds, “Him.”

Bodhi never had the chance to know Cassian. She met him after Cassian was already… gone. He knows a little about him; she’s admitted to having a dead lover in her weaker drunken moments, but she’s never talked about him much. Jyn always has preferred to live in denial, and Bodhi knows better than to ask.

Still, she knows with the way she says it, the way she gives him a meaningful look, that he knows who she’s talking about.

“I think he’s come for me.” She pauses, a bitter laugh escaping her mouth. “It makes sense. The goblet always was our adventure. It’s how we met, you know.”

The look Bodhi gives her is a mix of pity and worry. Jyn is uncomfortable with both, even though she knows he means well. Luckily, he doesn’t try to say anything stupidly comforting like “I’m sorry” or “it’s all going to be okay” because he knows her better than that, and he knows she might punch him in the mouth for it.

Instead, he looks her in the eye and tells her, “You should really get rid of it, Li. Before it’s too late.”

Jyn nods. She knows he’s right.

But some part of her is not ready to let go yet.

It takes less than an hour for everything to change.

Jyn wakes up that day like usual in the captain’s cabin she now she shares with Cassian and goes to sleep that night in a holding cage of a navy ship, alone in the world once again.

Krennic has a personal grudge. And so does she. So naturally, she can’t resist the opportunity to raid his ship, steal his cargo, and leave him wounded and nursing a broken ego.

In hindsight, she should have killed him then. But she thought the humiliation would be a more suitable punishment.

Six months later, he comes back with a vengeance and a small navy fleet, blowing a hole through their ship with his cannonballs. They fight valiantly when his crew boards their slowly sinking ship, but it’s a lost cause – Jyn knows it’s a lost cause, Cassian knows it’s a lost cause, and Krennic, especially, knows it’s a lost cause. He seems very pleased with himself too, and Jyn would punch the smirk right off his stupid smug face if her hands weren’t bound behind her back by one of his henchmen.

“Well, well, well. Didn’t think I’d catch up to you, did you?” Orson Krennic asks, strutting in front of her like a peacock, hands clasped behind his back. Jyn spits in his face.

Krennic blinks once, twice, before he slowly wipes at his eyes with a headkerchief he produces from his breast pocket. The backhanded slap he gives her stings, sending her sprawling to the floor.

“You touch her again,” Cassian growls, straining against the guards holding him back, “and I’ll break every bone in your hand one by one.”

The glance Krennic gives him is dismissive, like Cassian isn’t even worth the time to look at. He gestures to the guards next to Jyn who haul her back to her feet. She stands proud, chin high, glaring at him even as her hands are tied behind her back. His ring has left a mark but she’ll be damned if she’ll let him humble her.

“Very feisty, aren’t you? I wonder if you’ll keep the same attitude once I have you locked away in Wobani for life.”

Jyn doesn’t react outwardly but her heart beats faster. Wobani is infamous for its cruelty and inhumane methods. Nobody leaves, not unless they’re dead. Only the worst of the worst, the most dangerous criminals end up there.

She supposes she belongs among them.

Another gesture from Krennic and the guards haul her towards the railing to transport her to Krennic’s ship. Stardust is slowly sinking and she knows it’s the least of her worries, as most of her crewmates lay dead at her feet, as Kay lays dead at her feet, but her heart aches at the sight. They’ve bought this ship together, Cassian and she, after he gave away his old one to Whitlock. It’s theirs. And it hurts to see it go down.

“What about him?” asks one of the guards holding Cassian.

“Leave him,” Krennic answers easily, a sick sort of smugness in his voice. “Let him go down with his ship, as all good captains do.”

“No!” Jyn shouts, struggling against her captors harder. She shouldn’t give away her weakness – she knows, she knows she shouldn’t give him ammunition – but Krennic has made up his mind anyway, so what difference does it make?

Too upset to think rationally, she begs him. “Don’t do this. He’s worth a lot more to you alive. He has a bounty on his head higher than mine.”

“I don’t need the money, you silly little girl,” he tells her, dismissive. “I just want you put away for good.”

“No!”

Jyn continues struggling as she’s dragged away, followed by Krennic and his guards. She watches the men holding Cassian tie him to the mainmast, making sure he can’t escape, before joining the rest of them. Krennic’s ship pulls farther away and Stardust sinks lower and lower into the ocean, but her gaze never leaves Cassian as long as she still sees him.

His eyes are regretful, apologetic. He looks resigned to his fate, a man who’s more concerned about leaving his lover behind than dying. Jyn knows he remembers their conversation in bed just as much as she does.

I don’t want to leave you behind.

Please don’t.

She watches until she can’t see him anymore, until he’s just a dot on a faraway slowly sinking ship. And Krennic, perhaps to drive the nail home, fires once again.

Stardust goes up in flames, pieces of wood scattering into the ocean, the mainmast falling with a loud splash. It takes a second and it’s all gone.

Jyn wails until she no longer has a voice. That night, a part of her too is gone.

She can’t bring herself to sell it so she settles for a compromise. She’s going to return it to the cave where it belongs, let some other poor clown find it if they can. It was never meant to be hers, never meant to be anyone’s, perhaps, but everyone has to learn from their own mistakes.

It should be fine, except the cave is gone. Which is ridiculous because she found it not even five days ago and it was here, she could have sworn the entrance was here, but somehow, she got lost or confused and disoriented, and the damn cave is gone. She dives underwater looking for the entrance several times, resurfacing periodically to catch her breath. All the while, the goblet weighs heavily in her hand, almost like –

It’s a stupid thought, but it’s almost like it’s trying to drag her down. Down into the deep where Cassian awaits her. And the more time that passes, the more she feels like this was a bad idea. She should have told Bodhi where she went, she should have brought him with her – she should just go back and sell the damn thing, but when she looks around, all she can see is water and water and more water. When did those dark clouds roll in? How could she have not noticed a storm approaching?

As soon as she realizes what’s happening, it’s like the sea comes alive around her. Jyn knows she’s in trouble. The waves toss her around like a ragdoll as she fights to stay above water. It keeps pulling her under, spraying saltwater in her eyes and mouth as she gasps for air and moves her limbs desperately to try and find land. She’s an excellent swimmer, but nobody can win against a storm.

She’s not sure how long she fights against the waves, but she’s getting exhausted. Her legs feel heavy, and it’s harder every time to push back to the surface when she goes under. The goblet weighs her down – distantly, she realizes she’s still holding it but she can’t make her fingers let go. Her strength is fading and still, her fingers remain locked tightly around its hilt like they have been welded together.

Then she hears it. Jyn! A voice calling her name, loud and desperate, a voice that sounds like…

Cassian. He finally called out to her.

She sees him in the distance before she goes under, blurry like a mirage. She knows why he’s here. It’d be so easy to join him, she realizes as the water engulfs her again. So easy to let go. Maybe it’s time, she thinks, and her fingers finally loosen around the goblet.

I’m coming, my love.

And just as she’s about to sink down into the deep, a hand seizes hers and drags her up, above the surface where she gasps and takes in large gulping breaths, coughing up water from her throat. Her lungs burn and her head feels dizzy, her vision blurry and darkening. But she can still make out Cassian’s face above her, staring at her with what seems like worry and relief at the same time.

“Are you here to take me with you?” she breathes, half resigned to her fate. She doesn’t hear his answer, if there is one, and she falls under with the comfort that at least her last moments were spent in the embrace of Cassian.

Jyn spends four months at Wobani before she and a couple of inmates manage to escape during a riot. The news spread quickly, causing unrest across every island from there to Havana. Nobody escapes Wobani, but they do and that doesn’t sit right with anyone. The people are scared, the authorities under pressure; there’s a massive search on every port across the Caribbean Sea. It means Jyn Erso must disappear. For good.

She takes on the name of Kestrel Dawn and returns to the place where she’s last seen Cassian alive. It’s the only thing she can think to do – he’s gone, Stardust is gone, Kay is gone, and the only person left alive who knows that a man named Cassian Andor once existed is her. It’s not enough, but as she stands on the beach at sunrise and places a bouquet of wildflowers on the water, she feels it counts for something.

It’s there, somewhere in the sea, that he lies at the bottom, waiting for her. As she looks out at the never-ending body of water, she feels a calm wash over her. He’s one with the sea now, everywhere, all around her, always with her.

The waves lap at her bare feet, the tide rising higher and more insistent. She feels like it’s trying to tell her something, trying to call her home.

She smiles, taking a deep breath. “Not yet, my love. Not yet.”

Jyn wakes up in her cabin and for a moment, all is normal. It takes a second to remember the storm, her losing battle against the waves, and… Cassian.

She sits up slowly, and Bodhi is suddenly by her side, pulling the blanket higher up her body like a worried mother hen.

“Thank god you’re awake! How are you feeling? You gave us quite the scare, Li,” he says all in one breath, and barely stops before adding. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

“I…” She squints, still a bit disoriented, staring off into space as memories slowly trickle in. She turns her head towards Bodhi, a realization sitting on her tongue. “I think he saved me.” Tears fill her eyes, too emotional to hide them. “He wasn’t here to take me with him, he was here to save me.”

She believed the legends, she’d given into thinking that he was here to drag her down. Appropriate revenge for a man who had been sacrificed like that for no good reason at all.

But that wasn’t Cassian, it couldn’t be. He’d never harm her, and he didn’t – not even in death. He wasn’t her grim reaper, he was her guardian angel.

“Liana,” Bodhi begins slowly, then awkwardly trails off. She can tell he’s not quite sure how to say what he wants to say.

“What?”

“I did save you,” says a voice from the doorway, and she knows who it belongs to even before she turns her head. Heartbeat in her throat, she lifts her head towards him, slowly, half-afraid that she’s not going to find anyone standing there.

But there he is. Leaning against the doorframe in all his glory, brown leather pants, and a loosely tied white shirt hanging from his frame, dark strands of hair curling against his neck. It’s longer than in her memories, and he’s thinner, too – too thin.

But he doesn’t seem so ghostly in the daylight, with the sun behind his back, and Bodhi looking at him too. He seems quite real, in fact. A gasp is stuck in her throat, her mouth dry at the sight of him. How is it possible…

When her gaze finally meets his, he seems just as shaken, awed, disbelieving. Jyn sits up fully, unable to look away as she methodically moves her legs off the bed. His eyes are misty and his hands are trembling a bit – but god, the way he looks at her… it’s the look of a man finding shelter in the middle of a storm.

He used to look at her like that in their private moments – when he was inside her, when they were in bed basking in the afterglow, when she cut down enemies with a single swipe of her sword before he even lifted his pistol.

It’s that look, more than anything, that convinces her this is real.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she says at last, the only thing she can think to say. How are you not dead? Where were you?

“I’ll leave you two be,” Bodhi says. Shamefully, she’s forgotten he’s even in the room. He squeezes her shoulder in comfort before he goes, and she watches him give Cassian a small but encouraging smile as he passes him.

Once he’s gone, Cassian clears his throat. His gaze finally drops, the loss of its intensity making her chest tighten.

“I did save you,” he repeats, his voice rough with emotion. “I saw someone in the water. I didn’t realize it was you until… I was looking for the goblet.”

“I don’t understand,” Jyn gasps, shocked at how high her own voice sounds. She can’t swallow around the ball lodged in her throat.

“I’m not a ghost. I’m not dead, I never was.”

He still hasn’t moved from the doorway, almost like he’s too afraid to come closer. Jyn’s hand tightens around the bed frame.

“I saw the ship sink.”

“It did. And I almost drowned,” Cassian admits, his voice strained. The small laugh he lets out is humorless. “I don’t know how I survived, I really don’t. I guess I was just lucky that those idiots didn’t tie my hands well enough and I was able to break free before the last cannon hit the ship. I don’t remember much after that. I grabbed a plank floating in the water, just trying to hold on. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever make it to land, I must have been out there for days. I was trying so hard not to give up… for you. I had to make it back to you. But I was getting so tired. Eventually, I just…”

He shrugs, a small defeated gesture. His eyes drop to the floor, his shoulders hunched. He looks guilty, ashamed, and Jyn wants to get up, gather him in her arms and never let go, but she has to hear the rest of his story.

“I was washed ashore the next day, barely alive. It was a small remote island, no cities, no villages, no ships. No one lived there. I had no way back home. I was stranded there... for five years.”

He lifts his head up, and the despair she finds in his eyes almost has her doubling over.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again,” he admits, small and heart-wrenching. Jyn closes her eyes, letting her tears run down her face and onto her lap.

“And then?” she croaks, her voice trembling.

“A merchant ship came by about three months ago. They took me back, brought me to Havana. I tried to look for you. I heard you escaped Wobani, but I couldn’t… well, there were no more mentions of Jyn Erso after that. No word of you for five years. I figured you had gone into hiding but I didn’t know how to find you. All I could think to do was… find the goblet.”

A sad smile plays on his lips, his eyes glassy.

“But you found it first. And I found you.”

Jyn takes in a shuddering breath, her whole body trembling.

“It’s gone. I think I let go of it in the water.”

“Good,” he breathes. His eyes find hers again, looking for a sign, an answer. When Jyn gives it to him, inclining her head just so, he cuts across the room in long strides and kneels in front of her. His tear-stained cheeks now match hers.

Tentatively, he takes hold of her hands, and a small desperate sound escapes her mouth at the touch. Her eyes flutter shut when his other hand reaches up to cup her cheek, trembling as she presses her face against his palm.

“Jyn,” he begins, voice hoarse. She can hear the fear in his tone. “Do you still…”

“I do,” she breathes without opening her eyes, without waiting to hear his question. “I do still. I do.”

She tugs on his hand to pull him up, and he goes willingly, his mouth finding hers like it was five years ago and they hadn’t been broken by the world and its cruelty yet. She clings to him desperately, clutching at the collar of his shirt, fingers slipping into his hair, trying to pull him closer as much as she can. The only thing that matters is that every part of her is touching every part of him.

She breaks away, the sound on her lips a strange mix between a laugh and a sob. His lips find her forehead instead and she buries her face in his chest, tears still in her eyes, but listening to his heartbeat steady under her hand.

There’s so much to talk about. So much to catch up on. It feels like a fever dream – she’s afraid to wake up and realize it hadn’t been real. But Cassian holds her tighter, and she knows that in his arms, nothing can hurt her.

They’re finally home.

[flowerflamestars]

not a fic ask but i absolutely have to know if you have any theories on lyctorhood??

I love you for asking this but truly, fair warning, the murderboard of locked tomb theories in my head is a MESS

In no particular order:

1) I think the main tenet that Harrow accepted as truth vis a vis you become a tomb/ ‘a soul consumed in eternal death’ is almost certainly wrong. That her lobotomy in an attempt to preserve Gideon wasn’t necessary.

For one thing, Pyrrha Dve. Whole enough to a) pilot her necro’s body...without his consent? and b)take over his body full when his soul is extinguished fighting the resurrection beast.

Further it sounds good, but doesn’t super make sense with what we know about necromantic power. Palamedes and Harrow have that whole ‘glass canon’ conversation- give them a death and they can go for a few more minutes but thanergy always dissipates? Why would the consumption of a soul be a battery? Why would it not, actually, matter that the bond preserved that moment of death, the energy bloom that powers everything?

If the cavaliers are still there, imperfect Lyctorhood preserves the soul, but perfect lyctorhood is true necromancy: the preservation of the cav’s body, brought back.

2) I think Anastasia was doing it right, and that’s why JohnGod killed Samael

3). Alecto. Murderwife my monster babe- I don’t think whatever bond ended up being the Lyctoral concept was on purpose. I hesitate to say this, but while JohnGod is clearly a very smart and dangerous as hell, I lean toward the off the walls idea that Alecto (or a part of who Alecto once was) is the source of necromancy. 

Those eyes- the visible death monster cue, that belonged to her. 

But also the two divergent stories of AL- the woman John loved. The woman, who according the Mercy, isn’t a woman at all, might not even have dna. A monster, piloting a human suit.

Whose eyes, John has worn, since August met him pre/during Great Resurrection. 

Let’s paint an off the walls picture: AL the first necromancer, power gained from the slow death of a world. John, the second necromancer. LOVE. AL dies- John, long before he’s God, brings her back. But he can’t do it right- he has yet to ascended on the insane blast of power that is million’s dying at once- BUT THEN THE WORLD DOES DIE- and John, failing, frantic, tries to remake her.

And you know what’s there to do it? Not her original necromancy, or soul, but the souls of thousands, right there to be shoved in a vessel. Perhaps, even more interestingly, the after echo of all that death, something John has no idea if can even be killed: the resurrection beast.

He brings back her body- he is tangled in her power, but the woman he loved? Gone. 

Alecto. John’s guardian. The Lyctors are all her children (as John SO CREEPILY SAYS) because the experiments, the impetus all along, was to reverse engineer what he did. Mercy says it herself- John wanted to fix Alecto, but accidentally made her worse instead. 

What is John’s favorite alt aspect? Kindly Prince? Man who Became God? Great Resurrector? Teacher. 

Who also has hella power we don’t understand the source of until it’s revealed to be souls? Teacher, on Canaan, an experimental melange.

Does he need powerful Hands? Sure. But is the real sacrifice always toward what John really wants? Yes

4)Speaking of John’s JohnGoding about with his interpretation of history, I think it was always, ALWAYS his plan to have more Lyctors.

(not just for Alecto reasons)

One flesh, one end? Not a coincidence in a society/religion John built, with his friends, on purpose. (There people call the Houses an experiment. A project. Mercy’s out here grumbling that John isn’t supposed to tell Inathe and Harrow her name because they’d all agreed the OG Lyctors names should be forgotten, sacred.)

My point is, they made up the cult aspects. And maybe for the Lyctoral faithful the continued cavalier tradition was almost a suited memorial, something to be cherished. But John? i would bet John always needed and wanted more.

Crack theory time: John, obviously, wants the Lyctors around for personal reasons. He loves them, as much as a normal dude who became (maybe by accident) an eldritch horror in a human body after watching his species implode, can still love.

But John needs the Lyctors for necromancy.

So, I’m deeply suspicious of his powers. Harrow, our born in death literal necromancy genius, says it’s nothing like any necromancy she’s ever felt. He can stop time. He can’t be killed. When Harrow tries to off Gideon with soup, John doesn’t heal Gideon- he stops time and then the injury reels back on itself to wholeness. He somehow pulls the same move on himself, when Mercymorn has her assassination.

Necromancy in the most basic term: the reversal of death

But the Lyctors are the ones out here flipping planets to make necromancy possible on them. When there were more of them, the led battles. John’s great miracle of necromancy is all on his word... I think he needs them to do the things he can’t- the not miracles, the other necromantic acts? Normal necros are glass canons, but John is a bomb.

Further weird proof at least that he always wanted more: every other Lyctor seems to have been against it always- but their labs are perfectly preserved? all their work? after they all fled Canaan? they made the trials as experiments...but the trials are all set up as, you know, trials. In Johns old house, the King who Became God, the God who became king.

5) which leads me to what has been bothering me since like, the second I opened Harrow and we get the whole- these three, the eldest Lyctors, are who is left now.

Anastasia, seems like the only Lyctor who actually became a Lyctor at Canaan House?

“In lab conditions” vs August’s literally under fire vs Lovegood’s heavily implied suicide for Cytherea.

In Cytherea’s telling the story is, we figured it out, I wasn’t going to do it, Lovegood forced my hand because she wanted me to live. 

It also works for the Canaan angle- but she’s the seventh saint, so are we supposed to believe that they all figured it out together, August went off the fight a war (probably with Mercymorn, because of their cavalier’s intertwined maybe love probable suicide pact) August ate his brother, Mercy more reluctantly (maybe because her cav was dying??) consumed Cristobel, AND THEN the other’s went yeah, that sounds good let’s do that?

At least one of the pairs- Cyrus and Valancy- are very heavily implied to have been in love.

We also know, it seems, that each pair did it a little differently- Gideon, who accidentally perfectly preserved Pyrrha so well she’s been piloting him so often he thinks his memory is fucked up. Anastasia, who whatever she did, was so close to right that John interfered. Honestly, whatever is going on with Inathe’s perpetual eye color changes like she ate a bit of Babs AND Coronabeth.

So...was every Lyctor moment like Ianthe, making it up in a vacuum? They all seemingly lived together, knew each other, loved each other- and then when murdertime came no one helped anyone? in this cavalcade of geniuses, gathered at the feet on the One True Necrolord. 

Reasonable theory: there’s something wrong about the story of Canaan House, and we’re going back to it. Those salty ocean’s the Ninth/Alecto signature. The way Harrow thought it was a Tomb as well. The timeline that has never, a for a second, added up that Palamedes wouldn’t stop talking about in the first book.

Crack theory: all that is true, but additionally- John fucks with memory. 

[precious-whumps]

a rokka no yuusha/braves of the six flowers whump summary

hey all, i didn’t know there was such a thing as whumplr until recently. my excitement is immeasurable and my day is made, and i thought it’d be fun to join the community with this offering~

i see that y’all know about rokka and gif the boy a lot, but it seems like most don’t even know about anything that came after the anime. i was so obsessed with the characters and the story that i purchased the light novels and was not disappointed — at least on the whump front. the books are kinda pricey since barnes and noble was the only retailer i found that had it and the author never continued after volume 6, so if you happened to want to know the whumpy details, i’ve got them for you right c’here.

be warned though! there’s major spoilers from this, not limited to the identity of the seventh and the climax to the first (lol only...) main conflict since context, at least for me, adds everything to the moment. i also don’t have the books with me, so the descriptions here are just off the top of my head. small plot details might be wrong. once i get my books out of storage, i’m happy to post excerpts if anyone’s interested in that :)

alrighty so vol 2 picks up right after the end of the anime. the braves make it into the howling vilelands (book translation, i can’t remember what they called it in the anime), but they’re soon accosted by tgurneu. adlet has this spike thing with crystallized saint blood on the tip. after some desperate fighting and help from hans and mora, he manages to get close enough to stab tgurneu with it. the beautiful dumbass just stands there though, watching, waiting for that sweet sweet vengeance. tgurneu looks up at him and says, “are you seriously trying to kill me?” then, lightning fast and with inhuman strength, he punches adlet square in the face. the hit fractures his skull, knocking him out instantly, and sends him flying into the woods. he rolls and hits a tree i think. fremy screams for him :’c

mora gets to him first. i definitely remember that she feels his neck for breaks. it might have been my imaginings, but i’m pretty sure she pulls his arm across her shoulder and carries him in a semicircle around tgurneu who hasn’t died yet. hans comes up and takes adlet from her, saying he’ll get everyone to the next checkpoint which is a cave that has a special protective barrier the saint of the single flower made however long ago it was. he runs with both adlet and chamo (who’s been poisoned) on his shoulders all the way there. tough kitty. the others catch up eventually ‘cause they were dealing with more fiends attacking them and having trust arguments with each other, fremy and mora specifically with fremy ending it by outright saying that she’s worried about adlet. at the cave, they’ve laid him down by the spring, and mora heals him with the power of the mountain since bones aren’t rolonia’s forte. he’s still unconscious for a few more hours, until evening i think. she notes his resilience when he wakes up.

this volume also introduced me to the joys of hans whump..he gets my absolute favorite kind here. it’s revealed that tgurneu got to mora some years before, threatening to murder her young daughter if she doesn’t kill “at least one brave.” but she’s smart and dedicated, so she recruited rolonia, trained her to be both a strong enough fighter to be chosen as a brave, but also to be an insanely powerful healer too, because mora’s plan is to kill a brave to free the daughter but then immediately have rolonia resurrect them. she’d decided to use adlet since he was both healthy (had the best chances of being revived) and the easiest for her to deal with (lol), but there’s a hiccup in her attempt to separate him from the group. she ends up with hans instead because he sensed something was fishy, wanted to scope the situation out himself. it’s too late to fix it, so she fights her little heart out with him, finally managing to get a solid, heavy punch to his chest, stopping his own heart. she collapses from the licks he got on her and has to drag herself to his body. she pricks his jugular, all the while rolonia’s freaking out cause she wasn’t in on the plan, and the rest of the team swarms them. mora just yells at rolonia to pump hans’ spilled blood until his heart starts up again even as the others are yelling at her, believing she’s the seventh. i think adlet gathers the situation a bit and kneels by hans’ side across from rolonia, asks her if she needs him to do anything. i don’t remember the dialogue exchange, i just know that he’s holding hans as he comes back to life, and the poor guy, this hardened, i-ain’t-scare-of-no-things assassin, touches his neck where he was pricked, then starts screaming from the realization that he was dead. i love it. i’m so unbelievably salty we didn’t at least get the second season for this scene alone.

oh i also remember a flashback scene from when adlet met rolonia on atro’s mountain, it might’ve been in this book. it was one night, after a long day of struggling just to get nowhere with his training, he lamented that he was born a man, meaning he could never be a saint and have the power he needed to get revenge for his village. rolonia had her own issues at the time too, mainly that she didn’t want to be a saint, so the two ended up sobbing together all night.

~

vol 3 didn’t have a whole lot of…anything really. it was mostly goldov’s backstory (he takes a beating, i think, with nashe by his side for a little bit while he’s recovering) and the braves running around in circles like idiots trying to find nashetania. she loses her arm *shrug*. i guess i can say this one was important since it was showing the first signs of adlet’s strong man veneer cracking. boy’s getting stressed out by this whole leadership thing.

~

vol 4 also didn’t have much physical whump, but the emotional is pretty nice. it’s actually my fave in the series because it made me cry ;-;

the braves push deeper into the vilelands and come across the ruins of human villages. now, there’s a fiend with the special ability to implant parasites into the brain stem of humans and control them. they can still be ‘alive’ even after they should be dead, like this small army of zombies have long since starved to death, but their minds are sort of still there. and one of them just so happens to be adlet’s childhood friend rainer, the kid that he thought died with his sister. rainer heard information from the fiends that he knows the braves need, so most of the book is him trying find a way to tell them. he’s not able to until the very end as he’s lying in the woods, dying for real and singing a song from their village because it’s the last thing he can think of. he sort of recognizes adlet, saying, “you look like someone i know,” just before he’s gone. hans tells adlet it’s okay to cry if he needs to, and he’s all, ‘no i’m fine, we need to go.’ he takes a few steps away then stops and says, “actually, hold on,” then “presses his face to a tree trunk and weeps.”

~

vol 5…i gotta admit, i honestly don’t remember this one very well. adlet gets “beat to a bloody pulp,” but i can’t visualize it since some of the plot was hard to follow, and he’s honestly had worse already so i was barely registering it. the braves suspect him again of being the seventh, and real evidence comes forth showing that he likely is, and fremy tries to kill herself to protect the braves? like it’s just a big dramatic thing. so it’s kinda half revealed that tgurneu, who ~somehow~ still isn’t dead, has some kind of control over adlet involving ~the power of looove~, and it’s starting to be more clear that he has an unnatural compulsion to protect fremy. so like, yeah, he’s having to do a bunch of shit to stop her from killing herself, stop the braves from trying to help her with that, and stop them from suspecting him. i think fremy shoots him in the leg? i legitimately cannot recall. i do remember that he finally manages to craft a lie that convinces them that hans is the seventh and that fremy doesn’t have to kill herself, that her death might actually hurt them. she’s kneeling on the ground for some reason, he runs over to her, just stands there again looking at her, asks if she’s okay. she feels bad about him being injured and gently places her hands on his torso to keep him steady. it’s a super sweet image to me, yeet. he drinks some potion thing goldov uses to keep pain at bay with the warning that he’ll “be in hell once it wears off.” that’s all i got for this one, sorry >.<

~

and finally vol 6. it’s fully revealed that yeah, tgurneu is mind controlling him to love fremy so that she can fulfill her engineered purpose (she wasn’t aware of it. she’s such a brilliant, sweet girl, i love her so much), which is to drain the magic from the braves’ crests while they’re in the vilelands. of course, this will kill them as soon as the protection from the land’s poison is gone. so adlet’s for sure the seventh but he never knew it until now (or he didn’t accept it, i think he did realize it back in 5). his entire life was manipulated for this scenario. most of his POV in the book is his mental breakdown dealing with all of this. like he tries to force himself to stop loving fremy and being willing to betray his friends and destroy the world for her, but he just can’t shake the control, making him cry again from the stress.

at some point, he and hans are cornered by tgurneu’s special forces. they’d reverted to enemies after the previous book’s shenanigans but when hans realizes what’s going on in adlet’s head, he feels bad for him. adlet doesn’t do much fighting, leaving hans to deal with it. “not an inch of his skin is clean of blood” as this fight goes on. later, to keep adlet from causing any problems, tgurneu has one of the big fiends swallow him. he’s stuck in there a good while with its weird prehensile organ cinched around his throat and the potion wearing off.

finally towards the end with the rest of the braves coming to the rescue, he finds the will to escape and attack tgurneu, thanks to some clever situation-manipulation by mora once again.

a good slash to hans’ gut takes him out. adlet holds him again for a minute before chamo has one of her swamp fiends also swallow him for safe keeping lol.

oh i should probably mention that the prologue for this one showed a younger adlet still in training with atro. he’s told to ‘surprise me or gtfo’ because up to this point, he’s shown zero promise or skill, relying only on his need for vengeance. this is when he’s first given the saint blood spike, and it’s also shown that this was when the love spell took effect - a dream about a girl he doesn’t know but wants to protect at all costs. he has to figure out how to use the weapon in a way that no fiend would see coming. so he holds it up and stabs his own chest.

now back to his final battle with tgurneu. he conveniently had two spikes only, used one already that didn’t work because tgurneu is actually a fig-tree thing that controls any fiend that like..vores him, so the saint blood only killed his meatsuit before (he’s now in a large bird-like one). adlet knows he won’t get another lucky stab in, so he lets tgurneu rip his stomach open. he slips the crystal from the second spike into the wound, then grabs tgurneu by the face. his now toxic non-saint blood bubbles up into his throat. tgurneu, ridiculous fool that he is, can only watch dumbfounded as adlet pries his beak open and spits a mouthful of that blood into him. it reaches the fig portion of his body, killing the new meatsuit and forcing him to retreat. he’s helpless like this. adlet only has to go pick him up, tear the fruit-body apart to reach the fiend’s core. adlet stands there, holding the core in his palm. it’s occurring to him that everything he’s become is about to be gone because the love spell was the only reason he became the strongest man in the world. then he crushes the core and collapses, half dead.

fremy goes to him and tries to treat his wounds, but his blood burns her hands. the fiend army is still bearing down on them, so she wraps him in her cloak and carries him on her back herself to the next safe zone. at some point, he wakes up a little bit while they’re still running. his mind is so scrambled, and he feels an indescribable terror that knocks him back out. five hours pass, and when he wakes up to the others arguing about what they should do with him, he finds that he doesn’t feel anything for fremy anymore. he looks at her sitting next to him, says her name like three times, but he can’t summon back that love he felt so strongly.

hans is just in the background sleeping off the second healing session he must’ve had with rolonia. everyone’s pretty worn to the bone.

and that’s basically it. there’s cliffhanger plot stuff that i’m sad i’ll probably never see developed further. oof not to mention the destruction of adlet’s character and his romance with fremy. i can only assume yamagata-sensei intended to rebuild it in the next arc considering tgurneu truly believed that adlet’s capable of achieving the impossible. but yeah, i’ll compile some excerpts for y’all when i can xx

[staruplatinum]

Since Risotto was requested multiple times for the nsfw alphabet, I decided to do the whole thing for him. (And because he’s my fave and I’m biased 🤷🏻‍♀️🖤)

Full nsfw alphabet (A-Z ) for Risotto Nero below the cut!

A = Aftercare

He’s very concerned for his s/o always after sex. Massages, Baths, tea...Anything they need he will do for them, no matter what it is. Even if La Squadra keeps him busy, he values your aftercare more and will do what he can to help.

B = Body part

On himself, he really likes his chest. He works out almost every day to keep his physique so nice, and he likes when people look at it or appreciate it. He also, obviously, likes his cock. It’s something he’s very proud of but he doesn’t boast about it. (That cock is legendary)

On his s/o, he loves tiny physiques, mainly because he has a size kink. (Lets be real here though, most people are going to be tiny compared to him!) he also appreciates people’s eyes, as he believes that eyes are the key to ones soul. If we’re talking sexually, he has a thing for asses. He loves to grab them with his big hands, or even spank them.

C = cum

Risotto doesn’t really have a prefrence as to where he cums. It all depends on the moment. If you’re giving him a blowjob, he’ll be happy to cum down your throat or on your face. If he’s fucking you, he’s fine with cumming inside, mainly because he’s a little lazy to pull out. But as I said, there’s no real preference. He cums a lot!! Way more than average, and his cum tastes kind of salty, but it’s not unpleasant.

D = dirty secret

Once he used his stand to help him camouflage in his s/o’s room, only to find them masturbating and moaning his name over and over. Risotto felt awful and embarrassed for watching them (without them knowing) but he was also glad he did. It turned him on so much seeing his beloved s/o beg for him like that, wishing he was there. If only they knew...

E = Experience

He has plenty. I mean, he’s 28 years old so it’s only normal that he’d have sex a few times. He knows what he’s doing!

F = favourite position

Risotto likes a lot of positions — but he’s limited to what he can do. Especially because of his size. He’s really tall, so 69 won’t work out. He is also very aware at the size of his cock (9&1/2inches) so he knows full well that most positions won’t work out.(he wouldn’t want to hurt his s/o!) Because of that, he mainly just lets his s/o ride him, or he’ll fuck them from behind in doggy style.

G = Goofy

Hard to believe, but Risotto can be ‘goofy’ in a sense, especially if you two have been together a while. He wants sex to be enjoyable for both of you and isn’t afraid to let loose when you are doing the act. Don’t be fooled though, he’s still the goth capo(tm) and he has to keep up the facade. The most you get out of him is a faint chuckle followed by “youre so cute, Tesoro.”

H = hair

It was said somewhere that risotto’s natural hair colour is dark brown? So I’d like to think that his body hairs would be the same. Regardless, the hairs are small and sparse. He likes to keep a clean shave most of the time, but for the most part he just trims. On his partner he’s not too picky with body hair, but a clean shave would be much preferred.

I = Intimacy

It depends on the situation! Risotto doesn’t tend to do one night stands but he has in the past. And in those situations he only wants a quick fuck and then wants the person gone. If he’s in a relationship, he’s extremely intimate. He likes the more dominating positions but there’s times where he just wants to be close to his s/o. Missionary is his go-to for that. He’ll kiss you, whisper how beautiful you are in Italian and tell you how much he loves you. Of course, he’s only like this in private and if he has been with you for a while.

J = Jack off

If he’s not in a Relationship risotto jacks off before bed. Not every night, but most nights he will. Either in the bed or the shower.

Once he has a s/o, he doesn’t really feel the need to. Unless his s/o is away on a mission (or vice versa) and he really misses them.

K = Kink

Size kink ! Need I say more? He’s 6”8, so most people would be tinyer than him anyways. He just loves seeing his big form cover your tiny one!

He loves to see stomach bulges. When he’s fucking his s/o, it will make him go absolutely feral if he sees his dick making your stomach bulge just from it’s sheer size.

To an extent, BDSM though he isn’t into the whole concept of it. If anything he just likes to tie your hands behind your back, and tie your ankles to the bed post while he goes down on you. (Or fucks you!)

He has a thing for being praised. He likes to be called “Capo” and “Signore” in bed. It really gets him going. Even if you call him “daddy”, that will also turn him on.

He likes to degrade you but in a nice way? Almost like teasing? You’ll hear him say a lot of things like “you take your capo’s cock so well, look at you”

He has a Knife play kink as well. It turns him on like crazy if his s/o is in black lingerie and is using a sharp knife to drag down their body, threatening to cut the fine lace. 🔪

L = Location

Risotto prefers to fuck you in the privacy of his own home (or yours). In general he keeps a lot to himself so fucking you in public wouldn’t get him off (especially because he’s a feared assassin in Passione. He can’t be seen fucking you in a public restroom). The only other place he wouldn’t mind fucking you is his office! - of course (as you’ll see for the letter R = Risk) that comes with the risk of the other La Squadra members seeing you, but risotto trusts them and considers them family. So it doesn’t really matter.

M = Motivation

Risotto is a very busy man, so majority of the time you will have to get him off or grab his attention. Walking into his office and wearing a skirt with no panties is definitely one way. He loves the “innocent” look you have as you bend over - showing him all your ass. He might just grab you then and there — pushing your little form into his desk as he grabs your hips and fucks you hard.

As mentioned in kinks, another way to turn him on is by;

Wearing black (or white) lingerie

Playing with knives

Sexting him (sending nudes, etc)

N = No

He’s not into sharing. What’s his is his. He also won’t do water sports, scat or vore. He likes blood play to a small extent but he’s also turned off by it considering he sees so much blood with his job & his stand.

O = Oral

A god at giving oral, he will go down on you as long as he can. Teasing you, licking you, using his fingers.. he knows all the tricks to make you come undone!

When receiving oral, he likes when his s/o struggles to take his full length down their throat. He’ll praise them, “come on Bella, I know you can take more than that...” before shoving his cock down their throat. Deepthroating you is one of his favourite past times. ;)

P = Pace

He prefers long drawn out thrusts over fast thrusts, but he is very mailable and can go at whatever pace his s/o prefers! Of course though, when it comes to fast paces he’s very cautious at how hard he goes, mainly because of his size. He wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt you.

Q = quickie

Isn’t fond of them, he likes when both partners can finish. However, if he has a meeting with La Squadra, he’ll probably bend you over his desk and fuck you hard enough before the rest of his team walks in...

R = Risk

He kind of likes the fact that if he fucks his s/o in his office, he carries the risk that any of the La Squadra members can just walk right in. In a way, it turns him on, though , he isn’t really into voyerism. On the other hand, if his s/o is female, he kind of likes to cum inside her when she isn’t using protection. The rush it gives him is insane, but he knows that’s stupid of him to do especially if she becomes pregnant. It’s more of a fantasy, if anything.

S = Stamina

Goth Capo can last a while, but when he does cum, his refractory period is long. He needs about 20-30 minutes before he can go again. However, when you’re having sex, since he can last so long, you’re guaranteed to have at least two orgasms in that time. He’ll make sure of it.

T = Toys

He doesn’t have any for himself, but he’s willing to buy/ make some (with metallica! ;D ) for his s/o. He does own some rope though, if that counts.

U = Unfair

Risotto can be unfair at times. If his s/o has been bad, he can go down on them for hours. Edging them until they are crying for him to let them cum. However, he’s a very busy man so that rarely happens.

V = Volume

He’s quiet in bed. He makes an occasional grunt here and there, and you’ll hear a few Italian cuss words slip from under his breath as well. He likes to talk to you though! So expect a lot of praise “ah, yes Tesoro. You’re so tight—“

W = wild card

Risotto has always wanted to stuff his s/o’s holes with metal toys that he made using metallica. Just seeing their mouth, ass and/or pussy being filled is so hot to him.

X = X-ray

At his size, it would be silly to say his dick is under 8”. When Risotto is fully hard, his cock can get to 9 and a half inches, and it’s very thick. Unless you’re bigger than him, chances are that your hand will just barely be able to wrap around it. Since his dick is quite big, it’s only natural for it to point downwards. Since most Italians aren’t cut, neither is he. He’s uncircumcised, and his dick is a couple of shades darker than his skin tone! He also has really big balls.

Y = Yearning

He’s a grown man so he does want sex often, however, due to his job he has to suppress his sex drive a LOT.

Z = Zzzz Sleep!

When he’s not too pent up with La Squadra stuff, he can fall asleep really quick! Of course, he’ll need to hold his s/o and spoon with them. If he’s busy or stressed with up coming missions then after sex hell honestly just wait until you fall asleep before he gets back to his work. It’s sad, but it’s the price he’s got to pay as a Capo!

[writewithurheart]

Family Means No One Gets Left Behind: The Package

A Black Widow Movie Rewrite in a series of one-shots

A/N: Because I watched the movie and had some ideas about fic. So here’s a series of one-shots about another way this could have happened…

*Contains BLACK WIDOW MOVIE SPOILERS*

Chapter 2: The Package (Yelena POV)

Read on AO3 or below the cut: 

The Package 

Yelena rolls the sleeves of her oversized jacket up as she sips her cup of coffee and pokes around at the smartphone she picked up on her way out of South America. It doesn’t have as many pockets as she’d prefer but she’s made some modifications. The same with this smartphone. Technology is not her strong suit. She prefers things she can shoot at or stab. Her knowledge of the tech is surreal in that all her aptitude is tied to the brainwashing and chemical treatments she got. She spent a good couple hours playing with the preference settings and personalizing the phone while she was tracking down Natalia. Or rather Natasha as she’s now known. 

From her limited memories, her sister was always needlessly dramatic like that.

She replays the footage on youtube of Natalia in battle, clumsily filmed and posted on social media. This compilation has proven to be quite amusing. She snorts as “Natasha Romanov” strikes that ridiculous pose when she lands and does that over the top hair flip. She rewinds and grabs her box of sugary cereal. She likes the one with the marshmallows. It’s colorful and sweet and nothing like what they were served in the Red Room. 

An alert flares from her phone and Yelena quickly downs the last of her coffee. She wasn’t sure how long it would take Natasha to get the package when the hulking superhero came and picked up the mail that had been piling up. It had taken her some time to track down Natasha’s safe house despite knowing her final job was in Budapest. This place hadn’t been burned when her sister made the foolish move of dumping SHIELD’s information online. 

She might be a little salty with Natalia for burning SHIELD to the ground when she left the Red Room standing to torture more girls. If she didn’t need Natasha’s help, they might be having this conversation in a very different form. With more weapons and less espionage. 

Running into an undercover Captain America was a surprise. He’d looked different, but Yelena knew there were only a few people Natasha would trust with the safehouse location. It seems that number included the new family she had chosen.

She pulls out her gun and checks that it’s in working order. She trusted that the famed Captain America would ensure the package got to Natasha, that she would recognize the photos inside, and that she would track her down. She’s going to make Natasha help her rescue the rest of the widows and destroy the Red Room once and for all. If she wants to recruit a certain Captain who’s on the run, Yelena wouldn’t complain.

Professionally, she’s intrigued. She’d love to spar against him. She’d watched the footage with the Winter Soldier, recalls going up against him once or twice early in their training when they broke into a HYDRA base. She wonders what it would be like to go up against the man who fought and broke the Winter Soldier. Those fights were always fun. 

She places her cup in the sink and stows the cereal in the cabinet. She probably won’t come back to it, but she does want to keep him safe.

“I know you’re there.” She calls when she hears the door open as she settles into a loose stance and checks her grip on her weapon. “There are no traps. Why are you tip-toing around?” 

Yelena could make nice with her sister. She is the one who left the calling card and took over Natasha’s safehouse. She glances at the Avengers photo she put up last night - held to the wall by the knives she’d used for target practice - and affirms her resolve. All her life she’s heard how great Natasha is. She needs to make sure that’s accurate and that Natasha can help her. 

The door clicks open, the lock picked. She has to listen carefully to hear her footsteps over the floor, the slight displacement of air as she moves. Yelena turns to face the opening into the small kitchen area.

“I got your message,” Natalia calls as she moves slowly through the space. 

She sighs. If she wanted Natalia dead, there were so many other ways for her to have done it. “I figured. Your friend was sweet. He’s shorter in person.” 

Natalia rounds the corner, gun first, and twists to face Yelena who already has her weapon pointed at her. 

“You saw Steve.” 

She shrugs. “He was nice. Boyfriend?” 

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “First time seeing me in years and that’s all you have to say. I don’t think this conversation passes the Bechdel Test.” 

Yelena shrugs. “I was taught to blend in by watching American television and movies. Do you know what they teach American girls? Ridiculous.” 

“We don’t have to fight.” 

“Then lower your gun,” she challenges. 

“You first.” 

Yelena lets her approach. As the distance closes, the guns become less and less effective. They both know that. It’s a game of chicken.  

“Why did you send me that package?” 

“Did you even try to look for me?” Yelena asks, aware she sounds like a petulant child. She remembers Natasha getting between her and the big men with guns, demanding they leave her alone even when their so-called parents couldn’t seem to care less. She’s clung to those pictures ever since they were separated - hiding them from prying eyes in any way she can. She’d heard rumors of her sister, hoped she would be sought out by the idolized Widow who was top of class, the perfect assassin. 

Instead she was left behind.

Natasha’s jaw clenches. “I destroyed the Red Room. I figured you got out.” 

Lie. 

Her tell is in the cageiness of her eyes. Even with her unwavering attention to Yelena’s stance, Natasha is uneasy with the question. She didn’t bother to check on Yelena.

Yelena laughs out loud at her statement. “Destroyed it? All you did was trap the rest of us.” 

“I killed Dreykov. Without him, the Red Room would have crumbled.” 

“Except it didn’t.” Yelena shoves down her anger. It won’t be helpful. “You didn’t even think to check. Isn’t that the first rule? Always confirm your kill.”

Apparently, that’s a challenge large enough that Natasha makes her move. She goes for the gun, same as Yelena does and they’re still at a stalemate, now holding each other’s guns. 

“Did you check the body?” 

“He was in the building,” Natasha grits out as she lunges for Yelena. “It exploded. There’s no way he survived.” 

“And you thought that was it? Kill one man and destroy the whole Red Room?” Honestly, she can respect Natasha getting out while she could. She gets it. Leaving Yelena behind hurts. It feels like the only family she ever remembered wasn’t worth finding again. If she’d been the one to get out, she would have gone back for Natasha. 

“It was his project. He was the head of the organization.” Natasha grunts as Yelena lands a hit. Her moment of victory is negated when Natasha gets in her own punch. 

“Come on, Tasha. You’re not that stupid.” She reels back from a punch to the face. She wipes the warm rush of liquid with her hand, staring at the bright red blood. She spits out the blood in her mouth onto the floor. 

Natasha shakes her head as they circle each other again. “Clint and I went back. The school was cleared out.” 

Yelena grimaces. “They moved us.” She strikes as she speaks, channeling her frustration into strength. “You broke the psychological conditioning so they pushed us harder.” She takes a hit, tries to flip Natasha only for her to counter the move. “Changed protocols. Turned to chemical conditioning.” 

“Chemical conditioning?” Natasha asks, slightly breathless as she locks Yelena in a headlock. 

Yelena gets in a good stab and frees herself. She doesn’t go for the knife strapped to her leg. She doesn’t actually want to kill her sister. As angry as she is, this is supposed to be a friendly spar. “You can’t tell what’s you and what’s programing. Your body responds and you don’t know if it’s you telling it to do something or not. And you don’t even question it.” 

Natasha disengages and stares at her in horror. 

“They moved the base. Started knocking the widows out on entry and exit so we couldn’t find it again. And they did all of that because of you.” Yelena screams the last bit. 

She swipes at the hot, angry tears sliding down her face. She hadn’t meant to cry. She’d planned on being cool and collected the entire time they spoke. She’s supposed to be level headed. Ice cold and now… 

“You left us behind. You left me behind.” Her face twists into a scowl as she sees turmoil in Natasha’s eyes at her pain. “I thought we were sisters.” 

“It was never real.” 

Another lie. Yelena scowls at Natasha. “It was real to me.” It was real to Natasha too, even if she wouldn’t admit to it. She’d seen the loss in her eyes. Yelena switches tracks instead of digging into that emotional pain. “I have to ask: what kind of gun makes those holes in the wall?” 

If she’d hoped for a distraction, Natasha isn’t going to be that easy to be distracted. Her gaze doesn’t waver as she answers. “Arrows. Clint tracked me to the safe house.” She strikes out as she speaks and Yelena finds herself struggling to keep up, and proud at the same time. 

Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Another Avenger. She should have known that even Natasha had help getting out.

“You’ve gotten better.” Natasha says in Russian. 

“You’re rusty,” Yelena responds as she manages to take her down, yanking the curtain from the window. 

Her upper hand doesn’t last long. The length of cloth is wrapped around her neck and Natasha’s. With their similar stature, she and Natalia are truly evenly matched and both losing air quickly when Natasha’s grip slackens with the soft offer: “Truce?” 

Yelena nods. She releases the curtain and yanks at the fabric around her neck so she can get a proper breath of fresh air. Natasha looks like she might be feeling her bruises more, which Yelena takes some relief in as she sits up quickly. 

“Did you bring the vials?” 

Natasha nods, pushing loose hair out of her face. “What are they?” 

“Chemical agent. Removes the neural pathways which allow for total cognitive function override.” Yelena bites the words out, repeating them as she’s heard them thrown back and forth in the lab, when her body was used for experiments while her mind was fully awake. When they used those same elements to remove any bit of control she might have had over her own self. 

“In English?” 

Yelena stares at her blankly as she says it in Russian. It’s their native tongue after all, not that Natalia seems to care to remember it. 

“Cute.” 

She sticks her tongue out, regressing to the child she used to be in Ohio - the last time she remembers being free and having her own choices. It’s refreshing to be speaking to someone else who also got out, even if she has conflicting feelings about all of this. 

The peace is shattered by a secondary alert. She glances at her phone and curses in Russian. “They’re here. Were you followed?” 

Natasha moves closer to look at the footage. “There was a car moving in the other direction when I was leaving my safe house. Then an explosion but I don’t think they followed me.” 

They could be tracking the case. Or maybe they just finally caught up to her. Yelena grabs her go bag and turns to Natasha. “Where are the vials?” 

She holds up the wad of vials, which must be made of some heavy duty stuff in order to still be intact after their fight. “Exit strategy?” 

“Motorcycle. East side of building. If any of them get close. Use the vials. I promised I would use those to free the rest of our sisters.” Yelena doesn’t wait to see if she follows. They don’t have the luxury of time to hesitate. If the Widows catch up, they’re dead. 

She can’t let that happen before she completes her mission. She sent the vials to Natasha, hoping it would get her to help. Or maybe shame her into helping. Either way, they’ve got to make it out of this corner first. 

Well, at least a car chase is not a terrible way to die. 

She can think of worse.

[the-cydonian-texts]

Playing with fire (Lee x Female Reader)

Summary: The only things you have in mind for tonight are drinking and dancing. But accidentally meeting Lee, one of your coworkers, adds a new set of fun activities to do on a Friday night.

Warnings: smut, swearing, pwp.

Words: 2985

Notes: This is something I wanted to write a long time ago when I watched this amazing show for the first time and got the hots for this psyscho.

I promise this is not as boring as it sounds. I just suck at writing summaries without giving out too much. Anyway... enjoy it you pervs ;)

Read it on AO3

-------------------------------- 

Friday night. You’re standing in a dark corner of some club, sipping nonchalantly from your glass, savoring the bittersweet flavor of your Gin and Tonic. Usually, you would be at home mixing your own drinks and chilling on the sofa to the tunes of your favorite music, but today was different. Call it gut feeling or whatever you like, but some invisible force was pushing you to go outside, find some underground club where no one would care about you, have a few drinks… and so you did.

So far, everything is going better than you thought it would. The place is almost dark except for some lights here and there; the music is loud and bassy, making your guts vibrate with every beat and getting you into some kind of reassuring trance. You smile to yourself as every single one of your worries disappear into the ether.

With one more sip of your glass, you decide it's time for a little fresh air. You walk through the dancefloor, gently pushing people away. Bodies squishing together to the rhythm of the music as you try to make your way to the door, away from the asphyxiating atmosphere inside the club.

Once you step outside, the freezing night air makes you gasp and shiver. It feels like a whole different world, almost completely quiet but for the muffled sound of the music escaping through the walls of the old looking building. Noticing that you weren’t the only one who needed to take a break, you walk to the back of the club, hoping to find some dark and empty spot where you can finally breathe and give your ears a little rest.

The cold brick wall feels strangely pleasant against your back when you lean against it. Tossing your empty glass away, you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the reinvigorating embrace of the chill breeze.

“Hey, you! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” A very kind and soothing male voice abruptly overlaps the softened pulsation of the bass.

You gasp, turning your head around to face the man standing a couple of meters away from you. If you didn’t know him, you would probably either flip him off or punch him in the face for giving you such a shock, but you do know him and what he is capable of; having your guard up seems the only right thing to do.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you.” The man says, closing the distance between both of you as he gives you a sweet apologetic smile. No one would ever think that such a handsome and charming man could be one of the most dangerous men you’ve ever crossed path with, but looks can be very deceiving.

“What are you doing here, Lee?” You say, preparing every muscle in your body to either fight or flight.

Lee snorts. “Relax, Y/N.” He says while taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “We are on the same team, remember?” Lee adds, raising his eyebrows and innocently smiling like he didn’t know the reason behind your reaction.

In almost two years of working as an assassin for The Network, you and Lee have barely shared a couple of words. Most of the time, it comes to a simple “hi” when you accidentally meet in the HQ’s halls. All you know about him is that he and his partner Arby are the most skilled, cold-blooded, and twisted hitmen under Millner’s command. With that in mind, the fact that he’s now talking to you like you’re his best friend seems quite off, to say the least.

“Think I didn’t hear your answer.” You say, staring into his eyes, keeping every muscle in your face relaxed. You might be playing with fire, but don’t pretend to let it burn you to a crisp without fighting back.

“I just came to have a drink and listen to some music… Didn’t think the night was storing me such a pleasant surprise.” Lee replies calmly as his eyes move gradually from your face to your feet and back up.

“Yeah? What kind of surprise?” Your eyes, never leaving his as you move closer, showing him you’re also no-one to mess with. Almost wishing he strikes first. Your heart beats fast, pumping in your ears; your fists clenched with anticipation.

“Well… I ran into you.” Lee answers in a low voice. The gentle expression displayed early on his face disappears. His eyes focus on your mouth as he moves towards you, forcing you to step back until you hit the cold hard wall behind you. His body barely centimeters away from yours.

His sudden proximity makes your head spin. These could be your last moments, this might be the last time you fill your lungs with air and feel the wind on your skin; then, why aren’t you running away?  What are you waiting for? The answer appears simple as you remember all those times you found yourself ogling Lee from afar when he didn’t notice. ‘Dangerous’ falls short when trying to describe him, but that never stopped you from getting hot every time you see him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Lee’s hot whiskey-scented breath hits your face. His eyes meet yours before moving down to your lips, silently asking for your consent.

As much as you try to control the burning desire building up in your body, it becomes more unbearable by the second. In your profession, you’re not entitled to make mistakes or take unnecessary risks, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Being so close to Lee is driving you mad from arousal, and your body soon wins the battle against your common sense.

Heavily breathing, you close the distance between you and Lee until your lips are pressed against his. The hitman lets out a soft sigh once you begin gently caressing his cheeks. He moves his hands to your sides, running his fingers along your ribs and trailing circles with his fingertips on them. His touch is more tender and caring that you would expect from someone who’s made a name for himself as a vicious torturer.

Chills travel through your body from the feeling of his mouth against yours. His hands, leisurely massaging your torso, your lips moving in perfect synchrony, unhurriedly exploring every millimeter of each other’s mouths. Soft sighs of pleasure filling the air around you.

Absentmindedly, you let your hands slip slowly to his neck, feeling his quickened pulse and his muscles twitching under your light touch. Lee growls against your mouth as your hands continue moving along his chest, his arms, his shoulders, kneading and teasing him. You can’t help but notice how well built his body is, despite him having a slim silhouette. You wish you could strip him naked and feel his skin against yours. The mere thought of it increasing the tickling sensation between your legs.

The arousal almost palpable in the air makes it easy to notice how eager both of you are to fuck each other senseless. But you know pretty well that this might be the first and last time that you’d able to do so, which is why the two of you intend to make this moment last as long as possible. However, you and Lee are ticking bomb threatening to blow at any second.

Moved by his growing thirst, Lee licks your bottom lip, letting out a dark predatory chuckle when you cannot suppress an eager whimper. His hands began moving down you back, and you tremble with expectancy before they place on your buttocks, squeezing them firmly. He can feel himself growing inside his pants with every pleasing sound that comes out of your mouth, and every touch of your avid hands is like a torturing jolt of pleasure.

Desperate for more of this spellbinding thrill, Lee kisses his way to your neck in a painfully slow pace, pressing you tightly against his body. Your fingers tangle on his hair, and you let out a moan as he sucks at a quite sensible spot, savoring your salty skin.

“Shhh. Someone’s gonna hear us.” Lee’s deep voice makes you instantly tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him.

The wet sounds coming from Lee’s mouth as he continues kissing your neck, combined with his aroused sighs, stimulate your mind and body in a way you didn’t think possible. You’ve never been so focused on anything in your life like you are now on the swarm of intoxicating sensations you’re experiencing with Lee. Your previous sex encounters couldn't be compared to this moment, since what you feel for the hitman is way more lascivious and feral than anything you’ve felt for anyone before.

As the last speck of patience leaves your body, you bring Lee back to your mouth and kiss him fiercely. The hitman places a hand on your nape as he deepens the kiss. Tongues dancing and swirling together as your bodies squeeze against each other with desperation; Lee´s hard cock pressing against your thigh, and the pulsating sensation between your legs begging for relief. You lift one of your legs, putting it around Lee’s waist, who instantly gets your hint and begins grinding against you, rubbing your clit with his covered hard-on. Both of you gasp breaking the kiss; foreheads pressed together as you both pant and moan with every roll of Lee’s hips.

“Fuck, Lee… You’re so damn hard.” You pant, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer to you. The hitman opens his eyes and tilts his head back to look at you. Your half-lidded gazes meet, and just like yours, the man’s grey eyes are full of lust and animal desire waiting to be sated. Lee smiles mischievously before getting lost in your mouth again.

Eager to take things further, you let a hand wander down to Lee’s pants, unzipping them without hesitation and taking the hitman’s stiff cock in your hand. Lee let out a deep growl as your fingers wrap around his shaft, gently scrubbing his tip on your clothed core.

“Someone’s needy, huh?” Lee groans, closing his eyes as you move your hand up and down along his length, making sure you do it excruciatingly slow.

“Shut up.” You reply, licking your lips as you take a better look at the man’s erection while your hand works on it. The sight is so overwhelmingly erotic that it takes an incredible amount of will power to stop you from getting rid of your pants and impale yourself with his member.

“Yeah. Just like that, love.” He whispers before kissing you again, moaning against your lips as you slowly stroke him.

Delicately, you begin to spread his own pre-cum along his shaft to aid your movements. You continue teasing him, gradually increasing the pressure of your hand on it, and rubbing his head with your thumb to go down again. Lee’s breathing turns shallower by the second, and his muffled moans become louder. Eventually, he can take it any longer and breaks the kiss, placing his forehead on your cheek.

“Fuck…Wait, Y/N.” Lee lets out a long growl. “You’re gonna... make me come if you… keep it like that.” He says while trying to put himself together. You nod and let go of him. Bringing your attention to his neck, you slowly lick up to his earlobe, sucking and nibbling at it, noticing how his body trembles from arousal.

“Would you turn around for me, love?” Lee asks in a low husky tone, lightly brushing his lips against your ear, emphasizing his words with a roll of his hips. You moan and obey, putting a hand on the wall and placing your forehead against it; eyes shut with anticipation, your whole body aching for him.

A delighted chuckle comes out of the hitman’s mouth. He places his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing and massaging them with his thumb, before moving them down your sides to grab your hips firmly, bringing himself to you. His chest pressed against your back, his hot breath on your ear. Lee kisses your neck as he unzips your pants, putting his hand inside your panties. His tongue swirling against your skin as two fingers begin rubbing your throbbing clit. You let out a pitched moan arching your back with pleasure, resting your head against Lee’s shoulder, as his fingers circle your nub skillfully.

“That good, love?” Lee asks, already knowing the answer. Another long moan from you reasserts his thoughts. Carefully, Lee slides two fingers inside your dripping entrance, his palm remaining in contact with your clit, as he wishes to stimulate you as much as possible.

“Oh, look how wet you are.” He growls breathlessly. His fingers undulate inside of you until he reaches that spot you were dying for him to find.

“Lee… Fuck!... Please… Don´t stop.” You moan desperately as a tingling sensation builds up inside you. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, one hand tangled in Lee’s hair while the other guides his remaining hand to cup one of your breasts. It doesn’t take long until you reach your orgasm, panting and moaning as the pressure is finally released in an explosion of pure bliss.

“Don’t think is all over, love.” Lee says once you come down from your orgasm. Both of his hands resting now on your chest. “You know I won’t be done until I make you scream.” He warns you.

The hitman’s words and the deep hoarse tone of his voice make you shudder. The tickling sensation and the heat between your legs gradually coming back as Lee caresses your breasts. He pinches your nipples over the fabric of your clothes and leaves wet kisses on your neck; nibbling and sucking in such a delicious way, you could swear he’s able to read your thoughts.

Lee pulls your pants down just enough to expose your butt to him; the soft skin of his member slightly brushing against yours makes you sigh with urgency. The hitman notices your frustration and begins running the tip of his fingers over the inner part of your thighs and up to your wet folds, spreading them apart.

“Are you ready for me, love?” Lee says, closing his eyes and nuzzling against your nape, hypnotized by the smell of your hair.

“I am... Damn, Lee… Do it now.” Your impatient whimper makes him chuckle.

With no intention of extending your wait, Lee places one of his hands on your lower belly, while the other takes hold of your hips. With a long-drawn-out growl, the hitman pushes himself slowly inside your soaked entrance. You cover your mouth, trying not to scream as you feel how every inch of his cock fills you and stretches your silky walls.

“Fuck, Y/N… you feel better… than I’ve ever imagined.” Lee huffs as he begins his thrusting, first pulling out, then going all the way back in at an agonizing pace. His heavy breathing on your nape and the vibration of his chest every time he groans makes you quiver.

“You’ve thought… a lot about me, then?” You ask while deliberately clenching your lower muscles around his shaft, smiling to yourself as you hear the surprised whine coming out of his mouth.

“More… then I’d like… to admit, love.” He replies, letting a hand finding its way under your shirt, stroking your abdomen, and making you gasp with delight at how soft his hands are. Once he has found the right pace, Lee’s fingers move back to your clit, gently tapping on it as he continues pushing into you, pleasingly hitting that spot that makes you melt. Lust can be such a powerful drug when you let it take control over your body, your decisions, your common sense…

“Lee...oh... Fuck me harder… Please!” You desperately beg when it all is becoming too much to handle. The hitman obeys driven by his own need, mercilessly pounding into you. He bites your neck as his own mind goes blank, submitting to a wild desire, strong enough to numb his logic.

Trembling, Lee’s hand reaches for your neck and wraps around it. His thrusts become gradually erratic; his hand leaves your nub to grab on your hips as his rigid cock plunge vigorously into your wetness. The hitman’s breathing turns irregular and shallow; his breathless curses accompanying your increasingly louder moans.

Suddenly, the flame burning inside of you grows bigger and bigger. Your legs began to shake, and your muscles tense when you reach the peak, screaming out Lee’s name as a powerful burst of ecstasy invades you. With a last strong push, Lee reaches his own climax releasing himself inside of you, and putting his arms around your waist, holding you tight while your orgasms wear out. A brief moment later, Lee kisses your neck one more time, slowly pulling out of you, resting his head on the back of yours until both of you can breathe normally again.

Once your body reconnects with your mind, you adjust your clothes and turn around to face Lee, meeting his eyes again. For a brief moment, none of you says a word as your minds are busy trying to assimilate what just happened while also attempting to decipher each other thoughts.

“Wanna go back inside? Drinks on me.” He finally says in a gentle tone, smiling expectantly.

“Sure!” You answer, smiling back at him and leading the way.

Consequences, if there’s any, must be taken into account, and you both know that. Your little encounter could affect your minds in ways you don’t even expect, and subsequently, your jobs could also be at risk. But you silently agree that right now is not the best moment to discuss such serious matters. For now, the only thing that should concern both of you is what drink are you gonna order at the bar.

[wellthatjusthappend]

Hi! If you're still taking prompts, please could you write a Ra'sJay, with Ra's courting an oblivious Jason. Jason thinks Ra's is threatening him or sending him some kind of warning. Everyone around him is constantly face-palming because how can someone be so oblivious?

Yeah sure! 

This turned out a little angsty, but Ra’s is a creep so what else is new?

****

“You’re not Tim,” Jason frowned when he opened the door to see Dick standing on his doorstep holding the piece of equipment he’d asked Tim for earlier that day.

“He was pretty busy, so I volunteered,” Dick said scratching the back of his head and smiling ruefully.

“Whatever, just bring it in,” Jason gestured him inside.

Dick hauled the box inside and immediately began chattering about whatever fight Tim and the Demon Brat had gotten into lately as he unpacked it on Jason’s living room floor. He was obviously a little uncomfortable, but seemed determined to act like everything was normal.

Jason squinted at him suspiciously. Were they really going to pretend the last two times they’d seen each other they hadn’t ended up making out like teenagers?

“So, what’d you need this for?” Dick finally asked as he finished setting up the scanner.

Jason debated telling him to fuck off, but he had brought him the equipment.

“Special delivery,” Jason shrugged, gesturing toward the package on his windowsill, “Looks like something from the League, but Talia usually calls if she’s sending something to me. Seeing as Ra’s threw a fit when Talia dumped me in the pit… I figured better safe than sorry.”

“You think it might be something dangerous?” Dick said, instantly becoming serious.

“I already scanned it for explosives and listening devices,” Jason said, “but Tim reckoned it was a good idea to go over it with some of his tech before I started handling it.”

“Probably a good idea,” Dick agreed.

Being careful not to disturb the box, Dick x-rayed the package, checking for more detailed contaminates, while Jason went over it with a magic sniffer Jason Blood had gifted Bruce years back.

“It’s a knife,” Dick said after a moment.

“Nothing too fucked up about it, other then having been in a Lazarus Pit at some point in history,” Jason agreed, setting down the device and kneeling to open up the box. Dick hovered next to him tensely, but Jason ignored him in favor of pulling out a velvet-lined case for the most ornate dagger Jason had ever seen.

“Looks ceremonial,” mused Jason unsheathing the thing gingerly, “Jesus, this thing has got to be old as fuck.”

Dick made a weird strangled sound next to him.

“That’s a courting dagger,” Dick said in shock, “Talia gave Bruce one, ages ago.”

“Huh,” Jason hummed, tilting the mirror like blade in the light, “Kinda romantic. Better than ring or flowers, I’ll give you that.”

“Jason-” Dick began sharply.

“Relax,” Jason rolled his eyes, “It's probably Ra's being a dramatic asshole and warning me off Talia or something.”

“But what if it’s exactly what it looks like?” Dick looked far from convinced.

“What? As a courting gift?” Jason snorted.

“Yeah,” Dick said seriously.

Jason laughed outright at that. How utterly absurd could Dick get?

“Oh, please,” Jason snickered, “Ra’s doesn’t even like me, remember? Besides, isn’t it Timmy who he has the hard on for?”

“Maybe…” Dick frowned, “But still, I remember Bruce talking about how serious that kind of gesture was in the league… Those daggers are precious; they’re not something you just hand out.”

“Yeah, that is weird…” Jason shook his head as he looked at the jewel encrusted hilt. He’d bet his savings that this thing was worth a fortune, “I’ll call Talia and see if she knows anything.”

“I don’t like this,” Dick grumbled.

“Noted,” Jason rolled his eyes as he gathered up the tools he’d borrowed and packed them back the box. Except the magic detectors. He was hoping Dick was distracted enough that he wouldn’t notice Jason had stuffed those under the couch. Those things were fucking useful.

“I think you should come stay at the Manor until we know what Ra’s is planning,” Dick said stubbornly.

“Ha, that sounds like a bloodbath waiting to happen,” Jason snorted.

“At least come stay with me,” Dick pleaded.

That sounded dangerous for a whole host of other reasons.

“Goodbye Dickie,” Jason said pushing the box into his hands and trying to push him out the door.

“Jason, I’m serious,” Dick planted his feet and glowered at him.

He was too pretty to do that very well, Jason mused.

“So am I,” Jason rolled his eyes, “Seriously, it’s fine. If I was worried about it I would have chucked it in the trash.”

“If something happens-” Dick insisted.

“I know how to call for backup,” Jason said dryly. Not that he probably would.

Dick looked like he sincerely wanted to say something else, but finally he shook his head and backed off, “Just… call if you get more info.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason waved him out and locked the door.

Dick was so paranoid sometimes. And what the fuck was with him and suddenly deciding that everyone and their dog wanted Jason’s ass all of a sudden? Jason knew he was hardly hideous, but pretty much every other member of the Bat’s were miles more attractive than he was. It was just a fact.

Jason plopped down on the couch to call Talia, when he noticed that the velvet bottom of the box the dagger had comin wasn’t laying completely flat. Curious, Jason lifted the padding to find a note hidden at the bottom.

It was in the League’s special dialect of Arabic, but Jason had plenty of practice with that.

-

Hello My Vicious One,

You may remember that although my daughter saw fit to cut corners and restore your mind with the Pit waters, it was I who took you in. I restored your body from the feeble husk it had become. I rid you of the last vestiges of death and taught your soul how to fight once more. Somehow, you walked away from death by your own power, and for that alone you earned my special attention. My daughter may have led you astray and set you on a foolish path for revenge for her own petty purposes, but you have risen above them, without the Bat, and claimed a small part of the underworld as your own.

I have a proposition for you that I think you shall find intriguing. Come to the base where I first raised you from darkness’, and show the guards the dagger I sent you and they will grant you access to my quarters. There we may speak freely.

The Demon Head

-

What the fuck?

Jason had no idea what to make of that. Talia had told him that Ra’s had thought him unworthy because of his lowly origins. Could she have been lying?

As soon as he thought it, Jason snorted. Talia lied all the time, that wasn’t the issue. The question was if Jason wanted to risk going to meet Ra’s. Talia’s contacts wouldn’t hold a candle to the types of resources Ra’s could give him. But of course, Ra’s was also less trustworthy.

Still, offending him was probably an even worse idea.

Dick would throw a fit if he knew Jason was planning to go on his own, but he’d never been good at seeing the bigger picture. A gesture of good faith, that he wouldn’t insult Ra’s by bringing backup to an invitation that was clearly meant for him alone. That being said, Jason wasn’t going to be stupid about it. He’d go as prepared as he could get.

Ra’s said it was the base where he’d been ‘raised from darkness’ so perhaps the place where he’d regained consciousness after wandering blindly through Gotham’s streets? His memories before he’d been pushed into the pit were a confusing mess of images and sensations that made his head ache to try and parse through.

Mostly he remembered the feel of a sword in his hand and the ache in his arms as he was trained, the cool salty smell of the air, the slide of silk cloth against his skin, staring endlessly at the intricate rafters of a ceiling, the low rumble of Ra’s voice, a window where he sometimes kept watch-

Oh. Oh, he knew where he was supposed to go.

-

Stepping foot on Infinity Island was a bit like stepping into a dream that someone else had. Everything familiar and foreign at the same time, but Jason refused to let that sway him: if he was meeting with the Demon Head, there could be no trace of uncertainty in him.

It took longer than expected for Jason to be confronted by assassins. They came at him so quickly he didn’t even have a chance to show them the dagger, instead he focused on taking them down as quickly and thoroughly as possible.

The next set were rightfully more wary.

“Look, your boss invited me here, any chance we could skip this part?” Jason asked holding up the dagger.

There was a ripple of shock through the group and Jason was suddenly being sized up in a completely different manner.

They conferred quickly amongst themselves, and Jason caught the term ‘al sirr’ being thrown around multiple times. He wasn’t familiar with that one.

“We will take you to him,” the leader of the group finally told him with a slight bow.

Interesting.

Jason was led back through the maze of buildings and vegetation that he somewhat recognized.

“We are allowed no further,” the assassin said finally, gesturing for Jason to continue on his own, “Our Master is waiting for you.”

Jason inclined his head and continued on his own. These halls were much more familiar and so was the stillness that made the hair on his neck stand on end. He caught himself switching into the silent lope that Talia had taught him just to avoid the sound of his own footsteps.

God Ra’s was such a creepy fuck.

The door at the end of the hallway could be no one but Ra’s. It was too gaudy to be anyone else's. Jason didn’t bother knocking, just stepped inside.

“Well hello, Jason,” Ra’s greeted him from where he was reclined on an enormous bed, “You’re here sooner than I expected.”

Jason felt distinctly uncomfortable. He supposed Ra’s did say that he coming to his personal quarters so they wouldn’t be overheard. Still… he didn’t expect to come to his bedroom.

“You need a new head of security,” Jason said bluntly instead, “I got way too close to the base without being braced.”

“Indeed. Perhaps you could take over that role?” Ra’s mused.

“What?” Jason frowned.

“A passing fancy,” Ra’s waved his confusion away, “you and I are not at that point yet.”

Jason bit back telling him they’d never be ‘at that point’.

“So are you going to explain what this was about?” Jason asked holding up the dagger Ra’s had given him.

“Oh, just a gesture,” Ra’s said, which Jason didn’t believe for a second. Not with the way he assassin's had reacted. Not with whatever unnamable thing was in Ra’s eyes as they swept over him.

It’s a courting dagger , he could hear Dick telling him. Jason shook it off. There was no way.

“What do you remember about your time here?” Ra’s said rising from the bed and beckoning Jason over.

“Bits and pieces, why?” Jason said suspiciously.

Jason did not like the smile Ra’s gave him.

“Pity… I do wish my daughter had seen fit to leave you in my care. It was not her place to take you for her own,” there was a dark look on Ra’s face, but it was gone just as quickly, “Ah, but it did speed things up. You have become truly magnificent.”

A possessive hand traced over Jason’s side.

Creepy.

“Cut to the chase, Ra’s,” Jason snapped.

This look Ra’s was giving him was also familiar for reason’s Jason didn’t understand. All he knew was that it made him feel small and a bit like he was shutting down. Jason ignored that feeling and tilted his chin up defiantly.

Ra’s looked pleased by the reaction.

“Mmm, very well then,” Ra’s said, “I’ll be frank then, I want access to study your blood. You know what immortality means to me, and you also know how significant it is that you came back without the use of a pit.”

“What, you didn’t get your fill when you had me here?” Jason frowned.

Ra’s had a private smile for that.

“We thought your mind was lost at the time,” Ra’s said, “I had not interest in something that would leave me an empty doll.”

“And now you know it won’t. Great,” huffed Jason, “And what do I get out of this?”

“Free access to the League’s databank and, should you need it, a small elite force of assassins that will do your bidding,” Ra’s listed off.

This deal was a little too good to be true. It made Jason instantly suspicious.

“What’s the catch?” Jason demanded, “Don’t pretend you couldn’t just get samples of my blood easily without all of this.”

Ra’s eyes lingered on the dagger for a moment like he was enjoying a private joke at Jason’s expense.

“I could have, but that would have made it apparent that there might be something interesting in your blood and I am hardly the only one in the world after immortality. I don’t tolerate competitors,” Ra’s was back in Jason’s personal space again, “I’d like you to come personally if I require blood. It’s much nicer that way, is it not?”

Jason didn’t like this, but he did want access to that databases.

“I can call it off any time I want,” Jason finally said.

“Of course.” Ra’s inclined his head.

Jason still felt wary, but he couldn’t think of a reason to say no.

“Alright, deal,” he agreed.

One vial of blood probably wouldn’t do too much harm, and like he’d pointed out before, it’s not like Ra’s couldn’t get it on his own anyway. At least this way Jason got something out of it.

“Sit here,” Ra’s gestured to the bed while he prepared a syringe.

Jason sat cautiously and watching exactly what he was doing just incase he decided to dose him or something instead.

“Remove your jacket and armor,” Ra’s ordered. Jason tipped his head back to say something snarky when he caught sight of something over Ra’s shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” Ra’s asked, watching Jason’s face carefully, “Did you, by chance, remember something?”

“No,” Jason said firmly, carefully calming himself, “It’s nothing. And I’ll just roll up my sleeve, I don’t need to take anything off.”

“...Very well,” Ra’s agreed.

Jason focused all his attention of the blood drawing rather than dwell on the fact that he had so many memories of staring at Ra’s al Ghul’s bedroom ceiling.

-

Jason knocked over a lamp when he hurriedly climbed through Dick’s bedroom window.

“Jay?” Dick said in surprise, lowering his escrima sticks from where he had been crouched in a pair of sleep pants.

“I…” Jason shook his head, trying to shake away the skin crawling memory of Ra’s eyes looking him over, “You said I could stay here for a while?”

“Of course…” Dick frowned, looking him over more closely, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jason said curtly, shrugging off his jacket and shoes, “Just tired.”

“Ok…” Dick eyed him warily, “Let me just pull some extra blankets out for the couch-”

“Can I stay here?” Jason interrupted, “with you?”

He didn’t know why he said it, and Dick looked even more alarmed by the request.

“Never mind-” Jason started to backtrack, hand scrubbing through his hair.

“No,” Dick said a little too quickly, “It’s fine, I was just… surprised.”

“Right,” Jason said looking at the ground as he settled on the edge of the bed.

“Did… something happen?” Dick asked.

Jason thought of the possessive hand skimming down his side as Ra’s told him he was a valuable asset. He was probably just imagining things though. Telling Dick would just make him even more paranoid than he already was.

“No,” Jason decided, “Nothing happened. I’m good.”

He didn’t care if Dick didn’t believe him.

[mianite-3-unofficial]

Merry and Bright

Authors note: I’m not usually fond of holidays. They’re always stressful and make me anxious. But I wanted to extend a happy holidays to everyone who follows this blog, and has been around for the journey thus far. Thank you so much, every single one of you. This blog and all your support has been the best gift I could ever ask for. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Special thanks for @syndianites for editing and @lady-krystine for giving me character details. Enjoy!

Winter had shrouded the world. Tall, leaning acacia trees carried frost on their branches while the mountaintops and forests were swamped in heavy, wet snow. The whole world carried a chill. Even the sun seemed colder, doing nothing but reflecting off the snow, glimmering, blinding. Animals donned thicker pelts and traveled silently, any sound they made caught in the thick drifts of snow. In and out they went, staying out of sight. Even the people in the city were staying out of sight, each hidden in their house, little plumes of smoke rising into the sky, instead of beholding the bright, gleaming sunrise.

Only one person was outdoors, leaning against a building in full armor, a winter coat thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. If Jeriah felt the cold, he simply didn’t care. His eyes were blind to the sunrise, too lost in thought. Jeriah scratched his beard.

So much had changed. How long had it been. Ten years? Ten years since they went tumbling down the void and found themselves here, a world of strangeness. No technology. Materials were easier to come by, some found in the earth or pulled from the land, but most came from ruins. A huge tree shadowed the land and there were statues, faces built into mountain sides and by these strange ruins. Someone once lived here, they all knew it. Sure, Mot had claimed a castle, but the empty houses sent chills up Jeriah’s spine. Along the coast on the other side of the island, there was a humble city of tents and makeshift wooden buildings. Pirates or travelers, most of them, drawn to the island by the stories of some heroes. The four of them didn’t find the city on the first day, however.

Their first day on the island was spent grieving. Mot and Alyssa wept for Dianite, the rest of them for the world they had just left behind. They found the tents the third day, the gods the fourth. Somehow, this universe had mangled the gods beyond recognition. Jeriah shuddered just thinking about it.

Ianite took the form of a human woman, sure, with long purple hair, and a long, purple gown, but that’s where the similarities ended. She smelled like flowers and something unnamable. None of them could be around her for long, else their bodies would start to ache with the power barely contained in her false flesh. The Ianite Spark had known was so sweet, gentle, a good wife and a benevolent goddess. Sure, Jeriah only knew the benevolent goddess, but he understood why Spark was so shaken when she first showed herself to him. It was the same reason why Mot was scared when he met this universe’s Dianite. There was no suave businessman, only a shadow, a wraith, an invisible hand that rubbed salt into the wound of his grief. He showed himself in weak heat and raspy words, no true power, as if it had been siphoned from him. And Mianite…

Jeriah exhaled slowly, seeing his breath cloud before him. Ten years. Now the tents had turned into a proper city, bustling and prosperous. Ten years. Alyssa was a young woman, the strongest person he knew. A warrior, a diplomat, a daughter that Mot would be proud of. Mot, speaking of, was nowhere to be seen. And yet Ianite said that he was okay. That was all she said. That he was okay. The portal had broken after he left and, while Spark worked on it day in and day out, no good results ever came.

Ten years. Jeriah looked down at himself. He was older, certainly, his beard and hair greying, more from stress than age, but it made him look old. So did the feeling of another Winter Festival coming and going. The townspeople celebrated in the comforts of their homes, but Jeriah had better things to do than that. More important things. He pushed himself off the side of the building and pulled his coat tighter around himself.

It was a short walk from the town to Mianite’s temple, only half a mile along the coast. The grey sea lapped at his feet, chilling them even through his armored boots. The sun slowly rose, the grey ocean turning warm pink from its ascent. Snow and sand swished under his feet as he came to the coast, the temple across the cold, choppy sea. Jeriah dragged his boat from where it was kept-- hidden in a shallow cave on shore-- and hopped into it, sending himself out to the temple. The marble shone as white and pure as snow, yet it only filled him with dread as he came upon it. He tied the boat to one of the columns, letting it bob in the ocean. The stench of plants filled his senses, mingled with ozone and some strange, warm smell. Yes, Mianite certainly was here.

Jeriah stepped into the temple, his footsteps echoing loudly. The once gorgeous gardens were overgrown and mangled, filled with hardy weeds and all sorts of plants, like asphodel and marigold, blooming in spite of the cold. The torches were burnt out, the only light in the temple from the glowstone, which gave light but no heat. The floor was absolutely filthy, white marble marred with the footsteps of hundreds of people, thousands of footsteps all going there to kneel before him.

And there Mianite was. Strong and tall upon his throne, staring blankly as Jeriah walked in. This Mianite was the most different. A god of order and the overworld, yes, but he carried no poise or care. His hair, curly and long— down to his ankles— was braided with flowers that were kept alive by godly will alone, a crown of mallow and primrose upon his head. He wore a black toga that flowed over his tan, muscular body like ocean waves and sand. In his hands a sprig of wormwood, which he plucked at, fiddled with. The god didn’t seem to care for his duties to order anymore, only nature. Jeriah reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box.

“If this is your idea of an assassination attempt,” Mianite rumbled, “I ask you to get it over with.”

Jeriah blinked, staring up at Mianite. He did not kneel.

“It is no assassination attempt. It’s a gift, for winter festival.”

Mianite looked up from his wormwood, a long lock of hair falling in his face. His beard was filled with flowers, too. Mianite made a small gesture and the box floated out of Jeriah’s hands. He watched as Mianite caught the gift, then set it on the armrest of his throne.

“There,” He slowly drawled, “Now go. I have matters to attend to.”

Jeriah blinked.

“I stil need to talk to you—“

“I said go.” Mianite looked back to the wormwood, frowning.

“No!” Jeriah snapped, surprising himself and Mianite. But for the past ten years, there had been nothing but frustration and tiredness and, now, what could he do besides this?

“No,” Jeriah repeated, “No, I’m not leaving. You’ve been ignoring me, ignoring all of your other followers, letting nature and the universe fall into chaos. Lady Ianite has been keeping order. Not you. That is your domain.”

“And here I thought you had faith in me.”

Jeriah sputtered indignantly, glaring at Mianite. His whole body felt like it was on fire, an exhausted rage making him too bold for his own good.

“My lord, you might not be my god, but you are still a version of him, and I have some faith in you. Yet all you do is sit here, day in, day out, grieving--”

Mianite stood, glaring down at him.

“I am not grieving. You… You cannot grieve for someone who is alive,” He decreed, voice thick.

“Then what is with this, my lord? Wearing black, the flowers… It’s like you have made yourself nothing more than a living funeral service for whoever these people were. And even if they’re alive, they’re not here. I’m here! So is everyone else, the people whose footsteps stain the halls. It’s been ten years. It’s time to let go, my lord. I have, I’ve let go long ago. Because I know I’m never going back home, and... “ Jeriah took in a shaking breath, feeling tears well in his eyes. Fuck this, fuck this “...And I’ve accepted it. This is my home now, whether or not I like it. This is my world. It is yours, too, your people, who are all looking up to you. There has to be something I can do to help, to get you to stop being so… despondent. Hence the gift, my lord.”

Mianite stared blankly. He picked up the box.

“Now then. What is this?”

“A gift. To try to help cheer you up. Tis the season, my lord.”

Mianite nodded, brows furrowed, and opened the box. With shaking hands, he pulled out the contents. A candle, crudely made of white wax, the wick straight, like a soldier standing at attention. Mianite looked blankly at the candle. His brows furrowed, and the candle remained unlit, as if Mianite was fond of the cold darkness of the temple.

Jeriah turned on his heel to leave, wiping his face with his cold hands as he did so. His footsteps echoed loudly.

“Tucker. That was his name,” Mianite whispered.

Jeriah stopped dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at Mianite.

“There was also Sonja, Jordan, and Tom. Tucker, Sonja, Jordan, Tom. Now they’re gone. They have fallen out of my sight, and I could do nothing to save them. All I could do was watch.”

Jeriah looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice echoing in the vast walls of the temple. But when he looked back to Mianite, the god was curled up in his throne, his face tucked between his knees. In one hand, the wormwood, in the other, the unlit candle.

Jeriah’s head spun as he left the temple, not looking back until he was safely ashore, choking back tears as salty as the freezing ocean before him.

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The forests were deep and filled with snow, the perfect place to spend a day like this. Winter festival. Ha. Alyssa felt like she had nothing to celebrate-- not since Mot left, at least. Sure, the growth of the city was beautiful, almost humbling how many people called it home, but the forest beckoned her. Maybe she could shoot something for dinner, make a stew or roast, something hot and filling for a day like this.

Alyssa held her bow steady, an arrow notched and ready for whatever might cross her path. It was a beautiful bow, carved of sturdy birch and reinforced with dark obsidian. The arrows all had a drop of dragons breath and spiders eye on the tip, a slowness potion that immobilized her prey-- long enough for a second arrow, at least.

Despite all of this, the iridescent purple string was the most interesting part of the longbow. It was made of a single strand of Ianite’s long hair, twisted and curled in on itself. Even with only two fingers touching the string, Alyssa could feel some sort of cosmic magic thrumming through her bones. The sensation felt as familiar as a hug, the feeling of the void, of Ianite. Alyssa pulled her white scarf over her mouth and nose, and crouched by a tree, waiting patiently. Ah, the winter wind over the frozen ground was such a calming noise, a haunting howl that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.

It made her feel like death was approaching. Such macabre thoughts didn’t belong in her head on what was supposed to be a festival day, a day of hope and festivity and love, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling. Death scarred her soul. Ever since she was a child. But she did have to admit, she was fond of this new world, its people-- people that didn’t seem to age, bodies weathering slowly. The cold took some, injury others, but never age, it seemed.

She did enjoy the company, though. From the people in the city Spark made, to the hunters that linger in the woods, to the hunters that secluded themselves from all people besides the ones in their stories, she enjoyed talking to them, even if they squabbled. Mot taught her how to do it properly. He was never one to deal with petty arguments. Now Mot was gone. The only answer Ianite ever gave when asked about him was ‘he’s safe’. Any more questions were met with a strange look, and Ianite saying ‘it is not my story to tell’. As if that made any sense.

Alyssa shuddered against the cold. Here again came the feeling of death approaching.

Ianite always comforted her, told her that he was okay, in a different place with Uncle Dia, who somehow wasn’t dead. Death. What a thing to think about. And even though he was alive, a part of her felt crushed with a cold weight, as if she had been buried in snow, or that there was an iron spike driven between her ribs, pinning her to the ground. He wasn’t dead. Mot lived, off in some far other-universe, but that did nothing to stop the weight from crushing her. Anything that he had left behind felt like another slap in the face. Screziato Enterprises, a castle that Mot had claimed as his own, made her feel heavy and sick, and, on some days, even the mention of the name sent her into a cold tizzy. She took a deep breath through the scarf, trying to ground herself.

Grief, that’s what it was. Grieving the fact that Mot might not ever return, and that he would never see her again. Grieving her father, her family, the life they could have had together as a big, happy family. All the things he had left behind were nothing but spectres, haunting her relentlessly. Alyssa didn’t move her hand from the bowstring.

She thought of Ianite, the day the goddess had taught her how to shoot a bow. Lady Ianite had held that bow so steady, a simple practice bow that strained and almost broke because of her inhuman strength. They shot arrows by a lake, warmed by the summer sun, all the living creatures hiding from Ianite’s strange aura. Alyssa didn’t mind it, though, the aura of Ianite felt like nothing but a gentle humming, as if someone was singing far, far away. Mot watched her shoot and said he was proud, so did Lady Ianite, and she felt as warm as the summer sun beaming down on them.

Now it was cold. Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. There, in a clearing surrounded by trees, a deer stumbled forward. The cold air hit her neck again. She drew her bow with the quiet hiss of an arrow on obsidian, breaths muffled by her scarf. For only a second, she thought of shooting her arrow into a tree. But instead, she stared into the deer’s glassy, black eyes, and loosed the arrow. It flew perfectly through the air, before impaling itself into the deer’s skull. The deer fell silently to the ground and laid there, still. Alyssa stared at it blankly, not knowing how to feel.

Alyssa pulled her scarf down. She walked through the clearing, to the deer laying on its side. Dead. Fully dead. Alyssa slowly crouched down into the snow, then laid down, her cheek in the snow. The deer died with its eyes wide open, an arrow now pinned between the two onyx pearls. Alyssa got up from the snow, grabbed it by the leg, and started pulling it through the snow, towards the city.

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Spark watched the snow fall from inside his home. It bathed the other houses in the city in sparkling white, now reflecting the yellow streetlights— an invention of his creation, with redstone packed into little glass bulbs and hooked up to wiring and sensors, only turning on when it was dark. The light they let off was pleasant and yellow. Or at least yellow-ish. It gave the whole city a homey feeling, which made sense. It was his home, after all, the city he built with his own two hands and years of work. Ten years, to be exact.

Now another winter festival had come. Not like the fall festival, where the people donned masks and ran all around the town, or in spring where they planted crops and sang songs that washed down the hill.

No, Winter Festival was a family affair. Everyone stayed in their houses, with the people they loved most. The sound was the only thing that slipped outside, laughter and happy voices that Spark heard when he walked down the streets with Jeriah earlier in the day. They talked about Ruxomar, their memories, and their plans to rebuild once they got home. Spark wanted to make Dagrun bigger than ever, and build more statues to Ianite. Jeriah, meanwhile, blabbered about alters and blood stuff fast enough to make his head spin, the bad mood he was in forgotten.

Now Jeriah was silently chopping veggies in the kitchen, not saying a word as Spark stared. The only noise in the house was Alyssa, humming to herself as she chopped chunks of deer meat for stew.

Winter festival was supposed to be a family affair. Spark shut his eyes, letting himself be carried off by memories. Helgrind and Martha bickering as always, Andor and Alva chasing one another around a tree lit up with magical lights, courtesy of Ianite. His Ianite. His goddess, his wife, the love of his life and the sun in the storm. A halo of lit candles would rest like a crown on her head, not a drop of wax scalding her porcelain features. Her dress was blue as the sky, but she wore a shawl of ice, geometric and fine, that somehow felt warm to the touch. And all of them— his whole family, children, grandchildren, sat around the fire and swapped little gifts, enjoyed the snow that fell on vast fields.

Spark sighed, the sound of Alyssa cursing behind him snapping him out of the memory. Never did he get any answer out of this Ianite- not his wife, but this universe’s goddess— about his family. All she said was that Mot was safe. Martha? Not her story to tell. Helgrind? Not her story to tell. His wife? Not her story to tell. Andor? Definitely not her story to tell.

Now all he had was Alyssa and Jeriah. His beacons. The only thing separating his dreams of home from the reality— that once there was Ruxomar and Dagrun. That once upon a time, he had a family. Now they were oh so far away…

Well. For now, at least. All he needed to do was get that portal to work, then he’d be home.

“Spark, you old coot,” Jeriah called, “come help Alyssa before she cuts herself again.”

“Now you know full damn well I don’t need any help!” Alyssa cried, pouting. Jeriah smirked.

“If I had known you were so good at cutting yourself, I’d have asked you to join the blood knights.”

“If I had known how big of an ass you were—“

Spark couldn’t help but laugh. God, they sounded just like Martha and Helgrind. Or Andor and Alva, bickering like siblings. But nonetheless, he walked over to Jeriah and wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him in a tight hug. Jeriah froze for a few seconds, then squeezed back. Alyssa soon joined, wrapping her muscular arms around the both of them. Sure, she was still holding a knife and had a bit of deer blood on her, but none of them cared.

It felt like they were home again.

But they weren’t.

They would be. And someday they would find their shoes on solid ground, home. Whatever that meant, they would find it again.

Snow fell peacefully outside for the rest of the night, and Spark’s heart overflowed with hope.

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, postscripts

Because I wanted people to suffer, when I wrote my first fic I made it very long, and then added three chapters of postscripts. I’ve merged those three chapters here because quite frankly, nobody needs this crap on their dashboard :) It’s HUGE as a result. Still, here’s Bucky because that makes everything better.

Bucky and I didn’t sleep together that night, or not in the euphemistic sense any way, although we did in the 'falling asleep' sense. He carried me back to his room and we lay on his bed, kissing, then talking, then kissing more, for hours. I felt intoxicated with the taste of him; the salty feel of his tongue on mine; the shivers as he slowly whisper-kissed down my neck. I would have done anything he asked that night, but he didn’t ask and I didn’t know how to.

We feel asleep eventually, waking up in each other’s arms and I could have spent the rest of the day there, watching Bucky sleep. His lips were swollen and red, and I knew I’d done that. His hair was tousled, and it was my fingers that had tangled in it and pulled, making him whimper with desire. There was a red mark just below his collar, and I knew it was my teeth that had put it there. I loved lying there and looking at how I’d marked him, labelled him ‘mine’.

“What you staring at doll?” I didn’t realise he’d woken up, but his blue eyes were watching me watching him. His lips curled into a slow smile and he pulled me closer with the arm that was wrapped around my waist. We were both still fully dressed, his tie was undone and our shoes were off but I was still wearing the red dress I’d regretfully put on the night before, now twisted and hitched up uncomfortably. It felt perfect.

“Just some guy I like”

“Oh, some guy huh?” He tickled me gently on my back. “He anything special then? Should I check him out, make sure he’s legit?”

“Oh he’s something special, I guess. But he’s definitely not legit,” I leant forward and whispered in his ear. “And I like it that way.”

With a laugh, Bucky had rolled over, pulling me on top of him. It was no secret that he was aroused, I could feel the evidence beneath me and gave a little wiggle of my hips against him to make him groan. He wrapped his arms tight around me as I rested up on my elbows.

“You’re pretty damn special too,” he nuzzled his nose against my neck as he spoke. “You deserve so much good stuff, God you’ve missed out on so much, you…” He paused, and I took the opportunity to grind up against him again, my own moan joining his. Then, I let out a huff of disappointment as he rolled me off him and sat up.

“You have missed so damn much haven’t you?” I sat up too, puzzled at the sudden change.

“Um, well, I guess, yeah, but that doesn’t matter does it?”

“You’re 21 now but you haven’t had a chance to do all the normal adolescent stuff. You should do! OK, plan. I’m going to go shower and do some… stuff. You go shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchen?” He kissed me on the lips and went to stand up before leaning back over and kissing me harder. I pulled against his neck to try and keep him there and he kissed me deeper still, but then pulled away.

“Don’t tempt me. And don’t pout!” He grinned. “Good things are coming doll”. And with that, he’d gone into the bathroom.

I flung myself back against the bed with frustrated desire, but now that Bucky had gone, I realised just how uncomfortable and grubby I felt, so sulkily I sat back up and got up. Feeling like a misbehaving teen, I was about to sneak along the corridor – although I knew I WAS allowed in someone else’s room – but then spotted one of Bucky’s sweatshirts on the back of a chair. I grabbed it up and held it to my face – he’d been wearing it yesterday and it still had the Bucky smell I loved. I smiled and took it with me as I went back to my room to shower.

Las time I’d dressed up, I’d ended up showering in my – well, Nat’s - clothes. At least this time I took my clothes off and my head felt a lot better. I showered, enjoying the sensation as the water stung against bite marks on my neck and shoulders; then dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, pulling Bucky’s sweatshirt over the top. It was of course too big for me, reaching mid-thighs and covering my hands, and I loved the feeling of being wrapped up in it.

I didn’t really know what was going on between us. He’d asked to kiss me, and I took that as a good sign that he’d wanted to, but was afraid that his odd behaviour this morning was a sign of regret, although it hadn’t felt like one. To be honest, I had no idea what it felt like.

I put some socks on, still enjoying the sensation of warmth and comfort that I got after all this time, and made my way to the kitchen. Most of the team were there, eating, drinking coffee, and just hanging out. I smiled from the doorway at this group, who’d become my friends against all the odds, before they spotted me. Tony saw me first and winked.

“Good night there, Mole?” he asked with a salacious grin, so I slapped the back of his head as I went to get some food, bringing a snigger from Natasha nearby.

In the kitchen, Bucky was making something that smelled amazing. He had his back to me, so I put my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his back, and he turned in my arms to squeeze me.

“Oh that’s where my sweatshirt went, you damn thief!”

“It looks way cuter on me though” I posed as I spoke and he grinned, pulling me in tight again until a sizzle from the pan behind him made him let go.

“Breakfast is served, beautiful,” he dished something up on to the plates by the stove and handed me one. Bacon and toast were steaming on the dish and my stomach rumbled. I poured out some coffee for both of us and we went back into the dining area, sitting close enough that our legs were touching.

The team gradually made their way over until everyone was sitting around the table, eating and drinking and talking. I felt a wave of affection for them.

“Hey, everyone. Thank you. For my birthday. And for the presents. And the balloons! And, for, taking me in”. I was probably blushing again not helped when Tony rolled his eyes and pointed out that I’d already said thank you all last night. “I know, but you’re al here together, and I just… wanted to”

“Actually I want to say something now you’re all together too,” that was Bucky.

“I realised this morning that Ruby has missed out all those teenage milestones. I wanna, well, re-do them,” his eyes were sparkling and I hadn’t seen him look this happy before. “Stuff all kids get to do. So, what are your suggestions?”

There was a bit of a clamour at that. Steve declared it the cutest idea ever, like the big softie he was. Natasha said her favourite teenage memory was the first time she broke a man’s arm with her thighs. At that, I pointed out that nobody in the room had had a normal adolescence

“Tony – billionaire with absentee parents. Sorry Tony,” he nodded his agreement at the statement and gave me a smile. “Clint – raised in an orphanage. You and Steve – both teenagers 80 years ago. Natasha – teenage assassin… Need I go on?”

“I guess that makes me Mr Normal then!” Sam spoke up. “I’m your expert!”

“OK, 14 to 21. What’s she missed out?” I was torn between amusement and embarrassment at this, but it was all in good fun so listened in as Sam, and then the whole team, gradually started coming up with ideas. A minute later, Bucky stood up and started rooting through a cupboard before finding a piece of paper and a pen. I muttered ‘seriously?’ as he started writing a list.

*Cinema date. Making out in the back seat of a car. Your boyfriend climbing the drainpipe to sneak into your room…

“My room is on the 36th floor Bucky!” I protested.

“Ooh, prom!” Sam said, as everyone ignored my interjection.

The list continued. ‘First breakup, sweet 16, temper tantrums, graduation, first alcohol, first hangover, learning to drive…’

Eventually the list stopped, as the ideas started getting more ridiculous.

“Right, one more thing to add,” Bucky said, standing up and moving into the kitchen. “You get to have your teenage years all in one go, sugar. Trust me, it’ll be worth it when you’re all grown up.” He added something to the list then stuck it to the fridge with a magnet before giggling to himself and leaving the room.

I stood up to see what he’d done and then stopped, stock still in the middle of the room, as the rest of the Avengers also looked and then cracked up with laughter. I could feel my face burning up.

The list started innocently enough: ‘learn to drive, graduate, first date, prom…’ but then at the bottom, Bucky had written ‘have sex with good looking guy’ and drawn a damn winky face next to it. Whoever taught him about emojis had a lot to answer for.

I muttered ‘shut up the lot of you’ while also trying not to smile, and left the room to find Bucky. He was back in his room, looking something up on the computer and gave me a beaming smile when I knocked and entered.

“What do you think then?”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes. Well, yea, I thought It might be fun…” his face fell. “I was going to take you out on a date. I mean, if you don’t want to though…”

It hadn’t occurred to me he really meant this but when I thought about the list, and all the things it represented, I felt tears well up unexpectedly. He was right. I’d been taken as a 14-year-old, just starting my adolescent life, and dumped back in the world at 20. I couldn’t ever get those years back, but this was a way to at least have fun pretending, to get a flavour of normal life and to just be silly for a while. The fact that someone wanted to do this for me, something so ridiculous and so meaningful, hit me hard.

“I love it,” I pushed the computer off his lap and sat there myself, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling us close together. “I love that you’re giving me back what I missed out on.” He smiled again and kissed me and for a while, everything else was forgotten.

A little later, Bucky pulled himself away from me, making me whine with displeasure.

“Mm, I’d stay here all day if I could, sweetheart,” his voice was throaty with desire. “But I’ve got some dates to plan. Go work out with Steve, use up some energy. If you stay here, I’m not going to be able to resist you.” He winked and then picked me up and dumped me off his lap. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Get gone, temptress” and I laughed as I made my way out of the room.

So I did go and work out. I punched bags and ran on the treadmill and lifted weights and wore myself out for hours because it was still sometimes the only way I could stop myself thinking. Despite everything the Avengers had done, I still hadn’t come to terms yet with what I was, what I’d done. Sometimes physical exhaustion was the only way to get out of my head. I’d been there for about three hours when Steve came in. I asked if he wanted to spar but he said he wanted to talk. That felt ominous. I was still a little twitchy that at any point I’d be asked to leave because I didn’t fit in.

But it wasn’t that.

“You know, Bucky likes you, don’t you?” That was unexpected. I guess I looked puzzled. I mean, we’d kissed sure. A lot. And I would happily do it some more. But I figured that Bucky just wanted someone to kiss, and there weren’t that many opportunities to meet people when you were an ex-assassin with a metal arm.

“He’s just having fun Steve. It’s fine. You know I’m grateful to you all, for, well, everything. Putting up with me? Accepting me. Bucky’s my friend…”

“So what, are you saying you kissed him out of gratitude? Or a sense of obligation?” Steve looked angry now, I guess that wouldn’t fit his moral code.

“No, no! I…” Ugh. Blushing. Don’t look him in the eyes. Not that that was hard, he was so much taller than me. Looking straight on, I was eye to eye with his nipples. OK, no, that was weird too. “I… like Bucky. A lot. I mean, um. A lot.” Looking down now, eyes on the floor, don’t want to see Cap smirking at me. “He’s… saved me I guess. I feel safe with him. More than safe. I just, like being near him. A lot. But I know what I am, what Hydra made me, I know there’s not going to be anything out there for me, so I’m OK with whatever Bucky wants.”

I wasn’t being very articulate but I really didn’t want this conversation. I went to leave the gym but Steve held onto my arm, and there was no way I could break free of that helicopter-pulling grip without a lot more effort. I took a deep breath and met his gaze, expecting to see a look of amusement at my confession. I didn’t.

“You deserve more than you think. You’re more than what Hydra made you. Just like Bucky.” I blinked. I forgot sometimes that Bucky had been through years of Hydra ‘training’ too. He had his own issues. He’d been free for longer than me and had more time to deal with them, but I also knew that they weren’t buried all that deep.

“You’re as good for Buck as he is for you. And he cares about you. ‘A lot’.” He mimicked my tone and gave me a grin, I guess he’d seen through my verbal shorthand and knew what I meant by that ‘a lot’. He pulled me in towards him and wrapped his ridiculous arms around me then ruffled my hair as I pulled back, exclaiming that I was all sweaty. “Don’t push him away kid, because you don’t think you deserve it.” He let me go and I nodded and walked out of the gym, turning back to hear him call out.

“And you kids enjoy your date tonight!” He was grinning, and I had no idea what he meant.

I got back to my room, showered and changed, and then noticed a text on my phone.

‘Date, tonight? Stark Cinema, 8pm. I’ll pick you up. Bx’

I smiled as I texted back a yes.

At 8pm, there was a knock at my door and on opening it, I found Bucky grinning at me with glee. His eyes were sparkling, and he looked as damn gorgeous as always.

“Hey doll. Wanna go on a date?” Oh, he could charm the birds out of the trees. I loved it but I’d seen him charm everyone from Steve to Thor and so I didn’t take it too seriously. Nonetheless, I took the arm he offered me and felt a spark of electricity jolt through me.

“I know you don’t like crowds that much, so we’re not going out. That OK with you?” I nodded, grateful that we weren’t going to go and sit in a public cinema, but wondering how the usual Avengers movie night was really going to be a date. I guess this really was all just a joke.

When we got to the cinema room though, things were different. The screening room had couches and chairs all scattered here and there normally but someone – Bucky, I guessed – had lined them up in rows like a proper cinema. There was a sign in Bucky’s handwriting saying ‘reserved’ on the back couch. He sat me down on it with a wink.

“Gotta get the back row for a date, right?” The rest of the team started filing in and Bucky played up to his role, showing them to their seats, much to everyone’s amusement. Tony decided he wanted some popcorn at which Bucky pushed him back into his seat and brought out a carton, holding it out to Tony but then moving it out of his reach.

“Five bucks, Stark.”

“What?! You do know this is MY Tower and MY cinema room, Robocop?!”

“Five bucks. Don’t be a cheap date, you’re showing yourself up in front of Pepper.” Pepper grinned and joined in.

“Aren’t I worth it Tony?” Stark sighed and handed over the money, then yelled as Bucky handed out popcorn to everyone else for free. Once everyone was settled, he came and sat next to me on the sofa and set the movie going. It was a comedy – most of the team liked the lighter films, the tension of horrors and the violence of action films often just a little too close to home (although Thor always wanted ‘more blood!’).

Part way through the film, I realised that Bucky had been gradually moving closer to me on the couch. I saw him yawning and then realised he was going for the ‘yawn and stretch’ cliché and felt his arm wrap around my shoulders. I might not have got out much between the ages of 14 and 20, for reasons I don’t need to go into, but I’d seen enough rom-coms as a teenager to know this was a classic date move and it made me giggle. He squeezed my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“Told you, going to do ALL the teenage high points. Cheesy ones and all.”

We finished watching the movie and then Bucky let Tony choose another as an apology. By now I was curled up against Bucky’s side and holding his hand. This might all be a farce but it felt good nonetheless.

At the end of the movie, everyone gradually made their way back to their rooms. Bucky and I walked back to my room, arms around each other, and I expected – and hoped – he’d come in. At the door, he stopped though, and turned me towards him. He tilted my chin up with one finger and slowly, gently kissed me. If his other arm hadn’t been holding me up, I’m pretty sure I’d have fallen over. I had it BAD. If just a kiss could make my knees weak, what hope was there? Hydra hadn’t given me the training for this.

I felt him smile against my lips, and he kissed me again then broke away. I opened my door and looked at him questioningly, inviting him in, but he shook his head.

“Not on that stage of the list yet, sweetheart.” He started to walk away, but turned and pulled me against him again, kissing me harder and making me gasp. “Not saying it’s easy to resist though...” and then he broke away again and left.

I shut the door behind me and then flung myself down on the bed. I had no life experience to explain this.

--

The next day, I woke up to another text message. ‘Would you accompany me to dinner on Friday, beautiful?’ I smiled to myself as I replied. The week passed slowly, because I was twitchy and wanting Friday evening to come. I did some training, I did some laundry, and I studied with Tony and Steve, but time dragged. Sam asked if I wanted to talk, as we hadn’t for a while, but I said no. I wanted to try and gauge people’s opinions of what was going on with Bucky but at the same time, I was too chicken. I felt like a kid playing at being an adult again, and I didn’t want to be laughed at, reading too much into what was just a fun game. Deep down, I knew I was still just a scarred ex-Hydra tool, and that wasn’t what the magazines told you was desirable. I knew too that my confidence and happiness were still just a pretty thin veneer over the anxiety and the fear, so I kept myself quiet and tried to enjoy things for what they were, not scratch the surface and release the things I was trying to bury.

By mid-afternoon on Friday though, I was a bit of a ball of nerves. Bucky had arranged that we would be eating out of the Tower, something that still scared me. I was fine with going outside but there was a little voice that wondered if Hydra were out there looking for me. I knew that Bucky and I could pretty much take down anything if needed, but I didn’t want to have to. Nat found me pacing on the roof garden with a scowl on my face and forced me to sit down with her.

“You know Bucky likes you, right?”

“Have you been talking to Steve?!” She looked at me, confused.

“What? Look, you need to stop worrying. Get yourself dolled up, enjoy dating an older man.” She winked at me as she said that and I smiled.

“We’re just friends Natasha,” I tried to convince her, then her words sunk in. “Wait, dolled up? Do I ned to dress up? Oh god you know I hate that!”

She smacked me lightly around the back of the head.

“Friends don’t kiss like that. And yes, you do. Come on.”

I let her take control, I’d long since realised it was just easier that way. She took me down to her room and sat me on the bed while she went through her closet, occasionally pulling something out and holding it out near me then scowling and hanging it back up. I knew better than to have any input, but I was glad when she finally handed over a dress that was a lot less… noticeable… than some of the ones she used on missions when she was undercover. White top, short sleeves, black skirt. I wasn’t comfortable with trying to look good – there was never going to be any competition with Nat or Wanda. Or Maria. Or Pepper… Or Tony or Steve, hell, any of them, let’s be honest. But at least I would look presentable.

So at 7pm, I was nervously waiting in my room again. I was berating myself for my nerves. This was Bucky. Bucky, who trained with me, and helped me with panic attacks and… had kissed me. Oh god, yes, nerves.

When I opened the door to his knock, he was smiling sweetly and looking as hot as hell in a suit. I tried to pretend I hadn’t whimpered at the sight. He handed me a bunch of flowers and kissed my cheek.

“Dinner, sweetheart?”

Bucky was the perfect ‘40s gent and I could see why the stories that Steve had told about him being such a hit with the ladies must be true. He held doors open for me, took my coat, pulled out my chair. I could see the waiter swooning over him and was feeling pretty swoony myself. He’d chosen a pretty quiet restaurant and we were seated near the back, which was a relief. I know we both hated to have our backs exposed.

“You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.” To an ex-Hydra weapon, that was a real romantic gesture and I couldn’t help but smile.

The meal was nice and the conversation was good. Bucky was easy to talk to and we steered away from the hard topics – family, murder – all the things they tell you not to discuss at mealtimes (or is that religion and politics?) We talked favourite seasons and ice-cream flavours, argued about football versus basketball, cats versus dogs. We shared least favourite foods and bad jokes and taught each other some swearwords in other languages. Bucky opened up about his life ‘before’, about growing up with Steve, about his family. It was a side of him I’d never seen before.

When the bill came, I made the mistake of trying to split it. Wasn’t that what adults did? (Like I’d now. The last time I’d gone out for a meal my parents had paid… ok don’t think about that).

“Baby, this is a date and I’m old school. I’m paying.” He pulled out a card then grinned. “OK, well, Stark is, but it’s my signature.”

He helped me on with my coat, and opened the door for me, then walked around so he was on the side nearest the road and offered me his arm.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t how teenage dates normally go Bucky, teenagers aren’t this sweet or considerate!”

“They were in my day darling. Or I was anyway.” He kissed the side of my forehead as we walked. “And you deserve it.”

I was falling for him. Hard.

--

Making breakfast the next day (after another night alone, seen off with another fantastic kiss at my door), I noticed that someone – presumably Bucky – had been crossing things off the list on the fridge. I also noticed that someone – and I was pretty sure that was Tony’s handwriting – had added ‘so many to choose from’ to Bucky’s ‘have sex with a good looking guy’. I grinned. Like there was any choice.

I didn’t have to wait long for the next date. On Wednesday morning, Bucky appeared as I was finishing my breakfast and grabbed my hand.

“We gotta go before he realises!”

I tried to ask ‘what’ and ‘who’ but Bucky was pulling me along the corridors to the elevator. As Bucky pushed the button for the parking level, he held up something in his hand – one of Tony’s car keys – and his eyes flashed with wicked humour.

“Oh my god, you are in SO much trouble!”

That didn’t stop us of course. Bucky had picked one of Tony’s most expensive cars to teach me to drive in. He opened the passenger door for me and then got in the driver’s seat himself, and we set off, heading out into the countryside to the Avenger’s other compound. We were both laughing, especially when my phone and then Bucky’s both buzzed with text messages when Tony obviously realised we’d taken his precious car.

“Should I reply?” I giggled and Bucky nodded.

‘Thanks for letting me use the Ferrari to learn to drive Tony, you’re a sweetheart! Rx’

The reply, when it came, contained words that I’m sure would have made Steve faint.

When we got to the compound, Bucky leapt out before I could move and had opened my door again, then let me into the driver’s seat. I had no clue at all what I was doing and, I have to admit, driving a car that was – with Tony’s customisations – probably worth well over $500,000, was pretty nerve-wracking. But hell, it was fun.

The roads in the compound were smooth, there were no obstacles, no pedestrians and no other cars, so I hoped that I couldn’t do a huge amount of damage. I can’t say I did well, but it was my first lesson, and I only stalled a handful of times. And put the brakes on too hard once or twice… or three times. After about an hour, my muscles hurt from the tension of holding the wheel and Bucky was starting to look a little green with the motion sickness. I happily relinquished control and he drove us home to face the music.

When we got home, Tony harangued us like two naughty schoolchildren while we hung our heads, tried not to meet each other’s eyes and giggled. Eventually he sighed and gave up, before going to inspect his car to see if we’d hurt her.

Bucky kissed me again and went off to train with Steve and I headed back to my room, feeling lighter and happier than I had for a long time. Only a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and I opened it to find Tony standing there.

He came in, arms crossed, and I started to feel a little guilty. How would I pay if we HAD damaged his car?! But then he held out something to me, and I saw it was a car key.

“It’s just as well you’ve got me under the thumb, Mole, but you take one of my cars again and so help me, even the Hulk will seem like a feather in comparison.” I looked up at him, starting to stumble through an apology, and then saw he was grinning. “While you were off joyriding, I got you your own car. And lessons. With someone who didn’t learn to drive in the 40s.” He pushed the car key into my hand as I tried to refuse it, stammering that he’d already given me so much, but he waved away my thanks and started to leave, then turned back to me.

“You know old Metal Arm likes you Mole, don’t you?” What the hell was this?!

“Did you get that line from Steve or Nat?!” Tony looked at me, puzzled.

“You’re a good kid. He’s a… difficult man. Got a lot of issues. Hell, we all do I guess. He could be good for you, and you could be good for him, but if he hurts you, you tell me, and I will suit up for you and take him out.” Then, with a wave, he left.

--

The next morning, ‘learn to drive’ was crossed off the list, and ‘wanna fight me, Tin Man’ was added below Tony’s comment in Bucky’s writing.

I was keeping myself busy between these dates, if that’s what they really were. Training, spending time with different members of the team, trying to live a normal life, catching up on news and sport and TV and trying to learn what I’d missed. I was also still studying with Bruce and Tony. Ashamed of my lack of education, I’d been working long and hard to improve myself. I’d been a top student back when I was at school and the serum had had some kind of effect on my abilities too, so I was a quick learner with an almost eidetic memory now. As a result, it was only a little while later that I was ready to take my GED. Bucky and Steve had gone off for a mission, which allowed me to study without distraction for a while (although Bruce sighed pointedly as the fourth text message in an hour came through from Bucky while we were revising chemistry).

A week after my driving lesson, I went off to a local school to sit some exams. Tony, being Tony, had paid out and fixed things so I’d get my results almost immediately so it was only a few days later that I opened my letter to find I’d passed, with excellent grades. OK, so I’d missed out on High School and god knows as an Avenger nobody was going to be asking to see my qualifications, but it was important to me, a step to becoming ‘normal’ that I hadn’t realised mattered.

When Bucky and Steve got back that evening, the champagne was cracked open and everyone celebrated. I felt silly, but once I’d had enough champagne, joined in the fun. I looked around the room part way through the evening and felt a rush of gratitude at the things these people were doing for me. Then I caught Bucky’s eye where he was talking to Clint, and felt an even bigger rush of … something. The same something I’d felt when he’d picked me up in his arm as soon as he got off the quinjet. He’d smelt of sweat and gunpowder and nights in the woods and it was enough to make me groan, that he’d come straight to see me before heading to the medlab or debrief, or a shower.

There weren’t really many missions at the moment, so it was good to have them back, but it did mean that the team were throwing themselves into the craziest things to fill the time (despite Steve insisting we could use the time for training or research or bettering ourselves. Clint had thrown a cushion at him and got Cap straight in the face for that). So that was why two days later I found myself in a graduation gown and cap, feeling incredibly ridiculous, while the team sat on folding chairs on the roof garden, and Bucky shook my hand and presented me with a diploma. Everyone clapped and I bowed with an embarrassed grin before throwing my hat in the air then swearing as a gust of wind caught it and blew it off the roof. A little later Tony got quite tearful and hugged me repeatedly, saying he felt like a proud father, until Pepper rolled her eyes and took him away.

When Bruce and I were sorting dinner that night (Ok, we answered the door to a pizza delivery and were sorting beer and pizza to take up to the roof), he stopped me for a second and with a nervous rumble, spoke.

“You know Barnes likes you, don’t you?”

I sighed. Four times now.

“You’re a bright kid. I saw that, teaching you. Think about what you want to do next? You could go to college. Or come work with me in the lab. But Barnes likes you and that’s a good thing. It’s not easy for people like us always to… get that.” I could see a faraway look in his eyes, although he wasn’t looking at me. I’d heard that there was something between him and Nat but things hadn’t worked out.

He met my eyes briefly, mumbled something, and then grabbed up the beer and left. I liked Bruce a lot, we’d worked together on my studies and I had helped him out in the lab running some tests. This was probably the first personal conversation we’d had though, and it touched me. Whatever reason Bucky had for this adolescent do-over, it was bringing me closer to a lot of the team, and for that I’d always be grateful.

I looked over at the fridge note. ‘Graduate’ was crossed off. ‘Bring it on, Buckyboy’ was written in Tony’s writing underneath Bucky’s ‘wanna fight me’. And next on the list was ‘prom’. Oh boy.

Well, what happens next after graduation but prom?! By the time this was next on Bucky’s fridge list, everyone was getting into the swing of things. We hadn’t had a mission in a while and when you get a lot enhanced or powerful soldiers, assassins, gods and the like, and don’t give them much to do… well, energy was high and pranks were getting ridiculous (think water balloons off the top of the tower, custard in Thor's boots…). This was a good distraction.

One evening everyone was sitting around talking and the group were sharing prom stories. Bucky admitted he’d ‘gotten a little fresh’ with Dot, who he’d taken to his senior prom. Bucky’s turn of phrase made Tony snigger, until Steve pointed out that in the 1930s, good girls didn’t put out. Of course, that didn’t make the sniggering any less, especially when Bucky pointed out with a leer that Dot had been really, REALLY good. Natasha then went and sat on Steve’s lap, all pouty lips and cleavage.

“Do you really think good girls shouldn’t, Stevie?” She used her best breathy voice and gave a little wriggle as Steve went bright red and gulped, shaking his head.

“No, I mean, things were different then. Whatever people want is fine right?”

“Oh good,” Natasha climbed off Steve’s lap, having made him as uncomfortable as possible, “I’d hate to tell Sharon you thought she was bad.” At that Steve groaned and buried his head in a pillow while Nat looked proud at the impact she’d had.

Tony’s prom story rambled on, and seemed to involve a lot of alcohol, a fast car, and at least two prom dates. Bruce’s admitted he’d taken his friend’s sister, who had then gone off with the quarterback while Bruce was trying to work out how to make the sound system louder with a bit of rewiring. Wanda looked bemused by the whole conversation, admitting that they didn’t have proms in Sokovia but she was looking forward to this one if it was anything like these stories.

The conversation came around to Steve, who’d now lifted his head out of the cushions and regained his composure. Clint asked if there was some heroic and honourable story about Steve saving his date’s life or rescuing her from a burning building, which was when Steve admitted he’d never gone to his prom because he couldn’t get a date. Seventy-odd years, a whole load more biceps, and the addition of Sharon, and you could still see the rejection in his face. I felt about ready to cry and was determined that Steve would get a do-over, just as I was. I wasn’t alone in that feeling.

“That’s it, we’re going Full Prom!” Tony declared. And that’s why, two weeks later, the room usually reserved for fancy dinners and swanky Stark Industries parties was now being overly decorated. Tony and Nat had wanted modern glamour and so there were beautiful arches and silver stars and globe lights; Bucky and Steve were reminiscing about the proms of the '30s and wanted something a little more understated, with a nice meal and a dance; Clint and Wanda decided to start research by watching a slew of films and declared we needed synchronised dancing like Footloose and an Under the Sea theme like Back to the Future. My only requirement was balloons. Balloon arches, balloon sculptures, a man who could make balloon animals, and one of those nets of balloons that falls down. OK, so I was getting kind of into it now too. Most of Stark Industries seemed to be invited and there were constant deliveries of alcohol, decorations, red carpets and god only knows what.

In the time before the prom, I kept busy. I trained non-stop, working out my frustrations on Steve and Nat. Nat was a great trainer and I always left her sessions aching but pleased with my progress. She taught me to use my abilities properly, not just throwing myself into the fray, but quickly assessing where and when to strike – Hydra’s training had been all about power, but this was much more subtle.

I worked out with Bucky a few times too. We were evenly matched and with Nat’s training, I was an even more able fighter. However, although we started off well, we never managed more than about an hour before one of us would manage to knock the other to the ground, pin them down and then… we wouldn’t train any more. Something about Bucky all sweating and panting, pinned to a mat, was a distraction.

A week before the big day, Tony decided to take me shopping. I still wasn’t entirely comfortable out and about, always having the fear of recapture by Hydra at the back of my mind so Tony paid for the shop to be closed while we were there. We spent half a day with Tony bringing me dress after dress to try on, while the shop staff helped out, or sat around and ate pizza that Tony had ordered in. I didn’t particularly like shopping but Tony was throwing his all into this, as he always did and I was getting caught up in his enthusiasm. Eventually a dress was chosen, along with shoes and everything that needed to go underneath it (luckily Tony decided to hand me over to the staff for that bit, declaring that he did not need those thoughts in his head, or Pepper would know).

When we got back to the Tower later on, I put my new purchases away in my room and took a moment to think about how my life had changed. It was still hard to connect my life now with the suburban life I’d once had, and even harder to realise that in such a short space of time I’d gone from Hydra assassin, desperate to die, to… whatever this was. Part of the weirdest family ever known. Friend to gods and billionaires. Accepted. I still found it hard to believe but whenever I felt myself sinking low, I wrapped that word in my heart and it gave me a new strength.

Over dinner that night, Pepper joked that Tony had never taken her shopping for so long, and asked if she should be jealous – all said with a grin.

“Mole is like the daughter I was lucky enough never to actually have” Tony replied, adding “Be thankful you haven’t had to raise her!”

“Gee thanks, ‘Dad’, should I storm out of the room at that?” I added, revelling in this ridiculous family. They’d never replace my own, true family and my heart would always break to think of them, but I wasn’t alone any more. Tony smirked and pointed out that ‘teenage temper tantrum’ was on Bucky’s list but Bruce had written that with my powers, it might be a bit much.

“Hey, if you’re the Dad, should I be asking your permission to take your daughter to prom then?” I know that Steve loved it when Bucky joined in with these jokes. He’d admitted to me that although Bucky had been part of the team before I joined, it was only recently that he’d relaxed and felt as comfortable too. I was proud, and slightly astonished, to think that I might have had anything to do with that.

“Well now young man,” Tony decided to play along, despite being around 50 years younger than Bucky, “what are your intentions towards my not-quite-daughter?” Bucky winked at me as he came over to where I was sitting.

“Entirely dishonourable, sir. Downright filthy.” The team broke down in gales of laughter as Bucky leant over and kissed me hard on the lips, and I blushed scarlet.

-- Two nights before prom, I was woken by a knocking sound. I was halfway to open the door when I realised the noise was coming from the window. I pulled the curtains back to find Bucky, hanging on to the side of the building.

“Jesus! Buck, this is the 36th floor!” I yelled as I scrambled to open the window. Not even a supersoldier could fall that far and survive, I was pretty sure. Once the window was open though, Bucky swung in slowly and I realised he was attached to a rope. He freed the clip around his chest and threw the end of the rope back out of the window, and suddenly Sam flew past, saluting and grinning as he went. He’d been holding the rope on Bucky while Bucky decided, in his own peculiar way, to climb the 36 floors to my bedroom window. Just because it was on the damn list.

So it was almost midnight and I was alone with Bucky in my room in the dark. You can imagine what happened next, right?

No.

He still didn’t stay. Oh, he didn’t leave straight away. It was almost midnight, and I was in my pyjamas, and he did have a lot of adrenaline pumping through him. He tried not to let his hands wander, but they did. I can tell you, there’s no better way to wake up than with one warm flesh hand, and one cool metal hand, sliding under your top.

The next day, I took Bucky out in the car Tony had bought me. I’d been secretly practicing with Sam every day – as the calmest of the team, he seemed the best choice for an instructor - and I was getting pretty good now. My enhanced reflexes and physical skills meant I was picking things up pretty well, and able to respond to other cars quickly. It was good driving with Sam as well because it was a chance to talk, but without the awkwardness of face-to-face. Sometime it was easier to open up when you couldn’t see the person you spoke to. I’d got very close to Sam, loving his childish side but also the fact that he matched that with an equal level of deep thoughtfulness, which I relied on heavily. I don’t think I’d have healed nearly as much as I had – or accepted the bits of me that would never heal, but learnt to live with them – without his incisiveness, his ability to show me another view point.

That said, when we went out for a practice that morning, and he opened with ‘Barnes likes you, you know that, right?’ I sighed.

“You’re the fifth person to say exactly that to me Sam, what’s going on?” He smiled, obviously amused by my resigned tone.

“People care. About both of you. We can see how good you both are for each. You’ve made Bucky more human. He smiles more with you than Steve’s seen since the '30s, he’s not so tortured any more. And the same goes for you, you’re more willing to accept who you are when he’s around. It’s adorable to watch, and when people you care about get happy, after a hell of a time, it feels good.” I had my eyes on the road but I could sense him smiling.

“Thing is, you’re both dumb. I bet you wouldn’t tell each other how you feel, so that’s up to us to do.”

“Wait, both of us?” That threw me, was Bucky getting the same chats as I was?

“Oh yeah. I mean, we all want to make sure you know how he feels, and same goes the other way. I’ve spent long hours trying to convince Bucky that you like him too. Neither of you feel deserving but you both gotta believe it.”

“So you told Bucky I like him?” I could feel myself getting flustered, even though I was pretty sure my feelings were obvious. I turned to look at Sam, wondering what reaction Bucky had given him.

“Woooah, eyes on the road!” I jerked my head back round as Sam continued. “Yeah, I did. And Steve did, repeatedly. Told him to behave around you, very honourable, very Cap. Oh and Nat punched Bucky in the head and told him if he hurt you, she’d go Red Room on his ass.” That made me smile. “To be honest, I’m sure Steve would say the same to you if he could bring himself to behave like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt Bucky, Sam, not ever.”

We continued driving after that, and I could feel a sense of warmth inside me, that people were looking out for me and rooting for me and Bucky. Sam asked how I was doing, generally, and I admitted that I was doing ok. I was even happy sometimes. I was having fun, living a normal life (or as normal as you can be living with the Avengers in a skyscraper).

So when I took Bucky out for a drive that afternoon, I was determined to show him that I was doing well too. I was pretty tense without Sam beside me, but I’d practiced the route I wanted to go and although I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my enhanced strength left finger marks, we made it there.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked as I parked in a clearing by a river. I could see he was making a quick threat assessment but I’d already scouted this place out and figured it was OK.

“Um, no idea really. But it’s secluded, so I decided to help you cross something off the list.” I felt a little awkward in case he rejected me, but his eyes widened as I climbed into the back seat of the car and gave him an encouraging nod. His jaw dropped when I slowly started to pull my t-shirt over my head, and by the time it was off, he’d scrambled into the back seat too, practically breaking the seat in his haste.

Bucky sat down and pulled me onto his lap, straddling his legs. My heart was racing just from being near him, and when he reached up and traced my lips with his soft warm fingers, I let out an involuntary whimper. Moments later, he did the same as he watched me suck one of his fingers into my mouth, and when I rocked my hips on his lap, his mouth fell open and his eyes closed, his metal arm pulling me closer. He pulled his finger out of my mouth and kissed me harder as I ground my hips into him, both of us moaning with the sensations.

By the time we drove back to the Tower, it was fully dark and we were both tousled and frustrated, Bucky insisting on trying to keep things PG-13 (but we’d definitely slipped into R rated at times.)

The day of the prom, there was an increasing stream of deliveries and I helped Pepper out, giving her a break from signing for flowers, food, glasses, a band, and all the other things that Tony had ordered as soon as it had crossed his mind. Finally, the deliveries seemed to stop, and we both set off to get ready.

I showered, put on the dress Tony had helped me choose, put on some makeup Wanda had explained to me, and took a deep breath to steady myself. I was about to go out of the door when there was a knock.

“You weren’t going without me were you, doll?” I couldn’t catch my breath at the sight of Bucky in a suit in front of me. His hair was looking curly and I could smell his cologne, and all I wanted to do was to pull him into the room and lock the door. He had a box in his metal hand and winked at me as he opened it and pulled out a corsage, then tied it around my wrist. Holding me at arm’s length, he whistled quietly to himself.

“Jeez. You’re beautiful Ruby. Beautiful.” He spun me around and then stopped when he saw that my dress was backless. I felt his hand slide slowly down my spine, stopping where my dress began, and resting on the curve of my back. Bucky’s voice cracked as he spoke, almost whispering to himself. “You’re so damn hot. Good enough to eat, I’ve got a mind to just stay in here with you and ignore the party tonight.”

I turned myself back around to face him and stood closer, our bodies touching. His hand on the small of my back pulled me against him and made it hard to think. I pressed a small kiss on his lips, then kept my mouth against his as I spoke.

“You know you’re a goofball right?” He grinned against my mouth, while his hand slipped lower and squeezed.

“Yeah, but it’s a fantastic feeling. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

We stopped speaking and kissed, and I felt my knees go weak at the taste of him. I knew things were going to be different after this evening and so we were able to make the kiss gentler, none of the frantic clashing of lips that we’d been making do with for the last few weeks. This was slow, firm, and intoxicating. When we broke off, Bucky rested his forehead against mine as we both fought to regain control of our breath.

“We should get out there doll, just… give me a minute.” I slid my hand down the outside of his trousers, teasingly, as he groaned. “That’s not going to help!”

Stepping back, I gave Bucky space while I put my shoes on, then hand-in-hand, we headed for the elevator.

The whole floor of function rooms had been transformed, Tony having gone a little overboard. We had dinner in one room, fantastic food, at a table full of my friends. It was a little odd that everyone at the table kept making jokes about how ‘Bucky was going to get lucky’ that night, surely it wasn’t normal for all your friends to know about your sex life? By the time the meal was over, a combination of wine, nerves, excitement, and the feel of Bucky’s hand hot and heavy on my thigh, had meant I’d long since stopped caring. That and knowing that these people just wanted me to be happy.

After the meal, we had our photos taken, hamming it up for the photographer with cheesy poses that would either make us look back and laugh, or wince, when the pictures came through. The rooms were full with Stark employees, ex-SHIELD agents and staff, families and friends, all making their way through rooms filled with an odd mix of silver stars, balloons and crepe paper jellyfish. It was perfect.

Our group came together and broke apart throughout the evening, but Bucky was my constant. Our hands barely stopped touching all night, and when they did it was just so we could wrap our arms around each other instead. Dancing with Bucky was just as seductive as it had been the first time, an excuse to stand close together, to move in time, to ignore the rest of the world and focus on the physical sensations. Kissing Bucky while we danced, I was glad of the music to drown out the pants and gasps I wasn’t able to hold back. The anticipation of the rest of the night was almost unbearable.

Part way through the evening, the music came to a halt and Tony appeared on the stage, microphone in hand.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you ALL for coming to this most bizarre Prom! A more wonderful collection of misfits could not be found. And as the organiser – and funder – of this extravaganza, it’s my duty and pleasure to announce the Prom King and Queen!”

He flourished an envelope as Bucky whispered ‘you didn’t vote right? This is a Tony fix!’ in my ear. Tony pulled out a piece of paper and made a pretend gasp of amazement.

“Who would have guessed, how could it be?! Please make your way to the stage to be crowned… Captain America and Molegirl!”

The crowd was all laughing as Steve and I stepped up onto the stage, embarrassed but amused. Tony insisted on his rights as compere to kiss the Queen, then made Steve blush further by insisting on kissing him too. I’m sure I saw tongues and Steve looked completely befuddled when Tony let him up for air.

With crowns and sashes, Steve and I made our way to the dance floor for our first dance. I could see Bucky over Steve’s shoulder, tears of delight in his eyes as we shuffled together.

“Let’s do this properly Ruby,” Steve smiled at me. I could see that behind the embarrassment, he was secretly thrilled by everything, the big kid in him never really lost. Our crowns sliding about, Steve wrapped his arms around me and dipped and spun me, playing up to the moment. As everyone else started dancing again, he calmed down, hugging me to him.

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for Buck.” He gave me a squeeze as he spoke. “I know he thinks I want the old Bucky back, the pre-Hydra, pre-Winter Soldier, pre-war one. I know he’s gone, but it’s still so good to see this Buck so happy. And it’s down to you.” He kissed the top of my head, then dipped me again. “And it’s just as good to see you happy too.”

He pulled me up and spun me again, straight into Bucky’s waiting arms, then with a regal bow, wandered off, no doubt to look for Sharon.

All this craziness, from cinema dates to prom, had taken three months. It’s amazing what a team of super-intelligent super-powered people can do when they’re bored. But in that three months, Bucky and I hadn’t done more than some major make out sessions. By now I was pretty much ready to hump a table and I was fairly sure that Bucky felt the same, but working through his list had been important to him and to be honest, I had loved just doing some fun, crazy, relaxing, stupid stuff. There’d been some real team bonding; we were a family now and that family mattered.

Nothing stopped the nightmares that still came at times, and I still needed to talk to Sam because there were days when my anxiety blew up; when I didn’t believe that I was needed or wanted, or that I deserved all this; and there were days when the guilt I felt about being happy, when I’d killed so many people, filled my head. But on those days, there was Sam to talk me down; Natasha who understood what that was like; Bruce who’d just tuck me under one arm and talk science to me until I was distracted. Tony would nod sympathetically and then depending on his mood, take me out to do barrel rolls in the quinjet or else hide under a blanket with me and watch reruns of old black and white movies. Wanda would let me look in her head, where you can’t lie, to see how much she cared. And through all that, Bucky would be there, for whatever I needed, whenever.

He’d ask Jarvis to let him know if I had a nightmare, and he’d appear in my room and hold me. When I was panicky, he’d ground me by sitting and singing to me, in a darkened room. When I stopped believing I was loved, he’d hold me and kiss me, and describe in detail how he loved my fingers, for being willing to touch his scars; how he loved my lips, for kissing him and making him feel whole; how he loved my eyes, because they never looked at him with horror, just as he never looked at me that way. He’d tell me how much the team needed me, how I provided the balance to Tony, the friend Natasha needed, the willing ear to Bruce when no one else understood, the prank partner to Sam and Clint. When I felt overcome with guilt, I knew he understood and we’d reassure each other silently. I hoped, and believed, that I did the same for Bucky. He was further along in his ‘recovery’ than me, but the memories of what he’d done as the Winter Soldier, and what had been done to him, were always there, and I supported him through those as much as he supported me.

Those three months had brought us closer together emotionally, but physically Bucky had been adamant that we wait. We’d kissed so much those months that I was a wonder our lips didn’t bleed. And now tonight, we both knew that there’d be a lot more than that. We were in each other’s arms, dancing – or at least, swaying together, while trying to keep as much of our bodies in contact as possible.

“You know I like you, right?” Bucky’s mouth was near my ear and I could feel his breath, warm, as he spoke.

“It’s been mentioned. And I picked up on some subtle clues.” I lifted my chin to look at him, even in heels I was still shorter than he was. “And you know I like you too, right?”

“Kinda guessed. D’you want to get out of here?”

I didn’t bother replying. I just pulled his hand and walked to the elevator. I could hear Bucky chuckling behind me.

Don’t get me wrong, I was nervous. I’d never done this before. But I knew how Bucky made me feel and if I didn’t get more of him soon, I’d burst, or melt, or something. And, most importantly, I trusted him. To take it slow if I was anxious, to make me feel good, to take the lead but to show me how. Damn, that elevator couldn’t come soon enough.

When we got to Bucky’s room, the nerves did kick in harder. All the old anxieties about not being deserving of someone I cared about, not being worthy of happiness, plus a whole host more anxieties about not knowing what I was doing, about my scars, about how much I wanted to make Bucky feel good. The anxiety must have shown on my face. Bucky pulled me into him, and tangled his hand in my hair, pulling my head back slightly. He pressed a chaste kiss on my lips, then spoke quietly.

“Forget the list. Forget everything. It’s just us two here and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He kissed my forehead and I leant myself against him fully. I could feel the shape of his muscles, shifting inside his suit as he moved, his thighs adjusting to support my weight, his arm around my waist. Eyes shut, I let myself relax, then slowly showed him I was ready through the way I moved against him.

“I want you. James.” He let out a small growl at the sound of his name. I stepped away from him, biting my lip as he tugged once at my hair before letting go, then reached up to undo the button at my neck, the only fastening holding my dress on.

As the fabric of my dress slithered down my body, pooling on the floor at my feet, Bucky’s head fell back, his eyes still on mine, as he moaned hard and loud. I was trying hard not to hide myself; I knew that Bucky had seen me naked before, and I’d fought and trained nude with Hydra. But this was so different and I felt more exposed than before.

I stepped forward, out of the dress, and started to take off Bucky’s suit. The tie had come off at some point during the evening so with the jacket off, I could slowly start to undo his shirt. His breath was coming deep and hot as I slowly undid each button, running my fingernail down each new piece of exposed skin. When the last button was undone, I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and Bucky quickly pulled the sleeves over his wrists. I ran my fingernails back up and down his chest, noting how he bit his lips and closed his eyes. I leant forward and licked across one of his nipples, then gently teased it with my teeth as he moaned and pulled me in tighter. I felt his hand slip down from my back to grasp my buttocks, pulling me close and then, with his supersoldier strength, lifting me up. My legs wrapped around his waist and I could feel him, hard, against me through his trousers. His skin was hot against mine and the sensation was overwhelming.

Bucky carried me over to his bed and gently lay me down, then watching me for signs of anxiety, removed my underwear, leaving me naked and exposed. He stood back up and for a moment just looked at me. I felt my lip start to tremble with nerves under his gaze, until I looked at his face and realised what I was seeing. He was lost in the sight of me, his eyes dark, his tongue running over his lips. I whispered ‘hey, James?’ and his eyes snapped up to mine, a sheepish grin on his lips.

“You don’t know just how beautiful you are, sweetheart.”

I sat up and pulled myself forward to the end of the bed, near to him, and then keeping our eyes in contact, I reached forward and unbuttoned his trousers, slowly, then slid his trousers and boxers down, letting my hands run over the smooth skin on his thighs. Bucky shuddered and let his eyes fall close for a second, blinking them open in shock almost immediately at the feel of my lips on his stomach. He watched as I kissed my way down his stomach, then up his thighs, taunting him, and then with a groan kicked off his shoes and socks, shaking his trousers off and nearly falling over, until we were both naked, giggling, and wrapped in each other’s arms on the bed.

Bucky pulled himself over on top of me, pinning my arms down above my head and then running his fingers lightly down my side, smiling as I squirmed beneath him.

“Sweetheart. Baby. Darlin’” Each word was punctuated with a kiss, leaving me breathlessly following his mouth with mine. “I’m yours till the end of the line. So there’s no need to rush things. Whatever happens tonight, or doesn’t, it’s OK.” He kissed me again and I nodded.

“I meant what I said. I want you James”

At that, all restraint was gone. Bucky’s mouth was everywhere on me, kissing my lips, biting my neck, sucking its way down to my breasts, leaving me unable to think about anything except the way it felt. He slowed down as he moved further down my body and my hands gripped his hair with a sense of desperation as I tried to retain some control of myself. I could feel his metal fingers still circling and pinching my nipples as his warm mouth moved lower, biting my skin, sucking against my scars then blowing cool air across the warm dampness. The sensations were overwhelming and my hatred for my scars was transformed as Bucky lavished them with attention.

My small gasps turned to louder moans as Bucky pushed my legs apart and grazed his teeth up the inside of my thighs. My skin was on fire and I could feel my hips bucking as I wanted his lips on me. Months of pent-up emotions, of teasing kisses and cold showers, had left me desperate and I wanted it all, at once, but Bucky was taking things slowly, drawing out the pleasure and the pain.

He pushed my legs further apart, and as I felt his tongue on me, I called out his name, my head falling back. He moved back to kissing and biting my thigh, so near and yet so tantalisingly far from what I wanted, and I let out a desperate whimpering plea. The whimper turned into a gasp as he moved back to licking me, and I felt his fingers push inside me. He kept up the pace, licking and pushing, and I lost all track of time, my brain a fog of wine and pleasure. I could hear myself calling ‘oh James, oh fuck, oh god, Bucky’, over and over, faster and faster, my speed matching his. My hips were writhing on the bed and I was clutching handfuls of the sheet, now unable to form words and just letting out gasps of pleasure. I could feel a deep throbbing inside me, growing and growing as I rocked my hips up and down, then suddenly I was shaking, my legs spasming as I threw my head back and came.

The room was a blur as I opened my eyes, overloaded with pleasure. I whimpered as Bucky withdrew his fingers and then again, with pleasure, as I felt him kiss his way back up my body until he was lying on top of me, his full weight pinning me down. My body was still shivering with lust and I could feel Bucky’s hand shaking with desire as he ran his fingers up my throat. He’d been waiting just as long as I had for this and as I came down, I ran my fingers down his spine, and felt his muscles twitch with need. A low throaty growl worked its way out of his mouth as my hands reached his backside and pulled him against me tighter. My brain was working again and I was torn between desperately wanting all of Bucky and first-time nerves.

I could feel Bucky holding back, aware of what I was feeling, but I didn’t want him to pull away completely. I ran my hands back up to his head, tangled my fingers in his hair, and murmured ‘don’t stop’. He turned his head to kiss me and we clashed noses and teeth awkwardly, giggling helplessly, the fumbling and lack of success bringing us back together emotionally. I was more relaxed again and I wanted Bucky so much.

Bucky took hold of my head and turned my chin towards him, keeping our eyes in contact. Our bodies were rolling against each other and we were both breathing deep and ragged. I could tell Bucky was finding it hard to find words now.

“It’s OK to stop.” I knew if I said I needed to stop, Bucky wouldn’t hesitate and there’d be no recriminations. But that knowledge was more than enough to make me want him more. I bit down on his collar bone, making him yell, then licked my tongue across the mark.

“I still want you James. Please.”

He stretched out, reaching for something beside the bed and the movement brought his body further across mine. The extra weight, the feeling of being trapped, made me moan with pleasure, and I saw Bucky look back down towards me, smiling knowingly.

A rustle and some fumbling and I knew he’d put a condom on. My heart was racing with nerves and desire as Bucky moved both my arms above my head and held them down with his metal hand. He let his flesh hand slide down from my hands, all the way down my side, while I whimpered and wriggled beneath him, then he slid his hand back up to my throat and held it firmly. I was gasping with need now, and I could feel Bucky twitching against me. Our eyes locked on each other, I felt Bucky pushing inside me, agonisingly slowly. I could feel myself frown with the mixture of pain and delight, my eyes closing against my will then snapping open as I winced and gasped. He stopped instantly.

“You ok baby?”

I could feel him starting to withdraw, and wrapped my legs around him, digging my heels into him to hold him still.

“I’m OK, just need a second.” He held himself unmoving, watching me and waiting, as my breath relaxed and then I slowly started rolling my hips against him, opening myself up on him at my own pace, his mouth falling open and eyes glazing as he watched me from above. After a moment I nodded, and he started moving inside me, matching his gentle thrusts to mine. My breath was harder to catch as my nerves fired all over my body, my skin tingling matching the sharp pain inside, the pain never overwhelming the pleasure that was running through me.

I was moving faster now, and Bucky was matching my movements still. His head had dropped to his chest and he’d let my arms go, resting on his forearms beside my shoulders. I held onto his arms, using his body as a rock to push myself against, harder and faster now. Bucky’s eyes were closed and his forehead was glistening with sweat. He was making soft moans now, whimpering my name as he thrust. I lifted my head, needing to kiss him and his tongue was hot in my mouth but we were both too unco-ordinated to kiss for long now. Bucky’s breathing was getting ragged and his eyes were unfocussed but he tried to pull himself back as he saw me wincing again.

“What’s… you ok…?”

“Oh god… yes. Please”

With that word, he pushed against me harder and faster. My eyes screwed up tight as I saw stars and was overcome with the sheer physical exhilaration. I felt Bucky thrust inside me once, twice more, then with a harsh groan, he came, my legs wrapped around him still. We were both panting, sweat sticking our chests together, my hands gripping his arms. He collapsed onto me, planting sloppy exhausted kisses against my neck as I hummed with pleasure. He lifted his head to kiss me, smiling with ridiculous pleasure as he missed my mouth and caught my cheek, then rolling off me and out of me, falling onto his back beside me on the bed and pulling in deep breaths.

As his breath became steadier, he rolled onto his side, grabbing my hand and pulling it up to kiss each knuckle.

“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”

I pulled our joined hands over to my mouth and tenderly bit his fingers, smirking against each one.

“I’m good. So good. Bit sore but good sore. So good.” I flopped back onto my back and he pulled himself nearer. “My muscles won’t move. I think I’m dead. I’m Ok with that”. I lifted one arm and let it flop to the mattress bonelessly. “See, dead.”

“You make a beautiful corpse,” Bucky grinned against my skin, then sighed. “One minute.”

He got up and headed for the bathroom, where I heard water running. He came back a moment later, condom gone and glass of water in hand. He took a mouthful and then held it for me to drink before falling back down next to me on his back. I rolled against him, and rested my head on his arm, tracing patterns on his chest with my fingers. I let myself relax into his arms, feeling beautifully drowsy and cared for. My eyes half-closed, I heard his voice.

“You know I said I liked you?” I looked up and met his eyes. “I love you, Ruby.”

I looked up and met his eyes. There would be days I wouldn’t believe him but he’d always be there to convince me.

“I love you too, Bucky.”