#the floating limbs threw me for a loop

[xdefectiveshardx]

My oc 洪晓凯!

(Click for quality, Tumblr butchered it harder than school @ my mental health)

[intrepidacious]

time after time [5]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 10.9k

chapter warnings: nothing except the usual ones; another panic attack near the end; the riveting resolution of the coffee side quest? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: after my week of technical difficulties (got shadowbanned, had a breakdown, bon appétit), this chapter finally made it to tumblr as well. thank you so much to everyone who reached out, it's meant more than you know!! <3 this one starts out fairly harmless and then i threw some punches again and for that i apologise

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

five: carousel

The first mission they took you on was nothing short of a disaster.

It should have been simple, was simple, a quick extraction to get a microchip from this decimated group of criminals operating out of an abandoned toy store that Nat had discovered through one of her contacts. You were only supposed to tag along to get a feeling for being out in the field, an additional pair of eyes just in case things went south.

Did they ever.

Not only was the chip accidentally destroyed, your ensuing panic got you stuck for a good twenty minutes until the world started spinning again. Steve fell down a full flight of stairs when you reappeared out of thin air next to him the moment it did.

Needless to say, you went into hiding as soon as you got back to the Compound.

She gave you about an hour before the hatch in the floor boards opened, even though for you, it was much longer. She didn’t know that, though. You sat very still, your breath finally silent again. Maybe she didn’t know you were in here.

"I know you’re up here, Y/N."

You pulled the cape off your head with a sigh. Natasha grimaced.

"Don’t do that, I’m not talking to a floating head," she said with a shudder. "You know how weird that is?"

You huffed and let her pull the fabric into her lap, watching your own limbs reappear, your arms hugged around your knees. She sat down next to you, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. You watched a spider scatter away from you.

"How did you even find me?" you asked quietly after she made no further attempts to speak to you.

"My sister had a similar hiding spot when we were little." You could hear the smile in her voice as she said it. "And you kicked up quite a bit of dust."

She didn’t elaborate on either of those things and you didn’t ask, even though you wanted to. Anything that could get your mind off what happened.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," you said dryly. "That’s why I’m sitting in the supply closet."

"That’s exactly what I told Steve." Your face fell again, but hers didn’t. "He’s alright. Or he will be, once he forgives me for laughing at him for five minutes."

That didn’t make you feel any better. "I fucked up today," you said softly, your voice still rough.

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I did, though. I literally froze as soon as things went wrong, and the chip—"

"Is expendable," Natasha interrupted calmly.

You shook your head. "I only mess everything up for you guys. I’m not a real agent, and my powers just make things worse, and I should just—"

"Do you realize that this thing you were given can be a gift?" You cringed and started turning away, but Natasha reached out for you, a gentle hand on your arm. "I mean it. You think every time you’re unable to use your powers is your personal failure, but you don’t see how every time you are able to use them is precious."

There was a delicate hue to her green eyes, a weariness that was visible even in the dim light of the closet. For the first time, you had the feeling she let you see something she usually wouldn’t.

"Our lives … they’re hard," she went on. "Unpredictable. We live on borrowed time. And you get to have more of it. That’s …" You waited for the words you’d heard before. Invaluable. Instrumental. Priceless. "Beautiful."

You swallowed hard. "Is that why you took me on? For the team?"

Nat looked at you for so long you were almost sure she wasn’t going to answer your question. Then, she said, "I took you on because you needed a reason to get up in the morning."

You stared at her, your nails digging into the palm of your hand until it hurt more than the ache in your chest. Natasha kept looking at you as she continued.

"I lost a lot of people over the years, you know. But never like this. Never this many at once. Something like that …" She trailed off, her eyes wet. "The entire planet was grieving and struggling and blaming us, because at that point hardly anyone understood any of it apart from the fact that the Avengers were involved. And then one day, out of nowhere, a letter materialized on our doorstep, and the security cameras didn’t show a thing." Her grip on your arm tightened, as if she needed to steady herself. "Do you remember what you wrote?"

I’m sorry for your loss.

You’d struggled to put it down for days, because how else could you apologize for something you might have been able to prevent had you only been there instead of hiding? In the end, you’d only added your name and the address of that diner in Brooklyn where you picked up a few shifts after their waitress had been blipped.

You’d gotten a call less than twenty-four hours later.

"You were the first person to say that," Nat continued, because she could see the memories flit across your face as easily as others watched a movie. "And yet, when you got here, you looked as guilty as if you’d personally murdered every single one of the Vanished."

"Well, if I’d been with you—"

"Stop it." For the first time, her voice was sharp. Your mouth fell closed. "We’re all trying to do better, right?"

You could only nod.

"That’s all anybody here is ever going to ask of you. And sometimes 'better' is just getting one hell of a kick in during a mission. Don’t think I didn’t see that."

You smiled ever so slightly. "I have a pretty good teacher."

"Yeah, you do." She shoved your shoulder lightly. "You can’t do more than show up and do your best, honey."

"My best looks like a dead possum next to yours."

"Then stop looking at me." Natasha got up to her feet slowly, patting you on the knee when she did. "Unless it’s for a post mission wind down because I have a movie queued up and I know where Steve hid the cookies."

"Can I have my cape back?"

"Nope." She folded it up with the green side out, letting it hang loosely over her arm. "You’re supposed to use it to hide from your enemies, not your friends."

You didn’t attempt to argue further, warmth rising to your cheeks.

"Nat?" She turned again, halfway down the hatch, caught by the emotion in your voice. "Thank you."

Her smile told you that, as always, she understood.

* * * * *

There simply isn’t a world in which you can do this even one more time. It’s too much.

"You need to sort out your priorities," Sam says, zero sympathy in his voice. Bucky has the audacity to look amused.

"I’m serious," you say, looking between the two of them. "My day is bad enough already. I don’t care where we order, but it’s not going to be Italian unless you want me to puke on your cat."

Over the past couple of weeks, you’ve eaten your way through the entirety of your pizza place’s menu. If you have to smell the rank cheese Sam likes to order one more time, you can’t be held responsible for your actions.

"How about sushi?" Bucky says, and you almost start protesting out of habit before you realize that for once, he’s not arguing your side. You turn to Sam with an expectant grin.

"Fine," he grunts, shaking Alpine off his trouser leg as gently as he can while his nose twitches. "I guess Russian Doll has the right to choose his last meal."

Bucky frowns at him, but you gasp in delight. "Are you finally joining us in dark humor land, Sammy?"

He flips you off wordlessly as he leaves the room and you chuckle to yourself, pulling up the sushi menu on your phone. Alpine starts nibbling on the bandage around your foot that’s stretched out on the couch and you wiggle your toes a bit. It seems to entertain her.

"What," you ask when the staring becomes unbearable.

"Nothing."

When you lift your gaze to meet Bucky’s, his jaw is clenched again, his eyes fixed on you with a distant expression in them. You tilt your head, and he lowers his.

"So what’s the plan?"

You send your part of the order to FRIDAY and put your phone to the side. "I have to get back to Strange to figure out how to stop this loop from happening again."

You’ve almost felt sorry to see your series of library heists break, even though you have no reason to feel his way. This is progress. Strange’s offer to help has been genuine enough so far, even though you hate paying him in answers.

Now that he’s not deliberately keeping you out anymore, getting to the astral plane has been a lot easier, at least, even though emptying your mind enough to cross over without a prior emotional breakdown has still proven somewhat difficult. Weirdly, it’s easiest on the couch.

Bucky nods shortly. "And what do I do?"

"Whatever you want."

He scoffs. "Right."

It makes your insides twist. "Bucky, as much as I hope that today is the last time we’re doing this, I can’t guarantee it. So you should just, I don’t know, enjoy yourself." You cringe even as you say it.

"I wanna come see Strange."

You blink, watching him clench and unclench his fists slowly, deliberating. The golden parts of his arm gleam in the sunlight. "Why?"

His voice, when he speaks, sounds haunted. "I can’t just sit around and do nothing."

Something in his voice sticks with you as you lie down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You’re not even sure if what he’s asking is possible.

"No, it’s not," Strange says bluntly. "Not as long as you’re in the loop."

"Why not?"

"Stop asking questions and focus."

With a roll of your eyes, you raise up your arms again. So far, you’ve spent most of your so-called lessons trying to make sense of the cryptic texts Strange makes you read and then summarize like you’re in fifth grade. If you’re not doing that, you’re talking him through the events of your July 4th, or explaining your powers to the best of your abilities, going through the motions and habits you’ve taught yourself over the years. It all feels like you’re revealing something very personal for someone else to judge.

You don’t care much for any of it.

"Again."

"Is this supposed to teach me something new?" you ask, turning your thumb and first two fingers upwards again while your other hand balls into a fist by your side.Threads of sunlight glittering like spun gold. You take a breath and shake your head.

"Do you feel anything?"

Annoyance. You bite your tongue and reach out, carefully, like you would to a scared animal, searching for that old familiar feeling.

It takes a while.

Dim, at first, but clearly there, vibrating deep in your veins, hesitantly stumbling towards your hands like it was suprised, too, to be called upon again. Softly glowing embers slowly filling the void you’ve grown so hopelessly accustomed to.

You open your eyes to find the tiniest green spark dancing across your fingertips and almost laugh in relief.

"Interesting," Strange says.

You flick your fingers softly, once, twice, letting the spec of power grow until it’s the size of a pinhead, cradling it softly with your other hand as if to protect it from a gust of wind. Slowly, bit by bit, it settles back into your skin, and you feel it tingling all the way up to your ears.

Strange contemplates you for a long moment. "When did you get that cut?" he finally asks.

At this point, you should be used to his unfazedness. "Yesterday," you say, the 'obviously' clinging to every syllable. Riff was putting up a better fight than usual; or maybe you’re getting sloppy again.

Strange moves his right hand in that circular motion you’ve seen him do before, and the air in front of you cracks. It’s weird to see your own slightly translucent reflection suspended in the middle of your room. The gash on your cheek has barely had the chance to scab. You subconsciously reach for your necklace again.

"Look at the wound, and hold your hands like this."

You try and mimic Strange’s gesture. "I feel ridiculous." Like a mime. Or a really bad stage magician.

"Good," he says. "Now focus your powers, and follow my lead."

You watch Strange move his shaky hands out of the corner of your eye while trying to concentrate on that little spec of power you’ve felt earlier. Slowly, itchingly, the wound starts knitting itself together, as if it’s been healing for days. The skin smoothes over as if nothing had ever happened.

A rush of excitement goes through you at the sight, and there’s a stutter. With a flash of pain, the cut tears up again and you flinch, your hands falling.

"Fuck."

"I told you to focus."

"Well, if only saying it made it happen," you snap, then try again. This time, you let go of your power more carefully, almost coaxing it down. The gash doesn’t heal completely, but at least it looks better than what you started with. Strange watches you closely, brow furrowed deeply in thought.

"Let’s try something different," he says, and with another flick of his wrist, the mirror vanishes again. "Sit down."

You bristle at the command, but obey. A sidelong glance confirms that your sleeping body’s cut on the cheek has somewhat improved as well. There seems to be something connecting the two of you after all.

"When is this here, anyway?" you ask.

Once again, he doesn’t give you an answer. With another quick movement he grabs something through a small portal and throws it at you without any regard to your reflexes. You grab it off the bed incredulously.

"That’s … a meditation CD."

"Congratulations," Strange says. "You can read."

"You’re not serious."

"Deadly." He unfastens his cloak, which flies over to drape itself over the reading chair like a blanket, and then joins you on the floor, crossing his legs as well. It’s bizarrely casual. "If you don’t learn to focus," he continues, "there’s no moving forward from this point."

You huff, holding the CD out for him to take back. He doesn’t. "I’ve tried meditation," you say impatiently. "It doesn’t work for me. My mind—it doesn’t work for me."

"Your mind what?"

"It’s too loud."

You put the CD on the ground with a little too much force, moving to twist your rings around again, but they’re still absent. Your nails dig into your skin, instead.

"Did you know I don’t really forget stuff? Did I tell you that?" You laugh humorlessly, because what else can you do. "Fun side effect of the traveling back and forth through time. I always know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and what everyone else has done while I was there. All that information is in my head, all the time, and I can’t get rid of it."

"All the more reason to have it quiet down every once in a while," Strange says calmly.

You want to strangle him.

"Believe me, I’d love nothing more, but I can’t. It’s not like I’m a computer and you can do the whole 'Hello, this is IT, have you tried turning it off and on again?' It doesn’t work like that."

"You do know a lot about how things don’t work."

"Welcome to my world," you mutter, flexing your fingers and crossing your arms before you draw blood.

Strange sighs. "Your mind isn’t a hard drive. No matter what your powers entail, your brain is still human. And it needs to rest every once in a while."

For some reason, in the middle of this whole crazy situation, that thought settles. Maybe it’s because it’s possibly the first genuinely kind sentiment he’s shown you so far. Maybe you’re just tired of pushing.

"How?" It’s more a croak than a question.

"Just stay like that and breathe." You look at him incredulously and he raises an eyebrow. "What? No one said you have to think nothing. It’s fine if you just sit there with your thoughts."

There’s a short pause. "That sounds terrifying," you admit quietly.

Strange considers you for a long moment, as if he’s contemplating what to say, until he finally admits, "I know."

* * *

You blink awake slowly this time, as if gradually awakening from a deep sleep. The TV is on again, quietly chattering in the background, and a weight on your legs tells you that Alpine has found a new spot again.

A glance at your phone shows that surprisingly little time has passed. When you sit up, the white cat on top of you complaining loudly, you can see Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, laptop closed, talking to Sarah on the phone.

The fact that you’re not alone quite yet is weirdly comforting.

In a moment of sleepy contentment, you reach out to scratch Alpine under the chin like you’ve seen Bucky do countless times. Curiously, she lets you without immediately extending her claws. At least for a moment.

"You’re awake."

Immediately, Alpine loses interest in you and jumps onto the backrest of the couch to nestle her head into Bucky’s palm. You roll your eyes.

"Keen observation, sarge."

He slowly peels his gloves off, not quite looking at you. "What did he say?"

Right. There was that.

"Nothing, to be honest," you say, folding up the throw blanket Sam must have put over you while you were sleeping. "Apart from the fact that he really can’t actually do as much as one would think."

"Can’t, or doesn’t want to?"

You shrug. "Same difference."

Despite everything, somehow you feel inclined to believe that there really isn’t a way to get Bucky to the astral plane, though. After all, things haven’t been normal ever since this loop began; and since you’re the only one who can lift it, maybe that also means you’re the only one who can do things like that.

You can only hope that at some point, something—anything—you do is going to stick.

Bucky studies your face, but doesn’t tell you whatever is still clearly gnawing at him. You don’t know why for a moment, you thought he would.

It reminds you of something you haven’t asked in a while.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

His mouth opens, but he doesn’t speak immediately. "Like what?"

"It’s just …" You struggle with the words, as if your mind is still half-asleep. "In some of the loops, it was kind of …" You trail off when you notice he’s holding something in his other hand. "Did you go get coffee again?"

Bucky clears his throat. "Yeah. I thought since you didn’t get one earlier, ya know …"

You’ve stopped getting caffeinated drinks for yourself in the mornings to make it easier to get to that voidlike state you need to be in to enter the astral plane. It’s been making you rather irritable; though, truth be told, that might also be due to Strange’s charming personality.

"That’s nice," you say, reaching for the paper cup with your name on it, taking a sniff before tasting it carefully. It’s perfect. "I should change my habits," you say lightly, "if Lucy knows my order even if I don’t pick it up myself."

"Who’s Lucy?" Bucky says, sitting down on the couch next to you.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "The pretty one on register? Stars and stripes on her cheeks?" He hums noncommittantly and you decide it’s not worth the effort. "What did you get?" you ask with a nod to the second cup.

"Just … coffee."

You squint to read the sticker, but he puts his fingers over it in a motion so smooth it almost hides its defensiveness. There’s the slightest hint of a grin on his face as you scowl, trying to catch his sleeve to get him to twist the writing back in your direction. Your thumb grazes cool metal and you still. Bucky does, too.

"Did she actually give you her number?"

Your laugh comes out through your nose, somehow, as if it’s not much more than a breath. The expression on Bucky’s face doesn’t quite fit his widening grin, or the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, but you couldn’t say why.

"So?" he says. Alpine stares at you accusingly, settling in his lap once more.

"Nothing!" It comes out quickly. "I’m not surprised. I mean, she thinks you’re hot."

His eyebrow quirks. "Does she, now?"

You take a gulp of coffee so large it makes your eyes water. "Her shift’s probably over by now. You should call her."

"Why," Bucky says wryly.

"To take her out." Should you be weirded out by the fact that this is happening as soon as Bucky entered the store without you? You tug at the ring on your pinkie.

"Why do you want me to take her out if I’m gonna die later?" Bucky asks.

"Well, it might take your edge off for one."

"And why does my edge concern you?"

"Have you met yourself?" You shrug, your ears drumming. "Besides, it might be fun."

He doesn’t look at you as he takes a sip from his own coffee, as if still determined not to let you see his reaction. "You have a strange definition of fun."

Alpine yawns as if to agree. You stand up abruptly, suddenly nauseated from drinking too fast.

"I’m just gonna …"

Again, you don’t finish your sentence, and Bucky doesn’t stop you from grabbing your takeout containers and taking them with you to your room, where you stare at the toilet for a good minute, waiting for the queasiness to pass. Your meet your own gaze in the mirror.

The cut on your face looks better than it did a few hours ago.

You walk back into your bedroom and take a critical look at your bookcase.The Wind in the Willows is back in its place where it belongs. What isn’t there is the CD Strange finally managed to force upon you.

The rules of this multiverse crap are going to give you another migraine on top of your current one.

You sit down on the floor next to your window to eat, but your cheek keeps itching until you notice yourself tapping your chopsticks against the plastic container so hard soy sauce is splashing everywhere. With a displeased twitch of your mouth, you reach for your phone.

It rings for a very long time and you realize it’s already past midnight in Seoul when finally, there’s a voice on the other end.

"This better be good, agent Y/L/N."

Her voice is quiet, tired, and you press the phone to your ear even harder. "Can I ask you a hypothetical question?"

Doctor Helen Cho sighs deeply on the other end of the line, and you can almost picture her leaning back in her ergonomic office chair. "Alright."

You toy with the edges of the building scab on your cheek. "Is it possible for someone to go through physical changes and … not go through them at the same time?"

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "Are you asking me if Schrödinger’s cat is real or not?"

A living being that simultaneously is and isn’t dead? That’s a paradox you have an answer for.

The problem, as always, is you.

"Sort of. I don’t know." You bite your lip.

"You realize quantum mechanics is not exactly my specialty, right?" Even while she says that, you can hear the clicking of her keyboard. "You are talking about a body, I presume. A human one?"

"Mhm."

"And the changes?"

You think of the cut and the writing and Bucky’s blood on your sheets. And your changed clothes. "They’re only to the body itself. Everything around stays the same. Pretty much like Schrödinger’s cat, I guess. Nothing about the box changes." Ever.

There’s another pause before Helen speaks again.

"Look, as far as I know—and with all these new and upcoming aliens and superheroes and so on that have been appearing over the past couple of years that’s less and less, mind you—but as far as I know, humans can only be in one state at one particular time. There’s ways to accelerate healing processes or even meddle with the body in other ways, but it’s still an either–or scenario."

"So, it’s impossible?" you ask, biting your cheek.

"It’s improbable, based on what I understand." Time has definitely started to bleed into itself, then. Great. "But like I said, that’s not really my area of expertise," she continues. "Speaking of, though, I got an e-mail from your new captain earlier."

"You did?" you ask, surprised. Sam hasn’t said anything to you, not today or any other iteration of it.

"You can tell him I’m hearing the same things he has," Helen says. "My lab wasn’t approached, but I have a colleague at a partner institution who left for Madripoor a couple of weeks ago."

You’ve barely thought about ULTIMATUM and their experiments since you laid everything out for Sam and Bucky earlier this morning. Another wave of guilt flashes through you.

"I’ll tell him," you say tonelessly. "Thanks, Helen."

"In this hypothetical of yours," Helen says before you can hang up. "Who’s the observing party?"

You watch the green symbols circle around your wrist, once, twice, three times. "I’m not sure yet."

You stare at them for a while longer after the call disconnects.

"There’s nothing to observe when the flow of time is reduced to a single day," Strange says when you relay the question to him the next day, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"So there would be, usually?" you ask, eyes narrowing as you try to channel the flow of your powers into the palm of your hand, like he’s told you.

"It’s not a perfect comparison," he answers. "The cat is only dead or not because time passes. Time is only our way of perceiving space dimensionally."

"Time and relative dimension in space," you hum with a light smile. Your palm starts tingling. "But if it’s not that, either, then … I still feel like there has to be something I’m missing here."

Every single review of the mission fills in another piece of the puzzle, the map of the lab you draw on the whiteboard growing more and more detailed each day, but still, it’s never enough. You miss the way Steve would draw out detailed building plans and escape routes before any mission, such ease to the stroke of his pen; your own talent for drawing is borderline abysmal by comparison.

The green shimmer around your hand dissipates again. Strange groans, fingers massaging his temple like he, too, is getting a headache from this stupid realm. His cloak wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"What you’re missing," he says through gritted teeth, "is the point of this exercise."

"Enlighten me," you snap back.

You watch him take a deep breath before he answers. "Do you, or do you not realize that this isn’t all about you?"

You huff. "If you say something like this is the universe imparting a message upon me, I got that point. The message is that I suck at what I’m doing."

"If that’s the message, then how come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?"

The anger and remorse that wash over you make your power flare up like a bolt of electricity, your fingertips and the dark of your eyes flashing an eery shade of green. You can feel the little hairs in the back of your neck stand up. Strange only looks at you, his expression unexpectedly somber.

"At least he doesn’t remember," you say tonelessly.

Strange smiles, but there’s no joy in it. "Indeed," he says.

The rush ebbs off, bit by bit, and you blink to get rid of the last of the strange double vision you sometimes get when time stutters again.

"You keep telling a man he will die today because you think that’s best for him," Strange goes on. "Better than him getting to choose his own path. Have you ever paid attention to how he spends his last precious hours once he knows?"

Of course you have. Sitting around in the Tower, going over mission plans again and again. Getting coffee. Lurking in doorways, leaning against walls, thinking, talking, looking.

It’s all time spent with you, and Sam, and Alpine.

It’s weird that you shouldn’t have realized this fact when in the beginning, you kept wondering about the time he came back to the Tower. Because before you’ve started telling him, Bucky always left.

Maybe that’s what you’re missing.

"Careful," Strange says, noticing your change in expression.

"You know me, doc," you answer, letting the power crackle again ever so slightly. It’s a thrill, getting to feel it again. "Careful’s basically my middle name."

* * *

"Doesn’t matter," Bucky says when you ask him what he’d be up to if you hadn’t told him about the loop.

"Oh no, leave me out of this. That’s his thing," Sam says when you ask him about the whole thing, and he so clearly knows what it is and yet refuses to tell you.

"None of your business," Bucky says when you press the matter, his jaw clenched tightly, and you hate to do this, but you don’t exactly have limitless options here. Besides, it’s the first new idea you’ve had in a while, which means there’s an almost moral obligation for you to go through with it. And still.

This feels wrong, you think when Sam comes to knock at your door and you throw on your gym clothes, pulling the sweatband over your wrist tightly.

This feels wrong, you think when you climb into the ring as if nothing had ever happened, as if this was just a normal day. Your side is still a little sore, but you’re able to play it off as a scratch with ease. How would he know to call you out on it?

This feels wrong, you think when you close your eyes as you lie on the mat and wait. You promised.

"You look like shit."

Your head turns like muscle memory. "Hey."

"Hi." Bucky’s eyebrow raises at your silence, but you’re not sure if the words aren’t just going to come bursting out of you. You have a tell. "You alright?"

Your grin tastes just a little bitter. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Right." He doesn’t quite believe you, of course, but it’s fine. You can do this.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling and try to recall the very first July 4th, the version of you that you were. She resists you slipping her back on, but you take another deep breath, just like you’ve been practicing. A chuckle slips free.

"Fuck you, Barnes."

Your heart is still beating fast in your chest, but he must chalk it off to the training, because you can hear him huff. "There she is."

You close your eyes with a petulant sigh, just in case he can see your conscience written all over them. Again, you remind yourself that you tried asking him, that you tried everything else, that this is the only option you can think of right now.

"You’re horrible." It’s more like talking to yourself out loud, but of course Bucky doesn’t know that. And the sad truth is, he’s used to your temper.

"Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one."

You give an affirmative hum, waiting until you hear the door close behind him. Then, you rush to the showers, wasting no time to get ready and dressed again.

Bucky walks out the door of the Tower at precisely 09:43, a fact you know thanks to the time stamps on the security footage from the lobby you had FRIDAY pull up early on in the loop. This leaves you with a pretty small window of time to clean up, add another line to the tally on your thigh, and get back to your room to grab your stuff without making what you’re doing to obvious to either him or Sam. You have FRIDAY call up the elevator with barely a minute to spare, going down to the second floor and quickly heading towards the stairs. Behind you, the elevator dings once.

You basically sprint downstairs, readjusting your backpack. You almost barrel into the fire door, peering through the window into the lobby after another glance at your watch. Only a few seconds later, you can see Bucky walk across the entrance hall, the usual resting scowl on his face as he looks around once and then ducks out the side door.

You tug the cap you found at the back of your closet deeper into your face and start after him.

This feels wrong, and it’s a terrible idea, you can’t help but think as you watch him head down Lex, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. His strides are long, but unhurried, and even though you know he’s the furthest thing from vulnerable, the fact that you’re seeing him unguarded like this doesn’t sit right with you. Nevertheless, you continue.

You expect him to head for the subway, but instead, he turns left after the Chrysler Building, going east. With a slightly confused frown, you briefly join a group of clearly lost tourists to cross the street and follow him back up Third Avenue. At least there’s just enough people around to make it easy enough for you to hide in a crowd, you suppose.

You’re going to follow him, and find out what he’s up to, and then you’re going to see if and how it all connects to this stupid loop.

Easy as that.

It’s about an hour and a half later when you seriously start cursing Bucky’s name. Inexplicably, he’s still just walking around the streets of Manhattan like a fucking peasant. Your clothes are sticking to your body in ways you don’t care to describe, and you’re sick of having to pretend to be interested in shitty Independance Day memorabilia and battered paperbacks on sale while trying to avoid eye contact with the people trying to sell them to you.

You’re also pretty sure you’re walking around in circles.

Letting your head fall into your neck, you blink up into the bright sunlight from underneath the shade of your cap. As always, there is not a single cloud in sight, a perfect Friday in July. It’s making your eyes burn.

You glance back at Bucky, who has continued walking after taking a look at his phone, and sigh. All of this would be so much easier with your powers.

"What on earth are you up to," you mumble to yourself as you watch him take another left.

You count to ten before rounding the corner as well—and then you yelp when you almost slam into Bucky’s chest.

"What are you doing?" He doesn’t sound annoyed at all; more entertained. You take a step back, assessing, but his face doesn’t betray him whatsoever.

"Going on a walk," you try cautiously.

"Yeah, right." He tilts his head, features despicably neutral. "Why are you following me?"

"I’m not?" He stares at you, and you groan. "Fine. I just wanted to see where you’re going?"

"Why?" There’s an edge to his voice that you can’t quite make sense of, but your thoughts tumble right over it, scrambling for an excuse and coming up empty. The glint in his eye is distracting.

"Because …" Because you don’t know what else to do at this point. "I don’t know, I was just curious."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "That’s a lot of dedication when you could’ve just asked."

You look at him doubtfully. "So you’d have told me?" you say, already knowing the answer.

"No." He puts his hands back into his pockets and turns around, leaving you standing there staring at his back.

"Well, there you go then," you shout and start to follow along again. You take the stupid hat off with a sigh and stuff it into the backpack, wiping sweat off your forehead. "How long did you know I was there?"

Bucky shrugs. "About when I got outside."

"Seriously." He stares at you over his shoulder. "Seriously?!"

"You came down the stairs," he says, shaking his head. "And in a Yankees cap."

"So?"

"Don’t tell me you suddenly like baseball."

"I might like baseball," you mumble. "It’s a very fine … ball sport."

He snorts. "Sure ya do. I’ll remind you next time the game’s on."

"Circling back," you quickly change the subject, "why the fuck did you make me chase you halfway across Midtown if you knew I was there anyway?"

"It was funny." The shit-eating grin spreading on his face surprises you so much you stumble over your own feet. His arm extends to stop your fall if necessary, as if on instinct. "You know," he continues, "I thought you’d lost me on Times Square. Almost asked one of those guys in costume to help you out."

You slap his hand away. "You’re the worst, Barnes."

"And you’re a shit spy, time powers or not." The smile changes, but stays. Somehow, you’re glad.

Your fingers twitch inside your own pockets, your thumbs tracing along your rings. "So," you say, suppressing the nervous chuckle. "Where are we actually going?"

"Don’t know yet." Bucky turns his head to look out for cars before he continues walking. It takes you a second to match his pace again.

"What do you mean, you don’t know."

"Well, I had to cancel my plans because I got an amateur stalker on my heels."

"Wow." You squint at him and the blinding sunshine behind his head. "And you’re calling me stubborn."

"To your face? I would never."

Oh, you hate this.

"So we’re actually just walking around town for the hell of it." And you’ve done all of this for nothing.

"Yup."

The realization that you wasted yet another day by thinking you could be sneaky around Bucky almost takes you down a spiral, and you don’t even notice he’s still talking to you until he ducks his head to catch your eye. "Huh?"

"I said I’ll buy you a coffee. Think you might need it." He pauses. "That is, if you wanna."

"I could always go for coffee," you say, and it’s true. First, though, you should tell him. Rip the band-aid off and get it over with. "Listen, I—"

But then he looks at you, his eyes impossibly blue in the sunshine, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t have to deal with that damn preciousness in them, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and so he just looks at you like he has a thousand times before, the normalcy of it like a breath of fresh air after his eyes have dragged you under again and again.

How come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?

Maybe it’d really be a kindness to spare him the news, just once. It’s still so early.

"What?" Bucky asks when the silence stretches.

You think of the ever unchanging Tower and the neverending pizza delivery and the fact that you hate this. You hate lying to him. You do it anyway.

Just once.

"I thought of something, but it doesn’t matter now," you say. "We have time."

* * *

"Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?"

You pretend not to hear him, shuffling the straws around in their container until they look a bit more orderly. Even though you’re not working, even though this isn’t even your store, it’s hard to shake the need to feel useful. Particularly if you’re trying to ignore Bucky’s gaze burning into your neck.

You’re saved by your name being called out because your coffee is ready. For some reason, you half-expect him to swoop in front of you and take the drinks himself, but of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

With a shake of your head, you rid yourself of the ridiculous thought and hand Bucky his coffee without looking at him.

"You know," you say, stepping out of the crowded Starbucks into the sunshine. "I have a blanket somewhere in here." You point at your backpack. "We could try to fight for a spot in the park."

There’s a pause, and then Bucky sighs. "What else do you have in there, anyway?"

"Spy stuff."

You don’t expect him to find that funny, but he snorts slightly. Then, like a habit he can’t break, his gaze falls on your hands again.

"I’m just tired," you say wearily before he presses the matter.

"You should try the floor," Bucky says. "If you can’t sleep."

It helps, sometimes. "I’ll keep that in mind."

You take a sip of your coffee and scrunch your nose when you realize it isn’t what you ordered for yourself; it’s what you ordered for him. In your haste to change the topic earlier, you must have switched the cups.

"Sorry," you say, "this is actually—"

But you stop talking, because he’s already taking a tentative nip of yor drink, and then he licks his lips. And they curl slightly upwards.

He blinks a few times, as if he’s as surprised as you are, and tries again, less hesitantly this time. Then he looks at the writing on the cup. "Wait," he says, frowning, "I think you’ve got mine."

Your mouth closes, then opens again. "How do you know?" you finally say. "They both have my name on them."

"Yeah, but you always get the same thing," Bucky says, as if him knowing your order couldn’t possibly be news to you.

"It’s fine," you say when he tries to hand you your cup back. "Maybe I should try something different sometimes."

Bryant Park is already bustling with people, and it’s just about noon. The little green tables are all occupied by chess players and chatting families, the carousel horses manned with happily shrieking children.

Still, you find a place to spread out your blanket near the edge of the lawn, almost within talking distance of the Public Library’s security guard, who is currently on his first smoke break. You demonstratively sit down with your back to him. If ever a man took his job too seriously.

"Aren’t you hot in that?" you ask doubtfully when Bucky uncomfortably sits down opposite you, the collar of his leather jacket pushing up.

"'Course I am," he answers, not elaborating.

You let your eye roam through the park. "Terrible news," you say dryly. "Not a single person is looking at you, Sergeant Cool."

Bucky shakes his head, not looking at you.

"No one cares," you say, more sincerely this time. "Even if they did, they’re not gonna say anything. And they’ll have forgotten about you tomorrow."

He huffs again. "And you’re wonderin’ why I call you stubborn."

"I thought you didn’t do that to my face?"

He pulls his gloves off, throwing them on the blanket between you with his eyebrow raised. "Happy?"

In the bright sun, his left hand is gleaming, the inlets reflecting the light in a way that makes it dance across the cotton like swirls of pure gold. You smile and lean back, closing your eyes.

You don’t come to this park often, even though it’s not far from the Tower at all and it’s easier than returning to Central Park with all the memories it holds and that have turned more bitter than sweet after everything. It’s the same as with the library, you suppose. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re missing something until you find yourself in the middle of it.

It might have been a Saturday, you think, the last time you were here. What a concept; Saturday. You sit with the thought for a while, and then you let it drift away, just like you’ve been practicing.

It’s such an unexpected feeling, to get to experience this moment of quiet reprieve when lately, most of your time in this loop has been spent studying, or training, or fighting. You already know you’re getting another talking-to if you don’t return to the astral plane at all today; but it’s just the one day. Surely, you can be allowed one day.

Your brain craves it more than anything.

When you open your eyes again, Bucky is contemplating your backpack with a frown so oddly different than the one you’ve gotten used to in previous loops. He seems so … It takes you a while to come up with the right word, because somehow, it makes you think of Alpine, and that doesn’t make any sense at all. Comfortable. He seems comfortable.

His shoulders are relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and even though he’s still wearing the jacket, his eyes aren’t flitting around to assess everyone within sight. His head tilts slightly.

"Are you trying to see through it?" you say, and the dryness tastes wrong on your tongue.

Bucky nudges the backpack with his foot. "Just wonderin’ what you thought you were gonna be up to."

"I like to come prepared."

"Since when?"

Well, ever since resetting has kind of stopped being an option whatsoever. "This isn’t gonna turn into one of your 'constant vigilance' talks, is it, Moody?" you say lightly.

He looks at you again, and you’re not really sure if that’s better or worse. "You’re deflecting, doll."

"Well, what do I know!" you say. It’s worse, definitely worse, but you don’t know why. "You might have been off on a covert mission or visiting a secret girlfriend or buying a beehive to put on the roof or—"

He unzips the backpack. "So you brought a blanket, a baseball cap, binoculars and a banana?"

You try to bite your tongue, but it’s impossible. "I was kind of set on the bee scenario."

Bucky laughs.

Genuinely laughs. His nose scrunches up, his eyes creasing and his head thrown back a little, shaking with a quiet and almost childish glee as you blink at the unusual sight. It’s over almost as suddenly as it began, but … still. A warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks as you watch him, your own smile almost hesitant by comparison.

Joy looks good on him.

It leaves a twinkle in his eye even as the laughter subsides, like specs of sunlight.

"What?" he says, his mouth still twitching.

"You seem happy." And it’s astonishing.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s blushing. "No need to sound so shocked about it."

"You sure?" you ask, your voice cracking only a little. "I feel like I need to call an ambulance."

"Shut up."

"Or Area 51. I think you might’ve been swapped with an alien doppelganger." You sit up properly. "Tell me something only the real Bucky would know. Oh, wait. He wouldn’t have told me, either."

"You are the most dramatic person I know, you know that?"

"You’re one to talk, Sergeant I Need Nobody’s Help, I Will Jump Out Of  A Plane Without A Parachute."

"So many rank drops today."

"Now who’s deflecting?"

"I take calculated risks."

Except he doesn’t even know his calculator is broken.

Bucky stares at you. "What’s that even supposed to mean?"

You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not today. Your fingers twitch automatically to take it back, but of course, nothing happens. Nothing apart from his attention being brought back to your black rings.

"What did you do?"

The concern in his voice is quiet, but it’s there nevertheless, and it makes your heart ache, long desperately for it to go away, to be replaced by the joy that was there mere seconds ago. You want to make this day stop, make the world stop so you can continue living in that ease of just sitting here and laughing together without thinking about anything else.

And then you realize what’s really happening, and the world chokes, like something falling into place.

For a moment, you can’t breathe as you look at him, whole and confused and missing parts he can’t even remember leaving with you, and you feel as though your heart might stop because the only thought running through your head is Please, not now. Not now. Not now. Every single beat is an echoing no inside your mind.

You are so fucked up, you think, but you can’t find it in you to stop looking at his face, nearly flinching as you shove the feeling all the way down, down, down, until you can feel it like a brick in your stomach. It’s nauseating, like the vertigo you get at the very top of a roller coaster just before the car drops into freefall.

"Y/N?"

"I don’t know," you say tonelessly. He must have noticed your face change, he must have. So why doesn’t the frown deepen?

"Liar." Your heart is still pounding so loud he must hear it, even over the racket of children screaming in delight and cars blowing their horns in the distance.

Concern, you think again. Exact same thing that you see mirrored on Bucky’s face right now. You're concerned for your friend.

Roommate, really.

Colleague.

Guy you sometimes work with, professionally.

Exactly. That’s it. That has to be it.

You’re in deep enough shit already.

He’s still waiting for you to say something and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, the buzzing in your head getting louder, and the only thing you can think to say is, once again, "I’m sorry."

Before Bucky can answer, his phone rings, and there’s the flicker of annoyance you’ve been waiting for.

"Hold that thought," he says. "Sam?"

Your heart sinks as Bucky presses his phone to his ear, reality catching up with you again. You try to rearrange your features into a neutrally curious expression when he glances back at you, but you’re probably failing horribly.

"No, I’m good, I didn’t end up going.Yeah. Alright."

You clear your throat as he hangs up. "So. Sam’s about to give his big speech then?"

Bucky looks bemused. "I’d hope not. That was hours ago."

"What?"

Confused, you look at your watch. Then you look at Bucky’s watch. Then you look at your phone.

Even though you can’t have been sitting here for more than thirty minutes, every clock you look at tells you it’s past 4 p.m. Confused, you twist your rings around your fingers, one by one, but they’re as pitch black as ever, and yet somehow …

"Should we go?" you ask, your voice just a little pitchy.

Bucky gazes at you for a very long moment, and then gets up to his feet and holds out his hand to pull you up. He still hasn’t put his gloves back on.

You take it.

"You’re really off today," he remarks and you hum noncommittantly as you fold the blanket back up and unceremoniously stuff it into the backpack. He shoulders it himself before you can grab it. "You’re just gonna complain again," he says, even though the Tower isn’t that far.

You don’t say anything, though, just trudging behind him without a glance back.

Probably because of the time of day, 42nd street is packed. You watch Bucky pass through the crowd with his head downcast and his hands back in his pockets. If it’s been a struggle not to get separated from him earlier this morning, it’s near impossible now.

He looks over his shoulder when, for the third time, several people have pushed between the two of you, and you shrug helplessly as you try to catch up to him. Again, you can’t help but think this would be so much easier with your powers working the way they’re supposed to; just stopping everyone else for a second while you move past them.

"Sorry," you mumble when you reach him waiting for you at a crossing. All of a sudden, you feel how tired you’ve been for a while.

"Wanna just go home?" Bucky asks.

"That’d be nice," you say, cringing at the thought of having to change immediately once you get back. Sam is probably already impatient.

Bucky’s mouth twitches. "Don’t make this a thing."

And then he takes your hand again and links his fingers with yours as if he’s done it a thousand times before. The light changes to green, but you don’t move, and Bucky softly tugs to get your attention. His hand is solid and warm in yours, and it does nothing to ease the feelings of unease and contentment that mingle in your stomach with his touch.

Neither does the fact that as soon as the crowd disperses and you slowly, reluctantly let go of his hand, he steps out into the street with his head half-turned to you and—well.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and it’s like the air is getting knocked out of your lungs.

After that, the days start to blur.

* * *

"Why would it have anything to do with the mission?" Strange asks, and you can’t decide whether he sounds condescending or genuinely confused.

"Because it’s never happened before then, maybe?" you say, throwing up your arms. "I don’t know!"

"The loop is tied to you, not the other way around. If Sergeant Barnes has only ever died during the mission before today, the only other variable in that equation is you."

His cloak curls at the seams in a way that’s almost apologetic. What a stupid thing to say about a piece of magical fabric, you think.

"Great," you huff, sitting down on the ground and crossing your arms in order to not shake violently. "So first time’s skipping and now if I spend time with him, he’s just gonna die earlier?"

There’s a pause as Strange frowns. "Show me your wrist."

You press your lips together tightly and hold out the arm with the swirling green symbols. Strange examines it with a particularly grim expression.

"Just say it," you mutter when it becomes unbearable.

"Time is a precious thread in the fabric of the universe," he says, dropping your hand. His silver eyes are very serious. "You don’t get an endless supply of it."

"I literally do," you reply, flourishing your wrist demonstratively. "That’s the whole problem."

"No." Strange shakes his head. "Your reality is going to collapse if time can’t move on from where it’s stuck. Not today, not tomorrow, but it will happen."

You stare at him with wide eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means, no more distractions. Things are detereorating more quickly than I’d hoped." He sighs, and there’s something about his demeanor that lets real fear course through your bones for the first time in a while.

"Okay," you say, swallowing it down. "Let’s do some overtime, then."

"I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Look at her."

You glance at your sleeping body, stirring in her sleep.

"You asked when this is," Strange continues. "That’s the thing with this version of the astral plane. It’s unstable. It only exists between dreaming and waking, and so our time here is very limited. You are then, and now. Past and present and future all folded into each other and wrapped into one. The nature of time doesn’t like this."

"So, what?" You laugh humorlessly. "I go through an endless day, and then reality crumbles anyway?"

"Do you understand now why it’s so important that you get a grip on your powers?"

Because you’re the one who created the loop, and therefore the only person who can untangle it again.

"So no pressure then," you say tonelessly.

"All of the pressure, I’m afraid," Strange says grimly. "There’s really no time to waste anymore."

* * *

"When we live such fragile lives, it’s the best way we survive. I go around a time or two, just to waste my time with you."

Your head has started pounding to the beat of the song and Sam’s fist at your door, but you keep staring at the ceiling, unmoving. It all just starts over.

Even this godawful song.

"Tell me all that you’ve thrown away. Find out games you don’t wanna play."

You must admit, the universe has a certain sense of cruel humor. Not that that’s any news. It doesn’t fucking matter what you do any of these days, because the outcome stays the exact same, and there’s a moment each and every time where Bucky knows that, too. Only by then, it’s too late.

"Geez, I hate you."

You’re so tired.

"I know, Buck."

Fade to black. Back in with a blast and the sun in your face, FRIDAY blasting The—

"I’m coming in," Sam finally shouts from the other side of the door. "You better not be naked!"

You hear him enter, but you still don’t move. You’re busy replaying that look on Bucky’s face in your mind of the exact moment it goes wrong. It looks so pale, his mouth twitching downwards, a bit like with his coffee, but much more devastating.

Black out. Rewind. His eyes are on you, not even on the white jacket shooting him.

Black out. Rewind. The fingers on his metal hand grasp so tightly around your wrist you feel something move underneath your skin.

"What is going on with—Y/N!" You feel Sam rushing to your bedside in three long strides.

Right. You’re still covered in blood.

You can’t look away from his eyes until the last second. Black out. Rewind.

"FRIDAY, turn this shit off. Call an ambulance."

"Calling 911."

The sudden silence slams you back into the present with a start. "Cancel call," you say loudly, your voice only slightly shaking. "I’m fine, Sam."

"You don’t look fine!" He helps you sit up, looking you up and down, a sense of urgency still vibrating in his every movement, but of course, you’re not bleeding. "You look like you just shot a man and then rolled over."

"You’re not wrong," is all you get out before you start crying.

Black out. Rewind. God, you’re pathetic.

You shrink back from his arms, cradling your wrist to your chest. It’s starting to swell.

And yet, the green symbols swirl.

You’re not sure why you’re reacting like this now, after … you’re not sure. It’s not like this is your first time. Does that make you an even worse person? Probably.

Sam is talking to you, you recognize his voice, but you can’t focus on the words. You’re desperate to find something to focus your attention on, like you’ve been trying, training, grasping to do, but you’ve got nothing. Just numbness, a gaping nothingness, and the scars to prove you’re not just stuck in a nightmare but this is in fact your reality, and you are the only thing that remains while everything else resets in an endless cycle of hell, over and over and over again.

Nothing stays.

And you can’t help but feel like you’re running out of time, anyway.

This is ridiculous, you know that. You know you’re worrying Sam out of his mind, that you just need to focus, damnit, take a breath, stop crying, anything. Your incompetence to do any of these simple tasks is like another slap to the face.

Time passes, and doesn’t pass; it doesn’t matter at all whether you’re there for a minute or six hours, it’s all the same to you.

Through the fog of it all, Bucky’s voice is like your lighthouse.

And you despise yourself for it, even as you reach out for him.

"Hey," he says quietly, his hands rubbing circles into your back until he slowly, carefully pulls you out of your head back to earth. "It’s alright. Everything’s okay."

He says it over and over and over again until you nod slowly. It’s a pretty lie, after all.

"What happened to your wrist?"

You know what you have to do, but that concerned undertone makes it so hard. You’re still not used to it, but you want to be. Fuck, you want … No.

It doesn’t matter.

"I need to tell you something," you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. "One more time. And then … Then that’s it."

You have to do this. Have to close yourself off emotionally. Distance yourself from Bucky in order to stay rational about this situation and find your way out. Treat this like you’re not involved at all; like this is just another puzzle for you to solve, and nothing else.

It’s the only way.

You’re going to fix this mess you’ve created, if it’s the last thing you do.

* * * * *

"If we die here tonight, I’m blaming you," you told Steve through chattering teeth, and he laughed at you. If you hadn’t still felt bad about his bruises—no matter that they’d already healed completely again—you might have kicked him in the shin.

You’d reached the point of wanting to kick Captain America on a concerningly regular basis.

This time, though, you felt completely within your rights, because you’d been training hard all week, and thanks to New York being just about the most disgustingly freezing place on the planet if they asked you, you really didn’t see the point of driving into the city to a random ice rink. Particularly not on an evening in early January when it was already dark outside.

"You’ll be warmed up in no time," Steve said and waved at Nat, who was already waiting for the two of you, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up so the red roots of her hair stayed hidden.

"Couldn’t we have done this at the lake?" you asked, looking around wearily. The crowd was substantial.

"Sure," Nat said and put an arm around you. "Do you have about fifty friends we can invite so we can properly train your powers around other people?"

You grimaced. "There are children everywhere."

"Oh, yeah. Some of them went home early, but most opted to stay when I told them Steve would drop by."

You groaned. Of course they were Natasha’s Blip orphans; they had the same mischievous shimmer in their tired eyes. "Thanks for that, Nat."

"You’re so welcome," she answered, patting your shoulder. You narrowed your eyes when her coat shifted to the side.

"Is that my hoodie?" you said.

She looked down as if she hadn’t noticed what she was wearing at all. "Yeah, I think so."

"I was looking for that everywhere earlier!"

Natasha merely shrugged. "It’s your own fault for leaving your stuff in the dryer for anyone to take."

"Don’t pay attention to it, she does it to all of us," Steve said, putting an arm around her.

"That is not true."

"It is. You’re like a clothes hoarding dragon."

"Did you just call me a dragon?"

You didn’t listen to the rest of their bickering, because your eyes had started to water, and not because of the cold. It’d been a long time since you’ve felt this warmth inside, this feeling of belonging, of, well … family. It made your powers pulsate through your veins soothingly.

Still, the worry came back when they gave you a helmet and knee pads to wear.

"I’m a travesty on skates, but it’s not this bad," you told Natasha again when you shakily followed her to the rink entrance.

"We’re here to train, not to have fun," she said, taking your hands. Of course, she moved like a dancer even on the ice. "Well, both," she amended when you looked unconvinced. "Oh, don’t look at me like that, it was Steve’s idea."

"Then why is he sitting over there doing nothing?"

"He’s got the day off." She pulled you to the side of the rink. "Here’s what we’re gonna do," she said, pointing to the far end. "I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to guide me straight through the middle to the other side."

You stared at her. "You’re insane."

Natasha ignored you. "One straight line, you tell me when to dodge someone. We’ll go slow."

"I don’t know how many times I can jump."

"It’s not exactly a life or death situation, Y/N. I can survive a few bruises and so can the kids."

"I’d rather not injure a child if you don’t mind," you say, trying not to sound hysterical.

"And I’m confident that you won’t. Do you trust me on this?"

You met Nat’s calm gaze and took a breath, even though the knot in your stomach tightened. "Fine."

"Such a vote of confidence," she snorted. "Just watch what they’re doing, and keep it in mind. Think of it like a dance recital. It’s all just a sequence of steps in a specific order."

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. Natasha closed her eyes. "Ready?" you asked.

She smiled. "I love this song."

You could barely hear the music over the thrum of adrenaline, but you supposed that was her way of saying yes. This’ll be the day that I die.

You pushed forward.

chapter six

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[biisexualemma]

tired pt.2. bucky barnes

word count: 2.3k

warnings: violence, mentions of blood

requested: n/a

plot: you get injured during the mission to locate karli

a/n: so this is sort of a part 2 to the winter soldier imagine i wrote! i'm gonna be posting a part 3 soon too, i'm pretty much following each episode lol, this is obviously episode 4, and then next part with follow episode 5! hope you enjoy! i am very much enjoying writing for bucky atm! let me know what you think anyway! (sorry if there are any minor mistakes i cannot read this over again i am tired lol)

pt.1 / pt.3 / pt.4 masterlist

you knew this was a bad idea. any idea that involved trusting zemo was bad. which you had reiterated to your team multiple times now, but here you still were, relying on zemo to get to karli. to top it all off, captain america and his nosey sidekick had found you guys, somehow, and invited themselves to tag along. too much toxic masculinity was floating around in the air when john walker tagged along anywhere, it was suffocating. made you wanna punch him whenever he opened his mouth and that arrogant, condescending tone came out. that, and he was resolved to shamelessly coming onto you whenever he spoke to you. you were sure he only did it so he could feel more in control of the situation. you tried not to let it get to you, but sometimes he was plain insufferable.

bucky already hated walker with every fibre of his being, and he definitely didn't take kindly to his flirting with you either. the only thing holding either of you back from decking walker was sam, and his level head. but you were constantly stealing subtle glances and touches with one another when you could without bringing too much attention to it. you had both decided it would only make things way more complicated during this mission if your relationship was out in the open. there were too many things that could go wrong, you definitely didn't want your relationship to be used against you. so only sam remained in the loop. everyone else was blind to your affection for the super soldier, and his for you.

the blonde haired fraud and his right-hand man, had somehow managed to make everything ten times worse again. you found yourself scouring the building, looking for karli, after mr-i-have-jurisdiction charged into the room where sam had been having a, somewhat productive, conversation with the girl. he barged in there, throwing around hollow threats, like karli would cave and come lightly after everything. he was ignorant and he was an idiot and you could've killed him for screwing up another mission.

you held your gun at arms length, kicking the door open in front of you, edging your way in, eyes scoping the room for any signs of movement. it was empty. you lowered your gun, making your way across the floor to the door leading to the next room. "east wing is clear so far, one last room to check and then i'll circle back to the stair--"

your words caught in your throat as a grunt left your mouth, feeling the blunt impact to the back of your head. you stumbled forwards, clumsily spinning around to see one of karli's super soldiers towering over you, an old pipe gripped in his hand. you quickly lifted your gun to shoot but the bullet hit the ceiling when he swung the pipe, knocking the weapon out of your hand.

you gritted your teeth, your head was throbbing where the pipe had made contact, and now you were weaponless. you ducked swiftly as he swung the pipe at you once again. you dived forwards, trying to catch him off guard and using your full force to tackle him. ordinarily, this would have knocked him off his feet and you would have used the upper hand to locate your gun and seize it before he could recover.

but this guy, unfortunately for you, was far from ordinary. he was significantly stronger than you were.

"all clear, y/n?" sam's voice echoed in your ear through the comms but you were far too distracted by your current predicament to answer him straight away.

"shit," you mumbled under your breath. the man had barely flinched, before switching it on you. before you could retreat, his arms grabbed your torso and you were halted, heaved off of your feet. "i need backup!" you shouted desperately into your comms, hoping one of them would turn up sooner rather than later. his grip was painfully strong as you tried to scramble out of his hold. but, with almost no strain on his behalf, he hurled you across the room, your body slamming into the brick wall and crumpling against the hard floor.

you let out a wheeze, you felt like the air had been knocked right out of you, and you definitely heard something crack. you clutched your side, wincing as you clumsily dodged the blows he threw at you, trying to clamber away from him. you had to pull yourself together, get up and get to your gun before this escalated any further.

you propped yourself up onto your arms, pushing yourself back and away from the super soldier towering over you. "sam, buck," your breathing was laboured as you tried to reach them again, after hearing no response from your initial plea for help. "east wing. i'm unarmed. super soldier with a pipe and a mean swing-- i need backup-- now."

you cringed, sharp pains rushing from your chest the further you dragged yourself away from the soldier. that was when you noticed the gash along his calf, blood soaking his pants. that was your ticket. you waited for him to swing again, dodging it only by a split second, but took your window and kicked as hard as you could at the open wound on his leg. he let out a loud groan, his leg collapsing under the shock of the pain.

you, however, scrambled as quick as you could, onto your feet and ran to the gun sitting on the floor behind him. before you got too far, your legs were swept out from under you as the soldier grabbed your ankle, your face slamming into the concrete floor as you fell. you let out a groan, followed by a soft whimper, blood now pooling from your nose. you desperately stretched out a hand for the gun that was just out of your reach. his grip tightened on your ankle, you felt yourself being hauled backwards before you lunged one last time for your weapon.

your hand clasped around the gun, twisting yourself onto your back, not hesitating to fire at the super-soldier attached to your limb. the bullet fired straight into his shoulder, he let out a shriek of pain, his grip lost on your ankle. you hurried as far away from him as you could on your hands and knees, your breathing shaky and uneven as the adrenaline coursed through you.

you sat still, legs brought up to your chest, your breathing heavy as you watched the super soldier grip his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding. you held the gun up, directed at him in case he made any more movements. you were panting, your hand moving to your head, wincing as the throbbing pain started to return, and your comedown ensued.

"oh shit," you heard from the doorway. "shit," he muttered harshly, his footsteps drawing nearer to you. you were preoccupied, the pain was spreading quicker now that your heart rate was slowing down. you felt the sharpness in your ribs every time you took a breath in, ringing in your ears growing louder and the throbbing in your nose intensifying as blood dripped onto your shirt.

you flinched when his hand brushed up against yours, your unsteady hands still gripped tightly around your gun. "hey," he whispered, you only just about heard his soft voice echo over the ringing. you noticed the familiar metal hand grazing yours and your grip loosened, letting him remove the gun from your hand. your eyes trailed up to his comfortingly familiar, blue eyes. you let out a soft sigh of relief, cracking a weak smile.

"took your time," you mumbled, teasingly, trying to ease some of the tension you were feeling. you moved your hand to your mouth, blood transferring onto your fingertips from where it had trickled from your nose onto your lips. you let out a halfhearted, tired, chuckle, your face contorting as the pain in your chest intensified. you were relieved that it was over, and that he had been the one to find you. you let out a strained breath, "i'm gonna need one hell of a drink when this is all over."

bucky, however, was examining every inch of you, his eyes shifting all over you, frowning as he found more blood the more places he looked. he watched your hands shake as you touched your lips, the lump grew in his throat. he knew you were trying to make light of the situation, to ease his mind but he could tell you were hurting, a lot.

he moved his hand to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. his stomach lurched when your eyes met his again, the blood soaking your face was a sight he never wanted to have to see again after today. as impossible as that would be in this line of work. "let's get you fixed up, then we'll see about that drink, alright, doll?" his voice was soft, quiet when he spoke to you. you nodded, reassurance slowly washing over you with his fingers caressing your cheek. his touch was more comforting to you than he'd ever realise.

he dragged his eyes away from yours, over to the super soldier who was still squirming, his hand clamped over the wound in his shoulder. bucky glanced at you for a split second, his expression harder than before. you knitted your eyebrows delicately, noticing the shift in his temper. "wait here," he mumbled, his jaw twitching as he moved away from your side. you felt cold with the loss of contact.

bucky moved to tower over the super solider, his head tilting slightly, not hesitating for even a second as he raised his leg, quickly slamming the heel of his foot against his face. the solider dropped back onto the ground, now unconscious. "stay down," he mumbled under his breath.

"c'mon, we gotta' find sam and zemo first," he ignored your amused expression, helping you onto your feet.

-

you'd returned to the hotel room now you had zemo in your custody again. zemo was nursing his headache with a glass of whiskey, sam busying himself with something on his laptop, and bucky had pulled you into the bathroom to help clean you up.

"how ya' feelin', doll?" he quirked an eyebrow at you, positioning you so you were seated, while he hovered over you. he busied himself, soaking a cloth in warm water so he could tend to your wounds. you shrugged, lowering your gaze to where your hands sat in your lap, shaking less now you'd had that drink.

"i'll be fine," you muttered, unconcerned with your well being for now. your mind was swimming with thoughts on how you were going to handle the karli situation. no doubt, walker would be knocking around soon too, just to make things harder for you guys, and probably try and twist the story around to make it seem like karli getting away had nothing to do with him.

bucky wasn't convinced by your answer, but he didn't push you. instead, his hand moved to your chin, using his forefinger and thumb to tilt your head upwards. you saw his jaw clench before he started to wipe away the dried blood from your face. you flinched when he touched the bridge of your nose, recoiling from his touch. "ow, that kinda' hurt," you admitted.

"suck in your breath," he instructed, his jaw stiff as he spoke. "if i don't clean it up now it'll only get worse," you just nodded, doing as he said. you held your breath, biting the inside of your cheek as he cleaned up the rest of the blood (his spare hand moving to the back of your neck to stop you from pulling away). "all done," you let out your breath, your eyes were watery, a reflex from the sensitivity of your bruised nose. "y'good?"

you nodded, letting yourself fall forward, resting your forehead against his stomach, trying to disguise the range of emotions you were feeling. he let out a sigh, his hand still tucked around the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. "you don't have to keep up this act," he spoke after a while. exhausted, you let him hold you up, relaxing yourself against him. "it's just me."

you sniffled, pulling back to look up at him. he felt his chest tighten at the sight of your bruised face, stinging red eyes and pink cheeks. you weren't often vulnerable with anyone, but you were so worn out from everything going on, and bucky was looking at you in a way that made you feel so safe, you couldn't help but let go a little.

"i'm just tired, buck," your voice wavering. he moved both hands to either side of your face, pushing your hair out of the way. he cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing against your flushed skin. you relished in his touch, comforted by the warmth he was radiating, soothing you. "this missions been hard."

"i know, doll," he hummed, his gaze softening watching you relax against his palms, your eyelids drooping shut. he gulped. "let's get you clean, then you can get some rest."

you hummed softly. "thanks, buck," he took a step back, his hands leaving your face for a second. you hastily moved your hands to his, stopping him from moving further away from you. "no," your voice came out hushed. "just a bit longer," you pleaded, you weren't ready to let go of his comfort just yet.

bucky simply nodded, moving his hands back to either side of your face, letting your head fall against his stomach again. he raked his fingers through your hair soothingly, holding you for as long as you needed. he was just relieved you felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him, it meant you felt just as much for him as he did for you.

[obutsuwrites]

salt water (seamonster!shiggy x f!reader)

summary:  “Of course not! I like talking to you.” Inky black tentacles twitched under the curtain of waves. ‘She’d cower. Make herself as small as she needed to be; pathetic and crawling.’ Tenko grinned at the thought. She was nothing more than meat on a slab.  xxx or the time i write monster shiggy ft. ocean imagery warnings: dubcon, drowning, mind control, tentacle sexey times, vore, smut, oviposition word count: 4,468 taglist: @kaccatus @sadjealouswhore @tenaciousgothstudentauthor masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info

The ocean lapped against her knees in gentle waves. It was refreshing and cool; a morning breeze she wanted to submerge herself in and never leave. This was her sanctuary, her home. The ocean -- in its inky blackness -- was almost like a lover. The waves were little arms that entangled around her ankles and upper calves. Simple, harmless flirting until the woman finally took the plunge and allowed the ocean to swallow her whole. She would only tread lightly; growing up in a little sea-side shack carried the reality of her lover; silent waves could shift and evolve into violent tides. 

She squinted as the afternoon sun pierced her eyes. It sat high in the cloudless, cobalt sky. An orange giant that radiated such intense heat, despite the forecast claiming otherwise. The sun was hot against the small of her back; skin exposed and soft. The woman allowed her body to sink further into the salty brine. She shivered at the chill, but it was a welcome distraction from the humidity. As she waded further into the deep, bits of seaweed danced around her legs. Slimy and unpleasant. The woman shoved down her discomfort, it was only temporary. 

She swam apathetic laps. Her body was now accustomed to the chill. In the benign quiet, the woman’s mind began to wander. The sea allowed for more than just cooling off; peaceful and cerebral. After several soft loops, she rescinded herself to float atop the navy sea surf. The woman’s lazy gaze was glued to the sky. Her body was delicately rocked, a lullaby she wanted to submerge herself into for eternity. Sometimes, she wondered if the ocean was capable of violence. To her, it was nothing but serenity and placidity. The woman knew tales of drownings and bizarre, awful sea creatures… However, she had experienced neither within her rather mundane life. Fingers grasped at the azure water, eyes shifting to stare into the great abyss. Despite squinting, the woman couldn’t see to the bottom. She wondered if it was so deep that light simply didn’t refract. 

A crackle sounded off in the distance; the beginning of a storm, she noted. Storms were something she knew all too well. Humidity and the frigid ocean mixed together often to form thunderous, dark clouds that beat against her shack. Angry and fierce.  Eventually, the waves would pick up, as if to respond with equal force to the storm, like two lovers fighting. 

Reluctantly, she began her trek back to shore. Perhaps, she could watch the rain beat on her windows. The wind picked up; the smell of the sea working its way into her nose. Salty and fresh. However, seaweed was strong and wrapped around her ankles. This wasn’t unusual for the woman; the sea could be a difficult lover. The shore was still far away, not even within her reach. Her feet hadn’t even touched the smooth surface of rocks. Slight panic wove into her chest, the sensation tight and heavy. Kicking her legs, the woman tried to swim past the monstrous clump of plant matter. She had done this before. Seaweed wasn’t thick like this and despite her best efforts, her legs were still knotted in the dense foliage. 

The woman continued to kick her legs, the movements morphing into desperation and anxiety. This was foreign to her. The sea wasn’t a maze of fear and panic, yet here she was, arms flailing and face red. 

“H-help!” It was a futile scream; the beach today was empty and she was alone. The sea was going to swallow her and she was alone. Her mind raced with images of her barren skeleton nestled between dead plants and sunken ships. A bleak resting place. 

The sky twisted into a dark caricature of itself; bleak with clouds hiding the sun. Her terror was tangible now as sea foam bubbles seeped into her mouth. Coughs and spit erupted from the woman. Static portraits of her life played like a macabre theater. ‘No! Please no! I don’t wanna die!’ The ocean was a lover scorn; waves began to pick up. The woman feared her body would disappear beneath the current, but the seaweed kept her anchored. Safe. 

Her throat grew dry with cries that fell on deaf ears. This is how she would die; crushed beneath azure crests with an angry sky. She gave up and became complacent in her fate. Tears flowed freely down puffy, coral cheeks. 

Suddenly, she felt a long tendril wrap around her thigh. This material wasn’t seaweed, it was different. Spongey. Organic. The coil traveled down her leg and freed her lower form. 

Breath caught in her throat expanded into the salty, swampy air. “T-thank you!” 

Xx

Fire crackled and the air was balmy; the woman was determined to expunge any cold. Overcast clouds brought in a certain chill, which was only compacted by her waterlogged clothing. Her brassiere had started the slow process of becoming solid again; a fuzzy towel wrapped around jittery shoulders. She believed the suction cup lined tentacle was an octopus. 

“They can be quite helpful. Suction cups are made for -- for sticking.” Truthfully, the sentence was tangible and real for a simple reason; it felt more real. It was far too horrible to believe sea monsters had invaded her paradise. 

Xx

She awoke with a start. Electricity already burning obnoxiously in her veins. The thought was a joke at first; throw out food to the anonymous ocean critter that had rescued her. It was fair. She wanted to repay the kindness. No animal was suited for her sea excursionist. Her love was the ocean firstly; everything came in violent crashes next. Purely no room for animals. However, this being -- this animal. She needed to remind herself it was an animal. Animals can just be smart.

xx

“Like octopi. Or maybe -- maybe a squid.” ‘Octopi’ was a new word; something the woman picked up from long study sessions in the town library. The building was a crypt, dusty and decrepit. Relics from before the second war, chalky volumes of history and academics… but they held the most beautiful anatomical drawings. Precise lines formed into a web of a body on delicate paper. She wanted to rip them from their pages and exhibit the art upon her walls. It was a guilty feeling the woman had to bury. Deep.

Octopi were carnivores, which meant they ate meat. Things like fish, sharks -- even birds. On occasion, the invertebrate would drown their prey. She loathed the vulgar imagery of an octopus immersing a bird into her sea -- into the great blue only to disappear under murky depths. The mental painting seemed so far off -- so  distant from her benevolent savior. 

Xx

There was a certain click in her step, her movements jovial and careless. Her limbs were wire and ethereal. After a masochistic study session, the woman felt confident enough to pursue the octopus. The plan itself was half-baked, but she was… hopeful. Her wallet wouldn’t survive otherwise; she was too naive, trusting and allowed a butcher to sell her a suspiciously warm steak. Little flashes of the overripe meat squirming with maggots skipped through her mind. 

“I hope you like this!” 

She threw the steak into the ocean. A smile had eased onto her face. 

After several minutes a bitter call echoed from the sea. “Not this, stupid.” The voice was scratchy and harsh; like a sweater. Goosebumps developed and her lungs burned. 

‘What an unfortunate sound.’

Xx

Tenko wasn’t a beast per se. He was merely acting on instinct, but he wasn’t all bad. That idiot woman carried a delicious fragrance; her pores were just leaking it. His primal instincts demanded Tenko to clamp his beak over her clavicle. He wanted to peak at her flesh until only ribbons clung to her skeleton… but he was lonely. Tenko was lonely and needed a friend -- needed her. The woman’s cries seemed so inviting. She made pathetic little sounds that were like music to him. He decided to play along, in the hopes of revealing in her fear again. 

Women weren’t unknown to Tenko; they were little sacks of meat that nourished him. However, this wench was something entirely different. She didn’t belong within the predetermined hierarchy and Tenko absolutely fucking hated her for it. Her gestures were carefree and swaying; large hips on full display. The woman wench deserved to know her place. 

‘No one else would do it. It has to be me.’

Xx

An uncomfortable silence inched between them, the steak long gone. The realization wasn’t kind to her. This wasn’t an octopus; this was something worse. Something bad that could speak. Her skin felt slimy and dirty now. She rubbed at her ankles. Waiting for a response was becoming a real experience -- complete with the bells and whistles of anxiety. The woman’s back was on the sea. She refused to greet the monstrosity. 

“I’m… sorry. It’s been so long since I had company.” A soft reflection was in the voice; gentle regret. How could she resist? Tenko was being vulnerable now, if not a little sad. But it was necessary. Feigning humanity would lead his prey in with wide, innocent eyes. 

With a back turned, the woman took a step away from the benign waves. “You talk?” She didn’t want to ask anymore -- she didn’t want to engage the abnormality any further. 

A low whistle crept across the oceanic landscape. 

“Yes. Can we be f… friends?” 

Xx

‘Her little brain must weigh nothing,’ Tenko thought, ‘A stupid broad like her is lucky to even be alive.’ The mortal was braindead enough to put trust in him, he didn’t even have to beg. Well, he didn’t have to beg as much as he anticipated. Her vibrating fear could be felt even within the depths of his domain. Tenko found it pathetic, in all honesty, but saliva pooled at the thought of her. Naked. Afraid. All primed and ready to be devoured… ‘Such a delicate body. It’s really a shame I’ll leave blemishes.’ 

Xx

Within a week’s time, the raspy, sea-salt coated voice was the woman’s dearest friend. Her only friend. It was unnatural at first. The ocean wasn’t sentient, it couldn’t have a soul, and yet something would respond to her questions and ramblings. Always patient and kind hearted. She was curious if the voice was even a sea creature.

‘What if you’re the sea?’

Her mouth opened and closed, mimicking a question. She was curious if the voice had a name. There was certainly nothing offered up; the voice had demanded the woman never swim again -- never look into the great depths. At her sheepish request, the voice shook with rage that trembled and quaked in their words. It was the first time the woman remembered that this voice wasn’t human and maybe it didn’t -- maybe they didn’t function by the natural laws of man. 

A wave bumped against the beachfront. Her name carried off of the breeze, followed by a pause, and then, “What was your question?”

“It’s… uh, it’s stupid, really,” she replied, eyes stuck on her modest shack. Confidence was lacking in her voice; the woman now shrinking before Tenko.

The stench of her was in the water now; Tenko scrunched his face in response. Focusing on her was a part of the plan. His desire for the broad would be found eventually, but he needed to bite down any residual lust that floated around. Her smell was so pungent that it made Tenko’s stomach burn and twist. Like a heated wrench. 

He was growing bored. Impatient. Hunting was never a show like this. Hunting was hunting -- killing and eating with bits of flesh mixing with crimson. The sea looked best like that; bloody, a massacre of sin. Tenko should have eaten her a week before. She was stupid and within his grasp… but he let her go. A mistake he wouldn’t make twice. 

“Of course not! I like talking to you.” Inky black tentacles twitched under the curtain of waves. ‘She’d cower. Make herself as small as she needed to be; pathetic and crawling.’ Tenko grinned at the thought. She was nothing more than meat on a slab. 

His words of encouragement were like a shock to the system. Something was in those words, something the woman craved. Her chest tightened and words washed upon shore, “Can… can I see you?” 

It was a simple question, and yet Tenko hated it. He knew this day would come, but he prepared little in the way of comfort. His face twisted into a scowl as little angry bubbles surfaced. 

“Why? Aren’t you afraid? I can feel your tremors from here.” Tenko wanted to squash her curiosity. This game of cat and mouse shouldn’t end so abruptly. He wanted more play time with his food. Fear was a seasoning that couldn’t be wasted. A precious resource only for him. 

The ocean was quiet now, its rage worn down and tired. The woman looked out into the azure water and tried to gather her remaining courage. Tenko’s voice was unlike the kind tone she was accustomed to; his response was harsh and laced with seafoam. This wasn’t her disembodied companion. This was a creature.

“N-no,” she hesitated. Her words were anchored in her belly. She looked away from the azure abyss, fear creeping into her chest. The woman knew nothing of her companion -- only that he saved her. Surely, he couldn’t be some monstrous bundle of tentacles and eyes. He had to be more… human. 

Silence sat between them. Tenko began to impulsively curl his tentacles. He found the quiet annoying and somehow a little frightening. Perhaps his meal was reconsidering their arrangement. ‘You couldn’t,’ Tenko thought while the sun shrunk behind a cloud, ‘you’re too stupid.’ Befriending him -- feeling sorry for such a gluttonous horror was a fool’s mistake. His heart hummed at the thought of her bare and bloodied. 

The death of their conversation was awkward, if not heavy. Truthfully, the woman blamed herself for it. Feet nestled in warm sand; her mind straying back to Tenko. She knew he was beneath the oceanic canvas. Hidden away. ‘Hiding from me.’ Mournful eyes watched the sea. The day was dreary. No clouds. Sun scorned and resting. The sky held a drab palette; rainbows of blacks and grays formed into being. She wondered if the ocean was ever this ugly. 

Tenko came to his great conclusion; ‘I can eat your pea-sized brain now, can’t I? You’re probably stinking with guilt. So worried about your only friend.’ Slowly, Tenko lifted the tip of his beak into the air. Her pungent rot was like driftwood; moldy and earthy. She sickened him, but his body and mind weren’t one. Two muddled pieces that ached for both devouring her whole, and filling her disgusting guts with him. Tenko wanted to breed her -- watch his mewling little mortal stretch with his eggs.

Tenko’s stomach growled. 

“What -- what’s your name?”

His beak quickly retracted back into the salty brine. In his chest was a heart pounding against his rib cage. She was so close. She was so close. ‘Stupid and trustworthy. You’d do anything for a friend. You’d do anything… for me.’ Tenko realizes this and seizes his dinner bell, “T-Tenko. Can you come into the water?” Saliva pools at the back of his throat, “I’m lonely.”

The voice was heartbroken. His Tenko’s vocal cords were raspy, as if he gorged himself on salt water. A certain note of despair lingered in his sentence. The woman gave one last look into the vast blue before plunging her toes into saline waters.

It was as cold as the grave. Yet the coolness of it was relaxing. Hypnotizing. The ocean was calling out to her, its wet claws draped around her ankles, pleading with her to stay. She thought her ears caught a whisper from the depths; “Don’t go.” 

Everything was falling into his lap. First, she decided to trust him. Then she found comfort. Now, she belongs to him. Every chunk of flesh, every spec of marrow -- all his. He would suck her bones dry and drain her. ‘I’m going to devour you in the worst way.’

Her voice trembled with an alien sort of fear, “Tenko…” Water soaked into her dress, the cotton sticking to her shivering form. “Tenko, I’m scared.” Salt water was plugged into her nostrils. The strong scent was almost nauseating. There was a dull twinge in her heart. ‘Magical octopi,’ she chanted, ‘enchanted animal that speaks!’ Despite her conviction, salivation was unheard. The icy water rested just under her collarbone. Its gentle current nipped at her skin. She suppressed a shiver, keeping her legs kicking. The woman waited until something spongy -- familiar -- grabbed her calf. 

“You’re here.” The woman released a forgotten breath. Her chest was unraveling; the feeling of him was… comforting. This was her friend. ‘He wouldn’t hurt me.’ Her salt stained lips pitched into a grin.

Tenko envisioned violently dragging her squirming body. Little bubbles trailing behind, her last breaths. Gentle face painted into horror. He wondered if she would fight back; maybe pitifully grab at his tentacles? Tenko’s eyes widened in excitement, her legs sending waves. ‘Finally you made it, moron girl.’

His words were like a haunting chorus, “It’s okay,” her name was honey in the air, “Can… can you swim to me?” Tenko sounded cautious, ‘He’s worried about me.’ Her one friend -- her one true friend was concerned about her! The woman’s eyes were bright and alive. A smile played on her lips. Tiny butterflies felt like they were gathering in her chest. Tenko needed her. Needed his friend. The loneliness seemed to melt off while her legs worked against the sea, water splashing in every direction. Her body was numb; skin nothing more than drenched. She noted her dress was slowing her down. Tenko was leagues away -- almost impossible. Yet she persisted. 

His tentacle was the thread guiding her home -- to him. The rubbery flesh was a trail behind her. It was a reminder that Tenko was close, somehow obscured under blankets of briny water. Looking into the blue void made her stomach tangle together in a mess of anxiety. There was an unknown factor -- a certain fear to the ocean now.

Tenko held a delicate grip. ‘I can’t squeeze you to death just yet.’ He hoped the woman’s death rattles were soft, nothing like a dying creature. Tenko knew she would struggle and seafoam would kick into her lungs, but a part of him wanted her to coo at him. Make little creamy pleas. Stuck in his mirth, Tenko began to pull. The sensation was lost on his meal; her mind too preoccupied with determination. Her feet no longer tapped against slimy seaweed. Instead, the abyss greeted her. Negative space gathered. Nothing to keep the woman afloat except for her own flailing limbs.

A rather thrashing limb caught Tenko in the beak. Instinct took over as he yanked the woman. Aggressive and without tolerance. His beak was strong enough for her kick, but the accidental assault felt purposeful. Her lungs filled only once; to scream. Blue fluttered into her line of sight while bubbles erupted into view. Water rushed into her lungs. She managed a cough, salt in her nose. 

The woman fought against the pull. Waterlogged fingers slipping. She clawed at the tentacle as her expression froze in open-mouthed terror. Tenko wished he could see it, but the vibrations of her panicking body would have to do. He wanted to eat her panic. Swallow her whole and stare into the bloody waters she’d create. 

“St-stop… struggling so d-damn much,” forming a sentence was hard. This woman -- this squishy little mortal -- continued to fight. Tenko wished she would claw at scratch at him, fear added a certain spice to his meals, but her insensent kicking must stop.

Tenko releases the woman, her little head shooting up and bobbling amongst the current. Greedy lungs sucked in sour sea air. The saline burned down her throat, but she was relieved. ‘I was going to die. Tenko… Tenko wanted to kill me!’ The realization hits like a sandbag. She has to leave now. This creature, no, this monster was nothing but death. 

Before she can will her tired body, a melody drifts into her mind.

“Please don’t go.” He sounded so mournful. Grief laced into every word. 

She looks into the great blue before responding, “I have to.” Tears brim her eyes, making the world glassy. This was her only friend and yet he wanted to harm her. There was something dangerous to this creature. 

Tenko grew impatient. She should simply accept him as he is. This doesn’t need to be unnecessarily difficult… but she was making it difficult. Couldn’t this broad see Tenko only wanted to fill her half eaten, frail body with eggs? It’s a compliment, an implied attraction, and she just had to ruin it. Her little brain cannot even begin to comprehend the damage she’s done. 

With great effort, Tenko continued his heartbreaking colloquy, “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t m-mean it.” It’s burdensome to speak such lies, even more of a bother to project them into such an idiot. However, Tenko knew this woman had kindness tucked into her heart. She had no other choice but to forgive. “You want to see me, don’t you? The curiosity must be suffocating.”

She did… She had wondered what Tenko looked like; her mind’s eye wasn’t content with a mermaid. The woman had to see him in all of his glory. His voice was mesmerizing, like sharp ocean currents beating against rock. Her heart slowed to an acceptable pace. The organ no longer hammered into her. Her pulse wasn’t in her ears and the only thing in her stomach was an airy bit of hope. ‘Tenko probably hasn’t had any visitors before. I’m -- I’m his first.’ There was a strange comfort in being Tenko’s only friend. 

Something hard bumped against her leg. “Tenko?” She asked, voice small and soft. A vortex of salt water swirled underneath her as a head peaked from beneath a crest of waves. Tenko wasn’t quite as she imagined; her friend resembled a kraken more than a man. His beak was half-way submerged, stringy white hair clung to his worn face. He wore a gentle expression. Her eyes softened at his humanity. Tenko was so close she could smell him. The sharp scent of brine and seaweed permeated the air. A certain warmth settled into her belly. 

“Can I… touch you?” 

The woman nodded. His tentacle -- slimy now -- interlocked around her arm. The appendage was spongy and its suction cups held onto her with care. She melted into his touch while Tenko guided her into his bare chest. She looked up at him, big doe eyes that held nothing but admiration for the monster. ‘A pity,’ Tenko thought, ‘You didn’t really struggle, did you? You want to be full of my eggs.’ Tenko asserted this belief as another tentacle found the small of her back. Another snaked up her waist and landed on a clothed breast. She shivered in his embrace, the frigid water now soaked into her bones.

Ancient words danced in her mind, “Give yourself to me.” No emotion was behind her eyes, no hint of a human. Instead she steeled herself -- perfect and waiting for Tenko. She was a gift for him. Roughly, his tentacles roamed her body. His suction cups latched and unlatched onto bits of sodden flesh. She was mushy and delicate, like algae. Tenko could break apart her body, bone by bone, until she was dust stuck in his suction cups. A hushed mewl fell from her lips once Tenko brushed against a sensitive nipple. Her face was flushed and glistening. There was a crinkle in her eyes; a foreign ecstasy. The woman’s body hadn’t experienced such a fiery, electric sensation before.

“Don’t…” She buries her face in his chest, “don’t stop, Tenko.” It was too mortifying to allow such a divine creature see her like this. Body peppered with pink and chest heaving against him. She leaned into his touch. He kneaded her skin, spongy suction cups tweaking her nubs. Tenko could feel himself begin to swell, tentacles fat and aching. He looked down at her, drool trailing down his beak. 

An eager tentacle harshly grabbed her drenched garment and quickly discarded it to the sea. The woman’s body instinctively shivered, nerves still tender. “Stay still,” Tenko commanded as a tentacle slithered down her stomach, stopping at her waistband. 

“Please.” Her eyes are like saucers, innocent and begging. Tenko indulged and a tentacle stroked her wet cunt. The sloppy noise mixed with her insensent moans. It was a chorus of vulgarity. Tenko, however, made no sound. His vocal chords vibrated with animalistic grunts as he explored her body. Another obscene groan finally encouraged the beast; a single tentacle slipped between her thighs. 

Her pudgy walls gripped his swollen tentacle like a vice. “S-slow down, Tenko.” The woman felt violated. Tenko was going too fast, not allowing for rest. His tentacle plunged into her, prodding her womb. “Stop! It hurts!” The woman grit her teeth while trying to stifle a cry. 

“Quit whining,” Tenko sneered, sharp beak biting down on her collarbone. Iron flooded Tenko’s mouth and a whine played on his lips. She was sweeter than anything -- anyone he had tasted before. Her tainted scent was nothing compared to the meat before him. A piercing yelp sounded from the woman. The shrillness of it only spurred Tenko; his beak gnawing at her open wound. 

An orgy of violence and bliss swirled in her mind, twisting into one. Divinity itself was biting into her and marking her as his own. His fat tentacle stretched her to an almost inhuman degree; her face sweaty and mouth open. Drool pooled into her wound and mixed with Tenko’s spit. She wanted to reach up and touch it, feel the feral brand he left. She adjusted to his size, an unfamiliar hotness gathering between her legs. 

“F-faster, please.” 

Another ethereal voice called to her, carried from the breeze, “You want me to fill you with eggs, don’t you? Say it.”

Dribble spat from her mouth, “Tenko, I want -- please make me fat with your eggs! Breed me!” Painfully, Tenko hammered into her doused cunt, pushing against her cervix, the spongy flesh almost like a pillow. Welcoming. Warming. Wanting him. Her pussy fit perfectly around his engorged tentacle, milking him for every bit of slimy pre-cum. 

“Take my eggs, broad,” Tenko growls as a miry egg sloshes into her womb. 

A cry permeates the air. “Too big, Tenko. Too big,” the woman heaves. Her mind swimming with one simple phrase; “You’ll be such a good moma.”

[batarella]

ANDROMEDA - CHAPTER NINE

Jason Todd is lost in an unknown realm light years away from Earth.

With not much hope to find his way back, his only companion is a cruel alien cyborg from the enemy fleet,  one he’ll have to get along with to survive.

A/N AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER

WORDS: 14,326 (NO I’M NOT SORRY) WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE

MASTERLIST

—–

His wings were no more, snapped and broken like sticks under a heavy boot, like a flightless bird staring into the inevitable from the shrill surface that iced his limbs. There was iron from the metal that crushed his bones and the blood he could no longer trace. There was laughter as well. He could tell they were not of his nightmares, otherwise he’d still hear them even after both his ears deafened from the crowbar’s many blows.

There were flashes, mostly. It was often what he’d recall: flashes of the ceiling, of metal, of a red smile, of darkness. Too much of it was a face impossible to drive away from even the depths of his mind none can reach.

Then there was the blow. He couldn’t hear it, but it threw him off into the snow-covered fields, burning his already torn flesh into frost. He never could tell what would kill him first. Too many weighed in that no autopsy could rule anything out.

Only then did it all stop. A black, endless nothingness that echoed his voice as he spoke. He tried to run, searching for a light, but death was no tunnel with an end, neither was it a dome that housed him within its walls. It was infinite, with nothing to reach for and nothing that answered.

It was that minute of consciousness before he slipped into the unending fire that was worst, and it wasn’t from the pain, the scorch on his skin, the dead ringing against the sides of his head.

Years of healing thrown into the trash heap.

Turns out the nightmares never truly went away, just shelved into the back end of his brain ready to resurface for when it’s worst. The sweat out his hairline and racing heartbeat were too familiar that he swore he’d woken up to the run-down apartment and booze infested trash bins not far from where he’d slept. Only then, he was relieved to awake at the sight of the stars, the frozen glass that shielded him from the vacuum, and the freezing temperatures of the Dragonfly.

His back wasn’t helping to soothe him either, even with it unphased from the nightmares. It was from laying down on the floor of the ship’s Transport Pod being the only room for privacy in that cramped-up metal shitbag.

But even with the cold and with his shirt off, the sweat had poured down the lines of his chest that rose at each hard breath. Jason Todd turned to pulling at his hair, head down to stop the spinning, and he fell to his side against the glass. He started reaching for the walls, the hinges that held the glass, ghosting over the buttons and levers that controlled the pod he was in. At least this time, it took another death before the dreams came back. Just when it seemed impossible to resurface, perhaps a second resurrection wasn’t one he’d counted on.  

His half-consciousness accidentally pushed on the gravity lever and he had to frantically float back just to turn it back on.

He couldn’t sleep after that, and he didn’t really want to, either. Grabbing a jacket, he went out into the cockpit.

“N/N…”

Not until he could see over her back did he notice she was reading Cholera again, but she shoved it away when she heard a voice. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

On the passenger’s side, he slumped down. “Woke up. Couldn’t sleep again. I can watch the ship for now,” he sighed, obviously tired.

“It’s my shift,” she insisted.

He didn’t answer lest he says anything snide. There was that pull behind his eyes again, which he struggled to relieve with just his fingers. His silence lasted a while.

“You can stay here at the cockpit,” she said.

He kept his eyes hidden both from the pain and to keep her from witnessing the possible bloodshot-rage. N/N respected that silence.

Instead of speaking, when some mists of that cloud had faded, she drove the ship closer to a cluster of rocks headed their way.

“Wanna see something cool?”

Before Jason could even look up, N/N had opened the levers and caps for the buttons she told him to never touch. As the ship thrusted further towards the asteroids, she charged, and a blast of green laser beams shot out of the ship’s nose where it once only shot bullets. The beams were stronger, as just one hit had completely obliterated the rocks, shattering its particles kilometers out into the void.

He choked a laugh. “What was that?”

“The Green Lantern Battery.”

Another two asteroids gone, and she was speeding down the space between and swerving just narrowly enough to avoid being crushed by its remains. She didn’t stop then, not even with more incoming. It was different, truly, even from a fast-moving car, encased in a shell as kilometers passed by in a minute.

His stomach went up his chest at the sudden turns and descents, his laughter not to be heard until she spun the ship in a full loop, still with the Lantern-powered blasts filling the skies with neon and light.

At the end of the belt, she placed the ship back at resting speed and shut down the levers.

“You told me to never do that,” he panted at every word. Already, he was out of breath.

N/N, however, was unphased.

“I said you couldn’t.”

“You think you’d let me do it next?”

She locked onto his crinkling eyes, no longer with her usual scowl, but with a gentleness that wasn’t always there. It grew even more the longer she stared.

“Maybe,” she hummed. Only then did he notice how he sounded. Exhausted, afraid, but trying. She must have noticed that.

After longer hours of the ship at rest, he watched N/N discretely pick up the book once more, rubbing her nose when the fans blew too hard against her nostrils.

“Thanks for that,” he said to her.

Only N/N’s side-eye returned the attention, seeing that he was watching her with a smile so subtle she would have missed it.

She didn’t tell him that she understood, that she had those nightmares, too. She didn’t have to.

-----

When he awoke, he wasn’t sweating. That was the first to surprise him when a bright nearby star was in front of their noses.

It was his yawn that made her look. “Found a lead?” he sighed.

“No,” N/N grunted with her hands firmly on the wheel, “We don’t have a choice but to head to Lutark.”

“Z’arr would be long gone by now.” He tried not to let the guilt echo. “What are you hoping to find?”

“Traces. Sightings. Why he’d even go to this planet in the first place. Maybe they’ll tell us where he was off to next.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed, settling into his seat. Already, the planet was visible. Another that wasn’t too far off from Earth.

That remained true when they flew into its thick, greying clouds that covered their ship’s shell and glass with thin mist. The rain might as well have been hail; the air thick enough to be smoke. It tapped on their ship like it spurred them to hurry.

The rain flooded its terrains littered with dead grass and unharvested goods that had gone to wilt. There were valleys as well. The hillsides and mountains had been cultivated and mined through until no longer did the flowers bloom nor the trees bear. Instead, there stood dead trunks with branches that stuck out like knives, stretching for the fields where smoke from huts and houses were scattered.

“What the hell is this place?”

N/N drove the ship near enough for their systems to pick up the polluted smoke that wouldn’t stop sticking to their windows.

“This is depressing,” N/N whispered, leaning to Jason’s side to look over his window.

When they’ve passed the quaint town’s center, where the villagers with wooden baskets under their arms were scrambling for shelter under the heavy rains. Some houses were well-made out of stone and some of no more than straw. There were horses, carriages, carts being pulled, and baskets being hurled. Every roof in that town had a chimney that further covered their skies with grim clouds.

“Is it possible that this place is exactly like Earth, just a few hundred years behind?”

Jason wasn’t sure if he wanted N/N to say yes, knowing what could be awaiting them if it were true.

But of course, it would be possible. A clone planet of Earth that phased through its evolutionary stages exactly the same way. The same eons, same inventions, same politics, same ideas. Maybe even the same people.

But never mind how it was the closest he’ll get to home.

This era wasn’t exactly a tranquil time anyone would want to go back to.

When the clouds had cleared and parted from the tips of the village’s highest point, his answer awaited him. What unfolded was the object of fairytales and scrolls stripped from the pages of the countless books he’d buried himself into. An object of magnificence, of opulent grandeur, it separated itself from the bustles of its foot, a society that held it higher.

A castle, and it stood with many towers, the highest reaching the clouds, and its white walls and gold ridges were large enough to be revoltingly glorious. A true mark of power, surrounded by a moat of brown, crocodile-infested waters with not more than a single drawbridge to lead them into its village. And at its court, just barely did they see over a few seconds of flying over it, were the tales that have come to life: Knights in glittering silver armor.

But a thought raised his spirits. “Z’arr and his army of cyborgs couldn’t have done much to blend into this place.”

Which meant traces of him would be left everywhere, especially with the prying eyes of the villagers that’d probably curse at every anomaly.

“It doesn’t mean it’ll be easy,” she growled, “but it won't be impossible.”

Far beyond the valleys into the forest too thick for even a large ship with Dragonfly wings to be spotted, N/N lowered the ship where the crowds of branches were enough to shield it.

It was every vision of dark, haunted woods where eyes would shine through the tree trunk’s holes and ghosts would float over the logs and uprooted trees. There was howling as well, and Jason couldn’t tell if it came from a harmless owl or a wolf that’d tear their organs apart.

“This looks lovely,” he looked over to the skies now too dark to even see through. “And welcoming.”

It was freezing as well. N/N seemed fine, at least, unshaken even by the whispers of the bats that hung under the stems. She locked the ship and jumped onto the muddy soils.

“Know anything more about this place?” she asked.

“If it’s anything like the medieval ages back on Earth, the Plague would kill us before we even make it halfway into town.”

She snorted, hands stuffed to her jacket as she jumped over a log. He followed, though not as swiftly. “I can see why everything’s so depressing,” she scowled and swatted a passing bat away from her face.

Making their way into sunlight, or at the very least, where the light was generous enough not to make them accidentally step on dung, they heard a cry from somewhere in the woods.

It was an ugly cry as well. Not at all friendly.

Out from a cottage with nothing more than a straw roof, a pigsty, and a horse parked outside his doorway, a man in rags rushed outside with a pitchfork in hand.

“I thought ye demons have left for hell!” he cried, eyes heavy on N/N. “I’ve had just about enough of ye!”

Without warning, he threw his pitchfork like it were a spear aiming straight for N/N’s head.

And she caught it mid-flight, held the trident by the spikes without shaking her just before the tip would have pierced her eye. He could hear her teeth forcefully grit, taking the pitchfork by the handle.

“Devil Spawns!” he cursed.

“That’s not nice-“

Another pitchfork hurled for Jason’s head this time, which N/N caught by the handle a millimeter away from hitting his nose. The blade hit N/N’s flesh instead, but it didn’t bleed. It didn’t even pierce her skin. She threw the pitchfork back fast enough that it blurred even the air.

It narrowly missed the man’s arm, stuck to the tree behind him like a target. A warning.

He grimaced at the sight of N/N. “When will you stop falling from the bloody sky and leave us be?”

Jason grabbed a blaster from his hip, aimed for his legs to at least incapacitate him.

But nothing shot out of its muzzle.

Jason rolled away just before another fork’s tips would have sunken into his eyes. The man charged again, this time for N/N.

And N/N grabbed his weapon by the ends, which just bounced off the metal plates just below her chest, and tossed the man to the ground. Jason grabbed the pitchfork and held it to his throat just before he could pick himself up.

“We’re not here to fight-“

“Ye’r not taking me to the devil!” he spat at Jason’s face. He looked horrified, shaken, even more when he got a good look at N/N’s face.

Closer, just above where the cut would be lethal, she dragged the ends of the fork down his neck and the screams out of him echoed out into the woods.

“His house. Go,” she said to Jason.

“N/N, we’re not stealing again.”

Arguing with a pirate seemed easier in his head. “Then would you rather I kill him?”

“N/N,” he grabbed the pitchfork but it was like prying it away from a cement wall. “Stop.”

“He tried to kill us.”

“The man’s confused-“

“Just take the horse, money, and some clothes and we’ll go.”

Sometimes there was no winning against N/N, sometimes Jason would push through with his own tactics and she’d end up giving in. This time, it looked like, was the former.

If the villagers were anything like this guy, there was no getting into the town.

Or, more likely, there’d be no getting out.

Jason left and pillaged the man’s closet, which was not more than a trunk in front of his bed, and untied the horse’s reigns from his fence outside. When he came back, N/N had the man tied to the tree firm enough that not even his legs could move.

“Here.” He handed her a large, oversized cloak that hung down to her feet. She sheathed the hood over her head and the shadows were enough to mask over the engineered skin and metal plates on her cheeks.

N/N looked away when Jason, without warning, took off his jacket and shirt to put on the linen tunic and trousers that barely fit his thighs. If he were back on earth, he’d look positively ridiculous.

He’d never heard N/N laugh, but he could have sworn he heard her snicker just before they got onto the horse’s back and drove off into the pathways.

She let him drive this time, and the horse’s pattering was enough to keep the silence at bay.

Time passed and the outskirts of the village came into clear.

And even when the town was torn out of the pages of his century-old novels and fairytales, the medieval dreamland that always housed more stories and mysteries than the realities he wanted to escape from, the place was dark, littered with filth and disease. There were the stoned roads, although beaten and worn. Piles of literal shit were being thrown out the window and left to rot at the sidewalks where children were walking. At the markets and shops were the blacksmiths pounding their blades, the crowd’s muttering, the curses out of the village drunks, the women with baskets under their arms with more children than anyone should have following her around.

But as a man in pointed shoes and a large green tunic sat at the edges of a running fountain, pulling out a small harp and a flute tied to his mouth, he played a soft, warming tune like it was sung by a choir from the sky, enough to lull anyone into this peaceful façade everyone knew not to be true. The horse had slowed, trotting down the narrow roads that grew larger as they passed.

Then his head was at the sky, at an eagle that passed and soared above the now beautiful houses that grew stronger as they drove further in. Where the roofs were of bricks, walls painted in light that pleased the little patches of grass growing between the stone tiles. They passed the church, mills and vegetable shops, smiths and inns, in rows that filled the main road. Beside them: people pushing carts, horses, livestock, and produce.

There was a tavern near the center where the crowds dispersed to the markets. They tied the horse outside and stepped in, where two men picking themselves from the floor having just finished a fight. There was more music, women on laps, laughter and screams where they couldn’t tell. At the center, the tavern keeper was pouring mead into a large wooden mug. Jason tossed a coin to the bar. “Two please.”

The woman looked at him funny, then at N/N hiding in the shadows just behind him. She poured them a drink each.

“Not from here?” she asked, accent heavy at every intonation.

“Yes. I heard there was trouble about.”

“Always is,” she said too calmly. “You a soldier, lad?”

“You can say that,” he took a sip at the mead. “So you’ve heard of what happened lately?”

N/N took a swig as well, careful not to show her face. At a table across them was a man in a hood similar to N/N’s, and they locked eyes before she hurriedly looked away.

“You mean the demons that fell from the sky?” the tavern keep scoffed, not at all shaken. “Shit’s all people talk about these days. If ye ask me, best to forget about them.”

“What did these demons look like?”

The woman shrugged, wiping a mug’s brim with a rug and ignoring the cheers from a table not far from them.

“Best to forget about them,” she repeated, eyeing him like he’d sinned. The cross on her chest did all to let him know she was the kind to get flat out drunk and condemn the next man for not going to church that week.

Then the hooded man caught his eyes this time. And as far as looks go, he could tell that man wanted to talk. Jason urged for them both to move to his table at the darkest corner.  

The man’s scruffy beard was falling to his chest. He was old, but not frail, hands thin and worn, yet strong enough to slam his mead against the wooden table just as they took their seats.

“I know you’re one of them,” the man said first, and N/N was close to reaching for her blade if not for his arm out to stop her. The man didn’t look at her like an oddity, however. He looked rather unphased.

“We’re not here for trouble,” he said, though N/N’s face probably contradicted that. “We’re here for-“

“Questions, I know. I’m not deaf.”

He had his own set of empty mugs at the side. The one he was holding was near empty. When Jason gave him his almost untouched mug, however, the man looked more eager to speak.

“You willing to give us answers?”

“Depends. What will you do with them?”

N/N interjected: “It’s no concern of yours-“

He stopped N/N again before her tone offends the next panther.

“We’re looking for someone, and we think these demons have something to do with him.”

The old man finished half the mead Jason had just given him, and still he did not even sound remotely as drunk as he should be.

“You gonna talk?”

“You came here a long, long way, haven’t you lad?”

The man’s eyes were eerily blue. Too blue to even be true. Hidden beneath his white, bushy eyebrows, the old man eyed him as he finished the mug.

“Iron Demons, they called them,” he burped, sounding less trustworthy than he’d hoped him to be.

“A few moons ago, these beings started falling from the sky. Some at the farms, some right here in this tavern. They say they dropped from the clouds, but some say they saw magical portals that went as soon as they came. No necromancer could explain. Fools couldn’t explain shit at all when they’re fake.”

Portals.

“What did they look like?”

He eyed the mug’s brim when it emptied. N/N handed her own mug to him, which he happily accepted.

“Like you,” the old man clicked his tongue. “Iron Demon.”

“She’s not a demon-“

“I know she isn’t, but when her people started coming here attacking everyone with guns and odd-looking swords, the townspeople would think otherwise. It doesn’t help that they had faces of hogs, snakes, blue-skinned reptiles, from other worlds even I don’t know.”

The man looked too knowing, too calm, too unsurprised.

“Who are you?” Jason whispered.

The man passed out before he could answer, as instantaneously as Jason could even finish his question. N/N’s scowl would have given them away if he hadn't rushed to pull her hood back over to cover her eyes. They waited until it was dark and most had gone. Some had stayed, slept on the tables and benches. There was a man passed out on the bar, his hair completely drenched in what he could only hope was mead and not piss, with the tavern keeper ignoring him like it were nothing. She occasionally would look their way, but when the night had fallen, Jason stood and walked out of the room with N/N close by.

The streets have cleared, with it well into the night. It was quiet, dark, and still, the air reeked of burnt flesh and wood. They watched the rain patter against the wood and ashes, alone in the old town relatively new.

“The fight at the Watchtower,” she breathed, quiet enough that no bird could listen. “A lot of the fleet’s crew must have ended up on this planet.”

“The portals. They were boom tubes.” He crossed his arms. “Z’arr must have made a whole trip here just to rescue them.”

“Every fleet member is a big investment. It’s easier to travel parsecs to rescue them than to reprogram new recruits.”

“I’m surprised they survived at all.”

“Don’t underestimate the fleet,” she shot back, sounding seemingly offended.

It took the sounds that reminded him of rivers, of the rain on his hair that made him think of peace, of that tug in his chest that hadn’t gone even when he tried so hard to ignore it. Jason, instead, couldn’t help but grin. And even when so many told him to hide it, he couldn’t.

“I don’t underestimate you.”

She was the very same, trying not to look at him in the eye but only failing to avoid them.

“You’re getting stronger every day. And faster.”

N/N either knew why that was, only keeping such a secret for herself, or she had just as much of an idea as Jason did. He let that unease swerve him off that road. At least for then.

“Now we know what Z’arr is up to,” he said. “If we find out where the others boom tubed in from the Watchtower, we can get there before Z’arr does, ambush him before he even sees it.”

A vague lead. Not even a lead at all. Finding out where cyborgs suddenly popped up in different parts of the galaxy didn’t so much as sound any easier than it was.

“We’ll get there. I promise you. We’ll get there,” he reassured, as soft as he could be talking to a child who needed the gentleness. It wasn’t often he spoke that way, and it wasn’t often she was spoken to that way, either. Because N/N looked at him like she wanted that gentleness to last.

He stepped closer so he’d see her face clearer. More and more, he’d notice the parts on her face, neck, arms, anywhere that had her skin. And even with it callused, some burnt over the years, he wanted to hold them, soothe them. She hadn't been calmed by touch in too long.

She must have wanted to speak up, to tell him how much holding onto hope was none but a delusion. But her silence said the same, so did the bite on her lips, her unease and occasional glance at the empty skies.

“If we don’t,” she swallowed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you home.”

And what was most surprising, what sent him flying both from a high and from the strength of such words, was her own gentleness that wasn’t always there, the pull he could no longer ignore, the ache in his fingers that longed to reach for her.

And how she’d forgotten that this was for her to get home, too.

The front of her cloak was brushing against his legs, and despite the shadows growing darker, he still could see every detail of her face. And she wanted to both step back and step closer. Her lips parted; breath hot. His face was as close to hers as it been at the clinic when he woke up from death’s sleep and the first thing he saw was the person who almost gave her life for him.

“And if we do,” he whispered, “come with me…”

So close did she stumble. If not for his burning breath, purposely blowing against her soft lips, N/N would have backed away. But she didn’t. He didn’t want her to. He wanted her to lean closer.

It was a long shot, and it was without dwelling on whatever consequences it’d eventually ensue.

But something told him it ought to be worth it. Whatever they may be.

Feeling her breathe against him was too enticing, so he closed his eyes and let whatever illusion of touch there was into his flesh.

“I can't…”

“Halt!”

Jason backed away, that skipping beat suddenly spiking at the surge of horse’s hooves and metal echoing where the night had been silent. From where the castle stood, a whole army of Knights, faces obscured by large helmets with none but slits over their eyes and bodies covered with magnificent sets of armor that shielded their chests like it housed gems. On their hips, swords thicker than arms, awaiting any movement out of line. And as they circled the two, Jason rushed to cover her back, even as he remembered he didn’t even have a working weapon to fight with.

Outside her door, the tavern keeper eyed them both like they were as disgusting as the pile of shit at the corner. Then a knight came up to her, handing her a wad of cash.

Jason held his hands up, but that was too late to reach for N/N just before she’d drawn her blades, which made half the knights aim their crossbows at her head.

“’Tis her!” one of them said. “Unsheathe her hood!”

Two Knights came over to grab her arms, but her strength proved enough to call for another four soldiers to hold her down. “N/N!” Jason screamed, then another two came for him.

They pushed her on her knees. Then as they removed her hood to show the steel shell that was her face,  they gasped and cursed like she looked horrific, like she were a monster, like she weren’t beautiful.

“Another demon,” the guard whispered. “Thought we’d driven the last of you back to hell!”

“I don’t know what kind of bible you people read but I don’t think God condemned toaster ovens!”

They smashed Jason’s head in.

“You, too,” the Knight said, and they pulled them to their horses and raced for the castle.

-----

Admiring the place wasn’t too appropriate with three bows and five swords waiting to pounce at him if he dared even move, but he at least could say its opulence was as equally revolting on the inside. The knights lined its hallow halls, carpet lined with the finest fabric. The ceilings were high enough that if he looked up, his neck would break.

When they reached the throne room, where even more knights awaited their presence, Jason and N/N were forced on their knees.

“Your Majesty,” the Knight’s Captain graciously bowed, eyeing them both to do the same, but that was like forcing two wolves to roll over and do tricks.

In front of them at the throne, now that Jason was allowed to look up, was just as they spoke of. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with flowing black hair that cascaded down her back and a sharp, angled face that made her permanently frown. Her eyes were dark, darker than even her hair, and she was probably a lot older than she looked. She didn’t stand at their presence, but at the sight of N/N, she stiffed.

“Have you come back at your own accord? Or did the devils reject your homecoming?”

Only Jason could hear N/N’s mutters, and only he knew that if she wanted to, and if the place wasn’t so full of guards, she already would have broken through the chains around her arms.

“And your companion.” The Queen eyed Jason like a pest. “Is he one of you as well?”

“No. He isn’t. Let him go,” N/N growled.

“You do not speak to the Queen that way!”

A sword to her throat from the Captain, but the Queen herself waved him off.

Something was off. Something was very wrong. With this kingdom. With this Queen.

Because she eyed Jason as if she knew he wasn’t from here.

“Was your people’s intrusion not enough?” She pursed her lips, stood, then walked to face N/N and tip her head up with her sharp nail.

“I guess your presence could be of use. A demon in my hold wouldn’t hurt for authority.”

He wanted to tear through every living flesh in that room to save her. And from how she looked at him, telling him it was fine, he wanted to do it all the more, even when it kills him.

“Dungeons. Both of them.”

Five guards, three of them holding N/N, led them down the halls until they reached a dark, narrow spiral staircase with stone walls and brick floors. When they descended, where mere torches lit their way, they reached the dungeon cells at the base of the castle. It reeked of shit, piss, and rats that roamed like their nests were at every corner.

Further down, the lights grew dimmer. And it took N/N looking over her shoulder to let him know of her plan.

Or the lack of it, thereof. Didn’t mean that stopped her.

As she tore the chains with none but her bare fists, N/N threw the three guards off her and slammed their weighty helmets against the hard stone floors. Jason was next to act, using the chain as a weapon to hold it around their neck where the plates met. N/N was up, twisting their spines with her legs, and just when her feet met the ground, she threw the Knight over her shoulder to haul him off into the wall.

Their armor was not very subtle, and already they could hear more guards coming in from the staircase. They ran down the cell halls, into the dungeons where they heard wails and cries from the starving prisoners.  

But the Knights came in fast, and there was only so far they could run to.

When they reached a dead end, she eyed a sewage hole at the bottom.

“What’s the plan?” Jason cried.

N/N looked at him like it were the last time.

Then she grabbed his shoulders, tight enough as if she embraced him with her touch he longed so much.

“You have to trust me.”

He did. He trusted her more than he could ever trust himself.

“It’s just like in chess,” she breathed.

With that, he did hear her snuffle. There was no smile. There never was. Then, he might never see it at all.

N/N destroyed the brick wall with just a blow of her shoulder, revealing the large sewage drain pipe that fell stories below ground.

I’ll make the move for you. I’ll let you win. And you revel in that victory as much as you can.

Except it wasn’t his voice that said those words anymore, but hers. It echoed into him just as she kicked him into the sewers, into freedom, while she stayed to fight, to make sure none of the Knights could go after him.

-----

How many times did she have to save him?

How many times will she think her life was any less valuable than his?

How many times before it wouldn’t work anymore? That the universe despises them both enough that none of them should live at all?

Jason fell stories down to the very foot of the sewage pipes, where the darkness stayed even when he slid out of the castle and out into the village. When he felt the raindrops on his dirt-muddled skin, he found himself in an alleyway too dark for him to be seen. The town was asleep, and all was quiet. He was a mess, riddled and confused still without acceptance. When he could find his legs, he crawled out of the sewers, laying himself against the cleanest wall he could find, then he rid himself of the shit stains on his clothes and shoes.

All this could have been over if N/N had just chosen herself over him.

Fuck, his head was throbbing worse than a drum. Concussion. Somewhere down the pipes, he hit his head.

If she’d just let him die, she would have gone and killed Z’arr, not imprisoned in a dark dungeon in a planet centuries left out in time.

If he’d known how much N/N would mean to him in the end, Jason would have stayed her enemy.

At the alley, cold and dark, he picked himself up and walked before any of the guards could find him. Like a swamp creature crawling out into the roads, he stopped when his legs forcibly gave out. It wasn’t from exhaustion. He just didn’t know where to go.

So Jason closed his eyes and waited for dawn.

Before it could come, however, a drunk was thrown out of the tavern by the keeper that ratted them out. With a broom to the face, she kicked him off the doorway and shut the tavern before she closed up. It was the man he saw passed out on the tables earlier, the only one in town with hair that red. Just as he rolled out into the streets, he spat at the door, and wobbled out into fuck knows where.

He caught the man’s eye just as the two moons gave them enough light. Red Head seemed to be curious of him as well, because he was coming his way.

Without weapons, without plan, he backed against the wall. Medieval drunks weren’t always the friendliest bunch.

But that fright turned for the best, when his realities outweighed his expectations, even his dreams, something that happened so rarely that it might never be enough to believe in. Both of them stared at each other too long than anyone should have taken to recognize the other, anyone with eyes at all. But it seemed they were both stunned, frozen, traumatized by misfortune enough to take hours of disbelief, and only a couple of best friends, idiots that shared half a brain, would take that long to realize it at all.

“Jason!?”

He stepped closer, just to check. He didn’t believe it either.

His clothes were nothing he’d wear, neither was there a bow on his back to let him know that.

But his face. There could only be one who had that face. And the laugh that came after, it was unmistakable.

“Roy?!”

Even with his clothes covered in rat droppings, Roy Harper held him like he’d die in his arms. Jason cried against his best friend’s shoulder, sobbed with Roy having to wipe off his tears with his rags for clothes. Then there was laughing, more crying, slapping each other’s backs just to check if they were real.

But he was real. He was here. Roy was here.

How his luck truly twisted and turned like an uneven road.

“Oh boy,” Roy picked him up, but Jason couldn’t even stand for himself. “You were in the sewers. And you got a concussion.”

“I cant believe you’re-“ He went to grab Roy’s face with his grime-covered fingers but Roy swerved just before.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No.” Roy flung Jason’s arm over his shoulders and limped him down the stone streets. “No. You have to help me. I have to save someone.”

“Not like this, bud.”

Then the streets started lighting up in rainbows and colors he didn’t even know the name of. He pointed that out to Roy, but he told him to shut up before the concussion got worse.

The man had a place in that cursed village. On top of the tavern he just got kicked out of, there was a small room with not much else but a cot and a side table full of mead. As Roy laid him on the bed, wrestling him down and insisting he didn’t have a dragon with him to invade the castle with, eventually he could no longer fight the exhaustion.

Roy gave him a cloth covered in ice he stole from the tavern, held it up to his head. Hours after, the world stopped spinning and lighting up in signs that weren’t there, but Roy stayed. Roy was real.

“You look like you need a whole barrel of mead,” Roy said, picking up a mug he made for himself.

“Barrel?” Jason laughed. “Sounds like this place got to you.”

“It had to, If I didn’t, I’d get a pitchfork up my ass.”

“Almost had one up mine just today.” Jason winced when his head throbbed.

Roy’s hand on Jason’s shoulder surprised him still, that he was here at all. “You got time to tell me the whole story?”

“Roy, I have to go save someone-“

“I know.” Roy stopped him again before he stood up his cot. “I know. But you have to rest a while. You’re no good out there.”

“I am-“

“Let’s talk first.” He patted his shoulder. “Come on. We got time.”

He hoped not. He hoped not to spend another day in this place at all.

“What happened to you?” Jason sighed, moving the iced cloth to the other side of his head. “What happened after the Watchtower?”

Roy’s eyebrow twitched up, then he watched the mead pour through the mug’s brim.

“You mean when I fell from the sky and had to run from dozens of the cyborg pirates I came here with?”

“Yes. All that.”

Roy finished his whole mug. He sounded like he needed that.

“Unlike them, it wasn’t too hard for me to dress up and play long. I blended in, they couldn’t if they tried. A fight happened right there.” He pointed outside the tavern. “They had blasters and everything. Suddenly their guns stopped working and they couldn’t stand a chance against the Knights.”

Jason looked at the gun still hidden in his hip that the Knights never found. “What else happened to the cyborgs?”

“The Knights held them captive in the dungeons for weeks. Then an invasion happened at the castle to break them out just a few days ago. ‘Twas ugly. And violent. They knew their guns wouldn’t work and were prepared with their own swords. All the cyborgs were taken out of the dungeons and no one’s seen them since.”

Proves what they thought of Z’arr coming in here to pick them up.

“While I’m still stuck here.” Roy waved his arms up. “I didn’t exactly have a fleet army to just come in and pick me up in a space ship. Never thought I’d get to live through Game of Thrones like this. It’s not as fun as the show let on.”

“The show lets on perfectly, Harper. Everyone’s eyes are gouged out and there’s shit everywhere.”

“Fair.”

He wanted more of that mead if he could, but Roy wouldn’t give him a sip.

“You’re holding up better than I thought.” Roy said when Jason gave him that melted ice bag.

“I’ve had more concussions than I can count. My head’s made of steel at this point.” Jason rubbed his palm over his head. “What have you been doing this whole time?”

Roy shrugged. “Found work and shelter in that old tavern. Snuck as much mead as I could so I wouldn’t be so scared. Or at least forget about home. That I’m stuck here forever. Woman just fired me, though. You saw that. Which means I have to move out.”

“I did.”

That high from finding Roy didn’t last too long as he hoped. He couldn’t waste another minute without N/N.

“How ‘bout I tell you there’s a chance of us getting home?”

“I say whatever chances we got, we take. Even if it kills us,” Roy burped.

“I have a ship. It’ll get us out of here.”

Roy’s eyes awoke like he’d seen the sun after years of being blind, then he took Jason by the shoulders.

“Why the fuck are you just saying this now?”

“Because I came here with someone, and she’s trapped in the castle dungeon.”

He looked pleasantly surprised. “She doesn’t sound like someone I know.”

“You don’t.”

“Jesus, do you have a lot to fill me in, Todd.”

Roy finished the last of his mead. “Fine. We save her then. But we need someone to help us. We can't just walk into the castle at the front door.”

“You know someone who can?”

“I know one person in this whole town who wouldn’t loot me if I got too close.”

Back down to the tavern, the keeper was out, thankfully. Her daughter manned the bar instead. Not a lot of people were there this early at dawn.

The mysterious man with a long hood and a beard down his chest was at the same table even with it barely through sunrise. Head down, in front of several empty mugs, the man locked eyes with Jason.

“You know him.”

“He figured I wasn’t from here. Bought me a few drinks and all. Don’t know much else about him, though.”

With a husk in his voice sounding even more tired that he had the day before, the old man eyed Roy, though he didn’t look surprised.

“I see you’ve met. What happened to the hooded woman?”

Jason set the mugs aside. “They took her to the dungeons.”

“I warned you about the Knights,” the old man sighed. He didn’t exactly, but Jason wasn’t there to argue. “I have to break her out,” he said insistently.

But already, the man waved them off, turned away when he took yet another long swig. “What makes you think I’ll help you?”

“Roy told me you could.”

“I’m an old, drunken man who’s here on the daily. I have nothing to help you with against the Queen.”

The old man sounded as if anything out of his mouth came out of a bubble and none should be trusted if he was half as drunk as he was then.

“We don’t have to go through the queen,” Jason groaned, but he could hear his hopefulness slipping away. “We just have to sneak in there and-“

“You deal with the queen when your feet rest on this village’s soil,” the old man roared, though not enough to be startling. “Why do you think your guns don’t work anymore?”

Jason racked every corner of his head to recognize this old man.

“Let’s cut the crap,” the old man barked. “I know you’re both from Earth. I am, too. And so is the queen.”

None of them spoke, but it was to no shock. If his accent didn’t give it away, his whole drunken demeanor did.

“What is your name, boy?”

He swallowed. “Jason.”

“Jason,” the old man repeated, laughing when he eyed his empty mugs. “My friend’s name was Jason. Came here with him, now the queen has him in the dungeons. And I’ve been here no less than a year trying to break him out. But I can't. Behind all that? The kind of magic no one should have in their possession.”

“What, is she a sorceress?”

The old man’s silence told him volumes.

But there was no time to dwell on that. Jason could be facing a rabid hydra for all he cared and he’d still want to save N/N.

“You have us now,” Jason reached out. “We’ll break both of them out. We can do it.”

The old man didn’t pass out, didn’t leave the place for them to tend to his dozens of empty mugs. But his hopeless sadness told stories. Whatever happened, whoever he was, there was no telling he didn’t try. There was exhaustion, the kind that bore none else but a warning.

Jason was first to leave the tavern, and Roy followed when he saw the keeper had come back with a broom over her shoulder.

“What now?”

With the bustling streets overhead and his head now cleared from the passing injury, he thought hard, thought for a moment.

Then Jason looked over to the castle, beaming against the sun down the long road ahead. At the highest tower, the one that peeked over to the clouds, he saw his plan hatch like a week-old egg.

-----

“I never knew you could drive a space ship.”

Roy was at the cockpit, and the Dragonfly welcomed him like it were its lost owner. “Kori taught me once.”

Roy had flown the ship up to the clouds, over to the hillsides where the tower would soon part them. They let it hover on autopilot as Jason readied the Transport Pod.

And with the buttons he’d stared at on sleepless nights, he knew whoever the Space Marshal was, he was secretive with his ship invasions.

As if it were almost miraculous, the pod’s frames that housed the glass and the solid metal base that held its floors faded out of sight, morphed into a mirror of what was outside of it until it was as transparent as air.

Invisibility, it turned out, was important to sneak into rouge ships. The Pod’s connector tubes were invisible as well, and although they were out of sight from the outside’s prying eyes, the invisibility worked even from the inside.

So they were standing on air and it scared the shit out of Roy who hadn't the slice of any technology newer than Earth’s 14th century.

“Ready.”

Jason maneuvered the Pod to detach it from the ship, then it floated as if flying within a glass bubble heading for the castle’s tower. Hidden from sight, none of the guards that stood nearby looked their way. So Jason stopped the Pod just as it reached the tower’s window, and they broke into the glass.

“God, it feels good to be doing this again.” Roy stretched his arms out, bow and quiver strapped to his back like an extra limb.

“We have to stay hidden in plain sight,” Jason whispered, looking out the door of the empty attic they jumped into. “Come on.”

Outside that room was another spiral staircase, narrow and stuffy from the mounds of stone that encased its walls. When they reached the door leading out to a hallway for the bed chambers, still, there was no guard in sight.

Jason peeked through one of the doors they heard a couple of voices from. “Wanna pull a Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, Harper?”

“Always with you, Todd.”

They hid at the sides of the door. Roy knocked, and the minute someone peered it open, Jason bashed the poor Knight’s head with his thigh, with his helmet meant for protection only amplifying the impact. Roy shot the second Knight’s knees with an arrow, which he pried off unceremoniously when he slammed his foot against his chest.

Jason picked up their helmets and handed one to Roy.

“Always wanted to be a Knight,” Roy placed it over his head, and he could spin it around with how large it was.

Not long after, they were dressed in armor heavier than even their selves, with walking much like hauling a whole sack behind their backs that weighed a ton. But they got the swords, at least, and Roy had his bow hidden underneath. Jason bumped his fist against Roy’s shoulder and the man almost tumbled on his own feet.

Then, they could head to the hallways, the occupied chambers, the other Knights doing their rounds around the rooms without being caught.

Roy saluted a pair that passed by. “Salutations!” he beamed, and the two guards stared at him quizzically until they turned to a corner. Jason had to elbow him.

They turned for the lower grounds, to the staircase that bore no light, and with a torch in hand, they reached the dungeons, eerily silent with brown gunk seeping through its stones. The cell bars of rusted metal were in no way inviting, and as they searched around the empty prison cells, so many of them had broken-down walls and cell bars bent like they’d been willed by hands. N/N’s hands. No one else would be so stubborn as to try to break out of all of these cells.

One of them, it looked like, was ultimately her demise. Two guards stood in front with swords larger than their heads.

“Excuse me!” Roy said, loud enough that his voice echoed down the hall. “We’ll take it from here.”

The Knights pulled up their helmet, eyed them both like they were dirty. “It isn’t your shift.”

“Queen’s orders.”

Even more did they eye them. “What are your names?” one of them asked.

Slamming one man’s head against the stone, he fell with his armor making enough noise to wake even a sloth. “Dude!” Roy exclaimed, but already, he was starting for the cell they guarded. Roy had no choice but to take care of the other Knight.

Just the third one down, he lit his torch through the cold, rusted cell bars. It reeked of piss, shit, and smells he couldn’t even recognize. It was unmistakable, how the torch’s flame reflected off the steel on her arm, so much that it blinded him. The cell was horrifically small, a nest fit for rats, and he wanted to break the bones of every Knight in this castle for subjecting her into this.

N/N awoke, glaring at them both with the mumbles he’d gotten used to. That turned to hopefulness, however, with the gasp out her lips like piano keys in a melodic tune when Jason took off his helmet and her eyes laid on him.

She rushed to the cell bars, and if it weren’t between them, he would have reached to pull her close. But then, for the first time, her hands were on his, touching him over his gloves that if they had the time, he’d take them off just so he could feel her skin. But she held him tight, fingers digging into his hands. Her eyes were hopeful, light, even more when she leaned in so their foreheads would touch. “You’re here…”

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

“You are an idiot.”

“I know.”

She was cold. Shivering. They’d weakened her somehow, after all those other cells she’d broken out of. Her hold was no longer as tight and the smoke out of her breath was as chilling as the dungeons. Jason pressed his forehead further to warm her, and she welcomed it like nothing he’d expected.

“I got the key,” Roy said as he finished looting the other guards. “What are-“

Shit.

Roy stopped at the sight of N/N and he dropped the key, all the surges flooding after the months of unending torment. All he went through in his months here, slipping to the ends of his fingers as he caught N/N’s eyes, pushed Jason out of the way, and held N/N by the collar to slam her into the bars.

And N/N did weaken when she couldn’t even push Roy off. She grabbed his wrists, tried prying them off, but to no avail, she choked when she otherwise could have thrown Roy’s ass a mile down the hallway.

“You,” he growled. “You sent me here…”

“Roy! Let her go!”

He tried pushing him off, but Roy just grabbed N/N tighter that which choked her through the bars.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you!”

“It wasn’t personal,” N/N sneered.

“Roy, she’s with us now!”

“I don’t care-“

Just before he was reaching for N/N’s neck, he pushed Roy off her with his shoulder, armor heavy as it slammed him on the ground. Then Jason hurriedly got the key, unlocked N/N’s cell. And as N/N was about to jump for Roy herself, Jason stopped them both and held off Roy with his one arm, N/N with the other.

Pushing Roy’s chest off with his palm, he grabbed the armor’s collar.

“Harper, I know what this looks like-“

“Do you have any idea what she threw me into-“

“I know. I know.”

Whatever ruckus they caused spurred attention from upstairs. He heard voices coming down to the dungeons.

“We’ll talk about this later. Don’t kill each other for fuck’s sake.”

Roy glared at them both, put on his helmet, and pointed the tip of his bow at N/N, who definitely would have skinned Roy alive if not for Jason between them.

On the cell opposite, someone slammed themselves against the steel bars and wailed like a child. It was a man, frail and weak with nothing but bones beneath his skin. He reached his arm out of the cell and cried.

“Please! Let me out of here! I don’t belong here!”

The voices were coming. Roy had unsheathed his quiver, started for the corner to look out.

But Jason headed for the man in the cell, crouched over to where he was crawling.

“Is your name Jason?”

“Yes!” the man, the friend of the old earthling from the bar, cried like he was the sun. “Please, let me out!”

Call it intuition, a lucky guess. But he’d seen that man before, the kind of familiarity that never resurfaced until you meet again. He knew exactly who he was, who he used to be on Earth.

“Jason, we have to go,” N/N said, taking one of the guard’s swords for herself.

Jason let the man out of the cell. “Can you walk?”

He struggled even when he nodded, but with the men incoming, he couldn’t help him up. “Just follow us. We’ll lead the way.”

Two, four guards came rushing in from the stairs. Roy shot with his arrows into the joints throwing his helmet off and hauling it in the air like a ball for the Knights’ heads. Jason shed off the armor, now in his leather jacket and pants, he felt as light as air as he ran sideways against the wall to land in a drop kick for their heads.

N/N, on the other hand, wasn’t as successful.

She swayed away from the Knight’s blades narrowly enough to evade it, but when it’d come too close to her face, her sword barely holding it off, it took Jason having to almost decapitate the man’s head just to push him off her. Her hands were shaking. She was shaking. “You okay?” he asked.

She spat at the floor, forced the shaking to stop as if it were to her own accord. “That bitch put a spell on me.”

He started to reach for her, but they had to move.

They ran for the stairs, with the other Jason trailing limply behind. Roy led the way and shot his arrow at anyone incoming, sending them tumbling down the hard staircase before they could pounce.

Then they reached the hallways, what they saw to have been empty, and would have been a highway for their freedom up the many stairs for the high tower.

But as they dragged themselves along the expensive carpets and fallen drapes at the hall just at the side of the throne room, their spines suddenly froze, stuck up as straight as a stick, and no other time has Jason felt anything as close to paralysis as then, when none of his limbs could move, not even for his neck. A sharp, red flare shot out of his skin, like he was encased in plastic around his flesh.

The three turned around, floating a foot above the floor as they hovered over to the center of the throne room. Something was doing this to them.

Turns out not listening to an old, hooded man in a tavern had come to bite him in the ass, especially when he came here knowing the Queen was no queen. Some sorceress she was, with her in front of her throne and her arm outstretched to will the three of them afloat with none else but a literal flick of her wrist. Her eyes, and the pendant around her neck, glowed red when she pushed her hand out and their three bodies flung to the walls to the other side of the throne room.

The walls were like ice, breaking at the impact against his back, and Jason fell onto the marble floors. He could have picked himself up. He could have taken out his sword and charged even with there being no chance to stand with. But that same wrap held his flesh again, and he was stuck to the floor, unable to move up his knees. At his side, Roy was screaming, his arm stuck like a rock was on top of his bicep. In front of him, just inches where he couldn’t reach, was his bow.

Jason looked at the menacing queen, beautiful with her hair flying as she hovered above ground. Her attention was set on N/N.

And whatever curse she’d put on N/N, it grew worse. Her shrieks were horrific, painful when she sank N/N’s body downwards until the ground crumbled at her impact.

N/N had weakened far beneath any earthling or being that she’d ridiculed. So much that even when she tried to lift her hand, it exhausted her further until she struggled to even keep her eyes open.

Then the queen started bending N/N’s limbs. When the arm Jason had gifted her twisted itself from her shoulder, her legs in the wrong places, only he could hear his screams, in his head, echoing louder than he ever wanted to hear. And what was worse, her body wasn’t restoring.

Whatever this was, whatever magic this sorceress had against N/N, it was something awfully wrong, awfully horrific, something he’d never stood to witness.

But his screams were loud enough that, even with the chaos that ensued so much that no Knight had even dared to step in with their fear of the queen, everything else passed without his notice.

Not even the wall behind him blown apart with some force of unequaled strength. Only when he saw the light from the sun fall onto the throne room’s once dark halls did he struggle to turn around.

What came to save him was a man, and no ordinary man. He was old, had a beard that dropped to his chest, and the kind of wrinkles on his face that showed age far beyond what any human could grow into. And with the blue hood over his head shadowing his eyes, a flare of the same color echoed out his skin.

The man from the tavern was no man. Only then did he recognize him, despite never seeing this man of myth in the flesh.

“Morgana!”

His voice roared throughout the castle. So did the Queen’s rage when she stopped mutilating N/N and set her eyes on what just unfolded.

Morgan Le Fey. There should have been no other.

“Merlin…” she hissed.

Like a snake slithering on the walls, her magic let go of its forceful grip on N/N, Jason, and Roy. The two sorcerers, bound to each other as nemeses for the millennia that had passed. Morgan’s necklace, a bright pendant that glowed the kind of red that dripped from blood, burst into light and shot a blinding beam heading for Merlin.

Then he hovered, high up to the pillars so Morgan wouldn’t have the higher ground, and through his fingers shot lightning bolts more thunderous than of the skies, burning as temperate as the sun, to match Morgan’s flaring beams at its middle.

None would refrain until one of them gave out. Already, Jason was rushing for N/N on the ground. She was conscious, on her knees, and Jason wanted to haul her up to his arms and run far away to whatever valley he could find. But he couldn’t. When her limbs finally restored, Jason pulled her to stand. Roy had an arrow aimed for Morgan, but there was no landing a good shot.

She’d overtaken Merlin, her flares stronger than his lightning, and the old man was thrown off against the wall harder than what they just survived. Jason silently begged N/N not to get involved, with no words he hoped could convince her. Without her real strength, there was no knowing where this would head. But the look on her face, pleading him as well, he just couldn’t say no.

Then N/N’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, at the large chandelier that hung overhead.

Jason nodded, and N/N was off to climb the walls.

Roy shot an arrow, now that the beams were out of the way, and Morgan caught it in her hands just at it almost pierced her face. Breaking the arrow in half, she leveled to the ground and shot out the blinding waves headed their way. They hid behind the pillars that stood despite the ruins and shielded themselves from the debris.

Jason picked up his sword, waiting for that familiar cry. When he heard the ceiling start to growl, he looked above and held onto the hilt with his burning palms.

N/N dropped the chandelier, sliding down along with it as it headed down to where Morgan was standing. Like it crept up to her behind, she raised her arms to stop it with her magic, but it was not light and it caused her to tremble. The chandelier further pushed down, wanting to head for the ground.

Then Roy pulled on his bow, shot the arrows aimed for her torso and Jason leapt with the sword in his grip, swinging it against her. Morgan could only do so much to deflect the arrows and shield herself with her magic, with the chandelier pushing itself more and more every time she defends herself. So she took to breaking it, pieces from its candlesticks and iron handles torn and flung over to Jason and Roy. They dodged them by luck, kept with their distractions until the chandelier would break in its entirety.

Then N/N and her blades, the familiar cry from her lips, jumped from above the chandelier breaking beneath her feet to land on Morgan. The woman cried in outrage, tried to keep N/N off her, but despite her weakening speed, despite her not as fast as she should be, N/N had grabbed the sorceress just as Merlin had awakened, held Morgan by her own spell of paralysis, and then with a blue flare wrapping her limbs into helplessness, N/N snatched the pendant off Morgan’s neck.

Every red beam had ceased, and her eyes darkened to a black so dark, they looked hallow. She stared dumbfounded, face permanently mortified, and when she raised her hands to pounce at them again, Merlin held her still with his magic until her cries were muffled.

Then there was silence, momentary as they’d grown to learn. N/N looked at the pendant she didn’t even know about.

Jason knew what it was. He’s read about it in countless books and tales about these two sorcerers of legend. A stone of almighty power no being should have possessed, not even Morgan Le Fey.

The Philosopher’s Stone.

He took it from N/N, gave it to Merlin.

But the old wizard didn’t take it for himself. Instead, he called out a name.

“Jason!”

Jason looked confused, but Merlin wasn’t calling out to him.

He called out to the frail, starving prisoner who’d just climbed out of hiding from behind the pillars, eyes bloodshot and wide when he saw the old man, his friend, with his arms outstretched. The other Jason. He was right to have recognized him.

Merlin tossed him the stone, and the three watched as the magic unfolded in ways of fairytales.

“Morgan stole the stone from him, ran to a planet two million light-years away to never be found. It took us years to travel, and we did find her, but it was too late. I was no match, and my friend here, well,” Merlin fixed his hood and dusted off his shoulder, “without the stone, he was stripped of his other half. Until now.”

His other half, no doubt, would have been no other.

Jason, Jason Blood, the frail man from the dungeons, called out to the heavens in a poem.

“Change, change the form of man.

Free the prince forever damned.

Free the might from fleshy mire.

Boil the blood in heart of fire.

Gone, gone the form of man,

Rise the demon,

Etrigan!”

Something so otherworldly, so horrific, yet so beautiful, was a light that shone out of his flesh and the screams that escaped his lips. His body, no longer so frail, shifted and morphed into a being so large, a demon of stories. The cries turned to roars, his thin arms into large trunks and sharp claws. His eyes glowed, his body more than twice the size it had been. And when the light faded, his body now seen, the rhyming demon Etrigan stepped into the light, starting for the unconscious Queen.

Then there were steps from the halls, the Knights, thought to have been so brave, turned out to be cowards until they saw their queen had gone. They came running for the throne room, surrounding the crowd with their swords and crossbows.

But at the sight of the demon, the real demon this time and not the cyborgs they’ve defeated, they shivered down to their knees and cried to hide their fear.

“Go!” Merlin called out to them. “We can handle the Knights. Get out of here!”

The wizard paved way for them, out into the hole in the wall he’d made on their way up to freedom. Roy was first to urge them, and N/N running to follow, but she stopped to wait for Jason.

“Thank you,” he told the wizard.

Merlin nodded at them three.

“Send my regards to Constantine.”

As the demon tore through the whole army of Knights heading their way, they rushed out of the castle, out where the day was bright and their strengths more than it had been when they needed it. The ship was still waiting for them above, and he’ll deal with N/N and her nagging later with how they just left the ship floating unattended. But they couldn’t rush inside and use the stairs.

So Roy took out a special bow from his quiver, one that shot up with greater speed and force to ten times the heights, and with a line attached to its tail, he shot it at the highest tower.

“Come on!”

They grabbed onto the line and they shot up to the sky, up for the tower where the air was thin and screaming for the kind of hope they thought would never come.

The Dragonfly flew out of the planet Lutark, and their trails forever left behind as they made their mark on yet another leg of their venture.

-----

“Okay. Let’s put it this way. Roy, I told you not to go past that line.”

Exactly five feet away. Roy backed up until he stood against the wall. That was when he slumped and pouted like a child, refusing to make eye contact.

N/N was sitting on the table, crouched over and her one hand taking most of her weight. Her arm was outstretched for Jason to fix it. Nothing beyond the shoulder, just as he promised. Her hooded eyes were locked on Roy. Not of anger, however. Just watchful over every move he made.

“Roy, I know you’ve been through hell-“

Roy was just about to interject about how hell couldn’t cut to describe it, but Jason’s veto power over the two like an exhausted parent told him to shut up.

“N/N apologizes for that. Don’t you, N/N?”

She shot him a look as well, with her nostrils flared and her refusal to look at anyone in the eye.

But she sounded quiet, genuine, when she spoke. “Yes.”

“It was in the middle of a fight. You would have pushed her into the boom tubes, too, Roy. I did, and now here we are.”

“No I wouldn’t-“

Jason raised his brows at him.

“Fine.”

“We need each other’s help to get us out of this mess. Roy, promise me you’ll work with her.”

Jason let go of the arm when it held itself up firmly into her shoulder. Then he watched Roy about to start with another remark that’d pull them back to the beginning.

“Yes.”

Wouldn’t look at any of them in the eye. But it was a start.

“Good.”

“I’ll watch the ship.”

Roy threw his hand at Jason’s shoulder, squeezed a little just to let him know it was good to have each other back. The moment the cockpit’s doors closed, there was that familiar hum that often filled the otherwise empty space now that they were back into the void millions of kilometers away from the nearest planet. He caught himself choking, however, when he wanted to speak up only to be met with N/N fidgeting as well.

“You can trust Roy with the ship,” Jason coughed. “We’ll have shorter shifts, and we’ll get to rest together if you’d like that.”

He couldn’t see whatever whispers she spoke of through her eyes. She kept them to the floor, as if those whispers weren’t ones to her control, yet she couldn’t let a soul listen in and know.

But perhaps he’d broken down the last of the borders; no longer will he have to work around it. After long when he remained at her side despite her silence, her face finally tilted away to where the stars could take it away from the shadows.

“I don’t know what that witch did to me,” N/N said as if she could only have one breath. “I never felt so weak.”

He’d seen her afraid before, when the chills of the cold were unpredictable and vast, when the unknown stared into her eyes and lit them like the sky. But this time, he swore, she sounded so broken, as if it did more than just take her strength away.

“Morgan Le Fey is a powerful sorceress. She could do all kinds of things with that stone.”

“It’s not that-“ she stopped herself so she could hold her arm, squeezing it to where the plates met. “I don’t know how to say it.”

He put his hand right next to hers so only so little of the cold was between them. “You don’t have to,” he said wit the gentlness she was yearning for.

He wanted so badly to say more.

“You should rest,” she said, instead of anything else to pull him closer.

He turned to his hands with a smile he didn’t know if he should fight back.

“There’s room for two at the Pod.”

His telling grin, though softer than it was mischievous, pulled her gaze up from the floor’s blankness. Then Jason walked away without saying anything else, kept the Pod’s door open behind him when he leaned against the glass to let the stars take him away once again. He wanted to look at the lights, at the clouds and rings that held up to no string, forever in flight and in peace.

His throat tightened, as well as his chest that’d gone into panic, when he heard steps coming from behind and the reflection from the glass come into clear. N/N locked the Pod’s door behind her, stood without knowing what to do next.

She joined him at the resort to a momentary distraction, after all those claims that there was no bewilderment left behind every time she was met with the stars. It was different, how she kept to the silence no longer with her judgmental scowls when instead, she let herself get lost into that beauty and hold it in.

“When was the last time you were afraid?”

N/N leaned against the Pod’s frame, gripped on a handle at the side as if she were to fall, even when she knew there was no way she could. Without looking away from a bright yellow star, she breathed and it smoked the window.

“All the time.”

He knew that, still he asked. It wasn’t to make sure. It was so she’d know it for herself.

But she needed to see how vast of a universe there was out there, that no matter how terrified she could be of what could hold her in, weaken her, trap her into this cage now a permanent reminder on her skin, that it was all but a speck, something so little to what truly mattered.

She could take another step. One more, then she’ll know what it’s like to be accepted.

“Close your eyes.”

She’d rid of the hostility that came with her confusion. Still, she didn’t close her eyes until the softness in his gaze was there to hold her. But that wouldn’t be enough. When she sighed, N/N did as told and listened intently to Jason fiddle with the Pod’s controls.

The floor shaking startled her just a bit, but she remained unphased, calm with that frown he’d grown to stare at.

The Pod detached itself from the ship, only to be held by a lone tube that’d keep it from drifting into the unsavable unknown. She felt it happen, and must have known what was going on. What she didn’t know, however, perhaps could finally take her breath away no matter how many times she claimed that couldn’t happen.

“Can I hold your hand?”

She kept her eyes closed. It was a jump, a large one at that, but this would only work if she trusted him, just as he did with her. With his whole life, he trusted her.

A little flutter in him, one he hadn't felt in a long time, almost made him tremble when N/N trusted him with her hand. It was warm, warmer that time than earlier that day. And now that he had no gloves to keep them apart, he let himself enjoy that second of running his fingers along the ridges between hers.

“Open your eyes.”

Expectedly, her terrified gasps almost made her fall. She started to pant, the illusion that she was out of safety coming to creep up behind her back. But Jason made sure that, in front of anything else, she was looking at him, facing him, whose gentleness and calm would eventually sway her into that very same. He hoped it would work; it had to. That despite whatever demons he had fighting and hadn't won against even after so long, that she’d look at him and see peace.

He hoped he was that to her. He hoped he meant enough for it to be true.

Thankfully, his hopes were of no delusion.

Her frantic chest had halted from its rising, and her grip on him once immense had unstiffened. Jason stepped back so she could take in what was in front of her, where she was standing on.

Or what she wasn’t standing on.

The walls had disappeared, and the Pod’s newfound invisibility proving to be of more use than what it was meant to. Even the glass had gone, every metal scrap and steel beam had faded away into the likeness of air. So it was them, just them, standing in the middle of what was so terrifyingly breathtaking, with nothing below their feet but the unending abyss that fell to no end.

What it was to walk in this interstellar pathway, unmarked by the limits of what could be held, was much like flying without the aid of a rope. No matter how much they looked down and felt the forceful pull that was the illusion of falling, they remembered that they were standing, that they were in control, that they were walking to the stars without even a voice to keep them away. The vastness immeasurable, only then could they know just unending, ever expanding this space could be. Without a threshold to step out of, it was but the immensity they couldn’t possibly get to the corners to. Because there were no corners. Nothing at all. Nothing but beings they couldn’t hold and instead, hold them.

As if they were elevated to the stars, a hand could reach out and take one of the lights, put it into a pocket for keeping. Something so impossible, turned out to be true.

A star cluster welcomed them into that very space, and its beauty so enticing, so unafraid to show its flames. Jason tried to count the many stars that tried to pull their bodies into their light, but even that couldn’t be. Even when he looked up, behind, underneath him, it was still there. It was never something they could escape.

And N/N…

She watched it all unfold as if she’d never looked up from the floor.

When she placed a hand over her mouth, possibly to keep her from spilling out a whisper she might regret, he knew he had to do more.

Jason held her hand tighter, then he pulled on a lever at his side.

Once more, another layer of limits was stripped from their hold.

Their feet floated off the floor as the Pod let go of its last bits of gravity. N/N’s panicked cries only led him on, and he was laughing instead of trying to keep that calm façade he meant her to follow. But there was nothing calm about this. Nothing was calm, not even his heart beat that he knew she could hear. But there was peace.

N/N reached out for his elbows to grab hold of him, and without pushing her limits, he made sure that his warmth wouldn’t escape her hands, the window to where he’d yearned to hold.

Seeing the stars was one thing, so was looking back and seeing how far they’d drifted off from the Dragonfly.

But floating into the stars, swimming in this cosmic ocean that surrounded every speck of a being there could be, was just as dangerous as walking into fire. Yet what ignited within, what sparked into this flight into freedom no longer could be forgotten, was taking that first leap that made for all of their kind.

They could drift off into whatever void awaited them and still, it was a venture.

Light.

This void, one so familiar, was infinite. And so it was, even if there could be, at some point, an end.

An endless void no hand can reach into, so vast no beam could enlighten.

An idea could not describe half the realities of what was out there all along. And what was out there was larger than souls, older than gods, a space so opulent with entities not so many could comprehend.

How could she, or anyone at all, have thought of themselves as anything more than a speck, even when not devoid of life, in such a universe so unlimited?

No.

Not when it took this long to know all that.

Not until now, when she marveled over the stars as if they were this light so new, a newborn brought into the world having laid eyes on their mother the first time their eyes open.

She was flying.

She was as light as the stars. She was the stars.

Her palm hit the glass, hadn’t realized she was reaching for those very beings as if she could hold them in her hand until it stopped her.

“Look at the stars like you’ve never seen one in your life.”

In its truest sense, perhaps there didn’t have to be any pretending.

If the cosmos had always been this breathtaking wonder, so infinite and incomprehensively immense, that at any point, she’d be left standing there as quiet as she’d never been, then she’s never actually seen the stars. Not once in her life.

Not until now.

Then, just when he thought to have witnessed the very limit of beauty there possibly could be,

N/N smiled.

She was smiling when her fingers hit where there used to be glass.

She was smiling when she floated too high and the Pod’s ceiling hit her head.

She was smiling when none of the stars could let her take her gaze away from them, when they echoed their lightness into the irises no longer so dark, but as light as the stars themselves. She was breathing. She was smiling. She was smiling, and it was the only thing that could have possibly taken his attention away from the literal heavens. She was smiling and she didn’t stop even when she knew he was watching.

As if it mirrored the flares from the star clusters or the Andromeda galaxy’s wings that once haunted him, now captured his soul, everything in his chest melted by the likes of a blacksmith’s work, submerged into the burning metals that forged them into the looks of her smile, of her tight hold on his elbow, how she looked floating in space and laughing, laughing. It was just them. Fuck the universe. Fuck all the planets they’ve gone to and the people they’ve met. The universe only had them. Just them. They were all that mattered.

There will be wishes for it to never end, as the days will pass and one day, this will all cease. He’ll have to go, never see the stars like this again, never see her face again. Still, he promised that it wouldn’t be, told her they’d get to fly once more even with it uncertain. She knew that as well, and the brightness coming to its inevitable fade when the walls of the Pod reappeared and the tube pulled them back to the ship.

When all had grown back into its homely welcome into the realities, N/N once more placed her hand on the glass, longing to go back.

Then a tear fell to her cheek, the first he’d ever seen.

Jason stopped himself just when his finger would have brushed against the steel below her eye, a breathless wake that shook him back to the ground from which he floated away from. And N/N stood there, motionless as well.

He pulled back his arm, and just before he would have stepped away and let the distance between them part their warmth, N/N reached for his hand.

Jason welcomed her between his fingers, let her thumb graze over her knuckles and seeing how that little act had done to soothe her. So Jason stepped forward once more, to where the space between their lips weren’t so large.

He thought she’d touch his face, his neck, his chest, just as she had before. But it was her voice, instead, that pulled him closer.

She whispered: “Touch me…”

A trap he was walking into, yet had no desire to escape from, one that’d inevitable pull him into a world of pain unlike another, he let himself fall. To where the floor was as good as the mists of clouds, he took another step.

His hand started up her arm, to where there was steel, to where there was skin. His fingers were as good as brushes, painting her the colors that blinded him. Up her shoulder until he’d reached where he never touched before. She wasn’t stopping him. Her eyes, fooling him into thinking they were stars, allowed him to go on to where he’d yearned to land.

To her collarbone, beneath her clothes, to her neck so gentle and fluttery against his fingers, he heard her gasp when he started trailing shapes just under her jaw. Her sighs, her eyes closing when he’d reached her tear drenched cheek, Jason cupped her face and she was close enough to be touched by his breath.

When he touched her lips, it wasn’t with his hands, but with his own lips that’d sobbed and yearned to touch hers every time he listened to her speak.

That ever playing music, the serenity that pulled them into the darkness, it lulled them further into that night of illusion of calm, of peace, of love. He touched her face; he touched her soul. As intricate as a melody, he touched her. And he didn’t stop until that galaxy of fulfillment had shone through its brightest.

-----

A/N: 

This chapter took me the longest time to write any chapter I’ve ever written! I wanted so badly to make this perfect. I don’t think it’s perfect still, but if you couldn’t tell, the last finale scene was the one I wanted to take the most time to craft. It was this scene alone that I came up with one night, and from there, it stemmed into this whole series, making this the one scene that I’ve been anticipating to write for months. And this scene has an UNCUT VERSION because the first draft was 17.8k WORDS LONG (another reason why this took forever to write) I’m just so glad with how the ending scene turned out, and I can’t wait to write the last three chapters, now with ROY HARPER into the mix. Love you guys for sticking around.

MASTERLIST

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[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Humans Are Stupid ft. A Jetpack.”

Does anyone here ever get the feeling like they don’t control what they write. I was going to write something else, and then this came out, so lol. I hope you like 

***

The No 1 truth about humans: They are stupid.

Krill was waiting in the docking bay watching as his new medical equipment was wheeled up the ramp. Sunny stood next to him holding a data pad and checking off the shipping manifest as it was wheeled on.

Conn floated a few feet away from them ribbons on his back billowing and churning slowly in the air currents.

He was currently occupied staring down at the screen of his handheld. Ever since the captain had gotten him that game, he hadn’t stopped playing. It was a nice break from his usual acerbic, nosy nature.

The  last line of medical equipment was being loaded up the ramp, when con looked up from his game.

He turned his head towards the interior doors.

“Prepare yourselves.” He signed 

“Prepare ourselves? For what.”

The question didn’t hang on the air for very long before the sounds of human exuberance reached them from down the hall.

Sunny shook her head and Krill sighed, and the three of them braced themselves as the commander rolled onto deck skidding to a stop and running towards the line of boxes, “Is it here! Did you get it!”

“Get what?” Sunny muttered 

He snatched the data pad from her hand scrolling through the checked boxes.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, “What are you-”

“Ah ha!”

He began laughing and giggling maniacally running over to a line of already checked boxes hopping up and down in place and rubbing his hands together.

The three aliens exchanged a glance.

Sunny sighed, “What did you do.”

The man waved a hand at her as one of the cargo workers opened a box for him, “What did I do? What did I do? I will tell you what I did. I just made this ship officially the most awesome ship in the fleet. “

“And how exactly did you do that?”

“I thought we were already the most awesome ship in the fleet?” 

The commander was seconds from squealing with delight as the man cracked open the crate and let the sides fall to the deck.

There were a few boxes in there, but the commander didn’t seem to care about most of them grabbing a single box from the pile and hauling it onto the floor where he could get a better look, “Gah, its heavy, that’s good.”

Krill frowned, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

The commander continued to grin, “Nope, you're gonna hate it, and that’s how I know it’s going to be great.”

Krill sighed.

Sunny stepped forward as the man frantically ripped open the box, like a man possessed. 

The crate opened and the man was now laughing maniacally, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Krill and the others wandered over glancing down into the box.

Conn sighed, a sound he had programmed into his gloves.

Sunny tilted her head, “What is it.”

The human reached inside grabbed a thick, pamphlet with one hand and tossed it out of the way.

Krill was forced to duck to the side as the book when flying past his head and skidded across the floor.

He glanced over and saw the words.

JETPACK OPERATIONS MANUAL 

“NO! Oh no! no! No! No!.”

“Yes in every way!” The commander said tearing into the foam packaging that held the unit inside.

When he finally pulled it out, he grunted with its weight and sat back on the cold metal floor cradling it against his knees to get a better look, “Ah, just look at it! Look at it! Ahhhhh! Best day ever!”

“No, you send that right back to where it came from!” Krill was saying, “I have a hard enough time getting you to keep your feet on the ground. I will not let you do this stupid, reckless-”

Sunny picked the manual off the ground, “Adam Don’t you think you should read the instructions first.”

The human was standing now and had the jetpack propped on the side of a crate threading his arms through the upper harness.” What part of ‘I can fly anything’ don’t you get.”

“So you’ve flown one before?’

“No, but how hard can it be.”

Krill shook his head, “Commander you will not be flying that, not unless you have full body protection, and that means a HELMET as well.”

Sunny crossed her arms, “I have to agree with the doctor this time.”

He glanced over at them and wilted slightly, “Ok, Ok yes mom let me go get my knee and elbow pads.”

“Full body armor or no deal.”

He groaned but sighed, “Fine!” Whining under his breath the whole way out of the room

Sunny and Krill exchanged a loo, “Should we just hide it?”

Conn floated down to sit on one of the crates, “I kind of want to see him break his neck.”

Sunny glowered over at Conn but the freaky alien just grinned at her his large black eyes menacing against his milky white skin.

She flipped the manual open, “Someone at least better read this before he gets himself hurt.”

“You think hed care to know how it worked before he tries it.”

“Adam may love science fiction, but that doesn't make him a scientist. I’ve seen him struggle to put a pen back together after taking it apart. “Sunny muttered walking over to the jetpack to set it up before the commander came back.

She almost thought about just not setting it up He wouldn’t get off the ground without reading the manual, but he had been so excited that she hardly had the heart to ruin this for him.

He returned a good thirty minute later wearing a space suit helmet tucked under one arm.

“You know what, this was a good idea Krill.”

“It was, so you finally saw the logic of-”

“Because I just realized, if we paint this rig up, I can look like buzz lightyear. Think about it a little green purple and white and I can be a space ranger. It will be the most epic cosplay you have ever seen.

“You wasted company funds on a jetpack?” “Nope my money. However if I can find a reason to requisition some, you better bet that I will, Now hand it over.”

“Helmet first.” Krill said sternly.

The man rolled his eyes, “Ok fine.” 

He slid the helmet on and it locked into place, “So many possibilities guys! I could be Iron man! Or a mandalorian!”

Sunny crossed her lower set of arms over her chest while using the other two to read the manual, “I seem to recall that the first time Iron man tried to use his, he ended up slamming into a wall.”

The Commander folded the straps on the jetpack into their place, instead using a different mechanism to attach the jetpack to the back of the space suit.

A few of the marines walked into the room, along with doctor katie.

“Yo is that a jetpack!” Called one of the marines.

“You bet your ass it is.” He turned in a circle, do you guys like?”

“Damn!”

Someone whistled.

“Don’t encourage him.” Krill snarled.

The marines stepped back.

“Yeah yeah, whatever, ok let’s get this party started.” The commander marched towards the door, and the rest of the group struggled to keep up.

Dr Katie nervously fell into step beside Krill, “he’s going to get urt isn’t he.”

“Yeah…. Bring a stretcher and a C-collar would you.” He muttered

Dr. Katie nodded and ran off.

Commander Vir stepped out onto the ramp, “Ok…. now…. Uh…. how do I get it to work?”

Sunny raised an eyebrow form behind the manual, “So now you need my help. I am not entirely sure I want to tell you how to use it.”

“You don't tell me I will just look up a video.”

She sighed, “It should have connected when you attached it to your suit. You can choose to use the hand controls on your gloves. So first-”

“Oh, sweet.”

He pressed one of the glove controls, and there was a sharp clicking sound as the jet pack wings clicked open locking into place, “Oh HELL YEAH!”

“Adam calm down.”

“What does this button do?”

“Adam-”

There was a sharp whir and whine as the engine started up.

“Oh yeah!”

“Ok we are done. If you can’t slow down and listen to the instructions, than we are going to have to confiscate that.” Sunny reached forward intending to grab him, but he danced away.

“So If that was open, and that was start, than this must be up.” 

“ADAM!” 

Sunny lunged forward just as the human’s thumb triggered the throttle. She dived right past where he had been standing, and the human rocketed up into the air feet and arms flailing.

“Shit! Adam!”

“Katie, get the medical team down here now.”

The bright streak of light passed out of light that was the engine continued to steadily rocket upwards, and for a moment it seemed as if he would at least be fine. That was until he figured out the controls and suddenly started to spin and turn wildly his body thrown back and forth like a ragdoll.

“Shit, shit, shit.” 

Conn was laughing behind her

She turned on him, “Shut up and help.”

Conn waved a hand, “he’s fine. He’s having the time of his life.”

Sunny turned back to look up, watching as the bright spot turned arched upwards and began plummeting towards the ground.

He was growing bigger and bigger in their vision.

“Any second now.” Conn said 

Sunny’s eyes widened in horror.

“He’ll figure out how to pull up, any moment now.” They could see individual limbs again.

“Yep any moment now.”

The assembled humans began to scream, and at the last moment he flung himself sideways parallel to the ground. He shot past them, and for a second sunny thought she could hear screaming though the sound of the engine was a roar.

 He was heading straight towards a loading crane.

He was about to hit it when he threw himself sideways spinning in the air his wing almost clipping an armored vehicle.

He was thrown up and sideways his arms pinwheeling as he arched in a parabola over the landing field.

All the humans had stopped to stare upwards at the spectacle, a few had their phones out.

Sunny ran out trying to see where he had gone.

Dr. Katie rushed out onto the ramp with the medical team close behind, “What the ever loving fuck!” She exclaimed, “Why did you let him do that!”

“I didn’t think he would be that stupid!” Sunny yelled back

The bright white spot did another arch and then spun and then did a loop.

Conn floated forward, “He thinks he’s got the hang of it…. Though…. I have some serious questions about his ability to slow down….’

The group of them stared skyward as he continued to roll tumbled and do loops.

“I am going to kill him.” Sunny snarled

“If he doesnt kill himself.” Kril sighed.

Sunny glowered at him, “Because you seem so concerned.”

“Didn't you hear I am in a constant state of panic, like the hulk is with anger, but…. Lame.”

The little white dot arched towards the ground.

“Oh shit, here it comes.” Conn said covering his face -- not that it would help.

Sunny tired to look away watching as the light dimmed, slowed.

She glanced up watching as Commander Vir descended from the sky his hands held out awkwardly to either side like a tightrope walker one foot down and one foot slightly up.

He was about ten feet above the ground, when he cut the engine.

Sunny yelled in surprise, the rest of the group jumped forward.

He landed fine, at first, then he stumbled forward arms flailing, tripped and plowed face first into the concrete.

Sunny and the group ran forward to where he was lying on the pavement.

“Adam, Adam are you ok!”

It was then --to sunny’s great annoyance-- that she heard the human laughing.

He rolled over onto his side and pulled off his helmet, which had small scratches across the paint of the face. He was sweaty, red in the face, but grinning like an idiot, “Holy shit, did you see that, that was awesome.”

“You could have died!”

“Yeah yeah, sure whatever, but also did you SEE that!”

Sunny felt a surge of anger flare up in her chest, “THAT IS IT!” she reached over and slammed her finger against the release button for the jetpack.”

“Hey!”

It fell away, and she shoved it into the arms of a marine, “Hide this somewhere, or throw it away, I don’t care.” 

“Wait, Sunny, but I.” She grabbed him angrily by the hand and hauled him to his feet marching across the tarmac with him stumbling behind her. He turned back to look towards the jetpack pulling against her.

In frustration she turned bent down and tipped him over one shoulder pinning his legs with her two right arms.

“Sunny! Hey! What are you doing!”

“I am sick and tired of your shit, Adam.” She marched up the ramp as the rest of the humans looked on either bemused or amused.

“Seriously sunny!”

He tried to struggle, but she only adjusted his weight.

“You aren’t leaving your quarters for a week!”

“You’re grounding me!”

“Literally” She snarled.

“You aren’t my mother.”

“Oh yeah, but I can call her.”

His eyes narrowed, ‘You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

His face went pale, “look sunny, we can talk about this. You don't have to call her. Come on you know me. I knew exactly what I was doing. Remember. Pilot. I fly stuff all the time.”

“You almost died.”

“Almost being the key term.”

She snarled feet slamming against the deck and she pushed through the cargo bay and out the doors her anger heard for minutes after they were out of sight.

The rest of the humans had a good laugh over the whole thing, though Krill was not impressed, and neither was dr. Katie.

Humans were immensely stupid, stupid and reckless. They had no sense of self preservation, and some of them seemed hell bent on dying early though they never seemed to manage it. Unfortunately for Sunny, she had handed the jetpack to Ramirez, who definitely planned on buying one for himself, and, as Adam’s human friend, planned on keeping it for him until he returned.

Maybe taking it out for a spin while he was away.

Because humans are stupid like that. 

[thedumbguywithaheart43]

Boomlord weird adventure

Chapter 8 what time is it?

It was early morning in the omnispace void. Boomwood had gotten to the kitchen to start brewing coffee as the footsteps of a yawning purple hair woman enter the room."morning Twilight."Twilight mearly gave him a wave before sitting down. Looked at her noticing the look on her face. To be honest she looked exhausted.'ah shit'he quickly poured a shot glass of the Cuban coffee and handed it to her. She stared at the coffee for a minute."I appreciate the gesture but I doubt this is going to do much for me."good Lord gave out a chuckle."Twilight trust me this is Cuban coffee any more than this and you'll be wired."He gave out a chuckle before Twilight downed the shot, unsurprisingly her face scrunched up. This was probably the most bitter thing she ever had."bleh! Why would you drink something so bitter!"Boomlord shrugged."honestly I only drink it for the caffeine. If it helps I think I have some orange juice in the fridge."Twilight just looked down rubbing her head . Not long after the other girls walked in each of them heading into the fridge grabbing various fruits mostly apples. Pinkie pie was the only one who grabbed something else, looks like she found the flan and was in heaven."oh my Celestia this tastes so good!"At least she wasn't breaking the fourth wall again.

2 After everyone ate they all headed to the living room again."ok girls this is it we are heading to the next world. Now before I go this mission is not meant to be dangerous however the world we're entering can be a bit chaotic so be prepared for anything."The rest of the girls nodded they likely had assumed as much from the previous conversations."so where are we going anyway"dash blurted out as boom pulled out his pen."yeah I'm with Dash partner id hate to go in blind."Aj took a step forward to make her point."we're going to a place called ooo I spent a lot of time there and it's the only place I can really say I have friends anymore...."booms voice got deep as a sorrowful look overtook his face for a minute. This was enough to make Applejack back off. Twilight in particular took a mental note of this.'guess friends are a touchy subject for him.' boom grabbed his notepad An drew another circle, in the center he wrote °adventure Time 1°as always the golden electrical ring formed with a blackened middle. Boomlord jumped into the portal and when he landed his feet were on solid ground. Solid green grassy ground. He surveyed the area around him noticing he was in a grassy clear field however the ends of what looks like old nuclear bombs stuck out overtaken by the grassy plains. The girls enter next each of them still in their same outfits however 4 of the girls had notable changes to them . Twilight and rarity each had a sword at their side. Twilight sword with a sleek and purple short sword with her cutie mark on the hilt. Rarity sword on the other hand looked as if it were made of blue crystal with a white metal hilt her cutie mark also on it. Fluttershy and rainbow Dash had also had the return of their wings which Dash took this opportunity to fly up into the air a bit doing a few loops and swirls."Hell yeah I missed this!"boom couldn't help but smile."Real fly girl up there."a few of them awkwardly smile."so where's our destination?"Twilight asked giving him a quick grin knowing that he's trying his best to make everyone feel better about being in a strange world."we're going to see princess bubblegum at the Candy Kingdom."and just like that he found himself lying on the ground being pinned by pinkie pie."DID YOU SAY CANDY KINGDOM! A KINGDOM MADE OF CANDY IS THIS PLACE PARADISE O.M.C O.M.C."Twilight practically had to pry pinky off of him ."yes the entire Kingdom from the trees to the ground is made of candy including the people."He started to brush himself off as pinky smile only widen."but please don't eat the Candy people or I will probably have to stop you"pinky reluctantly nodded.

3"rainbow do you mind taking an aerial view try to find the place that looks like it's surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees.... Well because it is surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees."boom called out before stopping looking at the ground a large Shadow now loomed over them. It was Spike. All the ponies turn to look back in both shock and horror. Spike mostly remain the same with one slight difference... He was absolutely Giant. His whole body in total was about the size of a two sorry house and his wings could probably cover all of them with ease."oh yeah I forgot dragons are huge here but at least he still looks different from them normally they're just Giant tube dragons with big ass butts."The ponies/girls stared for a moment but in silent agreement they chose not to address it not that Spike would mind he was too busy checking himself out."oh crap I'm HUGE you guys look so small from up here!" It was the most adorable giant grin in the world. Rainbow decided now was a good time to take him to the air as she being flapping her wings disappearing above the clouds. Surveying the land below she was able to make out what looks like pink trees and a large structure that looked somewhat like a castle."guess that must be what I'm looking for."she kept looking around noticing in One direction was a rather large tree that almost looks like it had Windows in it and in the opposite direction she noticed tall mountains made entirely of ice."heh heh heh what do we have here"a voice from nowhere stated in a malicious tone from behind her. Is she turned to look behind her she saw a giant monster with a bat like face and long blue limbs with crooked nails.'OH SHIT'at this point rainbow Dash started nose diving down towards her friends with the creature in pursuit who was maliciously chuckling the entire way down. The rest of the group saw the creature and the girls had various reactions. Applejack rarity and Twilight look like they were getting ready to fight with rarity and Twilight pulling out their swords. Fluttershy and Pinky had decided to stick near Spike who is now using his wings to shield them.Then there was boom standing out in the open as dash passed him and he just smiled. Apon seeing him the creature stopped a look of surprise on our face."hey Marceline it's been a while"the creature began to shrink taking on a human form she had pale white skin and incredibly long black hair which reached down to her feet a simple jacket and jeans and her ,guitar-axe strapef to her back and a nice big floopy hat which covered her in a shroud of darkness. She give out a wide smile revealing her fangs before wrapping her arms around boom giving him a hug."holy glob dude!your back it's been like 4 months!"he returned the embrace from his old friend as the rest of the girls started to calm down noticing that whatever that thing was it seemed friendly at least now it did."oh that's right."he turned to the girls and dragon."everyone this is my old friend Marceline... The vampire queen"a few of the girls jaw started to drop."your freinds with a literal blood sucking vampire?"Marceline shrugged at Twilight comment."actually it's just the color I'm after."Marceline started floating on her back around them."so boom what brings you and your new friends back to ooo."Boomlord got quiet."I found it Marcy.... I found the Rose fire and they're here because Twilight here"pointing at the slightly flustered purple pony girl."is the key to everything."Marceline stopped moving for a moment the words settling in her mind."oh we need to get to the Candy Kingdom right away then."then without word Marceline started floating off towards the direction of the Kingdom and boom followed along with the girls and the giant dragon...... Yeah that might be a problem.

4 After a few hours of walking they all managed to reach the candy kingdom with Spike deciding to hide in the trees to avoid unwanted attention. Pinkie pie look like she was about to go crazy or more crazy."o.m.c so m-much candy!"she was practically foaming at the mouth."look pinky just eat the sidewalk or something just please don't start eating random people I don't want to deal with any drama today especially because we need the princess's help."the pony started walking forward into the rather nice town and to boomlord credit every building and every person was made of candy, And many candies citizens passed by. Mr cupcake crunchy punch bowl guy."wow this is actually really fascinating I can't help but wonder what they're DNA is like how do candy people procreate do they need to breathe or eat its quite fascinating"Twilight then begin rambling about a whole bunch of science jargon that boom did not know but he found himself listening to every word she spoke it wasn't until arsenaline tapped his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance."I see you found a real good friend~"she whispered in a teasing tone."w-what no she's just um cool you know for someone who was a horse the other day."Marceline rolled her eyes."horse or not you always did have a thing for a Smart ones~."boom felt his blood pump. "Oh you're one to talk."Marceline then backed off she knew how far she could go before boom would made her regret it. After a while of walking the group then found themselves at the castle as a pink cared and pink skinned princess in a long pink dress noticed them."oh my! Boom you have returned and with.. many female companions huh"princess bubblegum gave a smirk."oh don't you start now too!" Boom was probably going to say more before pb gave him a warm hug."so I assume this has to do with the rose fire."bubblegum look down at him and while she kept a smile her face was full of worry."yeah Twilight here um it's kind of a long story."bubblegum nodded."it always is."about an hour had passed after this meeting and boom had explained to Marceline and bubblegum how we came to meet the girls and discover the fire leaving out the parts where he burned himself or threw a skillet at Twilight."interesting I'll probably have to run a few scans on Twilight then with her permission."Twilight nodded."good we'll start by using the rejuvenation tank to monitor your body and vitals while I conduct a few scans"boom notice that she was pointing to the large tank filled with water and knew that this meant that Twilight was going to have to strip down which he then took his cue to leave. "I'll be back soon gonna check on stuff."and before anyone could say anything he left the room.

(oh and before I forget I'll be opening asks for boomlord and Friends so if they appear in the story feel free to ask them a question ask box is officially open)

[blackbutterfliescal]

A Storm Of Trouble

A Michael Clifford One Shot

Pairing: Pirate!Michael Clifford & Reader

Word count: 3.3K

Rating: Just For Fun

Requested by: Not requested but it was supposed to be part of the Michael Week @sadistmichael hosted. I’m late as always but I’m still gonna post it 🤷‍♀️

Content: second person POV, gender neutral reader insert, best friends finding themselves in a night of chaos, drinking, swearing, violence but no graphic details, reader as a sex worker, brief appearances of Calum being A Little Shit

A/N: This all started because of that damn earring... I know that romance (in any form) does well on here, but I thought it would be fun to write a friend fic. Sue me. Big thank yous to @mashlums @haikucal @sexgodashton @jae-writes-fanfiction and @cheekysos for encouraging me on this one!

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———

The wooden slats above Michael’s head groaned, heavy with footsteps and many years of wear on the high seas. It was clear that the ship was docking somewhere for the night to restock supplies, but Michael couldn’t be stirred from the hammock where he rested just below deck. Several minutes passed as he concentrated on the slow drip of water into the pail in the corner, looking for some sense of peace in the chaos the rest of the crew was creating. The metal made a sharp sound with each drop that hit, but it was a tone he’d grown accustomed to after many months aboard this particular ship. He often used it to lull himself to sleep, struggling to ignore Calum’s incessant snoring. It wasn’t until one of his crewmates shouted the name of a familiar port that Michael paid much attention to the commotion happening on the surface. Usually preferring to stay aboard the ship and not risk any potential scuffles on land, he now understood why so many of the crew were anxious to disembark.

Port Royal was notorious for the wide array of debauchery around every turn. Especially this time of night, it was always crawling with other scoundrels just looking for a bad fight or a good fuck. Or maybe a good fight and a bad fuck. The derelict port had such a reputation for its treatment of outsiders that none of the king’s men ever dared a visit, leaving the people who were floating through to act as their own law and order. 

The grimy, dilapidated buildings just past the worn dock called to Michael. He’d lived a pirate’s life since he was orphaned as a young boy, sailing far and wide, but this port was the closest thing he had to a home. He only hoped that he could find his oldest friend still in the hut just past the wall where the land met the sea.

———

Michael made his way beyond the wobbly old dock, peering in the dimly lit pubs only briefly as he passed. His well-worn leather boots carried his tired feet through the filthy streets to an all-but-forgotten yet somehow still familiar scene. Covered by the shadow of the night couples of every sort were pressed against each other, no doubt trading secret desires. At his unfamiliar approaching figure, the silhouetted couples all vanished into the brothel before him quicker than he could blink an eye. 

Hidden from easy view in the moonlight, the door slammed against the frame just as Michael approached. His hands, rough from years of work as a swabby, landed hard against the faded green wood thrice before it swung open. It rested uneven on its hinges and revealed a plump young woman in dark red corseted dress. The ruffles around her neckline were no longer a crisp, clean white but still managed to pull Michael’s attention directly to her ample bosom. His eyes continued to work over her figure. He didn’t miss the way her stomach pushed out against the ribbed garment covering it. She was such a sight that Michael considered a short detour before beginning to search the brothel for you.

“Well, ain’t ye a handsome devil. Fancy cracking Jenny’s teacup, eh?”

Before Michael could let a smooth response fall from his mouth, footsteps landing hard under long strides sounded down the hallway. Michael’s eyes, dark with lust, brightened as he took you in. You were exactly as he remembered and somehow completely different. It had been years since Michael was last in Port Royal but the two of you had kept up through letters as you were able. 

“Back off, wench. This one’s wit’ me.” The woman in red threw a scowl and a few choice curses at you as you squeezed past her in the doorway, arms quickly finding Michael in a tight embrace. “Oi, s’that a hornpipe in yer pocket or are ya just happy t’ see me?” You offered him a cheeky grin as his face warmed, caught red-handed, and he cast his gaze past you to find the woman in red missing from the door frame.

———

As seemed natural, you and Michael found yourselves kicked back in the corner of the closest pub. Boot-clad feet resting high on the table and a second bottle of rum nearly gone, you shared laughs and stories between swigs that were drowned out in the raucous noise of the other patrons. Two large men were attempting to settle their score through a game of fisticuffs at the bar and neither seemed to have their wits about them, stumbling on their own feet. A number of recognizable faces from the brothel were here to pick up company for the night, or maybe just the next few minutes. The most familiar face among them was Ash. A wordsmith of sorts, he had settled in close to a pretty, young blonde with eyes so blue that you could make them out across the room. Michael could pick out the back of Calum’s head as he raked in a pile of coins, no doubt employing his sharp mind in a game of liar’s dice.

Unphased by the rowdy crowd, the two of you were content in a universe that was contained entirely at that corner table. Michael told you stories of all the places he’d visited since you’d last seen him. Tales of India and China and all the bounty you could imagine. To be no older than he was, he’d done a lifetime’s worth of travelling. It didn’t come easy though. Work aboard a pirate ship, even with a fair captain, was endless and often meant risking life or limb to secure loot. He also listened intently as you recounted your tale of the one who had left you high and dry after a broken engagement. It had left your heart with an unhealing wound as deep red as the rope burns on Michael’s calloused hands. His eyes remained soft as you spoke of the person you thought was finally going to pull you out of the life you led. Routinely selling your body to the highest bidder had never much bothered you. You often found a sense of power at being the agent of someone’s deepest desires.That was until this one particular person became a frequent caller of yours. You knew no shame about the way you earned your coin but now you were crushed under their broken promises of a steady life, a life that didn’t mean hiding from the law or rousing up drunk sailors just to put food in your stomach.

Neither of you would have chosen life as a criminal for yourselves, but any trace of life before this felt like it belonged to someone else. As Michael began to yell for another bottle of rum, the back door to the pub flew open and landed harshly against the wall behind it. The man standing where the door had been was intimidating.Twice as large as Michael and covered in tattoos. He was flanked by a woman whose arms looked strong enough to crush you with ease and a bald man with a weathered scar down the right side of his face, covered only briefly by the leather patch on his eye.

“I knew I smell’d a bilge rat. Clifford! We ‘ave a debt t’ settle!!” His accent was heavy and you thought maybe it was Irish. His eyes landed on Michael, lounging in the far corner. As Michael’s eyes went wide and he leapt to his feet, he felt his head spin from the booze. The man that had barged in drew his sword and that was enough to bring Michael back for just a moment, long enough to process that he was in trouble. He quickly pulled you to your feet and tugged you behind him. “Shame! We’re jus’ leavin’!”

It took most of your self-control not to spray out the last burning chug of alcohol you’d just thrown back before being snatched up from your seat. You made a quick recovery, considering the amount of rum you’d already swallowed down, crashing out the front door and spilling into the muddy road. You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been in the pub but you’d clearly missed any indication of the current downpour. You splashed through the streets, following Michael’s already soaked form in and out of countless doorways. As he cleared what had to be the twentieth doorframe, he stepped quickly into the corner and pulled you with him. You landed against his broad chest with a thud. It would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t already been breathing heavy from the zig-zagged marathon.

As you took a step back from Michael, he let his fast grip fall and looked around at where he’d landed the two of you. He saw the pigs in the opposite corner sleeping in the cool mud and the horse’s stall just next to the pig pen. He held his index finger to his pursed lips, signaling you not to disturb the livestock. Just as you were finally able to catch your breath, you felt it hitch in your throat again as the large brutish man called out to Michael. “Alright ye filthy animal. I know yer hidin’ ‘round ‘ere somewhere.” You shared an amused glance at the choice of words. Michael began to slowly draw the large blade looped through the belt hanging against his hip, preparing to go down fighting. You felt a brief sense of panic at the realization that you’d left your own sword behind. Spying a smaller handle on Michael’s other hip, you reached your hand out to grip the tarnished handle and pulled it up in front of you. The knife flashed in the low light, smaller than the blade you were accustomed to, but desperate times....

Taking careful steps, or as careful as possible after two bottles of rum, Michael inched his way out of the barn door and into the rain. You were a few steps behind him and hadn’t cleared the door yet when the scar-faced man appeared behind Michael with a taunt. Just as he raised his blade to engage Michael, you brought the heavy handle of your weapon down on top of his head. The man immediately fell face-first into the water at Michael’s feet. Michael’s hair clung to his face in the rain as he spun to give you a wide-eyed but silent thank you, hoping the others that were still after him weren’t close enough to hear.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind than two menacing shadows appeared at the other end of the barn. You stashed Michael’s knife in your belt, bending down to snatch the sword from the man lying on the ground, and took off again hot on Michael’s heels. You followed him around the back of another house and down a pitch black alley.

As you emerged on the other side, a loud grunt sounded beside you, followed by the clang of Michael’s sword meeting the Irishman’s. It was shortly followed by his partner’s blade meeting your stolen one. Though you’d had your fair share of practice with a sword, you felt like a novice next to Michael’s skillful hand. Metal clashed as the storm raining down on the island intensified, lightning strikes flashing through the sky with every scrape of swords. The woman you were up against was clearly a better swordsman than you and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep up. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but she had you backed against a wall. Your sword was the only thing keeping her blade from bearing down on your throat. As quickly as you could manage, you brought one hand to your belt, pulling the knife out again before landing it in the woman’s side. Her mouth fell open and she stumbled back from you as you removed the blade. Her sword clattered to the ground and it wasn’t long before she fell beside it. The wound wasn’t enough to kill her but it would keep her out of your way so you could help Michael.

You hadn’t been able to spare him a glance as you fought for your own life but you weren’t shocked to see that he was holding his own against the giant. You ran up behind the man with a yell and he spun around to meet your blow. After sending you stumbling back a few steps, he turned to face Michael again. He wore the shock on his face as Michael’s blade came to rest in the hollow of his throat. The man slowly lowered his weapon, realizing Michael had bested him. You heard a shuffle behind you as the woman reached for her sword. Your boot landed heavy on top of the metal as you trained your sword on her, daring her to make a move. Behind you, Michael’s words were lost in the sudden boom of thunder. Only when you heard him call your name did you take your eyes off the woman on the ground in front of you. Michael was backing away as he lowered his weapon, seeming to have settled his debt. You slowly removed your foot from the sword on the ground, giving the most menacing look you could manage, and ran after Michael’s retreating figure. When you caught up to him, you noticed that the sleeve of his open shirt had been torn and under it there was a gash in Michael’s bicep. After much persuasion, Michael agreed to follow you back to the brothel to get it cleaned up. If it became infected, it could cost him his life.

———

Bringing Michael in would have caught attention in any state, but as he held onto his arm and dripped rainwater everywhere, you gathered more stares than you would have liked. He leaned over the kitchen table, waiting for you to gather supplies. It wasn’t pretty but you doused the wound with alcohol and Michael seemed more upset at the loss of rum than the burning it caused. Once it was cleaned to your satisfaction, you ripped the hem of your clothing to tie it around his arm.

“Thanks.” His eyes were soft as they met yours. “I would ‘ave been a dead man without yer help.”

“Yer goddamn right! But what else are friends fer?”

You shared a laugh as Michael pushed himself back upright with his other arm, following you back to the front door and out into the night. The storm seemed to have run its course and left only a light drizzle in its wake as you made your way through the streets again, walking under cover of any roof you passed. You walked with your heads ducked between coverings as you laughed and recounted your astounding victory over Michael’s assailants, wondering what happened to the scar-faced man. 

Up ahead, you spot a familiar figure walking in your direction. Without warning, you shove Michael into a dark alley and shush him with wide eyes. Luckily for you, your unfortunate recurring caller had kept their gaze on the ground in an effort to keep the still-falling droplets off their face. They hadn’t seen you disappear but you hadn’t noticed how incredibly narrow this alley was. You shivered as you felt Michael’s warm breath fall across your rain-slicked face. Your feet stood between his and there was hardly enough room between your chests to take a full breath in. Michael’s eyes stayed trained on you, looking for any sign of an all clear. You watched intently, waiting for the caller to pass by. Once they made their way by the narrow opening where you hid without suspicion, you placed your hands on Michael’s sides to steady yourself and pushed your head toward the street. As the figure made a turn, you counted to three silently and stepped out into the street again with a dramatic exhale. Michael slowly followed you with a quizzical look on his face.

“Ya can wipe that look off yer face, ya smug bastard. I ain’t talkin’ ‘til ye explain the burly man and his goons chasin’ ya earlier.” Michael’s expression dropped with a humorous scoff, unwilling to share what had landed him in such trouble. Nights like tonight were exactly why he preferred to stay aboard the ship. He just couldn’t resist the chance to catch up with you. You also knew that tonight would cost you. Literally. You’d have to up the ante the rest of the week to make up for the night out but you felt that Michael was worth it.

——��

Conversation continued to flow easily, as if nothing between the two of you ever changed. You weaved through the streets, careful to avoid main thoroughfares for worry of any more excitement. Two close calls was enough for one night. It didn’t slip your notice that both of you took to yawning big, deep breaths much more frequently as the last few hours slipped by, a sign that the morning light was well on its way. You knew you’d be able to catch a few hours of sleep once Michael was back on the water, but you also hoped he’d be able sweet-talk someone into letting him curl up in his hammock for a little while. You didn’t give it too much worry though. You knew Michael never had trouble sweet-talking his way through anyone. He’d always been a charmer.

As you made your way through the last side street and onto the dock, you heard a loud rumble of footsteps and immediately braced your newly-found sword. Your other hand fell on Michael’s knife, still tucked into your belt, and quickly handed it over to him as he drew his own blade. A flash of surprise crossed his face as if he’d gone all night without realizing the knife was missing. The sounds of enraged men grew louder as they rounded the corner. Michael immediately recognized Calum at the front of the crowd, realizing quickly that Calum’s clever antics had landed him in trouble yet again. You followed Michael’s lead and dropped your weapon as he let out a full-bellied laugh. As Calum dashed past you down the dock, he yelled out a casual greeting and flashed a cheeky grin. “Michael!” One hand raised to meet his brow in a salute. “Michael’s friend!” Another salute.

You joined Michael in another fit of laughter. As he turned to watch Calum running down the dock to their safe haven, Michael saw their ship and realized the ropes were being pulled off the dock as the ramp to the ship was being dragged back over the railing. A few curses fell from his lips as he took off in a dead run after his friend, yelling something unintelligible over his shoulder that was surely meant for you. You thought it was something about not groping for trout in any peculiar rivers but had no idea what he could mean and dismissed it as Michael being Michael. Your sides began to hurt from laughter as he passed the angry mob to catch up with Calum. Both men leapt through the air at the same time as their ship pulled away from the dock. Calum’s hands grabbed hold of the railing while Michael employed his knife to keep hold of the ship. Calum pulled himself overboard with ease and turned to quickly bring Michael onboard with him. A few brave, but ill-fated, members of the mob risked a jump but landed in the water with a splash. They resurfaced with enough curses to make Blackbeard blush. Michael threw an obscene gesture at the disgruntled men before lifting his gaze to wave goodbye to you as they made off into the bright sunrise under a clear sky.

———

taglist: @easierlftv @haikucal @mashlums @youngblood199456 @calumbroutledge @atlcalm @another-lonely-heart @castaway-cashton @itsjen223 @bloodyoathcal @vapor5sos @myloverboyash​ @justhereforcalum​

[mar1garden]

going batty part 18

masterpost

hm. did i make this akuma just so i could make jokes about hunka hunka burning love? mayhaps. a lady doesnt make awful puns and tell, you know.

Marinette cried out as a stream of lava blasted towards her. She leaped out of the way, catching her yoyo on a nearby lamppost to swing high. She flipped and swung as Ch- the akuma blasted her again and again. Each time, his glow dimmed. Damian, still on the roof, was observing her tensely. He was watching the akuma for any hint of weakness, any way to defeat him. 

When there was a break between the lava blasts, Ladybug swung out with her yoyo, cutting through his middle. It was slow, like cutting through sludge. His body put itself back together in the wake of her incision, and she growled quietly to herself. She’d need to find some other way to slow him down, at least.

The akuma laughed. “Oh dear, it’s been a whole round of fighting and I’ve yet to introduce myself!” His eyes narrowed as he swiped at Ladybug. “How rude of me.” The akuma momentarily paused in his actions to draw himself up to his full height, a splash of lava rising behind him for dramatic effect. “I am Heatache. You don’t deserve it for what you’ve done, My Lady, but you will nonetheless have the honor of dying by my hand.” A grin cut its way across his face, glowing like a jackolantern. “Congratulations.”

“I think I’m gonna have to pass on that one, burning love.” With a scoff, she threw her yoyo and caught the end when it came back to her, forming a loop around his arm. With a hard pull and a sickly thump, she cut his arm off. As a swath of lava lit a bridge between the two severed ends, Ladybug retreated to the roof next to Damian.

“Okay. What do we have so far?” she asked him, keeping an eye on Heatache as he paced the street. He was no longer floating, she noted. He had left scorched footprints on the street. He did seem to be cooling down, his glow fading. As he did, he returned to floating and headed off towards the Eiffel Tower.

“As you just saw, he can only float when his lava is cooled. Otherwise, he’s subject to the laws of gravity. When the wind picked up a minute ago, it left a cool spot on his side and another on his leg. He protected those spots more when fighting you; I think if he’s cooled by outside sources he’s more fragile. Cutting off limbs seems more inconvenient than harmful, so I think that route isn’t our best option. His fighting style is clunky; he isn’t used to the weight, I’d bet, so just be quicker than him and you can take him down with your agility. There’s a line of lava rocks on his left hip which never glowed at all; I’d bet my arm that’s where the akuma is hiding.” Damian delivered this information with a mildly concerned coolness, which Marinette appreciated. 

“So our best course of action is to cool him down and use our superior agility to hit his hip? Sounds like this calls for a Lucky Charm!” As she spoke the command words, a burst of magic manifested above her. A red and black spotted cork fell into her hands. She blinked, bewildered. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

She looked around, but nothing popped up. She scowled. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever I need isn’t here. We’re going to see if he’s still at the Eiffel Tower. If not, we keep looking, yeah?” Damian nodded, following her lead as she swung towards the monument. 

It turns out, they needn’t have worried about Heatache having moved on. He was standing at the base of the tower, melting one of the legs. It had begun to tip, and he looked bigger than he had been before. As she looked around the scene, Ladybug’s vision stuck on a half-crushed barrel, an abandoned drink vendor’s cart, her cork, her yoyo, a skewer, and the Eiffel Tower. She grinned.

“You’re on distraction duty. Keep him busy even if he goes for me, yeah?” Damian nodded, dashing towards Heatache with his staff drawn. The akuma growled, flaring up instantly. 

“Really, My Lady? The wounds haven’t stopped bleeding and you’re already replacing me? That’s low, even for you.” Ladybug ignored his goading, setting up her trap. Heatache quickly lost focus on her in the midst of Damian’s flurry of blows. The boy switched between using his staff as if it were a bo staff and using its nunchuck form. At one point, he realized he could both extend it and snap it to create kali sticks. 

Turns out, even lava monsters are weak to being clocked on the head. Damian adapted to changing the forms of his staff with impressive speed, knocking Heatache off his feet a few times during the fight. Each time, he simply grew new ones instead of melding the old ones back on. There was no lack of banter, but Damain didn’t give in to the villain’s goading. He stood firm, refusing to rile up his opponent. If your enemy’s anger is their power source, why would you willingly make them angrier?

Eventually, Ladybug signaled to Damian from her place in the rafters of the tower. She pointed to a circle of rope on the ground and then Heatache. Damian nodded his understanding and began to coax the burning villain towards the circle. Ladybug hopped down and joined the fight as well. The moment his foot landed in the circle, the rope pulled taught and then fell loose, the cork at the end hitting him in the head just in time to make him look up.

A tidal wave of sugary, ice cold soft drinks cascaded down on him. Much of it evaporated in a cloud of sweet smelling steam, but it left a damp, darkened Heatache behind it. Ladybug leaped while he was still in shock, hitting the outcropping on his hip with her yoyo. A chunk snapped off and the akuma fluttered out.

When the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had been cast, reporters began swarming the scene. Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob, had just been akumatized. On top of that, there was a new black cat, and Adrien had seemingly been the old Chat Noir. What reporter worth their salt wouldn’t show up?

Setting Damian on ‘scaring away reporters’ duty, Ladybug walked up to Adrien. He was still sitting on the ground, anger, sadness, and confusion wrestling on his face. Ladybug scowled at him as she approached.

“I’m not going to comfort you. Your actions, as Chat Noir and during our confrontation, were wrong. You were in the wrong. You need to critically think about your actions and assess them for even one minute. But you didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of by Hawkmoth, and your actions during the fight were not your own. Neither I nor the city of Paris will blame you for your akumatized self’s actions. Use this as a learning opportunity.” With that, she left, joining Damian in front of the only remaining reporter. 

When she ended up next to him, she was only semi surprised to see him chatting with Alya. The disdain in his voice was mostly masked, which was nice of him. 

Alya turned and smiled at her when she walked up. “So, Ladybug, gonna give us the scoop on your new partner or what? He’s been tightlipped against all of my questions, so I was hoping you might have some answers for me.”

Ladybug grinned. “Well, I don’t even know his name. The battle took precedent.” Damian huffed out a laugh next to her.

“That one, I can answer. I’m Chevalier Nuit.” Ladybug’s earrings beeped. Damian laughed once more. “Right on time. Care to head out, Angel?” She giggled back at him and took his hand in answer. The two of them swung back to the bakery, matching grins across their faces.

taglist (closed): @bi-bi-papillon @fiendsangelical @copicmarkersniffers @kittycatwowmeow @fristi37 @mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law@myblacknightworld @magica-est-in-aerem @sassy-spocko @noirdots @captainmac6 @meep-by-boredom @shaismall @ladybug-182 @rikku052 @wisegirlrose @corabeth11 @dramatic-squirrel @mlbchaosqueen @kristycocopop @zalladane @fertileleaf @echpr @pr-y-sha @bigpicklebananatree @simplysslytherin @nixadmos @mandy984 @bluerosette23 @jardimazul @ladylucina28 @elmokingkong @emjrabbitwolf @lozzybowe @erick-rose99-stuff @finallyaniguana @renscorpio @littleacecutie

[ill-skillsgard]

Ugh this Mickey sex worker drabble is sooo good. You can't leave us like this 💦💦

Previous imagines here - [x]

Warning: 18+ BDSM themes, mentions of sex work, bondage, toy-play, teasing and overall mature themes. 

Blindfolded, Mickey counted twenty steps until the balmy night air cooled at his back. The soles of his worn ankle boots crunched gravel, then mounted stone steps, crossed pavement, stepped over a threshold of unknown size, and stopped on a plush runner. The new atmosphere keened with scents of teak and sweet pea, dividing the outside — with all its cricket choruses and damp breezes sighing for the coming heat-storm — from the inside of her home. He knew the area of town but hadn’t wasted a venture through the streets in years. These places were littered with miraculously large homes—the likes of which Mickey never dreamed of visiting. Nothing about this end of town was for him or his kind.

He cycled through her rules in his head as she led him by the elbow down a wide corridor. The clicking of her high heels threw off the walls, and for a moment, sounded as though half a dozen well-dressed women marched alongside him through a tunnel. They turned right, and she cautioned him up the stairs—fourteen steps, a landing, another right turn, then six more to the second floor.

The thought occurred to him several times that she very well could lead him to a violent death, and the wealthy end of town would be the last place anyone might think to look for his body. You never knew with the rich types. All that money and power had twisted ways of moulding people into elusive beasts; their predatory appetites wet for suffering. For all he knew, he could have been hand-selected as some billionaire’s newest flesh-pinata and was none the wiser.

Mickey cursed himself for watching too many horror movies.

“You remember everything I told you?” Her voice tickled his right ear.

With his vision cut, the din carried dizzying potency. Mickey lost his equilibrium and shot his hand out, nearly keeling over. He snickered at himself. How silly he must look wearing a leather blindfold, tripping on thin air, and having to adhere to his mistress like a toddling child.

“My memory isn’t so good, ma’am. I wouldn’t mind a refresher course, so I can better serve you.”

Sometimes he impressed himself with how quickly he snapped into submission. For such a well-paying gig, he figured she and her husband deserved his unadulterated efforts. It was only an acting job. The aroma of money and the promise of mind-blowing sex sweetened the deal. Mickey had no problem fully committing to pleasure the woman leading him deeper into the house.

“No back-talk. I want you to be the most well-behaved boy anyone could ask. Do not toe the line tonight. I need you obedient, respectful and very enthusiastic. Tonight, I am the ultimate authority.”

“Yes, my goddess.”

She smiled. At first, she had been unsure of Mickey’s candidacy, but the farther she led him, the more his attitude subdued. She expected smart comments, platitudes and that downtown grit to make her regret her choice, but Mickey had buttoned his mouth, save for answering her questions, and was off to a good start. Mickey’s engagement pleased her, as she had fantasized of this moment for many nights, and he played his part well.

“Soon, we will enter a room where you must strip down. I’ll then escort you to the playroom. There’s a bed you will lie down on, and then we’ll get started.”

“Will my mistress be the one stripping me tonight?” Mickey asked, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“I will be the one to dress and undress you when you’re in this house. And no more questions.”

“I’m sorry, goddess.”

“You’re still happy with the agreement? You remember your word and the number you gave me?” She asked.

“Margarita. Eight.”

“Do you wish to change anything before we begin?”

“No, my goddess,” Mickey’s voice barely breached a whisper.

“Good. Here we are. Watch your step.”

She led the tall man through a set of double doors, into a boudoir that boasted a French rococo vanity mirror and matching armoire, a changing screen, a dusty lilac chaise lounge in the corner and various full-length mirrors for appreciating one’s opulence. Mickey saw none of these things but suspected he was in the company of many possessions exclusive to the super-rich. Something about the proud silence of the room murmured of immaculate furniture, gold and satin.

They worked together to rid Mickey of his clothing. First, he kicked off his boots and socks, then waited for her to undo his belt buckle. He stepped out of his pants and let her work his shirt up over his head without skewing the blackout mask shielding his eyes. Even if he wanted to look around, circles of fine leather prevented this. Tilting his chin did nothing to reveal even a sliver of his surroundings, but he decided, back in her car as they pulled up to the estate, that he didn’t want to spoil the fun by peeking. All the mystery had his skin prickling, the fine hairs standing on the back of his neck. And they paid him for these thrills. Looking would only cheapen the experience, so he maintained a ninety-degree angle between his chin and throat.

A furious rush of nerves came over him while he stood naked, the blindfold his only cover, and waited for his mistress to change into her evening attire. She noticed his gooseflesh when she came to collect him and ran her fingertips up and down his right arm.

“It will be fun, trust me.”

“I trust you,” said Mickey.

He followed her by the hand from the boudoir into the next room. His soles sank into the plush fibres of a rug as the heady scent of oiled leather aroused his palate.

Guided by his goddess, Mickey climbed onto a vast bed draped with silky sheets and laid on his back, spreading his limbs to each corner. She fastened his wrists and ankles with tough leather cuffs — no beginner ropes or slippery sashes out of which he could worm. Constructed of a thick material like the leather eye mask, the bindings had one aim: to hold him in place, whether he liked it or not.

“He’s on his back, naked, hands and feet tied down, eyes covered,” said his mistress.

Unsure if she spoke to him, he maintained silence.

“Tall... Very tall. Brown hair, green eyes. Several small tattoos on his arms and fingers. One red rose tattooed on his groin. Uncircumcised. Large feet and hands. Long, long limbs. Full lips. Small pink nipples. Underarms are unshaven.”

Mickey listened to her description of his body, a lustful inflection in her voice whenever she exalted his stature. It became clear at that moment she had chosen him for a reason. His mistress had an affinity for height. It caused him to smirk, imagining what she might say once he became hard.

“Hello, pet. You may greet me,” her voice floated on sweetened air.

“Hello, goddess.”

“Tonight, we begin with a riding crop. Cherry wood handle. Black tip, of course. Italian leather.”

The cool material first met his right thigh, dragging down his leg to the tip of his big toe. Then the leather foot of her instrument graced his other leg. Mickey quivered.

“The pet shivers from having his thighs stroked. His cock bounces as his blood churns. He’s eager.”

Confused by her narration, Mickey tried to relax and let the tension from his muscles until he remembered what she had told him of her husband. Another presence was in the room. She was describing the scene for this third party.

Mickey held his breath as the leather tip of her riding crop coasted up and down his legs and arms. Only when it met his pubic bone did his body twinge in surprise. But the material lifted, and he was alone. Now he prickled and waited for the next stroke of her leather, his anticipation thickening with every second that passed.

It continued for what felt like hours to Mickey. Whenever she neared his cock, she jumped to another point of his body — his feet, the column of his throat, the deep ridge of his collarbone. Anywhere but his groin.

“Do you grow impatient, pet?” She asked.

“No, mistress.”

“Your hardness tells me otherwise. Hm?”

“My patience knows no limit, goddess.”

Mickey thought he heard a slight chuckle under her breath or a chafe of movement from somewhere else in the room. In the infinite blackness, it was impossible to know. He hoped the sound came from her lips and that his obedience pleased her.

“The pet has become fully erect from ulterior touch alone.”

He hoped that whoever watched from afar appreciated his size. Mickey had been praised for his endowment plenty of times before, but the approval of his mistress and her superior held more weight than the clients whose compliments came standard and frequent.

“Enormous cock on this one,” she stated. “Symmetrical... Supple tip. Teardrop-shaped slit. The left testicle hangs lower than the right, but they’re tight and shorn. The pet has trimmed pubic hair leading up to a trail below his navel.”

Mickey bit his lip. She pressed the leather tag against one testicle, and then the other, hefting them both with the crop. The veins in his shaft swelled.

“Does the pet enjoy my leather?”

“Yes, goddess.”

She batted the underside of his shaft gently with the flat tip, causing him to jostle and open his mouth.

“How about now?”

“Yes, goddess,” whispered Mickey.

“Pardon me?”

He cleared his throat and repeated himself. It pleased her, but it didn’t stop her from fluttering the loop against his frenulum until it came away with a clear web of liquid, temporarily connecting the bat to his manhood. She smacked him a few times around his groin, measuring her force not to cause anything worse than a warm sting. Mickey was grateful and sighed when she lifted the crop away.

“I’ve grown bored with the crop. The pet’s prick is leaking and swollen red. I’ll now ring him and use the stroker—”

Her voice cut off, the abrupt silence punctuating a change of plan. She abandoned Mickey on the bed. He listened to the footsteps and strained his ears to take in any voice from someone other than his mistress. The curiosity was inescapable. Mickey wanted to know who else was watching him have his cock tortured. Before he grew too inquisitive, she returned to the side of the bed and leaned in close.

“Next comes a cock ring. Metal. Titanium, to be exact. Around the shaft and balls.”

This was no amateur set up, Mickey decided then. Perhaps another night, in an area of town not well-known for its poshness, he’d have plenty to say. Even now, Mickey reeled comments in from bouncing off his tongue. If he wanted to get paid and invited back, he had to keep quiet. And he wanted her to ask him back, so he chewed his bottom lip while she affixed the hilt of his cock with a cold metal ring.

The circle was heavy, tight, and held all the blood inside him until his length betrayed his pulse. A gust of air over his groin then made him blush. Would she touch him? Or would she beat him with a fresh instrument? He recalled her saying something about a stroker, but the buzz of something else caught his attention—a vibrator.

A jarring bolt of electricity shot through his pelvis when she held the tip against his balls.

“Oh!” Mickey cried out.

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“No, mistress. No.”

She nudged the metal supporting his manhood with the vibrator, a rumbling echo engulfing him, tickling every nerve.

“Oh, ma’am. That...” He trailed off in fear of punishment for speaking out of turn.

“I’m teasing his cock with a vibrator. He can hardly keep still.”

It was true, Mickey tugged at his restraints, not for want of escape, but for the need to curl into himself, away from the excruciating tingle fizzling through his limbs. He regretted boasting about his stamina, fearing his new master might take it to heart and torment him for the entire night.

The woman controlling his pleasure was not merciless, but she was thorough. She put on a stunning show and brought him to climax using a well-lubricated silicone sleeve to jerk his shaft until he shot his first and most potent load of the night. The contractions wrang him of several impressive bouts of cum, more than he was used to producing. He blamed the hours of teasing.

Never had he experienced such a mixture of conflicting sensations. He had wanted his mistress’ cunt badly, and for her to allow him inside as he was used to doing, but the toys gave him new gratitude for unconventional methods of stimulation. And she had wielded them so professionally. He tasted her appreciation for her armaments in the air between them. It made her subtle groping that much more delicious.

As she had promised, she released Mickey from his bonds and escorted him from the room. They veered down a hallway, the air so fresh compared to the playroom it chilled his bare skin. His feet slapped against polished marble while her heels clicked next to him. A door opened, and she ushered him through, closing it and locking the handle behind them. There was carpet under his feet again, and a bright, feminine aroma about his head.

Finally, she took off the blindfold. The light scorched Mickey’s pinhole pupils, and he rubbed his eyes until they adjusted to sight. There was no time to take in his surroundings before she grabbed his cock and kissed him. Mickey kissed her back only until her grip reminded him of the shuddering orgasm she’d just stolen. He winced, and she stepped back.

“I thought you said you could go again,” she said.

“Yeah, I can. I can. It’s just... That was intense. Can’t I take five?”

She shook her head, and all the excitement snuffed from her eyes in a blink. “There isn’t enough time. I told you twenty minutes is all I have, and we’ve already wasted a quarter of that already.”

“Hang on, now. Why don’t I eat you out? Or I can finger you, or both. Whatever you like. Work you up a bit while my nuts get a refill.”

“Just kiss me. Shut your mouth and kiss me now, Mickey.”

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part One

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

Looking back on the past couple of days’ events, April should have realized that kidnapping an endangered creature was a bad idea.

Well, scratch that.

Maybe attempting to break into a high security laboratory was where she went wrong. Or –

“This is totally wicked!” Casey Jones hollered from the driver’s seat as they took another sharp turn, tires spinning and spitting gravel up into the windshield wipers that were already working overtime. The creature in the backseat squawked and flailed as he skidded across the torn upholstery, desperately trying to sink his claws into something to keep from being thrown about like a rag doll.

“Slow down – and calm down!” The red-head snapped first towards the driver, and then over her shoulder at their passenger as she rapidly typed away on her laptop. A large jolt suddenly rocked the Jeep to one side and then the other, and April threw her arms out as a scream escaped her mouth. “CASEY! BRIDGE!”

Okay. So there were a lot of things that went wrong.

***

“Here we are!” A voice called loudly, causing April to jerk her head up and nearly lose an earbud in the process. “Now I know you’ve told me before, but remind me – what class is this project for? I don’t recall having to do anything like this until I’d reached graduate school.”

April smiled as she rose from her seat and shouldered an air tank onto her back. She carefully pulled the earbuds from her ears and tucked them into the bag of dry clothes she’d brought, then paused to looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast that afternoon, leaving glare so minimal that even as the boat chugged to a stop beneath them, she was almost certain she could spy movement in the water below. “It’s for a dual-credit course. My science instructor knows that Dad is stationed here and that I study under him, so he said that I could use some of my research work as a science credit.”

“My word,” The fourty-something Japanese man at the stern shook his head in amusement as he pulled a lever to lower the anchor. The ship responded with a groan, lurching slightly at the movement, and the air was soon filled with a steady clack-clack-clack as chains were steadily released into the depths. “I swear, April – you work more than most kids your age. It’s a wonder you even have time to consider college courses. And you’re only – what – sixteen?”

“Seventeen as of last month,” April shrugged lightly and fought back an amused eyeroll as she continued to adjust her gear and flippers. Once she was certain they were secure, the girl reached for her camera and looped the strap over her wrist. She’d known Miles for a few months at this point and was pretty sure that they’d had this exact conversation every time they spoke. Her dad joked that his memory retention was about as long as that of the goldfishthat he studied. “Thankfully most of the college stuff is online, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with all of the paperwork from moving between schools. So it’s not too bad.”  

“Ah. Well then, I won’t keep you from your schoolwork any longer.” Miles tapped his wrist and jerked his chin towards the cloudy sky before moving towards the stairs that led below deck. Typically the rule was to never dive alone, but… “Remember, one hour tops, and then I have to check the boat back in for the evening – no exceptions.”  

“I know, I know – see you in a bit!” Positioning herself on the side of the boat, April fitted the mouthpiece from her tank into place, flashed an okay sign, and then pushed herself backwards into the rolling waves.

***

No matter how many times she dove, April could never not be amazed by the sheer beauty of the sea.She often wondered if she’d feel the same had her dad chosen a different line of work, but she ultimately pushed those thoughts aside and chose to simply be grateful that she’d always had the opportunity to live near open water. It was, after all, one of the only consistent things in her life.

She couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times that she had moved in her short life. Once or twice a year, her dad was reassigned to a new zoo or university and that meant uprooting everything and moving to the next body of water. Everywhere from Florida to Quebec to now Osaka – a large port city in Japan – had served as a temporary place of residence to April, her father, and the rest of the research team.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” Kirby O’Neil had smiled at April over his mug of hot chocolate – a relocation announcement tradition in the O’Neil household. April remembered scowling into her own mug in response. “I spoke to the Board, and they’re willing to keep us in Osaka at least until you’ve graduated from high school. That way you can finish out your diploma in one place!”.

Five months later and the Board – a maniacal creature seemingly dedicated to repositioning its prisoners at random – had remained true to its word. April had quickly settled into the Japanese immersion class at her high school and was actually doing quite well in the school environment – enough so that the headmaster had paired her with another immersion student to help tutor him in math.

Casey Jones was an up-and-coming hockey player, the oldest child of the English Foreign Language teacher, and a big pain in the butt. Even though he was scheduled to graduate later that year, Casey seemed bound and determined to fail all of his classes – meaning that he and April spent more than the intended amount of time studying and hanging out together.

“It’s just you and me against Japan, Red,” Casey often joked as he would flash her a gap-toothed grin. “Us immigrants gotta stick together.”

If not for his cocky attitude and constant flirting, April might have thought that he was cute.

Might.

April gave a few kicks as she allowed thoughts of school to drift away and happily rolled in the cool water. Several silver fish darted out of her way as she sank lazily past, raising her camera in time to capture a couple of photos. Her blue eyes widened in awe as a class of clownfish and several jellyfish followed, and she rapidly snapped several pictures before they could float out of range. The water grew rapidly colder and darker with every few feet, aided by the clouds that were constantly drifting in front of the sun. Minutes slowly ticked away as her distance from the bobbing boat lengthened until it was no more than a misshapen shadow on the surface of the water above.

Thick, twisted chunks of orange and pink coral and a forest of seaweed eventually began to rise up around her, and she paused in the shadow of a particularly large structure to glance at the time on her camera screen – only twenty minutes left before she had to head for the surface. Yikes – that didn’t leave very long to get more decent shots.

She furrowed her brow in thought – maybe she could convince Miles or another research assistant to bring her out again tomorrow -?

Suddenly, a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed April’s attention and sent her reeling backwards against the coral. Hundreds of tiny fish blew past her in a frantic, unorganized mass, the undertow tearing at the surrounding seaweed and adding to the chaos and confusion. Before she could right herself, a much larger form shot after the fish, closely followed by another of similar size. The masses cut through the water without a glance in her direction, clearly intent on their prey and unaware that they had been seen.

April gasped as she righted herself and stared at the large, rapidly moving shapes that were quickly disappearing into the distance – what the heck had she just seen? For a moment she wanted to brush it off as simply two seals hunting dinner, but something made her hesitate. Something was off.

Heart pounding, she slowly peeled herself off of the coral wall and ducked into the thick seaweed. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be spotted, April raised her camera and aimed it at the creatures. By now they were far enough away that the camera wouldn’t focus, but this confirmed what she’d thought she’d seen. Those were not the usual side to side movements that most fish travelled by, or even an up and down motion like dolphins or seals would use – these things had arms and legs that they were kicking like human beings.

Still not acknowledging April’s presence, the two creatures suddenly split up and each silently moved to one side of the school of fish. They then began to duck and weave, almost dancing with each other as they continued to direct the fish into a tighter and more condensed mass.

The numbers on April’s camera screen blinked a warning, reminding her that she only had a few more minutes before she needed to head to the surface, but she shoved the thought aside. She had to get closer.

With one hand firmly clutching her camera, April pushed off of the coral and began to propel herself through the clinging seaweed. The creatures had already put several dozen yards between herself and them, but appeared to be slowing as they closed in on their prey.

Moving through the dense seaweed was more difficult than her targets had made it look, however. The girl grimaced as her limbs repeatedly got tangled in thick pieces of the plant, slowing her motion until she tore them loose. She was almost to the edge of the seaweed when the bigger of the two let out a sharp clicking noise, causing April to freeze in place.

Before she could determine what was happening, a net appeared between the two beings and they cast it across the fish. The smaller creature then reached for a long strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around his forearm and tied the bag shut, thoroughly trapping their dinner. He squealed and clicked in pride, sounding like a dolphin that had just performed a trick and was now expecting a treat. The larger creature chirped in response and reached out to pat the smaller one on the head.

April kicked forward, mind reeling as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing, when a thick piece of seaweed tangled itself around her thigh and brought her chase to a stop. The sudden change in momentum caught her off guard, and April flailed her arms around in surprise – only for her camera to slip from her grasp. The small device, now free of anything weighing it down, rocketed towards the surface as the girl let out an exasperated string of curses that were only just masked by her mouthpiece.

Eyes straining to not lose the creatures amidst the bubbles that had stirred up around her, April violently jerked her leg to snap the seaweed. When the clinging inhibitor only seemed to tighten in response, she let out a huff of frustration and reached down to quickly untangle her leg. What met her fingertips, however, was not part of the slimy plants that surrounded her.

The girl let out a muffled stream of bubbles as she twisted around and gasped sharply. The dark tentacle around her leg tightened in response, and several more shot out from the shifting forest to pull at her arms and hair. April instinctively reached for the emergency knife on her belt, but the massive squid let out a fierce grumble as its tentacles tightened around her arms and pinned them to her sides. April’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled fruitlessly and let out a garbled yell of panic.

Had she been diving with a team, the others would have stepped in at this moment to help her get away. But now here she was, alone and trapped with her only hope nearly twenty minutes away from even beginning to question where she was.

Am I going to die down here?

Just as another tentacle snaked forward to tug at her airline, the water around her erupted into bubbles and April felt herself being violently thrown back and forth. The tentacles remained firmly wrapped around her body, but she felt their grip slacken ever so slightly as two blurs rammed into the squid’s head with claws outstretched. Blood filled the water as the squid flailed beneath its attackers, scaly skin tearing underneath their claws.

April screamed again as one of the creatures suddenly turned on her, eyes wide and ghostly white, and then began to violently attack the limbs holding her tight.

Even as she was being tossed back and forth, April could tell that the creature fighting for her freedom was like nothing she had ever seen in her research. Shape-wise, the creature appeared to be a mix between a human and a turtle, roughly several inches shorter than she was. The terrapin was a pale olive color, covered from head to toe with splotches of purple scales. Thick claws protruded from large, rounded limbs and with each swipe it was clear that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh without much effort. A ramshackle string of lavender stones hung from one of the terrapin’s upper arms, somehow not getting cut or knocked off during the fight, and a quick glance told April that the other creature bore similar decorations on its own body.

When the thrashing tentacles finally began to loosen, the turtle nearest to her grabbed April beneath the armpits and quickly jerked her out of their confinement while the other continued to distract the squid. The turtle’s claws dug into her sides painfully as it held her to its plastron and began to swim awayupwards, causing April to cry out and kick her legs in panic. A series of sharp clicks echoed in April’s ears as she fought, and then several things happened all at once.

The water erupted with even more noise and movement – though April hardly believed it possible – and then the arms around her slackened and fell away, almost immediately to be replaced by several pairs of hands that she could recognize as being human. The next few minutes happened as a blur – she vaguely remembered several decompression stops as they ascended, each accompanied by hands gently patting her body and checking for injury – but before she knew it, they were breaking the surface of the water. There her world continued to move in a confusing blur of shapes and colors as more hands hooked under her arms and heaved her on deck, where her diving equipment was quickly stripped away and replaced with warm towels and gentle touches.

April blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. “What – ”

“We’ve got you, Little One,” A female biologist that April recognized from her father’s crew came into view amongst the blur of movement and blankets being piled on her shoulders, her face creased in maternal concern. “Delta Team was out patrolling and pulled up right alongside Miles just as your camera surfaced – we were afraid something terrible had happened to you! And – oh, you’re bleeding!”

“I –”

Miles’ voice suddenly broke through the chaos. “Give us a hand – we’ve got something big!”

Rina’s head jerked around to look at something out of April’s line of sight, and then she wrapped her arms around the girl and turned her away from the ruckus occurring on the other boat. The woman muttered something softly in Japanese, her eyes widening as she pulled April tighter against her body. “Oh my word…”

“What’s going on?” April turned against the arms holding her right as a full net thudded onto the deck she’d been on less than an hour ago. The large mass inside of it was curled inward and bleeding slightly, but one limp arm was clearly visible, bearing a bracelet of string and lavender stones.

Next Chapter

[twilighteve-writes]

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 12: The Confrontation

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed,

Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

(Chapter 1)

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Wind and water swirling into a hurricane.

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She wasn’t sure how long they’d spent walking on the road. With everything looking exactly the same, unchanging and stagnant, it was hard to tell.

But there was movement, at least, and little by little the fog lifted. The drab cobblestone road didn’t change much, but she could see… something in the distance. After more walking, the fog cleared enough for her to see, and she squinted her eyes.

“Is that a… gate?” she asked.

“And overly ornate fence,” Uncle Scrooge agreed. “This is shaping up to be a pain.”

“It’s really not that bad, it’s just a gate and a fence,” Xandra said. They got to the gate, and she stared at what was beyond it. “Okay, those plants look about dead, but that’s not a guarantee this will be that bad.”

“You’re not helping our case,” Donald said with a sigh. He went to the gate and reached out to open it. The moment his fingers brushed against the metal, it swung open with a loud creak, and lurched.

Della stepped forward to him, but José and Panchito both caught him before he fell. He looked at them and blinked a few times. “I – I don’t know why that happened.”

The sound of something shaking drew their attention, and they looked into the gate. The seemingly dead plants were gone, replaced by lush, lively foliage. The whole place looked like a well-tended garden, richly green and drunk with flowers and leaves. Della frowned and stepped forward, tentatively entering the garden and letting her fingers brush against a bush. It felt real enough.

The rest of the group followed. Donald trailed at the back, and when he stepped inside, the gate swung shut with a loud, final slam. They stared at it as Donald rattled the gate, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Only one way to go,” Goldie said.

“And not a long way to go,” Magica said. “That’s a well if I’ve ever seen one.”

Della turned to look at what Magica pointed at and was hard-pressed to agree. The wall that made the well was large and circular, thick, made from old stones that had long since overgrown with moss. The roof over it was conical, made from slabs of mossy wood, the pulley system was rusty, and the rope looked so worn that Della was sure that if she touched it, the rope would crumble to dust.

Dewey inched forward, clearly curious, but Donald pulled him back. For once, Della agreed; the garden and the well had made her feel nervous, with how closely linked it seemed to Donald and his moves.

Magica had no such qualms. She strode with an easy confidence and peered down into the well, and then tensed.

“What?” Uncle Scrooge demanded.

Magica straightened and stepped back from the well. “Nothing. I was surprised; the water is golden.” She scooted back from it. “Now the issue is what to wish for and how to wish it. Wishing wells require a price.”

“Do we have to wish for something before we leave?” José asked, looking around uncomfortably.

“Well, how else do we leave?” Magica challenged.

“I suppose we can make a wish,” Goldie mused, “but then it comes to the question of the price – “

She heard it before it came. It sounded like a whoosh, of something cutting through the air, and then a sickly purple whip came and looped around their waists and pulled them back.

They were thrown back without care. Della managed to find her footing and landed on her feet instead of her face, as did Uncle Scrooge, Goldie, and Xandra, but Magica fell flat out on her butt, while Donald, José, and Panchito fell awkwardly trying to catch Lena, Huey, and Dewey.

The beat of wings and the feeling of being swallowed by poisoned nebula clued Della in on who had attacked them. She looked up, and sure enough, Felldrake was there atop Leopold’s back. Della felt herself stiffen when she saw her missing son, his hoodie looking worn, his whole body shimmering softly golden. It reminded her of the glow that surrounded Donald after he took the seeds, but it felt even more wrong.

“Louie!” she yelled, hoping to get some sort of reaction. Her stomach lurched when she realized he wasn’t reacting at all.

“Give him back!” Huey screamed, bordering on a snarl.

Felldrake didn’t even bother responding. He peered at the roof of the well, and he glowed faintly purple, the toxic galaxy spreading around him. The liquid in the well responded, glowing golden.

Magica’s eyes widened and she turned to Lena. “Lena! Lend me the amulet!”

Lena’s eyes widened. “No!”

“I’m not going to do anything dangerous to you, but I know how to use the well and I need magic to do it,” Magica said, almost pleading. “Neither of us want Felldrake to get his original body back.”

Lena stared at her for a moment, stricken, and made her decision in the split second that followed. She ripped the amulet out of her neck and tossed it to Magica, who caught it with a look of surprise in her eyes. “Don’t make me regret it,” Lena said, but it sounded more like a plea than a threat.

Magica nodded and ran to the well. Della gritted her teeth, decided to trust her, and turned her attention to Felldrake and Louie. She called the winds to her aid and let it surround her until her hair whipped about as she floated, briefly surprised that it was so easy to gather her magic to support her, and she knew that it would take barely any effort at all to summon a tornado if she chose to.

She was yanked back, and the pull would have sent her crashing if she wasn’t caught in strong arms. She groaned and looked up, not surprised to see Xandra had pulled her back to the ground.

“Let me get up there so I can beat Felldrake up for taking my kid,” she growled.

“I can’t let you use your magic like that,” Xandra said. “Magica will be fine because she channels her magic through an amulet. The Caballeros have their own amulets to protect them. If you use that much magic here it’s going to be hell once we get out of here.”

“Then I can limit my use; simple.”

“It’s not that simple! You’ll still be drained, and that’s the best case scenario!”

“That’s a problem for future Della.” She wiggled out of Xandra’s hold and shot up to the sky before the goddess could yank her back.

She glanced down. Felldrake had released a ton of tiny straw dolls to occupy the others and keep them away from the well, and she managed to get to the air before the wave came out. Uncle Scrooge and Goldie fought back-to-back, whacking away the dolls, while Donald, José, Panchito, and Xandra formed a circle around Huey, Dewey, and Lena, while Magica had formed a magical barrier around her, shadows flitting about her.

Which left her as the only one who was available to fight Felldrake, ill-equipped as she was. She had heard Xandra and the Caballeros yammering on about being the only ones able to beat Felldrake; it was well-instilled at this point.

It didn’t matter. She would get Louie back or she would die trying.

Ignoring Xandra’s warning, she called her magic forth and flitted behind Leopold, who hadn’t noticed her closing in. Putting herself in his blind spot would help her. It helped that it was also Felldrake’s blind spot.

From her place, she could see that Felldrake was holding Louie’s hand, who was unresponsive in his place. Louie’s faint golden light was devoid of its usual emerald green glitters, and the same light shone softly in Felldrake’s eyes. He had his hand outstretched to the well, tendrils of gold and sickly purple emanating from it. She glanced down at Magica and saw that she was peering at the well, similar tendrils of dark purple emanating from her with hints of Donald’s aquamarine-gold that surrounded him just before they entered the pocket dimension.

Mind made up, she took in a deep breath, let her magic wreathe her from head to toe, and rushed forward like the sudden gust of hot wind to Felldrake. The tendrils dissipated in an instant as he threw his hand out and sent jagged crystals her way, but she maneuvered around them to avoid being hit. It was easy to let her magic run wild, so she did; she sent a gust of wind to knock Felldrake off Leopold, but he held on safely.

“Della!” she heard Donald yell, and his magic touched hers, sending alarm and concern and a general feeling of what the actual fuck are you doing.

She ignored it because she had to focus on avoiding another wave of jagged crystals to her. Once the onslaught was done, she sent a quick wave of shaky reassurance and refocused her attention to Felldrake. “Give me my kid back,” she demanded.

Felldrake scoffed. “He’ll find his way back once I’m done with him. Get lost.”

“And let you get what you want at his expense? Not a chance.” Della zoomed in close, let her magic dissipate from her limbs, and dropped to send a kick at Felldrake, aiming with her metal leg for an extra helping of pain.

Leopold threw a wrench in her plans, dodging and swiping at her. The blow caught her in the arm and she careened aside, catching herself midair, momentum broken. Felldrake glared at her as if daring her to disturb him again.

Who was she to deny it?

White plumes bloomed around her as she gathered as much magic as she could to her limbs and shot ahead, shooting gusts of wind to disturb Leopold’s flight and drop Felldrake to the ground. If Louie fell, she knew she was fast enough to catch him safely, especially since she could harness as much magic as she needed.

Apparently, it pissed Felldrake off enough. The dying stars burst out and formed a dome around him and his ride, and he clenched his teeth. “Stop getting in my way.””

“What about you stop getting in our way?” Della sniped. “How did you get here in the first place, anyway? There was only one road and we didn’t see you.”

“There’s more than one road and there’s more than one gate,” Felldrake scoffed, “since there is more than one key.” He dug his fingers into Louie’s scruff, and Della saw red. She gritted her teeth and let her magic build to call on a storm, and Felldrake lifted a hand in response, his magic gathering in his fingers, but he stopped, suddenly.

Della stopped in her tracks, too. Something was happening down below.

The water in the well bubbled, the gold liquid shining over Magica and dissipated the barrier she had made. The magic in it pulsed, once, twice, then blasted out, gold light shining brightly.

Felldrake snarled out an angry no. Below, Donald gasped, losing his footing and dropping like a sack of potatoes, José and Panchito scrambling to catch him only to stumble last minute. Overhead, Della gasped, feeling something in her drain as Donald’s magic touched hers in a desperate grab and dragged, trying to siphon away her magic as his own was drained away faster than he could supply it. Below, Lena let out a short but sharp shriek and dropped to her knees, shining bright aqua light that disappeared as soon as it appeared.

Around Magica, amongst the spilling golden light, shadows woke and swirled. Soon, it expanded and overtook the well’s light, and swallowed them all in darkness, and for the longest second everything hung frozen, and then Della felt the sensation of something shattering around her as her magic abruptly left her and she plummeted below, staring up uncomprehendingly up at the thinning shadows and the shine of the full moon and the morning star above her. Overhead, Magica flew atop a sphere of solid shadows, her wand in her hand, green in her feathers, and the unmistakable feel of strong, pure shadow magic oozing off of her. She glanced at them for a moment, and the shadows swallowed her, and she disappeared in a wave of reawakened magic and aloof, almost indifferent, smile.

“Thank you, Donald Duck,” she said just before she blinked away in the dark.

She crashed into the sea with a big splash, somehow managing to hold her breath so she didn’t inhale a lungful of seawater. To her panic, she found herself unable to move her limbs, her magic so drained she felt a physical backlash over it. She closed her eyes and opened her beak to scream – in its place, a big bubble of precious air escaped.

Someone caught her by the armpits and brought her to the surface. She coughed and sputtered, wheezing as she tried to breathe air into her lungs. When the hacking subsided, she turned around to see who had her. She blinked. “Uncle Scrooge?”

He stared at her with grim eyes. “Let’s swim closer to the others,” he said, partly dragging her through the water. She blinked and looked around and felt something in her freeze.

José and Panchito both looked tired, but they kept themselves alert somehow, with an unresponsive Donald afloat between them. Xandra swam around them like a protective shark, looking ready to drag them out of the water as soon as she was able. To Della’s surprise, all three Caballero gripped their weapons, still, seemingly undisturbed by the difficulty that came with trying to swim with their blades. By them, Goldie kept Lena afloat as she girl stared at her hands in what looked like a mix between fear and wonder, dying sparks of white-blue light clinging to her fingers.. And then there were Huey and Dewey, looking around with a searching look in their eyes.

“Donald,” Della whispered, hurrying to him. Her limbs locked in her exhaustion and she lurched, inhaling seawater up her nose, and Uncle Scrooge had to drag her up coughing and hacking again.

The sound of a boat fast approaching took her attention, and she turned. She saw a familiar trawler coming closer, and she blinked, staring at it. Webby waved frantically at them, Violet by her side. Fenton was behind them, holding them by the waists since they looked ready to jump into the water themselves. He saw the group, said something to the girls, and ran inside, only to come out with a life preserver and ropes. He tossed it out, and Xandra caught it, immediately gathering the Caballeros into her arms and climbing up into the boat. Uncle Scrooge had Della climb up, still coughing, and then Huey and Dewey behind her, then Lena. Goldie and himself followed after.

“What happened? Where’s Magica? Where’s Louie?” Webby asked. “We saw what happened when you guys were away, there’s this weird floating orb we could look into, we saw you guys in there. Louie’s not here with you guys?”

“No,” Goldie said. She pointed up. “He’s up there.”

Della looked up, following Goldie’s finger. Sure enough Leopold was there hovering, Felldrake on his back, Louie with him.

Donald’s magic stirred. “Louie,” he croaked.

Felldrake glared at them, hateful eyes seemingly shining in the dim moonlight. He glanced at Louie disdainfully. “Useless little trash. I couldn’t even use you for the well.”

“That’s not even Louie’s fault,” Della said, incredulous. From what she gathered, she had concluded that the well had used at least a part of magic from the person who brought them into the pocket dimension for the wish – so Magica thanking Donald was probably because his magic had paid the price for hers to revive, if she had guessed correctly. Did she want Louie to experience backlash the way Donald was experiencing? Definitely not. Did she find Felldrake’s vitriol over Louie not being able to grant his wish ridiculous anyway? Absolutely; the guy lost his chance because Magica was faster in getting what she wanted, Louie had nothing to do with that.

Felldrake clearly didn’t feel the same way. With a scoff, he pushed Louie off Leopold.

Della screamed and lurched forward, but her limbs were too weak for her to move. Uncle Scrooge beat her to the punch, rushing forward and jumping to the sea, and to her surprise, Goldie followed right after.

Donald shone, sea blue and white seafoam, and the ocean jumped to intercept Louie. Instead of plunging like a rock, the sea embraced him and guided him down, letting Uncle Scrooge and Goldie both to get Louie and pull him to safety. As soon as the light dissipated, his magic depleted, he slumped back down and Della felt herself being drained even further.

“Uncle Scrooge, quick, the orb!” Huey yelled, and Uncle Scrooge paddled faster, Goldie following. They got up soon, with Fenton helping them while Launchpad and a guy Della didn’t recognize getting out to help.

As soon as Uncle Scrooge was on board, he carried Louie closer to Donald, grabbing Della’s hand on the way and dragging her along. He had them sitting together, Della hugging Louie desperately and ignoring how his faint golden glow seeped though her eyelids and how cold he felt in her arms. He was breathing, still, but he was so quiet, and Della hated it.

Uncle Scrooge pulled her hand, and Louie’s, and Donald’s, and had them hold the Orb of Remedies together. Almost immediately, her limbs relaxed, and her magic started to fill her up again. It was weak, and it came in a small trickle, but it came all the same. She let out a shuddering breath as relief came flooding in, feeling Louie grow warmer and Donald’s magic healthier, but Louie’s magic was still active and she couldn’t wake him up.

“Donald’s still unresponsive,” Xandra noted grimly. “His magic is too drained.”

“He might be better if he took from us,” José said. “But he didn’t.”

Xandra groaned. “He knows he’d be drained. And we still need to fight Felldrake. What’s he doing?”

Della glanced up just as Panchito answered, “He’s just up there chattering with Leopold.” He glanced at Della. “He does that. We’ll have a minute or two before they stop.”

“We need to jumpstart Donald’s magic,” Xandra said with a hiss. “We need all three Caballeros.”

Dewey took in a sharp breath. “The pin.”

“Pin?” Uncle Scrooge repeated.

“We took the Three Feathers Pin and the Void Ring from your Other Bin,” Webby admitted. “We thought they might help.”

“We’re sorry,” Huey added.

Uncle Scrooge sighed. “Tell me next time. There are a lot of dangerous things in the Other Bin.”

“But Three Feathers Pin…” Xandra’s eyes darted around in thought. “That might work. It will be really volatile, but if we can just jumpstart Donald’s magic and let it build a little bit…”

“I have it with me,” Violet said, taking out the pouch containing the pin. She handed it to Xandra.

“Right,” Xandra said, taking out the pin. The pin did nothing to her; her magic didn’t go wild, but maybe it was different for deities than mortals. She took a deep breath, took Donald’s free hand, and placed the pin in his palm.

Donald’s back arched immediately, his beak opened in a silent scream. His magic soared, and the ocean around them exploded upwards, raining seawater as he opened his eyes; pools of the deep and seafoam as sea blue enveloped him from head to toe. His grip on the orb tightened, and there was a zing through his magic as the orb’s influence seemed to spike, and Della found herself breathing easier as Donald’s magic returned to its usual power, erratic as it was. She blinked at the same time as he did.

“That’s it.”

The feathers at the back of Della’s neck stood on end. She looked up, suddenly realizing Felldrake hadn’t spoken in a while, and saw that he was staring at them hungrily. A smile stretched in his face.

“What – “

Felldrake patted Leopold’s neck twice, and the creature nodded, then dove in to the ship. Donald sprang up, but he was too late, and Leopold knocked him over and he skidded and fell back as Felldrake landed lightly on the ship. The pin laid conveniently near to his feet, and he took it, his magic going wild immediately.

“To think you had this with you,” Felldrake said, letting out a low chuckle. “I should have robbed your mansion outright.” His eyes darted to Della, who still held the orb. “I really should have just robbed you blind.”

Della gripped the orb tighter just as both poisoned outer space and smoggy night sky bloomed around Felldrake. She scooted back, holding Louie closer to her chest and making sure he was still holding the orb together with her, while Uncle Scrooge stepped in front of her and glared at Felldrake as if daring him to come closer.

To her surprise, Donald gasped and stood, yelling, “Sheldgoose!”

Panchito patted José’s arm repeatedly, and José snapped up in surprise. He took a deep breath, and green glinted in his eyes, snaking out of his beak like vines. “Sheldgoose, speak to us. Surely you don’t want to stay locked inside your body like that?”

Della stared at him in confusion. She turned her attention to Felldrake, who froze in his spot, the dying stars abruptly swirling back inside himself while the smoggy sky rose up, lit up in the light of eternally, listlessly awake city, the honks of cars and skidding tires and sudden brakes a phantom symphony that painted an orchestra in his magic.

Felldrake gasped, eyelids fluttering, and Della was suddenly struck with the certainty that this was not Felldrake.

“What do you even get from letting him take over?” Panchito added. “It’s your body. He’s just there. You can kick him out if you want to.”

Felldrake – Sheldgoose? – stood his ground and let his hand curl tighter around the pin. The smoggy sky grew stormy, the poisoned fog growing thicker and thicker. “I can’t.”

“We can help you,” Donald said. “He’s not worth shielding.”

Sheldgoose let out a laugh that was equal part derision and disbelief. “You’re the ones who locked him inside me in the first place.”

“We wanted to seal him inside the staff and you know it,” Panchito said. “You’re the one who broke it.”

“And it doesn’t matter,” José said. “We can get him out. Let us help, and – “

“No,” Sheldgoose snarled. “I will not get your help.” He bent into a stance, and the smoggy sky expanded then focused, condensing into tendrils with uncomfortably pointy ends. They soared forward, to Della.

On instinct, Della called to her magic and shot up to the sky, ignoring the tendrils and hugging Louie close to keep him safe, the orb safe in her hand. Below, Uncle Scrooge swung his cane and jabbed a tendril to keep it down, but the tendril easily knocked him away. Panchito let out an uncomfortably piercing whistle that made Della frown and Sheldgoose flinch, but he powered through it.

Another tendril went for her, and Della dodged. Soon, it became apparent that even with her flight magic it was hard to avoid the tendrils that kept chasing her. She could feel Donald pouring his magic into her, but eventually the tendrils caught her and slammed her back to the poop deck. She curled in pain, keening, still hugging Louie close. Smog rushed at her, almost solid in its presence. She gathered her magic frantically and tried to blow the smog away with wind but it was too strong for her to fight.

Something snatched away the orb in her hand. The storm of smog left her be, at last.

Sheldgoose gripped at the stolen artifacts, one in each hand. Leopold landed by his side, nuzzling his face and calling him mommy of all things, and he scratched Leopold absently under his chin. His magic was still going haywire, but it wasn’t as bad as the triplets’ outbursts, or hers, or Donald’s. She wasn’t sure if it meant his magic was weaker than theirs or if Felldrake’s presence lent some sort of control for him.

“Why do you do this? You get nothing from this!” Donald demanded. “He’s inside you. He just needs to get out. What do you think he’ll do to you once he’s out? He has no use for you!”

Sheldgoose glared at him. “Lord Felldrake will not cast me aside,” he said, and he closed his eyes. The smoggy sky seemed to freeze for a moment, and then poisoned outer space bled out and burst, and when he opened his eyes again he was back at being Felldrake instead of Sheldgoose.

“Let’s see if strengthening my magic with this can let me break free,” Felldrake said, and gripped the pin closer to his chest. The toxic nebulas exploded, dying stars winking, and the full moon was swallowed in his magic. Something akin of cracks appeared in the feathers around his eyes as sickly purple bled out and tried to burst from his skin.

Donald, José, and Panchito shot forward as one, amulet shining and weapons drawn. Felldrake took one glance at them, nonchalantly flicked his wrist, and the three were flung back.

Webby took something from Violet’s sling bag – a familiar leather pouch that Della couldn’t place. She took out the content, shook with barely contained rage, and threw it to Felldrake. “Stop hurting them! I hope you get corrupted!”

Xandra stared wide-eyed. Something shot to Felldrake’s head with deadly accuracy, but Felldrake somehow managed to catch it between two hands, sandwiching it between two other stolen artifacts. He stared, then smiled entirely too gleefully. “Oh, a present,” he purred, “you really didn’t have to.”

“You didn’t tell me you have the Void Ring,” Xandra hissed to Uncle Scrooge.

“It’s dangerous! It almost killed Donald and Della,” Uncle Scrooge said, defensive.

“Okay,” Xandra took a deep breath. “Okay. Void Ring is a bit of a wildcard. Let’s just hope it will corrupt Felldrake’s magic so bad he can’t – “

The poison in Felldrake’s magic grew thicker. His magic swelled, soaring, growing, as the cracks in his skin grew wider.

“Or it will just make him stronger because his magic is already so rancid. Okay,” Xandra muttered.

Webby staggered. “Oh no,” she breathed. “Oh no, did I make it worse? I didn’t know – “

“Webby, none of us knew,” Uncle Scrooge assured. “If it wasn’t you, someone else would throw the ring. I know I would, if I knew you brought it here with you.”

“But – “

Webby didn’t get to finish her words. Sinister-looking sickly purple storm clouds gathered around Felldrake, who slowly floated up to the sky, Leopold flying about around him. The storm clouds grew in size, enveloping the sky, and soon Della couldn’t see the dying stars above anymore. Wind picked up, the sea grew rough, and fat droplets of rain began to fall. In no time at all, it all grew into a storm so bad Della could barely see her own hand in front of her.

Despite the storm, she could still hear Donald, screaming in alarm and rage and then getting to her. She jumped anyway when his hand closed around her wrist. “Felldrake is making a storm and a big whirlpool. If we don’t do anything the boat’s gonna sink!”

“What are we supposed to do? We can’t do anything about this,” Della protested.

“No, we can,” Donald said. “But I need your magic. Come on, Dell.”

Della looked down at Louie in her arms, still as unresponsive as before. Donald’s gaze fell to him, and he gulped, suddenly looking both angry and torn at the same time.

Huey and Dewey came to them, waving to catch their attention. “We’ll take care of him!” Huey assured.

“We’ll try to wake him up,” Dewey added, practically vowing then and there. She let them take Louie from her arms and stood, eyes still glued to her children.

Donald’s squeeze at her wrist called her attention back to him, and before any other word was exchanged he let his magic twine around hers. She let him rouse her battered magic with his own, just as battered one. She didn’t need to see to know white cloudlike plumes had bloomed around her and Donald was covered from head to toe by the blue of the sea. Wind rose around her and whipped her wet hair around, and she could feel the sea responding to Donald’s call. Their magic twined so deeply that it was impossible not to understand when they sent impressions to each other.

We have to stop the storm and the whirlpool, Donald practically said.

I can try taking the wind, Della sent back. Might need help. It’s not just wind, it has water too.

Together, then, Donald said.

She let her magic plunge into his and mix together. Through sheer force of will, they managed to coax the storm to subside into drizzles, and Donald had somehow managed to stop the whirlpool using his magic.

An unmistakable feeling of oh no cut through Della’s connection, and she stared at Donald. Sure enough, he was looking at something in the sky, so Della followed his line of sight and couldn’t help but mutter the words.

Felldrake was still floating in midair with Leopold flying around him, but the flight had grown panicked and Felldrake looked… different.

At first glance, he still looked like the goose that Sheldgoose was. Della could almost ignore all the purple streaks in his feathers. But something was wrong; he looked deformed for reasons Della couldn’t fathom or point out, like something inside was trying to burst free.

Felldrake slipped on the Void Ring, and his magic flared brighter, and then Sheldgoose broke.

It was as if Sheldgoose was a balloon, and someone had blown air into him. The purple streaks grew bigger, cracks spreading until he was purple all over, and then he swelled, growing larger, larger, larger, as the white plumage turned into sickly purple. Horns appeared atop of his rapidly swelling head, and Della almost couldn’t see his face since the big, rotund belly obstructed her line of vision.

Felldrake let out a booming laughter and let his hand swipe down at their trawler. It landed instead on the water, just inches away from the boat’s hull, and it sent the boat flying. Instead of landing roughly on the sea like Della had expected, it floated in midair, as if gravity had forgotten to lay its claim on them.

“Oh no,” Xandra spoke, soft and faint. “The seal broke. Felldrake is back.”

[citrinediamondeyes]

Heart On Fire (My Hero Academia)

Here is my first one shot! If you like it, let me know! :)

Summary: Izuku plans a little surprise for Ochaco for their anniversary. Prompt: Candles 

Rating: T

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Uraraka Ochaco

Pairings: Izuocha 

Can be found on AO3 and Fanfiction.net at the following links below.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24314935

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13594254/1/Heart-On-Fire

Izuku put the lighter down and let out a relieved sigh, wiping his brow. He carefully stepped back into the doorway of his bedroom to better view his handiwork. White, scentless candles of assorted heights were strategically placed around the room on little saucers and in candle holders. A little eclectic-looking, but still romantic, he decided. The bed was neatly made with fresh sheets, and the multitude of pillows he slept with were fluffed and looking irresistibly cozy. He had vacuumed the carpet and picked up any dirty clothes lying around, and his All Might action figures were in a few boxes under his bed. He had briefly considered just turning around all of the collectibles with eyes, but then figured that would be even creepier than just leaving them as they were. Besides, more room for candles.

Izuku tiptoed to the bathroom, aware of the flames licking at his ankles, and quickly changed his shirt. He reapplied his deodorant and sprayed a little bit of cologne for good measure. Everything had to be perfect. He smiled softly as he reached for his toothbrush, reminiscing. This had been a fantastic year, just like the last, and he wanted to show her how grateful he was for her. He chuckled through his toothpaste at the memory of how nervous he was in the beginning. Little did he know back then that he was about to make the best decision of his life. Hands now shaking slightly, he reached for the small object in his jeans pocket and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Things would now change again... but for the better, he hoped.

He rinsed his mouth out and then smiled widely at himself. His cheeks were flushed, his grin was wobbly, and his hair was sticking out in many crazy directions. He stumbled for a comb and yanked it through his hair swiftly, wincing at the knots. When his curls were as tangle-free as they were going to get, he planted his hands on the counter and looked himself in the eye sternly.

You can do this. If you can master One-For-All, you can -

He heard a knock at the front door, and he tripped over his feet dashing out the bathroom. He nearly face-planted into some candles in front of the doorway, and he cursed himself for placing so many flaming wax obstacles on the floor. He hurriedly but carefully navigated through the room, before smiling in relief and shutting the door behind him. He wiped a hand at his brow and strode to the entrance of his little home. He took a deep breath, and just as another knock sounded, he swung open the door.

Ochaco's hand was still poised from knocking, and her face held a look of surprise before she grinned. Izuku felt his heart grow warm at the sight of her.

"Deku! Happy Anniversary!" she squealed, jumping into his awaiting grasp. Her lithe arms circled around him securely, her hands (save her pinkies) rubbing his back gently, and he felt so comforted in that moment.

"Happy Anniversary, 'Chaco," he greeted softly, pulling back to look at her again. She normally dazzled him, but tonight especially she just took his breath away. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was in a small, pretty plait, and she was wearing a black, strappy dress that made Izuku's face a little warmer.

"You look amazing," Izuku breathed, giving her cheek several squeaky kisses that made Ochaco giggle and blush. "I feel underdressed."

"Oh, stop it." She swatted at him playfully, tugging him closer by his belt loops until the two were nose-to-nose. "You look really handsome, Izuku."

Izuku flushed, still not used to compliments in all their years together. Ochaco smiled sweetly at him, grabbing his hand and picking up a bag that he hadn't noticed just outside on the porch. She swung the door shut behind her with her hip as she shook the bag.

"Look what I brought!" she sang out, gesturing for him to come over to her as she tugged a small container out. "Close your eyes 'n sniff." She peeled off the lid.

Izuku looked at her a little incredulously before doing as he was told.

"Oh, wow! Are these... your mom's famous cookies?" Izuku's mouth started watering as he opened his eyes and glanced down at the treats.

"Yep! Made 'em myself - a whole batch just for us!" Ochaco grinned, before yanking the container away from his reaching hand. "Tsk tsk, Izuku, trying to spoil your dinner!"

"You can't keep me away from the cookies! They are the love of my life!" Izuku teased dramatically, play-wrestling her for the goodies.

"I thought I was the love of your life!" Ochaco laughed, sounding a little out of breath as she dodged and weaved around Izuku, holding the cookies above her as if she could outreach him.

Izuku stopped, his face suddenly serious. "You are."

Ochaco stopped laughing and stared at him with an unreadable expression, her breaths still heavy. After a moment, she placed the container on a nearby side table and stepped towards him.

"Y'know, I never got a real kiss hello," she said softly, placing her hands on his chest.

"Is that right?" Izuku asked, smiling slightly as his arms naturally wound around her. Their noses rubbed together gently.

"And you know how cranky I get when I don't get my kisses," Ochaco joked, her butterscotch eyes going from his mouth to his eyes and back again like she couldn't decide where to look.

"I think I can help with that." With that, Izuku tilted his head and gently pressed his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. He felt Ochaco wrap her arms around his neck, and he pulled her into a tighter embrace. The feeling of having her pressed against him, so warm and strong, made his head feel light. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to kissing her, or if he ever wanted to.

Quickly, their kisses turned passionate, and, completely forgetting his plan in the heat of her touch, he hiked her legs up around his waist and they stumbled to his bedroom. He leaned her against his door for a moment, just enjoying losing himself in her.

"I love you," she murmured as he placed a few trailing kisses down her neck, one of her hands embedded in his hair. He pulled away from her neck to give her a deep, toe-curling kiss. "I am so in love with you, Ochaco."

The two smiled dopily at each other for a few seconds before Izuku blindly fiddled for the doorknob as he leaned in to give her another peck. The door fell open, and the couple tripped into the doorway. With a squeal from her and a shout of surprise from him, they flew to the ground. Izuku felt a slap on his arm and the sudden dip in his stomach that came with the loss of gravity, and he opened his eyes to see Ochaco floating above him, her eyes wide as she took in the room around her.

"Wow, Deku, what's all this?" The permanent blush on her cheeks looked darker in the candlelight, and the flickering candles reflected off her hair and eyes. Izuku thought she had never looked more attractive than she did then.

Suddenly remembering his plan that he had callously thrown out the window before, he reached for her hands. He cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt collar, and she shot him an amused look at his sudden formality.

"Ochaco, these have been the best two years of my life. No - scratch that, five. Ever since I met you, I knew you were special, not only as a person, but to me." He tugged her gently closer to him, and her eyes shone.

"Little did I know that the day I would take the entrance exam, I would gain not only my best friend and confidant, I would also gain the greatest love of my life." Tears were gathering in his eyes now, but he didn't wipe them away. It was too important that he hold her hand.

"Words cannot describe how happy you make me, Ochaco. Being with you has been a dream, and I never want it to end." Here, he regretfully let go of her hand to dig in his pocket. Her hand went up to cover her growing smile. His hand closed around the little velvety box, and he shivered. Surprisingly, he had expected to feel nervous at this point, but all he felt was peace and a sense of rightness. A sense of finally.

"Ochaco Uraraka, will you marry me?" He flicked open the box with an ease he didn't know he possessed and presented the ring he had picked out all those months ago. It was simple, dainty, and had immediately reminded Izuku of his Ochaco the moment he had set eyes on it.

Ochaco was already nodding at the sound of her name, tears dripping from her face onto his, and she let out a little sob as he grinned.

"I love you so much," she cried, and he cooed as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. She threw herself at him (as much as being weightless allowed), and they tumbled through the air of his bedroom in a tight embrace.

"I love you, too, my sweet Ochaco," Izuku chuckled through his own tears, leaning in to kiss her deeply. Ochaco contentedly snuggled her face into his neck, her limbs wrapped snugly around him. He pet her hair and back gently.

They were silent for a few moments, before Ochaco lifted herself off of Izuku with a suddenness that startled him.

"Uh, Izuku? It kinda smells like burnin'- OH MY GOSH, YOUR HAIR!"

What came then was a series of screeches, a frenzy of movement as Ochaco tried to use her dress to smother the flame and Izuku tried to pat it out with his bare hands, and then a weird, tense silence where the couple just stared at each other, still floating in mid-air. It was immensely obvious Ochaco was trying not to laugh. Izuku just felt foolish.

"So, uh... the candles were kind of a bust, huh?" Izuku asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't even want to see the damage the candles did to his green locks.

Finally, Ochaco burst into laughter. "Kinda," she gasped in-between giggles, "but it was still really sweet."

"You'll still have me, even though I am a screw-up?" Izuku teased, although his stomach dropped a little at the thought of a negative answer.

She tugged him in by his dress shirt, her eyes heavy-lidded as she slowly bridged the gap between them. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[thescarletofarose]

The Consequences of His Wish

Chapter Sixteen

Chat Noir’s mind barely processed his body’s movement as he threw himself off the Eiffel Tower. The constant revelation of Gabriel Agreste is Hawk Moth ran through his mind. Tucking his limbs tight to his side, he gained distance on the falling man. Screams below flew past him like the wind, cutting into his cheeks. He could see Gabriel’s face, the face revealed behind the hated villain’s mask. His father’s face. Chat Noir gritted his teeth and grabbed him. Flipping himself underneath the two, he extended his pole across them. Ladybug’s yo-yo wound around it, and the two gently swung to safety. 

The moment their feet touched the ground, Chat Noir pushed Gabriel away, unable to stand touching the man a moment longer. Ladybug landed next to him, and the two were instantly surrounded by civilians and reporters. He felt Ladybug grab his wrist, but his eyes stayed on the apprehended man before him. Gabriel looked up and their eyes met. The look of indifference left Chat Noir feeling drained. He felt his partner’s fingers squeeze his wrist. That was his cue. Chat Noir grabbed Ladybug as the crowd pushed to the police cruiser and took their chance of escape. 

They landed a roof a couple blocks away, safe from the commotion and with a clear view. Chat Noir moved to leave, but Ladybug grabbed his hand.

“Chat Noir,” she said, “we need to talk. The Miraculouses are still out there, and we have no clue as to who could have them.”

“What are you suggesting?” Chat Noir asked. He sat down and watched the retreating flashing blue lights. The crowd dispersed slowly, the grand showdown now over.

Ladybug sat beside him, her mind racing with various emotions sans joy. Her shoulders ached and she could feel the fatigue setting in. Looking over to her partner, she could see the same fatigue in his stature, but his face remained hidden behind his mask. For the first time, Ladybug felt disconnected from her partner. What was he feeling underneath his mask? Could he tell what she was feeling? 

With a sigh, Ladybug leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky. Did she know what she was feeling? “I think tomorrow we should visit Hawk–I mean Gabriel Agreste and speak with him. He may know the identity of the Peacock Miraculous holder.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Chat Noir bit back, finally looking over at his partner. “We don’t know each other’s identities.”

“That’s true, but our ident–”

“Our identities must remain a secret. Yeah… I know, but I want–I need–nevermind.” Chat Noir dug his nails into the fibre shingles and looked back over the city. Ladybug glanced over at him.

“Chat Noir,” she asked, “Are you okay?”

Chat Noir stayed silent. Ladybug sat up and tentatively placed her arm around him. Laying her head on his shoulder, she softly continued, “Everybody else is celebrating because we finally caught Hawk Moth, but I don’t feel like celebrating at all. In fact, I don’t even feel happy. We failed to regain his Miraculous. We tore a small family apart. I’m worried about Adrien.”

“Adrien?” Chat Noir pulled back in surprise, his brow slightly furrowed. “Do you think he had something–”

“N-no,” Ladybug said, shaking her head. “Not at all. I-I’m worried about how he’s doing. He must be having a hard time right now. Do you think I should check on him?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ladybug blinked, taken aback. “W-why not?”

Chat Noir looked at his partner for a second before standing. Offering his hand, he helped Ladybug to her feet. The two stood close together, Chat Noir studying Ladybug’s hand in his. Ladybug tilted her head to see his face, but Chat Noir let go and took a step back. “Do you,” he asked, “really think he wants to see the person that put his father behind bars right now?”

Ladybug felt as if she’d just been punched. She grasped at her words. “I guess not, but I don’t think he wants to be alone. I don’t think he should be alone right now.”

Chat Noir just shrugged and pulled out his baton. “I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early. Milady.”

With a grand bow, Chat Noir disappeared into the night. Ladybug looked after him for a moment before heading home. The two heroes parted ways, and the city of Paris quieted to its usual buzz. 

The moon was still shining high in the night sky when Chat Noir returned to his room. He slipped inside, briefly wondering if it would have made a difference coming in through the front door. 

“Plagg,” he said, “de-transform me.”

Chat Noir disappeared, and his Kwami was released. Adrien changed clothes and headed towards the bedroom door. Plagg flew in front of Adrien, stopping him. “Hey kid, are you sure you’re okay?”

Adrien brushed Plagg to the side and opened the door. “Not really, Plagg, but I need to see my mother. I’m sure she’s taking this a lot harder than I am.”

Adrien walked away, as Plagg hid, and made his way downstairs. As he reached the bottom, the door to his father’s office opened and his mother walked out. The two stopped upon seeing each other. 

Adrien swallowed hard, his voice slightly quivering as he said, “Mom.”

Emilie stared blankly back at him having forgotten he was home. Adrien threw himself into her arms, startling the blonde-haired woman. She awkwardly placed her arms around him.

“There, there,” she said, patting his back. “I know how upset you must be feeling, but he is a self-centered and greedy man. He wanted what wasn’t his, and it ultimately brought about his downfall.”

Adrien looked up at his mom, his cheeks stained red. “How are you handling this so well? I assumed you would be devastated since you were only just reunited with him.”

Emilie brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. “I was very upset when I found out, but I refuse to harbor any feelings toward someone that would endanger who I care about the most.”

“I don’t think father would have intentionally put me in harm’s way. He was very strict when it came to my whereabouts and safety.” Adrien said, pulling back and wiping his eyes. 

Emilie cocked her head. “You? Oh yes. And you never know, my precious son, people change.” 

Adrien looked behind his mother into the empty room, suddenly noticing the absence of a usually hovering secretary. “Mom, where is Nathalie?”

“She took an extended vacation. Let’s go to bed though. I’m exhausted after today’s events, and I’m sure you are too.”

Gently ruffling his hair, Emilie shuffled around Adrien and headed up the staircase. Adrien looked after his mother until she left his sight. He felt his chest tighten. Plagg flew out and hovered near his head. 

“You feel better, Adrien?”

Adrien shoved his hands into his pockets. “No. I don’t know how she’s able to cope so well.”

Plagg trailed after his holder as the two made their way back upstairs. “Maybe it’s like she said, kid. Instead of looking at him as your father, look at him as Hawk Moth, the villain that nearly destroyed Paris and harmed loved ones.”

“I don’t want to look at him only as his alter-ego, Plagg,” Adrien said, flopping onto his bed. “There were two sides to him: Hawk Moth and my father. If I only look at him as Hawk Moth, then that completely erases the side that’s my father.” 

The Kwami flew to a neighboring cupboard and rummaged for late night cheese. He pulled out a piece, smelled it, and then put it back. “What’s so different about your father that separates him from Hawk Moth?”

Adrien stayed silent, opting to gaze at his ceiling while his mind wandered. It took him on a trail of thoughts that ended in dead ends and loops and left him tossing and turning all night. When the sun began to shine through his window, Adrien forfeited sleep and got out of bed. Passing Plagg who was clutching half-eaten cheese, he silently got ready while wrestling with his thoughts and growing anxiety. 

During his shower, the heat turned almost to the maximum, Adrien rehearsed what he would say to his father when he saw him. While brushing his teeth, he practiced looking nonchalant, Gabriel’s face of indifference seared into his mind as reference. Finally, throughout tussling with his clothes, he tried to come up with an answer to Plagg’s question.

Adrien finished drying his hair and absentmindedly threw his towel on Plagg. The Kwami woke with a start, thrashing around a bit before phasing through the cloth. Adrien winced.

“Sorry, Plagg. I guess I’m just a little distracted.”

The ancient being floated up and assessed his friend. “A little?” he asked. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just kept thinking and–” Adrien ran a hand through his hair and sat down with a frustrated sigh. Plagg flew over and placed his hand on Adrien’s.

“Small steps, Adrien,” he said. “I’ve been on this planet for a long time, kid. You don’t have to do it all at once; take it in small steps, ones that you’re comfortable with. If that means putting off going to visit, then that’s fine. We’ve got time.”

Adrien gave a small smile. “Thanks, Plagg, but I need to go today. There are some things I need to know.”

Plagg conspicuously made his way back to the cheese cupboard. “Are you sure? We can always stay in and–”

“Plagg, transform me.”

With a wail, Plagg was sucked away, bringing out Adrien’s alter-ego: Chat Noir. The blacksuit hero leapt out the window and with a pace that matched his racing heart, made his way to the police station. 

Ladybug was already waiting at the front door when he arrived. He strolled up, feeling himself already withdraw. A giant wall seemed to seamlessly slide between him and his partner. She gave him a gentle smile. “Morning, kitty.”

Chat Noir replied with a quick nod of his head. “Ladybug.”

“No witty remark today?” Ladybug asked, nudging him with her elbow. Chat Noir coolly regarded her and opened the door. 

“I guess I’m not much of a morning person,” he said. “After you.”

Ladybug’s smile faltered, but she entered the building nonetheless. They were greeted by a jolly round officer with bright red hair. He walked up and shook each of their hands, a wide grin on his face. 

“Morning Ladybug, Chat Noir. Lieutenant Raincomprix at your service, but you can call me Roger.”

He motioned for them to his desk, taking a seat only after they sat down. They took in the precinct. It was spacious but filled with bustling staff. Desks were arranged all around, papers stacked high on each one. Roger’s desk was similarly decorated. 

“We’re here for Gabriel Agreste. He was arrested last night,” Ladybug said

“Ah yes, Hawk Moth. I was the officer on duty last night and took him in myself.”

Roger puffed out his chest. Chat Noir rolled his eyes. “Where is he?”

“Hawk Moth? He’s–” 

Chat Noir stood up, cutting him off. “Where is Gabriel Agreste? We have some questions for him.”

Roger slightly backed up, his eyes narrowing. Ladybug put a hand on Chat Noir’s arm. “What he–we mean to ask,” Ladybug interjected, “is if we could speak with Gabriel Agreste? We would like to question him about the whereabouts of his Miraculous.”

She pulled Chat Noir back in his seat. Roger warily glanced at them before straightening. “We’re under strict no visitation rules until after his court date.”

“Please. It’s very important that we speak with him,” Ladybug pleaded. “If we don’t find the missing Miraculouses, we could end up with another Hawk Moth.”

Roger shuffled through some papers, feigning organization. Ladybug sighed. “If we manage to regain the Miraculouses, I’ll be sure to include how helpful you have been, and how we wouldn’t have been able to recover them if not for your help.”

The Lieutenant paused and sized the two heroes up. “His court date is in five days.”

Ladybug shook her head. “That’s too far from now.”

Roger looked around the room before opening a drawer to his desk. He pulled out a ring of keys and stood up. “You get five minutes. Stay right here. I’ll bring him to an interrogation room.”

“Thank you so much,” Ladybug said, squeezing her partner’s arm until he grumbled out a thanks. Roger nodded and left. Ladybug turned to Chat Noir. “Focus, kitty. We need to try and get as much information out of him as possible. Even the slightest bit can help.”

“What if he refuses to talk? Gabriel Agreste is a stubborn man that does what he wants. Unless he wants to reveal information, he won’t.”

The two watched Roger lead Gabriel into an empty room. They stood up as he passed. Gabriel glanced over at them and quirked an eyebrow before disappearing into the room. Ladybug and Chat Noir shared a look. 

“We’ll think of something,” Ladybug murmured, and the two followed after. They entered a dimly lit room, empty save for a table with three chairs. Gabriel sat with his hands chained to the table. Ladybug took a seat opposite from him, Chat Noir opting to lean against the wall. 

“I’ll be close,” Roger said referring to the one-way mirror across the room. He closed the door, and a tense silence filled the room. 

Gabriel had kept quiet during their entrance, carefully watching their every move. His eyes slid over to Chat Noir, who was regarding him with a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t place. Ladybug cleared her throat.

Displaying his cuffs, Gabriel asked, “Ladybug, Chat Noir, have you come to gloat?”

“No,” Ladybug said, “we need your help.”

“Right. The missing Miraculouses.” Gabriel shrugged and reclined back in his hair, the chains on his wrist clinking. “Apologies, but I can’t help you.”

Ladybug leaned forward. “I think you can. Mr. Agreste, you are an intelligent man. You have to know something.”

Gabriel raised his chin, looking down on the heroine with indifference. Ladybug looked over at Chat Noir for help, but he just shook his head.

Ladybug huffed. “Why are you holding back? You’ve lost. Neither of us have the Miraculous, and it could be in the hands of an even more dangerous villain. Instead of being stubborn, help us get it back.”

“How do you know we aren’t working together?” Gabriel asked, a smirk teasing the end of his lips.

Ladybug gave him a deadpan look, “They tried to murder you by throwing you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“They threw me knowing you would come to my rescue. Like the good little heroes that you are,” Gabriel said mockingly.

Ladybug opened her mouth but Chat Noir grabbed her shoulder. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. Ladybug frowned and tried to turn around, but Chat Noir tightened his grip on her shoulder. Gabriel regarded the interaction lazily. Finally, Ladybug nodded her head and stood up. She threw a glare towards Gabriel and left the room. 

“Is this suppose to be good-cop-bad-cop?” Gabriel asked. 

Chat Noir took a seat and quietly waited. A second later, his baton began beeping. He slid it open and Ladybug’s voice came out on speaker.

“Chat Noir. You’ve got one minute. That’s all he agreed to do. He said his job would be too much at risk for any longer.”

Chat Noir looked over at the one-way mirror. “And it is only the two of us?”

“Yes. Lieutenant Raincomprix says he is not to be touched.”

“I promise no harm will come to Gabriel Agreste.”

“Chat,” Ladybug said, her voice softer. “I don’t know what you’re planning to do. This is really out of character... but I trust you.”

There was silence for a moment, and then, “Thank you. I’ll be out in sixty seconds.”

Ladybug closed her yo-yo, ending the call. She looked up at Roger, a nervous smile on her face. The man just shook his head and checked his watch. Ladybug listened to the tick tick tick of the clock as the seconds passed. 

Exactly sixty seconds later, the door opened and Chat Noir stepped out. He held open the door and gestured them inside. “He’s ready to talk.”

Roger stepped through first, going straight over to check on Gabriel. Ladybug followed, giving Chat Noir a questioning look. He motioned for her to take a seat and then closed the door. 

Ladybug took her seat once more across from Gabriel. Folding her hands, she asked, “What can you tell us?”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair. “Her name is Ananta Haine, and now that she’s in possession of the Peacock and the Butterfly, she’ll do anything, sacrifice anyone, to get what she wants.”

The End

[preacha69]

Paddling Castor Creek

By John Norwood

 My brother-in-law Jeff and I pulled our Kayaks to the water down the worn and rutted boat landing of Castor Creek just outside of Olla. We were going to paddle our way up the creek. The creek flowed into a large open lake area which is where we were putting in. My foot sunk into the stinky black mud as I climbed into my kayak. We pushed out from the landing into the open water of the lake. The water level was so low that a small dirt island had formed in the middle of the lake. I’ve seen the lake pretty low before, but never have I seen an island out there. I’m guessing it formed through strong currents passing through the lake when the water was high and when it receded the island was left behind. The creek flows from one side of Highway 124 to the other through a spillway system. When the water is up it creates a terrifying whirlpool at the end of the lake side where the water flows down into the spillway and rushes out on the other side. There is no guard or barrier to protect you from being sucked in if you get too close so we made sure to stay away from that area.

When I was a boy fishing with my dad in his boat, he would fish along the bank close to the swirling water. The closer he got to it the more fearful I would get. “Daddy, don’t get so close! That things gonna suck us in!” Daddy would smile with a mischievous grin and keep just fishing. He didn’t get dangerously close, but he was much too close for my comfort. Years later, we had a classmate that drowned in the creek. We were told that he had fallen into the whirlpool and was sucked under. That thing still scares me to this day.

We paddled closer to the small bare island. I contemplated getting out and walking on it, but as I pressed my paddle into it I could tell it was muddy. I could just see myself sinking into the mud like it was quicksand. There were no large hanging vines anywhere that Jeff could throw to rescue me, so I decided against it. We continued on across the lake. We could see the opening for the creek, but off to the right was another smaller opening. Jeff said, “Hey let’s go check out this slough. I wanna see where it goes.”

“OK,” I said and we made our way into the mouth of the narrow slough. The water was covered in green algae. As Jeff plowed through the kayak left a trail the pond scum. I followed closely behind. Large trees created a canopy that covered us and blocked out the sun. I was simply in awe of the natural beauty around me. We continued to find that the slough emptied into the creek. The water of the creek was a light caramel color. The creek was much wider and lacked the algae of the slough. There was no canopy of trees over our heads either so the sun lit up everything around us with such a bright intensity it made me regret not bringing my sunglasses. It was still beautiful, but differently.  

We talked as we paddled along and then I saw something I didn’t expect to see this far up the creek. “Look, Christmas lights,” I said pointing to a grassy opening in the woods next to another slough that flowed out from the creek.

“Yep, looks like somebody’s camp,” Jeff said. “Probably people come down here to party.”

As we made our way to the slough we saw that the Christmas lights were strung out over it from one side to the other. I’m not sure how they got back there. We didn’t see any roads. We figured maybe they just boat to it. We paddled on through slough and then once again back into the main creek.

After a little way up the creek I said, “Uh oh, we may have come to the end of the road.”  A large tree had fallen across the lake and was blocking our path.

“No, I think we can get around it,” Jeff said. “I think there’s enough room from where the top of it ends and the bank for us get through.”

“OK, let’s do it then.”

I paddled to the narrow opening between the sprawling tree and the bank. Once again, the water here was covered in thick algae. Small black limbs that resembled snakes floated in the water before me. I told myself, it’s just sticks. No big deal then Jeff hollered out,

“Just watch out for snakes.”

Nope, not doing it. I immediately began reversing with my paddles. I said, “Man, I was good till you said that. I was gonna go through there, but now, I can’t. All I can’t think about is snakes.”

“You want me to go through? I’ll do it.”

“That’s up to you brother.”

Jeff passed by me and made his way through the narrow opening. “Those sticks are just floaters. It’s OK, c’mon.”

I followed behind him as we carved our way through the algae. “John, you gotta see this.”

“What is it?

“Just look, this is beautiful.”

As I approached his Kayak he was sitting there looking around the bend to another open area that was surrounded by large cypress trees. “Wow, that is beautiful,” I agreed.

We continued further up the creek when yet again there was another slough. This one had cypress trees growing all in it. It looked like your typical Louisiana swamp scene. I started paddling towards it. “You going in there?” Jeff said.

“I’m thinking about it,” I responded.

We both eased into the mouth of the slough. The water was thick with algae. Who knows what might be hiding underneath it, I thought. The area was thick with cypress trees covered in Spanish moss. We weaved our way through the slough in total amazement at the beauty before us. Cypress knees dotted the banks like hundreds of gloomy garden gnomes watching our every move. Flashbacks of the movie Southern Comfort pierce my thoughts. I half expected to see some Cajuns in pirogue off in the distance. We came around one corner and a Great Blue Heron jumps up and takes flight. By this point, we were sitting in maybe a foot or two of water. It looked like the perfect breeding ground for gators and moccasins. “Maybe we should turn back. I don’t want to get stuck back up in here.”

“I think it loops back out to the creek just like the other ones did, but we can go back if you want to.”

“No, let’s just keep going.”

We came around the next bend to find that it did not come back out into the creek. “What now?” I asked.

“We can go back or we can drag the kayaks across the land to the creek. I think the creek is just right there over that hill. Let me go check it out.”

We paddled the kayaks up to a shallow edge and got out. Sure enough, the creek was just on the other side of a large embankment. We drug the boats up out of the slough and up the embankment. I watched Jeff drag his kayak down the bank to water and get in. As I started to do the same I thought, this bank is pretty steep. I bet I could sit in the kayak up here and just push off and ride it down the water and shoot out into the creek. That’ll be cool. Without conferring first with my brother-in-law, God, or my own better judgment, I hopped into the boat and rocked forward pushing off the bank with my paddle. I flew down the embankment towards the creek below just as I had planned. Whoo hoo! Then, I watched in horror as the tip of the kayak continued to dive straight down once hitting the water. Oh no! I thought as now about one-quarter of the kayak was underwater as I continued my dive. Halfway up, the Kayak suddenly flipped violently and threw me into the creek. Thankfully, it was shallow enough I could stand up. Laughing Jeff asks, “dude, are you OK?”

Soaking wet I responded, “Yea, I’m OK. I guess that was a dumb idea.”  

“Man, I didn’t know you were gonna do that. If you would’ve pulled that off, I’d been bragging on you for years,” he said while laughing hysterically.

I got back in my kayak and we decided with that, it was a good time to head back to the truck. Along the way, out we got see some more birds, a large male Anhinga, also known as a water turkey or Snakebird, a Mississippi Kite, which is a predator bird like a hawk or eagle, and several other small birds such as the Eastern Kingbird and a couple of possible Kingfishers. We had a good trip with just a little more excitement than anticipated. Now on to the next adventure.

[writingforthepack]

Beacon Hill’s New Alpha Prologue

Alpha!Reader 

ReaderxStiles(platonic)

Author’s Note: This chapter acts as background for the rest of the series. A few of your favorite Teen Wolf characters (which I don’t own the rights to or whatever) will be introduced in this chapter but the entire pack will be introduced next chapter. 

The fading sunset peeking through the foliage, the running water of a creek nearby, chirping cicadas and groaning frogs.

You had walked this trail thousands of time with your Aunt but something felt off tonight. You continued your leisurely trek as she rambled on about her coworker's antics.

"I couldn't believe it she had swallowed the entire fax machine-"

"yeah good old Miranda" you muttered, still lost in thought.

Your Aunt gave you a quizzical look. "So you really have not been listening for the last 10 minutes have you?"

"uh- well I mean I remember what you said about Jim's new beard and how it makes him look like a gnome." you stuttered.

"So you haven't been listening for the past 15 minutes!" Aunt Jane threw her head back and laughed.

Jane had been taking care of you for almost as long as you could remember. She was the only family you had and that was more than okay with you, you cherished her more than anyone else on this planet. She was nearing her 40's but her fun energy always made her seem a bit younger.

 You didn't like to talk about what happened to your parents. You doubted anyone wanted to hear about your father's absence since the beginning and how your mother died from cancer when you were young. Not exactly what you'd call a lighthearted conversation.

 "I'm sorry," you chuckled, "I've just had a lot on my mind with school lately"

She raised her eyebrows "oooh boys?"

"Biological sciences" you correct, stepping over a root with a small laugh.

 This was the part of the path that always got a bit more dense and bumpy, it didn't help that the sun was staring to rapidly set. The brush was starting to catch on your ankles and the bugs were nipping on your limbs.

 You both had quickened your pace, you assumed it was to get out of the woods before the bugs got to bad but your gut was telling you there was something more.

"Is it just me or do you get the feeling something is following us" you whisper.

"Seriously? Are you trying to get casted in a horror movie because that is so-" Jane stops in her tracks looking ahead of her.

"Jane?" you follow her line of vision, a few yards into the brush on your right two scarlet orbs float in the darkness. Eyes? You question before it charges at the two of you.

You get knocked to the ground as you watch a hand clasp around Jane's leg and drag her deeper into the brush, her screams echoing throughout the secluded pathway.

"NO!" you yell, pushing yourself up and stumbling to where you heard her.

You're met with the sight of your aunt collapsed on the ground, her head pushed to the side and her glassy eyes open but unfocused. A figure of a man is hunched over her in an animalistic manner as he digs his hands through a gash in the body's side.

Not the body

Jane's body.

You grab a nearby fallen branch and charge the man-creature?

You bring it over his head splintering the branch but the creature seems unaffected as he sets his scarlet eyes on you.

Shit

His arm pins you to the ground by your throat and you feel the other grasp your arm. You feel a sharp pain in your shoulder but everything seemed to be spinning. All you knew was that you couldn't go out like this. Your free arm reaches to your side trying to find anything to defend yourself with.

Your hand grasps around a stone the size of your fist and you don't waste any time before bringing it over his head.

It disorients him enough for you to push him off of your body. You stood over him, he gave a sick bloody smile as he started to push his body up.  You didn’t give him the chance bringing the rock over his head with all the might left in your body.

The scarlet fades from his eyes as you let out a sob, crawling over to Jane's body you cradle it and continue crying.

You try to wipe your tears away as you pull your phone from your pocket, ignoring the blood on your hands and the way they shook as you dial for the police.

"Beacon Hills Sheriff Station, what's your emergency?"

You open your mouth but no words come out  all you could do is stare at the scene before you, thoughts rushing through your mind. What the hell is happening?

The world seemed to fade away as the events of what just happened played on a loop in your head.

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You sat in the back of the EMT still in shock.

The police had traced the call and arrived. They guided you out of the woods, getting you checked out by the paramedics. They said there wasn't a scratch on you although you could have sworn there being a wound on your shoulder a few moments prior to your check up.

A deputy with kind eyes who’s nameplate read "Parrish", had stopped by a bit ago to try and get a statement from you but all you could sputter out was "his eyes, his eyes were glowing" which made him back away cautiously and pull the sheriff aside, probably to discuss how I sounded absolutely crazy. 

Maybe you were crazy, the image of the red fading from the creature's eyes haunted your thoughts. At least it was clear everything that had happened was out of self defense.

 The sound of boots on gravel finally shook you from the vision taking over your mind. Sheriff must have finished his discussion with Parrish.

"So glowing eyes huh" he sighed.

You gave a small nod.

He gives you a once over before speaking again

"Well seeing as we don't know why this specific pair of glowing eyes

 were set on you we should-"

"I'm sorry did I hear that right? GLOWING EYES?!!

You look at the teenage boy in front of you, to call him energetic would be an understatement. He seemed to be a ball of energy from his high tops to his spiked hair.

Sheriff pulls him back from the ambulance by his arm. "Stiles what the hell are you doing here?"

To be fair you had been wondering the same thing.

"Oh hey Dad didn't see you there."

Dad? I guess that makes a bit more sense you thought to yourself

"Under any other circumstance I would be unmeasurably pissed about you snooping around crime scenes but seeing as I'm still relatively new to this…other world, I could use backup"

Okay that was enough to snap you out of your stupor.

"Um I'm sorry, how did you become sheriff if you're new and isn't your backup right behind you in uniforms and why are you asking a teenager for help regarding a murder case. Because that's what happened remember? My aunt was murdered right in front of me…" you couldn't stop the tears from spilling down your face as you spiraled.

The kid crouched in front of you and offered you a piece of gauze as a tissue. His voice softened "Hey y/n was it? y/n we're going to take care of you alright?"

Why was this kid being so nice to you.

Sheriff spoke again "speaking of which, do you have anyone you can stay with for tonight just so you aren't alone?"

"I am alone, it was just my Aunt and I" you sniffled

The two in front of you exchange a look.

"You can stay with us." Sheriff states.

"What?" you say slightly miffed.

Stiles rises back up. "Yeah, Well you see a lot is going to change in the near future, and we want to help you as you go through this transformation." He gestured a lot towards his father throughout his explanation.

You stand up, tired of his antics.

"Listen, I appreciate the concern but I think that I can handle this on my own". You turn to Sheriff, "Am I free to go?"

He gives a slight nod and you sprint to your car, ignoring  Stile's squabbles behind you.

You drive the familiar route to you apartment and make it in the door. As soon as you stepped in the door memories flooded your memory all at once. The kitchen table where Jane helped you with your math homework. The couch where so many nights were spent watching stupid rom coms. It was all too much, you collapse against the wooden door and settle on the cool floor letting the tears fall.

You allow yourself to grieve for a moment before going to your room to pack a bag.

You couldn't be back here, not yet.

You drive to the Police Station and had barely made it in the door before being greeted by an overly excited Stiles.

"Hey! Hey Y/N. Whatcha doing here"

"I've decided to take you guys up on your offer"

 his eyes travel down to your duffle bag before awkwardly stumbling into his Dad's office to let him know.

"Alright let's get going" he said swinging his car keys.

You parked your car in the road and met Stiles by the front door.

"This is weird" you state.

"What never been to a sleepover?" he jokes and you shoot him a glare.

"I mean I just met you and now I'm staying with you"

"Hey don't worry about it" he says guiding you into the house to the guest room, "Maybe tomorrow you could even meet my friends."

"We'll see" you say mustering up a small smile.

"Well bathroom's  right there if you want to wash up and the rest is here"

"Thank you" you say. "For everything"

"Goodnight Y/N"

"Goodnight Stiles"