#// and then there's damsel who triggers my “get a job get away from her” instincts

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 17

Hannibal teaches y/n a useful skill.

@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop

Trigger warnings: use of firearms, discussion of firearms, violence

“So where are we off to next?” You asked, following Will around the office. “Are we questioning this Rachel woman, or are we going straight to the church?” 

Will sighed. “Jack and I are going to the church. I’m calling Hannibal to come pick you up.”

“What?” You spat in utter disbelief. “What the hell happened to taking him down together?” 

“You’ve already been more help than we could ask for.” Will explained. “This is the end of the line for you. We--”

He cleared his throat and looked down. “I can’t bear to see you get hurt.” 

“That’s sweet and everything, but,” You folded your arms. “You really think someone is going to hurt me in broad daylight in a megachurch?” 

“Well, somebody stabbed you in broad daylight in a restaurant, and that person just happened to come from this megachurch.” Will rationalized. “So, yes. I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question.” 

“So that’s it, you’re just going to pass me off to Hannibal?” You threw up your arms. “Look, I had enough of this growing up with divorced parents.” 

“Angel,” Will soothed, running a gentle hand down your arm. “Please. I’m begging you, think on this for just a minute and try to see why I don’t want you on this particular excursion?” 

You thought on it for a minute. “Churches do kind of trigger me.”

“I saw how tense you got when that woman said she’d kicked her daughter out of the house for dating a girl. I understand, dealing with people who remind you of Chase is going to trigger you.” Will whispered. “Have you even taken any time to work on healing?” 

“I could say the same to you.” You disputed. “You killed a woman and then came face-to-face with her mother. Why aren’t you trying to work through that?” 

“That’s different.” He blurted out. “That’s my job.” 

“Sure.” You snipped. “I have to take time to work through my PTSD, but you don’t. Got it.” 

“If you go home with Hannibal now, I promise I will...” He hesitated to finish the sentence. “I’ll work on my issues too. Cross my heart.” 

“Oh, I will absolutely hold you to that.” You pointed at him. “And I’m telling Hannibal you said that.” 

Will immediately regretted making that promise and it was obvious from his expression. “Please don’t.” 

“I am absolutely going to do that.” You said, in a way in which he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not. 

Hannibal opened the passenger’s door for you and greeted you with a kiss. He could tell you were feeling off after only a few seconds. 

“Why so sad, my indulgence?” He asked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Don’t tell me you enjoy Will’s company more than mine?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head. “No way.” 

“You can tell me what’s on your mind, love.” He assured you. 

You sighed and rested your head on the window. “Will doesn’t want me to help on the investigation anymore.” 

“I don’t see why he should.” Hannibal agreed. “You’re tracking down the man who tried to kill you, and he’s tracking down the man who tried to kill his lover. Both of you are far too close to the situation and your mental health will suffer for it. But, in the end, it’s Will’s job.” 

“I know.” You conceded. 

“That, and,” Hannibal continued. “Will is a trained professional under the supervision of other trained professionals. He’s far less likely to get hurt.” 

“I get it.” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At the end of the day, he’s the action hero and I’m the damsel in distress.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal scolded. “You know our situation isn’t so black-and-white. You know the investigation couldn’t have worked without you.” 

“I know.” You pouted. “I just wanted the final blow, y’know? I think I deserve to finish the job.” 

Hannibal went quiet for a moment. When you came to a stoplight, he turned his gaze to you. “You want to be more proactive in your safety.” 

“Would be nice.” You shrugged. 

“I wasn’t asking.” Hannibal corrected. “You do want to be more proactive. It’s why you have a firearms license in your wallet and a handgun in your car. It’s also why you were looking up hunting equipment last night while you were on the phone with Freddie Lounds.” 

You swallowed. Every word in the English language escaped you. He was right. You never saw the appeal of guns until you lived alone. Even though a "gun owner" was technically what you were, you didn't want to associate yourself with the jingoistic, hyper-masculine culture affixed to the term. You were just a woman who kept a gun in her car and had all the proper licensing and registration for it. Nothing wrong with that. So why did it have you feeling so defensive? 

You lowered your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“Lying about Freddie Lounds.” You finished. “I don’t know why I felt the need to lie about that, in hindsight-” 

“I understand.” Hannibal cut you off. “You were just doing what you felt needed to be done. Will would have done the same.” 

He was right again. 

“Ambitious of you to select a shotgun as your weapon of choice.” Hannibal observed. “At the risk of sounding like a chauvinist, I have to ask. Do you know how to use one?” 

“No.” You admitted. “It was just a power fantasy, I guess. All I know is that you can blast a guy’s head off with one.” 

Without a word, Hannibal took an abrupt turn. 

“Isn’t your place that way?” You asked, pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Do you have your license on you now?” He asked. 

“Of course I do, why?”

“Because we’re going to make your power fantasy a reality.” He answered.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a large hunting store with a shooting range attached. 

“Go in and pick out something you like.” Hannibal instructed, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be waiting for you at the range and I can teach you how to use it.” 

He offered you one of his shiny metal credit cards. When you didn’t immediately take it, he pushed it closer to you. 

“I just got a thousand dollars from Freddie Lounds.” You pushed his hand away. “I can pay for it.” 

“You deserve something much nicer than only a thousand dollars can buy you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened. 

“So then I’ll buy something more than a thousand dollars and use your credit card to make up the difference.” You offered. 

“No.” Hannibal said, sternly. “I will buy you a nice gun and plenty of ammo, and you will save your thousand dollars for when you open your own restaurant.” 

“How did you-” You objected. 

He cut you off. “Will isn’t very good at keeping secrets, dear. Take it.” 

You laughed uncomfortably. “Hannibal, if you don’t put that credit card away I will bite your finger off.” 

His thin lips curled into a cunning smile. He offered you his other hand. “Bite away, darling.”  

You wordlessly snatched the card from his hand. 

“Oh, pity.” Hannibal feigned disappointment. “Did I call your bluff?” 

You tucked the card away in your pocket. You leaned in as if you were going to give him a kiss on the cheek, but playfully nipped at his earlobe. 

"Remind me to give you a little special attention when the lesson is up." He whispered, his hand clutching your arm.

You made sure to walk away slowly, rolling your hips with every step.

You entered the store, feeling overwhelmed and significantly less confident than you did while shopping for guns online.

An employee approached you. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever sexist comment he was about to hurl at you. But somebody must have taught this particular associate that being a misogynist prick doesn't sell guns.

"Anything I can help you find, ma'am?"

Your mouth ran before your brain. "I'd like to buy a gun, please."

"Well, you've come to the right place." The employee smiled. "What kind of gun are you looking for?"

"A shotgun." You corrected.

"Well, we have plenty of makes and models to choose from." He clapped his hands together and led you to a wall lined with shotguns. "Any specifics in mind?"

"I guess I just want something simple enough to use." You scratched the back of your head. "My boyfriend is taking me skeet shooting this weekend so I don't have time to learn all the complicated mechanics."

"So skeet?" The man put his hands down on the counter and looked deep in thought. He turned around and pulled one off the shelf. "I'd recommend this CZ over-under. It's a good place to start."

He offered it to you. Your eyes widened and your first instinct was to refuse.

He looked at you with confusion. "How are you gonna shoot anything if you don't hold it?"

You shook off your nerves and took the gun in your hands. It was a little heavy, and tilted near the stock. You looked at it as if it were a beautiful but deadly venomous tropical snake.

"Over-under's are the working man's shotgun." The employee said. "Or, woman, as it were."

You held it up to your shoulder like you saw in movies and felt a strange rush of exhilaration pulsing through your body.

"It's nice, right?" He asked. "And you can get to the trigger okay?"

"I'll take it." You said. "And some bullets, please."

"Now we're cooking with gas." He answered, a big smile on his face. "Let's get you rung up."

The fact that he didn't even stop to notice that the name on your license didn't match the name on the credit card only emphasized your country's need for stricter gun control laws. Even if the lack of such laws benefitted you in that moment, the ease of the process killed you a little.

The total came up to just under a thousand dollars. You couldn't bring yourself to spend more than you planned to, even if it was Hannibal's treat. You already felt weird about using Hannibal's money, let alone so much of it.

The employee saw you out with a friendly "happy skeeting" and you set off to meet Hannibal at the range.

"There you are, love." He greeted you. He had removed his suit coat and tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

For a split second, you completely forgot about the gun and were overtaken by the need to fuck him. You quickly regained control of yourself. "Yeah. I found something."

"I should hope so." He said, beckoning to you from the stall. "Come now. Let me show you what to do."

You stood in front of the booth, ears and eyes protected. At the end of the long booth was a paper target. Hannibal positioned himself behind you. He took your hand in his and guided it to the stock wrist.

"Wrap your fingers around here, like this." He instructed, his dark, accented voice shaking you to your core. "Now extend your finger to reach the trigger. Yes, that's it."

"Now place your other hand on the fore-end and hold the end of the stock against your shoulder."

The way he shaped your body, positioned your limbs felt almost alarmingly natural. He wasn't just indulging your power fantasy, he was directing it.

"Cheek against the stock, love." He instructed. "The gun is an extention of you. You must hold it firmly and give it support. You move with it, it moves with you."

He rummaged through the shopping bag and pulled out a package of shells. "Are you ready to shoot it, darling?"

"I think I should probably load it first." You said, nervously.

"Well that should take us no time at all." Hannibal approached with two 12 gauge shotshells. "Go ahead and engage the break lever right at the edge of the barrel."

When the gun suddenly bent in half, your first thought was that you'd broken it. Hannibal handed you the two shells and watched you timidly slide one into each barrel.

You felt yourself shaking and your palms were damp with sweat. You swallowed. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Were you afraid the first time you drove a car?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"Cripplingly." You nodded. "I was so scared I didn't take my foot off the brake the whole time."

"But now driving comes just as naturally to you as walking." Hannibal smiled comfortingly. He placed his hands over yours and returned you to the shooting position. On one side, the cold stock rested against your cheekbone. On the other, Hannibal's hot breath grazed against your skin. "It just takes some getting used to."

Your finger squeezed the trigger and the massive projectile exploded from the gun. The stock pushed back into your shoulder, making you stumble backwards into Hannibal.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed. "That's got some serious recoil. Is it supposed to do that?"

Hannibal chuckled and took a step back, giving you a little space. "Yes, darling. Now go ahead and fire off the next shot."

Your eyes widened. "Okay."

"Remember, you move with the gun, you don't fight the gun." He instructed. "It's more afraid of you than you are of it."

You squeezed the trigger again, this time fully expecting the recoil. The shot fired, and this time it hit the target.

You hopped in delight. "Holy shit I actually got one!"

"All it takes is a little getting used to." Hannibal stroked your hair. "Now unload the shotgun shells and let's go again."

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Brace, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1272 Pairing: Male-Coded Android x GN Reader

A dark sci-fi fantasy romance. Huge trigger warnings for genocide, child death, attempted murder, injury, blood, heavy religious themes.

xxx

It’s another grey day in Spire City, and rain comes down in streams against your prison window. As you watch, neon lights flicker and steam in the downpour, advertising dentists and bars and career opportunities in Jackson Thomas’s Silver Spire. You can see the Spire in the distance, lit up like a beacon in the haze of watery white noise. You’re sure that you could navigate the labyrinthine streets of the city using it as one would a compass needle, if only you were given half a chance.

You are one of the Fallen: a branded human who developed an unstable genome that gave you supernatural powers, thus deviating from the humans who pass on to sit at the foot of the Beholder’s throne. In the beginning, before the phenomena became widespread, your kind was whispered about behind closed doors, nothing more than an insubstantial spectre in the dark. Then, when more and more children were born with strange powers, the world flew into a panic.

Temples were overwhelmed by desperate parents or those pregnant begging them to cleanse or help spare their children. It wasn’t long before the Temple of the Beholden officially declared such children aberrations against the laws of nature and forbade them from stepping foot in a temple. Some children were abandoned in the dark, some disappeared; most were killed in religious fervour, buried in unmarked graves or washed up on riverbanks.

The Temple of the Beholden called it the Great Ousting—a fancy name for genocide.

Faced with the blood staining the eyes of their Most Holy, a silent exodus ensued from the Temple of the Beholden, its Templars renouncing the white and gold of their former regalia in favour of founding a new faith for the people: the Order of the Fallen. Shrines for the Fallen were erected seemingly overnight—a direct challenge to the Beholden, and one they did not take lightly. All members of the Order were promptly excommunicated from the Templar faith, and though years of unrest have followed, a holy war had yet to break out. 

You remember running your fingers along the robes of the Order in your mother’s wardrobe, admiring the swift but subtle gradient from coal black to blood red. You had grown up kneeling beside her in front of the altar, letting her hand guide yours as you lit the incense and red candles in front of the effigy of the Beholder. You remember praying for the Fallen to find redemption at the feet of the Beholder; to not be barred from re-entering the stream of souls that trickle down into new bodies; to find love and safety in those around them.

And then you Fell.

A knock on the door stirs you from your muddled thoughts, bringing you out of the trance you allow yourself to fall into in order to pass the time within these four walls. When you turn your head to look, the door is already closing, having allowed in a tall, lanky man with bags of groceries stacked impossibly high in his arms. You watch him walk across your tiny cell and begin to sort the goods into the cupboards and fridge, and that’s when you notice that he isn’t human at all. He has the same smooth, sculpted head that most generic androids do beneath his hood, rather like a supercycle helmet that just melts into the lines of his neck and shoulders.

Despite it all, you find yourself feeling curious; just what game is your mother playing now? The android wears the gloves and robes of the Order, stocking the pantry and fridge with things in soft packaging. You weren’t allowed to have tins or other hard packaging after the incident with the beans and the caretaker who tried to take advantage of your solitude. In fact, most metal was kept away from you, within reason, due to your specific ability to manipulate it. This meant that the building that you were in was built entirely out of plastisteel and ceramicrete, from the supports to the rivets and even the bathroom fixtures. Not even nanotech or biometals were safe.

Why, then, had your mother sent you an android?

The light in the camera in the centre of the room flickers and dies. The android calmly sets aside the rest of the packages and turns to face you, crossing the room in a few even strides and snatching you up from the window seat like a damsel in the old reels you used to watch with your mother. Shock and outrage war for dominance for an instant as your instincts buck, senses seeking metal to rend and destroy, push away from your bubble and—the wall beside you explodes.

The blast is so loud after days, weeks, months of silence that you’re briefly light-headed and lost to a powerful bout of tinnitus, almost entirely missing the transition your body takes from warm and dry to cold and wet. Your bare feet touch the roof of the neighbouring building and you blink through the lashing rain to see rioters at the base of your prison on the other side of the street, a multitude of fingers pointing from your broken window to the building you now stand upon. In an instant you’re airborne again, narrowly avoiding yet another explosive projectile from the crowd, and then you find yourself in the arms of the android as he scales from roof to roof away from your would-be murderers.

You must be dreaming, you think, except that dreams don’t bleed and you’re definitely bleeding, cut by shrapnel and shivering with shock and cold. You know nothing of where you are or where you’re going, entirely at the mercy of the android carrying you through the city.

When at last you arrive at your destination, you’re sure your lips must be turning blue from hypothermia, but you aren’t allowed to stop. The android leads you into a little hovel in a building in the slums, half-collapsing and with petra moths fluttering against bald light fixtures. Here, he gives you clothing to change into and a warm can of coffee, which you sip as he tends to your wounds.

“Who are you?” you finally ask when the chattering of your teeth has calmed, looking up at what passes for the android’s face. “Who sent you?”

“My name is Brace,” the android simply replies, shrugging off the robes of the Order and revealing streetwear as nondescript as the clothing you now wear. “I’m with the Resistance.”

“What Resistance?” you ask, bewildered and out of sorts. “What does a resistance movement want with me?”

“Not you specifically,” says Brace, sliding a gun into a slit in his trousers that leads to a gap in his leg. “Fallen in general. Think of us as a liberation movement. We want your freedom. It’s my job to smuggle you off of this continent.”

“The whole damn continent? I’m conspicuous,” you say, gesturing to the tattoo on your face.

“Minor surgery will remove the brand. Whatever other objections you may have, I suggest you remember what I just delivered you from.” Brace conceals more weapons among his person as you watch, from thin knives to long, terrible needles. This seems to be his storehouse, filled to the brim with all matter of weapons and explosives. “We leave tonight. I suggest you get whatever rest that you can.”

You have more questions burning on your tongue, but you swallow them for now. If this is to be your new normal for however much longer you’re alive, you want to be as prepared as possible for whatever may come.

[760kashif]

His Secret Obsession has helped thousands of women improve their relationships

His Secret Obsession is a hugely popular relationship guide for women.

What does a 33 year old man who writes about relationships and psychology for a living think about His Secret Obsession?

Is it really worth your time and money?

Read my epic His Secret Obsession review to find out.

Contents [hide]

What is His Secret Obsession?

Who is His Secret Obsession for?

What’s inside the book

The signals and their uses

Is His Secret Obsession worth it?

How much does His Secret Obsession cost?

What is His Secret Obsession?

His Secret Obsession is a new relationship guide by best-selling author James Bauer. It helps women be in a committed, passionate and long term relationship with the man they love.

The main idea of the book is that women need to tap into their man’s hero instinct.

What the hero instinct boils down to is that men want to live meaningful lives and be respected for their efforts. The hero instinct is amplified when it comes to relationships — men want to be a hero to the women they love and care about.

The key thing to understand about the hero instinct is this:

A man will be drawn to any woman who makes him feel like her everyday hero and will be reluctant to commit when he doesn’t feel like one.

His Secret Obsession gives you the words, phrases, and text messages to trigger the hero instinct in your man.

After reading this book, I’ve started writing extensively about the hero instinct on my own website, Hack Spirit. I’m a massive fan of concept because it speaks the truth about what really drives men when it comes to relationships.

Who is His Secret Obsession for?

The short answer is:

Any woman who wants to understand her man and win over his heart.

But this is a very broad spectrum, so let’s look at who exactly will make good use of this eBook:

Women who want to gain the interest of a man they like

Women who want to take a friendship to the next level

Women who want to move from dating their man to being in a committed relationship

Women whose partner seems uninterested or distant emotionally

Women who don’t want to accept just a mediocre relationship, but who want the best

Women who want their man’s attention, love, and respect.

But most of all, it’s for women who are willing to give it a go.

This isn’t the type of relationship book where your problems will be solved overnight.

You have to be willing to make an effort and follow through on the different signals and phrases. And sometimes this involves waiting for the right moment or adapting phrases to suit your man and situation.

What’s inside the book

His Secret Obsession is broken down into 3 main parts:

​Part one focuses on how the hero instinct works

Part two reveals the practical things you can do to trigger his hero instinct

A bonus towards the end of the book are text message formulas that you can start sending your man straight away.

Included in the book are 17 modules that really break down the psychology of the hero instinct and then give specific tips and strategies for triggering it in your man.

James Bauer reveals the words you can use, phrases you can say, and little requests you can make to trigger this natural male instinct.

The book itself clocks in at 217 pages.

The signals and their uses

Throughout the book, you’ll come across different signals which differ according to their purpose. For example, while one signal is about getting your man to open up to you, another may be centered around gaining his unwavering interest and attention.

Here’s a quick breakdown of the main signals:

1. The “I owe you” signal

One of the reasons the hero instinct is so effective on guys is that it targets their desire to feel needed.

This signal and the phrases included are ideal whether you’re at the start of a relationship or years in. It’s the ultimate way to make a man feel wanted and important in the relationship.

And it’s as simple as asking for help — James Bauer makes this easy to do by laying out template phrases to put to use for each of the signals.

2. The “private island” signal

This signal is all about how your man sees you. If you want him to consider you the woman of his life, who he’ll spend the rest of his days with, the “private island” phrases will do just the trick.

This is best used if you’re dating or in a relationship with a man who seems unsure about you.

Whether he’s a commitment-phobe or he’s undecided as to whether you’re “the one” for him, it’ll make him see you in a whole different light.

3. The “X-ray question”

To use the hero instinct effectively, you’ve first got to find out your man’s dreams and desires. What he wants for his life, and what he truly seeks in a partner.

But, many men close up at the thought of a deep, intimate conversation that might leave them feeling vulnerable. With the X-ray questions, he’ll open up in no time and you’ll get to the heart of who he is and what he wants.

4. The “ex-back” signal

As implied by the name, this signal is all about getting your ex back.

In fact, it’s as simple as using a 12-word text, cleverly designed to hook his attention and keep it going. This is useful whether you’ve just broken up or you’ve been pining for him for a while now, but probably less efficient if you broke up years ago.

It’s also useful if you’re “on a break” and you want to reconcile with your partner.

5. The “glimpse” phrase

Part of winning over a man’s heart well and truly lies in showing him who you are, deep down and unapologetically.

The “glimpse” phrase is designed to help him see what a future with you would look like. By seeing the real you, he can start to envisage what life together will be like, sparking his interest and commitment even more.

6. The “damsel in distress” signal

Deep down, men want to protect and provide for those they love. They also want to feel admired and respected by the woman they love.

That’s why the “damsel in distress” signal is an important factor in the hero instinct. It’s not about playing the victim or acting incapable to inflate his ego.

It’s about giving him a purpose and role in your life. This signal is essential for anyone who wants their man to feel valued.

As soon as it’s triggered, he’ll do everything he can to step up to the plate and be the partner you need and deserve.

7. The secret “currency” of happy relationships

This signal is all about injecting “emotional currency” into your relationship.

Instead of waiting for happiness to come when he’s finally got that new job, or when you’ve finished renovating the house, you can create a happy relationship no matter what’s happening externally.

At the heart of it, this signal is about showing genuine appreciation to your man. In doing so, you’ll trigger his inner-hero and his desire to contribute to the relationship even more.

8. The “silent action” signals

These are signals that, as the name implies, need no words. Just by using your body language and interaction, you can send powerful messages.

This is perfect if there’s someone you’ve got your eye on and want to catch their attention, or if you want to let them know you’re interested in them.

9. The “fascination” signal

If you want him fascinated with you when you’re together and apart, this signal will plant you in his mind for good.

This is ideal for new relationships, taking a friendship to the next level, and for relationships that have lost their spark.

The signal uses psychology to make your man emotionally attached to you, which results in him always considering you and thinking more as “we” rather than “I”.

James Bauer gives you certain phrases that can be used for each signal, and it’s up to you to adapt them to suit your relationship.

The signals are subtle and easy enough to work into conversation without making it obvious to your man that you’re using the hero instinct on him.

And while you may benefit from some and not others, it will very much depend on what you hope to change/improve in your relationship.

In that sense, it’s helpful that there are a number of signals to choose from.

FOR MORE DETAILS CLICK HERE:https://bit.ly/3iYBw9V

[charmed-henry]

Baby There’s a Shark in the Water | Candenrose feat. Bruce

Date: 5/17/21 Trigger Warnings: references to drowning, blood, head trauma, general violence  @thehuntress-rose  @i-want-candy​ @brucewhite​

Candace goes for a swim, Bruce goes for a snack, and Henrose goes Baywatch

HENRY

Finally, finally, Henry was going to relax and have a beach day. Things were going surprisingly well. The wedding, introducing Ashleigh to his family, finals, the fae situation, sure, it could be better, but it could be a lot worse. And so, in his favorite swim trunks and sunglasses, Henry was just slathering on some sunscreen when he heard some splashing in the water and the alarm bells started going off in his head again.

No, he was overreacting. He and Eric hadn’t found anything when they went exploring.

Still, he glanced at Rose. “You’d think the lifeguards would do their jobs a little better, right?” he pointed out, trying not to look too worried.

ROSE:

Yes, Rose agreed to hang out at the beach with Henry with the intention to relax. And yes, she knew it wouldn't last long with her particular company. Still, she remained unbothered by the thinly veiled anxiety in Henry’s voice. She took the sunscreen from him and used some on herself. Rose was only concerned with the horrible tan lines she’d get from her high neck bikini top today. No one could fall overboard, so why worry?

“You seem to be pretty good at it, why don’t you do their job then?” Rose suggested in jest, peering over her red sunglasses. “I’m joking. Don’t actually go all BayWatch on me. You need to relax. There are no man eating sharks in the lake.”

She didn’t know how ironic those words would be later that day.

HENRY:

Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about man-eating sharks. I’m just saying…” Henry trailed off. He didn’t know what he was just saying, to be honest. If he and Eric hadn’t found anything, what was there to worry about here?

He was being paranoid. As usual. He needed to relax and enjoy the day. Henry leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes, pulling the shades back over his eyes.

Nope. The splashing was bothering him. And then, cutting through the regular beach noise, a shriek. Henry sat straight up and threw his sunglasses off. “I’m going over there. Rose, back me up!”

ROSE:

Rose sat up straight. She heard the sharp rising of a scream above all the chatter and waves and splashing too. It was then she realized she was going to eat her words. Man eating shark or not, trouble seemed to follow the people in organizations made to stop it. Immediately she was in work mode. Protect, attack, obey orders.

“Got it!” She pulled her hair back as she stood up, ready to dive into the action. She scanned the shore line for the origin of the shriek. And then another sounded. And another. “There!” she nodded and began to run over, feet kicking up sand and water licking her ankles. “Is that..?”

Candace? Candace and blood? What was going on here?

CANDACE: The weather had decided to warm up on this particular saturday in mid-May. When a few girls from Candace’s major asked if she wanted to go to the lake, she said yes. Not because she particularly liked these girls--they were fine and everything...they just didn’t have a lot in common--but because a day at the lake sounded perfect. Finals were starting soon and Candace really needed a zen day before that happened because she had felt her focus slipping with everything else going on.

So, to the lake she went.

And it was a nice day. The sun was baking down on her and the water was the perfect temperature. Maybe a little cool, but on her floatie, she was perfectly relaxed. Her body was half in the water, arms wrapped around the inflatable tube that her friend was sitting on. With her legs, she was lazily directing them about the lake as they sipped on cold beers that someone had brought in a cooler.

If asked later, Candace would not be able to tell you what she was talking about, but for now, they were all just idly chatting. One of the dumb boys splashed water at them and they retaliated with squeals of playful displeasure.

A lovely, normal day at the lake...

BRUCE

Bruce was going on thirteen days vegetarian. The last time he got hungry, he demolished an entire bag of frozen shrimp alone in his room, like an animal. He stared at it afterward, the ripped plastic remains of the bag reminding him horribly of the carcasses of the live sea creatures the researchers used to bring him in the lab, and vowed that he was done for real this time. The more he practiced, surely, the better he would get at this.

He didn’t get better. He got worse. It started with getting shaky and distracted, then incurably hungry, then a pull toward the water. Then there was a full moon, and Bruce didn’t sleep as well, flashbacks and memories keeping him up at night, and he started fantasizing about fish at all hours. Bruce promised himself he would stay away from the lake during that beach party, but only a few days after, he found himself at the lake.

It was so risky. There were people everywhere. But Bruce wasn’t thinking right, and the next thing he knew, he was in the water, in his merman form, prowling around the bottom of the lake. Not the same as the ocean, not by a mile, but enough to call forth his instincts.

He smelled it from across the lake. A tiny drop of blood. And before Bruce could stop or reason with himself or try any of those tactics he had taught himself, he was zipping across the lake, his instincts taking over. He was hungry. He needed to eat, by any means necessary.

Bruce followed the smell to a pair of girls sitting in inner tubes. One of them had a small papercut, the one with red hair, and without thinking, Bruce sprang out of the water and sank his sharp teeth into the girl’s leg.

CANDACE “Ugh, Greg!” Candace grouched in the direction of the boy who had splashed them, “you made me cut my finger!”

The wound was sharp and bleeding but shallow. She must have sliced it on the seam of the inner tube when she jerked away from the splashing water.

Scowling at the asshole, she dipped her hand in the water, rinsing the cut out.

“Ew, Candace! This water is so gross.”

“It’s not that bad, actually. I’ve seen worse.” Growing up around the Great Lakes meant trips there on family vacations and being around a million gross tourists. Candace was not really an outdoorsy kind of girl, but a little lake water didn’t phase her much.

Candace didn’t think twice about it. To the point where, later, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint that as the moment she became a target.

It all happened very quickly after that.

At first, all it was was a tug. As if someone had dove beneath them and grabbed her around the waist. Probably Greg because he was an asshole like that.

“Candy,” huffed her friend, who was almost dislodged from her tube. And then, more forcefully: “Oh my god, Candy!” as a bubble of red water burst at her side.

“What?”

The first shriek was not Candace’s. It was her friend’s as Candace was torn off the inner tube and pulled into the water. She gasped as soon as she went under, filling her lungs with lake water. Disoriented, she twisted slightly, but that only made the pain in her leg pronounced. It shot up her thigh and into her hip and her nails instinctively clawed at the dark shape in the water as she screamed.

HENRY: As they jogged over to the shoreline, Henry was about to start bragging about how his intuition never lied and people should really listen to him more when he saw the source of the shouting. Candace. And, launching itself at her, some sort of sea creature?

Henry wished Eric were here, because he would know exactly what to do. Henry hadn’t brought his weapons with him today, but maybe the beach umbrella could work. “Hold on!” Henry shouted, then ran back to where the umbrella and chairs were set up and ripped the umbrella out of the ground, not really caring if he looked ridiculous. He ran back over to the water and brandished the umbrella and its pointy tip. “Get away from her!” Henry warned.

ROSE:

Unfortunately for Rose, she was more of a head first approach kind of gal. She didn’t need a weapon; she was a weapon. The huntress ran forth into the shallows and truly saw the scene for what it was. A grey creature had latched onto Candace’s leg. It was dragging her under. Rose grabbed the redhead in an attempt to keep her head above the water.

Without thinking, Rose kicked it in its side. It wasn’t too hard considering the water slowed her down. She tried to pull Candace away from its teeth, despite the screaming. If she pulled too hard more damage would be done to the damsel. It was on her to get free. Rose could hold off this beast, but only for a few moments.

“Henry! Hurry it up!” She overestimated herself, they needed a weapon.

CANDACE: Time had lost all sense of meaning to Candace.

Her lungs were burning, deprived of oxygen and full of lake water. If she didn’t die of blood loss, she was most definitely gonna die from drowning. In fact, she could even die of a pulmonary enema if she survived this. Or have brain damage. Or organ damage. At the very least, she could develop an infection. She watched too many medical shows, apparently, if this is what she was thinking about before she died.

Because she was pretty sure that was what was going to happen. She was completely unaware that there was anyone trying to rescue her.

When her head surfaced, due to Rose grabbing her under the arm and pulling—Candace didn’t even register that was what was happening. She kept thrashing on instinct, clawing at Rose as if she was an attacker too. Trying to use her to stay afloat above the water as she coughed and gasped for air—dunking Rose under the water instead.

HENRY

If only Eric were here. If only Henry had paid more attention in the lessons about mercreatures. Maybe this was some horrible kind of irony, that he had been so indignant about people valuing his family’s specialty but should have considered others to the same level of threat. He knew there might be creatures in the lake. Why hadn’t Henry been more vigilant?

But there was no time for Henry’s typical cycle of worry and regret and guilt. He had to get into action. Rose was tough and she was a good fighter, but he didn’t want her fighting this thing alone, especially unarmed. Not that an umbrella was much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Henry cried, letting the terror and rage at seeing two of his closest friends in harm’s way fuel him. The Order always emphasized the importance of being detached from a situation, to focus on the skills and training that would carry you through to victory, but Henry was finding that being emotionally invested was its own kind of weapon.

As Rose tried to pull Candace away from the creature, it tried to lunge again, giving Henry the opening to slam the umbrella against the creature’s head with a sickening thunk. The creature cried out in pain, a high-pitched, strangled kind of cry. For a moment, Henry felt a twinge of guilt, but then he saw Candace thrashing in the water and, his sense of protectiveness renewed, hit the creature again.

ROSE:

Rose yelped and flailed into the water. She kept her grip on the girl but lost her footing. Candace fighting against her was not a part of her improvised plan. Getting dragged under the surface wasn’t either so Rose got a mouthful of lake water. A bitter side of her thought, ‘if I knew this was going to be so much trouble, I would have let her drown…’ But Rose knew her dedication to saving people would always outweigh her self preservation. The thrill she felt hunting, and even now, underwater and at the mercy of magic she didn’t understand… it always outweighed self preservation.

The blonde resurfaced with her charge. Sputtering and spitting out murky liquid, Rose coughed out, “CANDACE. Stop struggling and swim!” Sure, her leg is a bit out of commission, but she had Rose to support her. Candace would be okay. The huntress’ presence guarantees it.

She tried again to pull the girl back to safety. This time the creature no longer latched on and is otherwise occupied with Henry.

BRUCE:

Deep-water merfolk have an evolutionary instinct that snaps them out of a feeding frenzy when things get too dangerous.When they sustain a certain level of injury to the head or to sensitive organs, they go into survival mode, and the need to find food is secondary to the need to find shelter and a place to tend to one’s wounds. At the lab, Bruce’s life got a lot worse when the researchers discovered this fact.

So the blow to the head was almost familiar. By the second one, Bruce dipped below the surface of the water, and that was when the situation revealed itself in full to him. What he had done. He had attacked an innocent girl in the lake, like a monster, and now this boy was trying to kill him with an umbrella. Horrible, creeping guilt took over, but Bruce couldn’t stay around here any longer pondering his actions. He had to make it to safety.

Bruce poked his head above the surface one more time, surveying the sickening scene, confusion and fear showing on his face. But he only had a few seconds before the boy with the umbrella raised the weapon high above his head, and Bruce knew what was coming next. He ducked back under the water and sped off toward the deepest part of the lake, his head ringing with the pain of the hits and the million thoughts he had running through his head.

He couldn’t stay here forever. Bruce knew they would come looking for him. But for now, this felt safe, the darker, cooler water that reminded him of home.

What would the agents say if they found out? Would they give up on him, decide he was a hopeless case and lock him up? Even if not, Bruce knew their confusion and disappointment would be unbearable.

Hating his horrible appetite, Bruce easily captured a few trout and ate them, and then changed back into his human form, leaving the lake on the far side near the forest. He wandered there for a while before he made it back to his apartment, dripping wet and looking dejected.

CANDACE: Candace was not the only one screaming. The lake had just recently opened, which meant that tons of people had flocked to it on their weekend. Just like Candace and her friends had. Just like Rose and Henry had. Everyone was on their way out of the water now, people shouting for help. People shouting about sharks and monsters and all sorts of things. In the distance, there was already the sound of sirens wailing too. The benefits of such a small town meant help was never too far away.

Candace wasn’t paying attention to any of that, though. She was only aware of the pounding of her own heart and the sound of the water as she and the monster struggled.

All of the sudden, it was like a weight had been lifted as the creature let go. In its place, Candace felt the burn of her wounds as they started to bleed. Her panicked splashing only made it worse, but she couldn’t think. There was only blinding terror.

It was Rose shouting her name that finally snapped Candace out of her panic, but only enough to stop her from thrashing. She kicked feebly with her good leg, adrenaline (adrenaline is released by the adrenal glands) still coursing through her body, terrified that whatever had attacked her was still lurking in the murky water, ready for round two.

The next thing she knew, she was being dragged onto land, the sand scraping against her back. She looked down to see the blood as it stained the ground around her and felt her heart rate tick up again. Every movement caused more to pour from the wound.

“What the—“ she started and then leaned over to cough up water. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

HENRY

The creature swam away. As Rose pulled Candace to shore, Henry tried to chase after it, swinging the umbrella widely, but despite Henry’s attempts at least to render the creature unconscious, it still managed to get away. Another failure. Another loose thread. Henry had saved Candace, but there was still a dangerous sea monster on the loose, and once it tended to its wounds, it would be back and hungry for revenge.

Wait.

Candace.

Henry whipped around to see her lying on the shore, sputtering and shouting as the wound on her leg bled onto the sand. Something tightened in Henry’s chest-- anger, fear, guilt, maybe, that he hadn’t been able to prevent this from happening. And something else, too. The realization that if things had gone differently, Henry might have lost Candace forever, and the last things they might have said to each other would have been those vicious text messages.

That thought was even more terrifying than any sea monster. Through fights and breakups, Candace was still Henry’s friend, and seeing her like this reminded him of that. He couldn’t believe he had wasted so much time refusing to speak to her when something like this could have happened any moment.

Of course, though, there were more pressing things to attend to. Henry splashed out of the water, rushing to Candace’s side. There was already a small crowd gathered. “Everyone, back away!” Henry shouted. “Has someone called 999?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, though. What was more important was that Candace was bleeding. Henry knew from Order training to apply pressure to the wound and try to stop the bleeding. He glanced at Candace, and the look of fear on her face seized him with a fresh wave of panic. One thing at a time. He turned to Rose. “Can you stay with her while I go get something to stop the bleeding?”

ROSE:

As soon as they reached the sand Rose stumbled over the tangle of limbs and tried to wave away the bystanders swarming. Candace was in shock and the crowd only made things worse. It must have been some sight to see some random college students save a girl from a lake monster, but this wasn’t a TV drama. The attention overwhelmed her, Rose was a covert operation kind of huntress. Her heart was racing just as fast as the girl’s who was attacked. She couldn’t face them. So she focused on the task at hand. First aid was second nature to the girl, she’d self administered plenty of times before. The trail of blood leading up to a sputtering Candace was being licked away by the small waves and Rose nodded to Henry only half processing what he said.

“I got her,” the wounds weren’t too deep, but this would hurt. Rose took both of her hands and wrapped them around the bite marks, applying even force. She hoped Candace was too distracted by everything else to really feel it or fight her anymore.  “Candace, you’re in shock. You’re only gonna bleed more if you panic. Can you take a slow deep breath for me? Like this.” In and out. Nice and slow. Most of the people Rose had taken care of had been veterans of injuries like this. But this was just a girl, she was probably terrified so she did her best to calm her.

“Henry is getting more help. You’re gonna be okay. Just lay back and breathe slow.”  She kept her gaze on Candace, really trying to be a comfort.

CANDACE: Candace was, vaguely, aware she was in shock. There was a part of Candace’s brain that knew what to do. She had had a summer job as a lifeguard at a lake near Dansville. Granted, there wasn’t really protocol for an animal attack (is that what this had been? she wasn’t totally sure.) But, Candace also had a fascination with how the body worked. The different chemicals and functions. And she knew too much blood loss, combined with the chilly water, would lead to hypothermia and shock.

The shock was probably more serious than the hypothermia, but both together was definitely an even bigger problem. It’d be that combo, not the blood loss, that would cause significant damage.And if that didn’t take her out, an infection probably would.

Taking deep breaths wasn’t going to help. Well, it would get oxygen to her organs which would be shutting down soon if nothing changed; but in the long run: deep breaths were gonna do shit and she was probably just going to die.

She couldn’t say any of this, though. Her lips were numb and tinged blue. Her heartbeat was a staccato in her chest: fast, fast, slow. She was nauseous and weak, feeling both faint and dizzy.

Falling back onto her elbows, she flopped onto the ground. Like a fish the shark or...whatever...had probably thought she was. The panic was still making her heart race and her thoughts were jumbled: random scientific facts, interspersed with spikes of worry for her brother and Ferb (were they okay? Were they here? She couldn’t remember), thoughts of her dog, and also: Vanessa is going to make so much fun of me for this.

Her heart rate started slowing and she shivered once or twice. “What happened?” she murmured, not even sure if anyone could hear her over the crowd murmuring and the sound of sirens drawing ever closer.

HENRY There were moments when being trained to handle this specific thing was actually counterproductive. Because Henry’s first thought was that he could grab his shirt, or maybe tear some fabric off of the umbrella if it really came to that, and create a makeshift bandage. And then he spotted the lifeguard on duty, who was already heading in the direction of the scene. Right. Modern medicine. Actual authorities.

Ha. Authorities. Authorities who couldn’t even do the one thing in their job description!

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Henry blurted out. What he had meant to say was that he needed a bandage and something to clean the wound, and maybe some water for Candace to drink, but Henry’s mind flashed again to the image of Candace bleeding on the shore and his face grew hot and red with anger. “You had one job, didn’t you keep everyone safe from god-knows-what in that lake and look what’s happened! That is my friend--” Henry’s throat tightened and he realized he had let his emotions take over far too much.

The lifeguard, a gangly teenager with bad acne and a painful sunburn covering his shoulders, blinked at Henry, looking terrified. It was May-- the lake had just opened-- it was very possible this was his first day on the job. Henry coughed awkwardly. “Er, I mean-- have you got the first aid kit?”

The lifeguard nodded and held up the plastic case.

“What’s your name?” Henry demanded.

“Kevin.”

Henry grabbed his arm and marched him over to the scene. “This is Kevin. He’s got the first aid supplies.” Henry lowered his voice and turned to Rose. “How is she doing?”

ROSE:

Rose heard Candace mumble something, but didn’t have the heart to ask her to repeat herself. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine,” she repeated, sounding more like a broken record than a comfort.

Henry was off yelling at some guy who looked like he was in shock too while Rose held steady on the wound. The sirens were getting louder. That’s all she had to focus on, not the foreign bubbling of fear in her chest. Why was she scared? The threat was gone and help was on the way. The waves in the lake died down, but waves of panic built up in Rose. Her hands were the only thing keeping Candace from slipping into unconsciousness… and they weren’t doing a great job.

Her partner arrived back with the ‘lifeguard’, some job he was doing, and Rose looked him up and down. “Do you really think, Kevin, is qualified to use that? She’ll be fine when real help gets here.” She didn’t mean to snap at Henry. But he, of all people, knew how she felt right now.

She was scared.

And then help arrived. A paramedic put a hand on Rose’s shoulder, calmly and cooly moving her away. Still, she held on. “You did a great job. You kids probably saved your friend’s life, but we got it from here. Okay? You can let go now, Miss.”

Another medic came and removed Rose more forcefully and they got to work. She stood away from the scene and stared down at her open palms. Seeing her own hands bloody was nothing new to the huntress, but the slight tremor was.

[doubleshotofsomething]

Publicity Stunt

Part Four

[Part One<-- Find here]

Warnings: Swearing as usual. Trigger warnings??( just to prepare you, so be prepared). I think thats it?? 

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader is a fixer/Pr and longtime friend of Pepper. Post-endgame.

PS: Thank you guys for the support and feedback, your kind words are music to my ears(eyes bc i read them) and i cant explain how much it means to me. Thank you all so very much xxxxxxx

Scroll to the bottom for the next part

You stood on the tarmac as the Quinjet landed. Your personal assistant, Jonah, had arrived a few hours earlier and met the Avengers at the Senate hearing. You weren’t a fan of court procedures, any more than you were of politicians, so you sent Jonah – along with the lawyers you trusted – to the courthouse to ensure everything ran smoothly. Clint was a bit anxious when you told him your assistant was replacing you, Wanda refused to leave unless you were going with them, and Bucky spent the entire time asking about your male assistant.

“You planned this whole thing but you’re not showing up?” Clint argued, eyes flashing with betrayal.

Wanda agreed with him. “This is your thing! If anyone can convince people to do anything they don’t wanna, it’s you!”

“I’m not one for damselling—” Sam stopped pacing and took a breath- “but you’re turning me into one right about now.”

“This, Noah, person you were telling me about—” Bucky practically shoved the laptop in your face, a picture of your security’s supervisor stared back at you, “—he looks like a registered sex offender.”

You rolled your eyes, fixed the search, and pulled a picture of your assistant. You turned the laptop back to him and faced everyone else. “Jonah is a qualified attorney, and the team of attorneys that will be representing you are the best DC has to offer. You are in great hands.” You tried to reassure them, but your absence was clearly something that they weren’t okay with.

“Noah looks like Rumlow.” Bucky scowled, staring too closely at the screen. “He looks like Rumlow’s Hulk brother.”

“Looks like Drax’s long lost brother,” Sam added, peering over Bucky’s shoulder.

Clint joined in, clicking a few buttons and nodded. “He looks like he eats Senators for breakfast.”

“You work around Rumlow?” Bucky looked back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Every single day, you spend time with this guy?”

“Jonah.” You corrected.

“He looks like a registered sex offender.”

“That’s not what sex offenders look like,” you scoffed, “you’d be surprised how many suits and ties are actual sex offenders.”

“Rumlow Noah is wearing a suit and tie.”

“Bucky, his name is Jonah,” you looked at him pointedly, “and it would do you justice if you remembered that. He’s a nice kid—”

“-registered sex offender—”

“—and he’s really good at what he does.” You glared at him for a moment longer before looking at everyone else, “I wouldn’t trust this part of the job on anyone else. He’s good. He’s great, and his team of attorneys are sharks. You—”

“Why do we need attorneys?” Clint asked, looking away from the laptop. “I thought this was a senate hearing.”

“While you’re at it, ask her about the security team of registered criminals she has on speed dial.” Bucky muttered, scrolling through more pictures of Jonah.

“What?” Wanda practically cried; eyes wide with panic.

“Oh, for fuck sake—” You inhaled deeply, “—the attorneys are for back up and the security is for the attorneys.”

Bucky, because he’s Bucky and his natural instinct is to make things difficult for you, scoffed. “It’s to get us out of there in case this is a trap.”

“A trap?!”

“Barnes!”

“Did you know Rumlow Noah had the third highest grade score in his class?”

It took far longer than expected, than necessary, to get them onto the Quinjet and to the hearing. Bucky was still attached to the laptop when he boarded, Clint was satisfied that you weren’t sending an intern with no experience, and Wanda was contemplating using her abilities on you. But, eventually, they departed for the city and left you with enough time to do your job, make a couple of phone calls and listen in on the senate hearings.

You weren’t a rookie, you had Jonah wear one of his bugged suits. This was the senate, after all, and you had to be ready for anything they could pull.

Jonah was a large man. His build caused controversy in the courtroom, juries thought him intimidating and witnesses found him unapproachable. His voice was far too deep, his face was far too intense, his looks were too menacing. His presence alone had scared witnesses into committing perjury, a few simple objections had caused him fines from contempt, juries ruled against his clients because of his daunting appearance.

Jonah was a very large man, but where others saw a beast, you saw brains. He was far younger than you, he had graduated from high school and law school far too early, and he was ready to make a difference. He could recite every word in the constitution, poke holes in the most ironclad of nondisclosure agreements, he could tell you all about each crime and how to elude being charged with it. The kid could get away with a Presidential assassination in broad daylight if he wanted to. But he looked like a Mafioso and appearance is everything in DC. So, when he lost a case – a case he should have won – you walked up to him and offered him a job.

Personal Assistant is what you both called his title, but he was much more than that. He was the reason you were good at your job.

“I’m guessing it all went well?” You raised an eyebrow at Jonah, the rest following suit.

Jonah simply shrugged, handing you a folder. “That shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Shit hit the fan.” Clint sighed.

“I’m making a list.” Bucky grumbled, idling a few steps away as he continued with his face shoved against the laptop.

“He pissed everyone off!” Wanda glared at him, “how is that not supposed to be a question?”

“Jesus—” Jonah rolled his eyes, dark brown glaring down at Wanda. “—you really think that was supposed to end well? It’s a senate hearing, with a bunch of powerful that were in the room with, arguably, people that are far more powerful than them. Your abilities, your avenging, everything about you already pisses them off.”

“What was the point of all that then?” Sam questioned, staring at Jonah like a lion ready to pounce on its prey.

“To piss them off,” Bucky added, shoving the laptop at you. “This is Rumlow’s classmate. She’s married, graduated top of her class and lectures at an Ivy League law school.”

You took the laptop and closed it shut. “The point of all this was to prove to everyone that the whole case is biased, that the entire senate – along with the accords – was based on the simple fact that they are biased.” You said, handing the laptop to Jonah’s anticipating hands and walking back inside.

“If we could prove bias to the general public,” Jonah continued as they all followed, “we could dismantle the entire case against you.”

“Sounds like a sex offender thing to say,” Bucky grouched, earning a warning look from you.

You placed the laptop on the kitchen counter, telling Jarvis to seal off every entrance to anyone without residential clearance. The rebuilt Compound was larger, but with less floors, the design was a unique mixture of every Avenger’s taste, except it was more of an armoury than it was a home. Each room had a secret compartment of weapons, and an exit route that led to either the garage or the woods, and the security system seemed to be engineered to withstand a nuclear war.

You had already set up a seating arrangement for them, their absence helped in getting a couple of things done, and you waited as everyone took a seat.

“Everything, from here on out, is gonna be war.”  You looked at all of them, hating the next words that were about to leave your mouth. “The whole media stint where I had you kissing babies and walking dogs, helping the needy, all that was just for the cameras. All that was just the first phase of what’s to come next. We can’t win against the Accords, we can’t win against a hundred and seventeen nations. But the people can.”

“This was never about public image.” Wanda stated, bitterness coating her words.

You shook your head solemnly. “You pissed off a lot of powerful people. They don’t care about who you are or how good your intentions—”

“They care about controlling you.” Jonah interjected. “The accords are the perfect example of that, and that’s why I had to piss them off.”

“You didn’t have to do anything.” Bucky growled at him.

“The UN ordered you shot on sight,” Jonah fired back, glaring at him, “that’s illegal and the exact opposite of what they’re supposed to be doing—”

“—Jonah had to rile them up, I told him to do so. Senate hearings are televised and public record, we needed it to have the highest ratings possible.” You added, “because, now, the senate hearing is going to turn into an International court case, where your charges will be presented before you and the court. Testimonials and all that jazz, basically the same bullshit that the Accords doesn’t afford you—”

“—which is illegal and violates a shit load of rights.” Jonah interrupted.

“From that moment forth, we present our case to the world.” You completed, eyes lingering a bit on Wanda for a moment longer.

“We’re gonna lose and go back to the raft.” She said, too sure of herself for your liking.

“The people won’t let us.” Bruce chuckled softly, shaking his head at you. The wheels were turning in his head and the pieces were finally fitting together perfectly. “That’s why you spent so much time on our public image, why you started an uproar in a senate hearing.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped at the realisation, the picture finally becoming clearer. “You’re evil.”

“I’m efficient.” You corrected, “and I don’t like losing. I don’t like it when good people are wronged, and I really hate the government enough to defame it.”

“The economy is gonna suffer, international relations are gon—” Bruce started, but you were not having any of it.

You scoffed. “The accords are a pretty way of saying slavery, so I don’t care.”

“Uh—” Bucky raised his hand slowly, “—call me old fashioned, but I’m really confused here.”

“We’re going to lose to the UN,” Wanda said, turning to face him, arms folded and face twisted in spite. “But she’s going to start a civil war within all nations, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it because people love us, and she made them think the government is evil.”

“You’re evil.” Clint mimicked Sam’s words. “You’re worse than the government.”

“Someone has to be.” You acknowledged, unashamed and unbothered.

You knew what the job description was when you signed up, and you knew the kind of soulless monster you were going to have to be when Pepper called. You left DC behind, a town of vultures, to defend people that weren’t accustomed to those vultures. It wasn’t just DC’s most elite politicians you were going against; it was the entire country; it was the entire world – nations with resources to the disposal that you couldn’t even begin to fathom. First world countries, with the means to make you disappear without a trace, second world countries with the power to make your death seem natural, third world countries that had lost far too much to care about moral code.

To win, your only weapon was to start a world war.

To succeed, your only strategy was to make the people fight it for you.

You weren’t dumb enough to think you could win against world nations. But you were smart enough to know where to hit for fatal damage.

“We’re about to face the world and call their leaders a bunch of criminals,” You finally said. “Clint, I had Happy fetch your wife and kids, they’ll be here in a few hours. Scott will be here as well, with his kid. The compound is the safest place they could be, right now. Until this is all over. Until—”

“—until they’re no longer at risk of being held, by the government, indefinitely.” Jonah added for you, “because we’re not idiots to think they’re safe in their own country. They can and they will be used against you.”

“You’re saying our government would arrest minors for crimes they didn’t commit?” Rhodes, for the first time since he sat in the room, spoke – disbelief cloaking his face.

“I’m saying they arrested Wanda, Clint, Scott and Sam for not signing a contract.” Jonah, a man you trusted with your very life, fired back without missing a beat. “Because that’s what this—” he waved the accords in the air, “—this sad excuse of a law that will never stand, is. A contract. Not a law that has been enforced, not an amendment, and definitely not legal. So, yes, I do strongly believe that a government capable of forcing an Army experiment, which resulted in the Abomination – the same government that violated Bruce Banner’s constitutional right; by illegally searching all his belongings without a warrant – is capable of arresting minors for shit they didn’t do.”

“He can tell you all about the rights and laws that the existence of the raft violates,” you said, “but that’s gonna require a shit load of coffee and a lot of ‘I told you so’s’ from Ol’ man Rogers. And that’s not something we’re all ready for.”

Wanda sat up quickly, gaining everyone’s attention. “Wait,” she examined you, something finally clicking in her head. “Those rights apply to Americans and I’m Sokovian."

You shrugged. “I pulled some strings—”

“—made an argument that you couldn’t be eligible for death penalty for treason, in this country, if you weren’t a citizen—” Jonah added.

“—because then that’s gonna be a whole international dispute, and you would be handed over to your own country for the trial—” You nodded.

“—and, man, do we hate not having blood for blood.” Jonah sighed, shaking his head. “I could name a couple of states that want your pretty little neck attached to the adios syringe—"

“—and no country is a fan of those international disputes. So—,” you pushed the green file, you had placed on the table, towards her. “—you became a citizen the moment I walked onto the compound.”

“Which makes you eligible for the same protection as everyone in this room.”

“Pure evil.” Rhodes gaped at you, completely awed.

“We can’t stop the Accords from happening, but we can sure as hell change it. From this day forward, you guys must do everything I tell you, word for word. You’re a team, what you do and how you act will affect all of us. I know what I’m doing, and I need you to trust that; trust that I can, and I will, get you through all of this. You don’t have to trust me, but you can rest easy knowing that I don’t start wars I can’t win.

“I may be evil,” you breathed, straightening your posture and making sure to look every one of them in eye. “But I’m the kind of evil you need, right now.”

There was pregnant pause, an eerie silence encompassing the entire room. “’Til the end of the line.” Bucky voiced softly, his ocean blues capturing yours in a gentleness you’ve never known.

“We’ve come this far,” Bruce said, nodding in agreement to Bucky’s declaration.

Sam shook his head. “We’re so screwed,” he whispered to Clint.

*

Pepper didn’t know your plan.

The whole thing was going to be hard enough as it was. You had arranged the empty rooms into guest bedrooms, Jarvis was rather helpful in that department, you had him direct the Avengers’ loved ones to their designated rooms. You made a list of things for Jarvis to inform them of – the basics of the compound and the PG rated reason they were there – and made sure to stock the place with every single necessity you could think, that they would need.

She would disapprove of it.

Asgard was already on standby, in the unlikely case that the Compound was compromised. You had asked their current leader, Valkyrie, for the assistance and she was more than ready to help. The Avengers were dear to Thor’s heart, so taking in their loved ones for protection was something Asgardians were more than happy to do.

She would hate you for it.

Wakanda was on standby for extraction as well. In the event that the Avengers would need an escape route, Nakia – a woman that was very pleased to know about your plan – had promised to help in any way possible. She, too, was not a fan of politicians imposing their agendas under the false pretence of enforcing the law.

“Woah, woah, woah—” Bucky gripped onto your arm, pulling you into a slow jog then a stop, “—slow down there, doll.”

You were struggling to catch your breath as you pulled your arm out of his grasp, wiping your forehead free of sweat with the sleeve of your shirt. You fanned your face, trying to find something to lean against, someplace to sit, somewhere to breathe. Because, damn it all to hell, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think, and it was freaking you out.

“Y/N…” Bucky called out, gripping both of your shoulders and turning you to face him, “Y/N, come on, look at me.”

It’s too hot. Dammit, why is it so hot?

You tried to push him away, worming your way out of his hold, but that only succeeded in him tightened his grip.

Let go.

Molars grinding, hands fisted, you ducked out of what felt like an ironclad grip and backed away from him. You just needed to think, that’s why you went for a late afternoon jog alone, to think. The compound was too crowded; too many voices for you to focus, too many smells, too many distractions. Your room was no better, it was big enough to be a master bedroom, but it felt small – why did it feel so small?

When did it get so dark?

You tried sitting outside, thinking that fresh air would do the trick. But Bruce and Clint and Jonah were outside, talking about something… you were close enough to hear, you think you even made a comment… What were they talking about?

“Come on, sweetheart, look at m—hey, hey, I need you to look at me.”

Go away!

You just needed to think. You rubbed your throat, continuing down your path – it was your path, right? – and tried to swallow down the dryness. You must have been jogging for a while, it was getting difficult for you to see or focus on where you were going. You tried blinking, alternating between rubbing your eyes and your throat, hating that you didn’t bring a water bottle with you.

What were you missing?

“Y/N—”

Why was he still here?

You just needed a second. You just needed to look at things clearly, for his sake, for their sake. Just a second. That’s all you needed.

Safehouses were sorted, because you could never be too safe. Black folders were ready, because you could never trust the other team to play clean. Everyone’s loved ones were accounted for. So, what were you missing?

Think about Morgan.

That annoying little twinge snapped at you, in you, spreading across the left side of your chest. You didn’t even like children, so that shouldn’t even be a thought. It shouldn’t have been a thought coated in Pepper’s voice.

This is exactly why, you thought, this is exactly why I don’t mix work with friendship.

You stopped walking when you could no longer see where you were going, reaching out to find the nearest tree. You couldn’t even hear your own footsteps as you did that, you couldn’t hear anything except the loud thrumming in your ears.

There was something in the distance, some sort of movement maybe – couldn’t be sure, you chose to pass it off as nature and focused on catching your breath. Your muscles felt tense, you blamed it on the jog – because you’re a walker, not a jogger. Your lungs were aching and each gasp for air seemed to not be enough, every deep breath you tried to take felt like it was twisting your chest.

You felt something crawl up your arm, an unwelcome heat that you recoiled away from, moving away from whatever it is. You mind shouted spider and you didn’t hesitate to speed walk away from the pest, but it wouldn’t stop clinging to you, pulling at you, dragging you back with its callous clutch.

You went to flick it away with your other hand, dread settling into the pit of your stomach. “Get off me,” you couldn’t recognise your own voice, drenched in trepidation as your hand tried to swat away at the thick-skinned creature.

Another one gripped at your hand, pressing it to your chest as you began to heave in an unadulterated panic. The iron grip on your arm moved to your back, unconcerned by the fight you were putting, and you were forced into something hard.

“Shhh,” Bucky soothed, wrapping an arm around your writhing figure whilst moving his other to stroke your head, “it’s okay, just breathe.”

This wasn’t you. This couldn’t be you. His shark, his girl, his little darling, his sweetheart couldn’t be the one that tried to fight him off. You couldn’t be this shivering wreck in his arms. No… it couldn’t be you.

But it was you. He could tell it was you just by the sound of your footsteps, so he followed the sound through the trees until he found you, taking a path he knew you’d never been on before.

His shark was shaking in his arms; he could pick you out in a dark room by your smell alone, and your disorientated steps struck an intrusive feeling in him, the kind he’d felt after the snow.

His girl, in the dark and alone, too scared to even let him hold her. This couldn’t be the woman he fell in love with, could it?

“Focus on my voice, I know it’s difficult, but—” he took a breath as he tightened his grip, “—you just need to breathe. Okay? Breathe with me, doll, in and out, slowly—”

He felt you tense, felt as your thrashing turned to uncoordinated twitching, felt as you tried to focus on what he was telling you to do. It took a while before you could mimic his breathing, he didn’t blame you – figured you were just realising what was happening, and even then, your breathing was off.

“That’s it,” he praised, “that’s my girl. You’re doing so good, darling, just keep focusing on my voice—”

You could barely make out his voice, the cloud in your head was too much, but the quick thuds that were drumming against your hand – each one strong as the other – pierced through the disarray. You moved away your hand, having been placed there from your attempt to push him away, and pressed your forehead against the area, forcing yourself to focus on at least that.

This wasn’t you. This didn’t happen to you. But here you were, in Bucky’s arms, hating yourself for letting this happen.

One sense at a time, your own voice rang in your head, that’s how you’ll get back control.

You shut your eyes, tapping your finger to beat of his heart, choosing to focus on your sense of touch first – not that it was a choice. Your first instinct was supposed to be listening, but your disarrayed mind ignored his voice, and went straight for the feel of his heart against your hand. The muscle beating against his chest, something you couldn’t hear, was the only thing you were capable of recognizing in that moment.

The thrumming managed to soothe away the ache in your chest and your feet, the feel of something soft and damp pressing against the crown of your head repeatedly managed to help cool you down, all that was left was for the slight stinging on your throat to disappear – but water could fix that.

You can’t do it all at once, Stark. You remember telling Tony, his panic attack had rendered him speechless, the first of the few that had. Divide and conquer, just like I taught you.

He had listened, focused on your instructions as you helped pull him out of the deep, then pretended he had it all under control – that he could have managed just fine without your interference. You laughed, accustomed to his humour, knowing it was only a defence mechanism, then told him about how it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. You told him that it was a normal thing, a reasonable reaction, to the horrors he had seen. You told him, insisted, that it wasn’t something to be embarrassed about because it happened to the best of us.

You didn’t think you’d have to tell yourself that.

Best of us, never included you.

You were the one that got people through them; helped them cope, taught them the little techniques that they benefited from.

You never thought you would have to use them on yourself.

Next Part

[winterheart17]

How To Make A Writer Snap

TITLE OF STORY: How To Make A Writer Snap

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 28

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: I think we can all just agree this has turned into a proper series even though it started off as a compilation of one shots for my story ‘How To Love A Writer’! What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction?

STORY RATING: M

STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None for this!

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Finally back after a hiatus! There’s not long now till this series ends and all I can say is, boy, oh, boy, it was difficult wading back into the writing pool, but I hope I made all of you proud of Little Writer this chapter! Feedback would be wonderful and ever inspiring for writing updates! <3 Do let me know if anyone would like to be on or off the tag list.

Tagging @devikafernando @ureyesonly21 @nuggsmum @queen-sands @ihatespoilerss @say-my-name-assbut @hsvbabe @jrubalcaba @dandelionlady96  @ashleyloveslots  @kiera-auroraborealis @alexakeyloveloki @damageditemm @lokilvrr @cuteandnerdythings @everythingeverywherelistening@wildest-dreams-at-midnight @tfwqueenidjit @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx @noplacelikehome77 @vertdragain  @jessiejunebug @toaster-strudel-witch @a7xlizardqueen @starscreamloki @tinchentitri @prettyjewel93@chantimoondancer @dangertoozmanykids101 @winterisakiller @humbleslvt @aeciru @paanchu786

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

Alternate link to Masterpost of How To Love A Writer (in case the above doesn’t work)

“And was it a misunderstanding when Halwen delivered the news to me – the breaking of the betrothal… a treaty years in the making – instigated by your son, Loki, with no other explanation other than a… Midgardian girl is involved?”

He said the word Midgardian with so much vile contempt, I couldn’t help but flinch.

Right.

Well… if that wasn’t some whole new level arrogant ass bullshit I had to just sit through.

What? I was beginning to think all ethereal beings were cut from the same cloth save for the one right next to me.

And as much as I wanted to shovel is words back into his mouth – insert internal eyeroll at his attempt to intimidate him – there wassomething pervasively withering about his glare.

It was almost as if I was nothing more than a schoolgirl getting a dressing down in front of the entire school.

“Answer me,” he said, sharply.

I couldn't help it – my eyes darted instinctively to Loki, who for once, was looking at me, intently. Studying me.

Curious as to what would appear from my lips.

Breath caught in my throat as I found myself unable to decipher what laid beyond the expression on his face.

“Here we go again,” Thor muttered beneath his breath and I found some small measure of comfort in them.

I was just about to sneak him a sly smile – one that conveyed I was completely commiserating with him when a fist thumped the table.

The sudden and loud noise reverberated around the hall – causing me to jump in my seat as it yanked my attention back to him.

Impatience donned his face as he leaned forward, and I found myself thinking wistfully what a shame it was that a veil of cruelty loomed in the shadows and planes of his face. He would have been breathtakingly beautiful.

Starlit eyes framed by thick regal-like bushy brows that were about five shades too dark for his hair. On any other, it would have looked like a botched job at the salon. But all it did was accentuate his eyes and served as a stark contrast to his bright, luminous skin I could only liken to silk spun of moonlight.

It appeared, the Universe wasn’t fair.

Of course, ethereal assholes had to be unnervingly beautiful while carrying out their assholery.

“Did you think you could rival my daughter – a princess?” he sneered and it took every bit of me not to roll my eyes in retort.

“Why not?” I muttered, annoyed, under my breath instead – thinking no one else would have caught it only to be rewarded with a low chuckle from the entity I had almost forgotten was beside me.

Ehrendil slammed his fist on the table once more.

But this time, I didn’t jump.

As strange as it was, all the fear that had thrummed in my veins just moments ago seemed to have vanished – dissipated as liquid anger began to filter in.

Anger at being mistreated.

Anger at being talked down to.

Anger at being despised over something I had completely no power over.

And so I sat there – straightening my spine, nugget by nugget until I met his gaze simmering low with anger, head-on.

“What did you say?” he asked, brusquely, placing both hands on the table.

I almost laughed. What was this display – the equivalent of a dog puffing up its chest?

Shushed murmurs rippled across the crowd.

It was clear – he wasn’t looking for an answer.

This was a challenge.

The sensible thing would have been to remain tight-lipped.

Stay low.

Bite my tongue.

My gaze drifted towards Loki.

I couldn't help it.

He still drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Speak up.

Speak up.

Speak up.

I couldn’t dampen the yearning I felt for him – could barely contain the burning I felt in my chest as I longed for him to say something.

Do something.

But I saw it.

Saw the barely discernible tilt of his chin and growing caution in his eyes that warned me against it.

Not another word, little writer.

I could almost hear his voice in my head.

And it felt like lead in my throat.

There it was – that familiar sting behind my eyes.

I shouldn’t have been surprised – I really shouldn't have. But even after all this time – he still found ways to let me down.

Fuck you.

I swallowed it.

Pushed it down.

There would be a time and place for me to scream and shout and cry and grieve – this was not the time.

Perhaps it was the squaring of my jaw; perhaps it was the hardening in my eyes – but he shook his head – visibly this time with eyes widened – as the realization of what I was about to do dawned upon him.

Too late.

“I said why not?” I snapped, head swiveling back to face Ehrendil.

It was as if the entire crowd drew a huge collective gasp.

The audacity, I could hear them whisper.

The nerve.

Yes, my goddamn fucking nerve.

Shock flickered in those starlit eyes just for a fraction of a second before stirrings of rage settled in. The corners of my lips turned up ever so slightly in cynicism – there was no denying the punch of satisfaction in my gut.

He slammed both hands on the table – in a manner that was quickly becoming reminiscent of a petulant child who was not getting his way.

“What did you say?” he repeated once again, his voice a low stricken bellow.

I exhaled impatiently – making a show of it to aggravate.

“God, are you deaf?” I snapped.

I could have sworn I heard a choke beside me – and an additional few throughout the hall.

I could have also sworn Ehrendil almost fell off his seat. Odin too, by the looks from my peripheral vision.

Good.

“I… said…,” I reiterated, pushing my chair back, slowly.

Deliberately.

Locking gazes with him, I drew out the sound of its legs scraping across the floor.

Grating it on his nerves.

“…why not?” I finished, an eyebrow raised.

And there I was – standing tall, full and proud with a spine that no longer wanted to shrink in places I would rather forget.

Silence.

Shock.

I don’t think anybody dared breathe.

He froze.

Almost as if unable to comprehend what had just transgressed.

I pursed my lips.

Head held high.

Reveling in feeling as if I was finally standing in the sun after months of being tucked away like a shameful, dirty secret.

A tremble.

And then – like a drop of red paint in water, anger spread across his skin – mottling moonlight silk and tainting it with fury.

“You dare speak to me in such a manner?” he roared.

“Why? Just because you plucked a crown out of thin air, placed it on your head and called yourself a King?” I retorted.

Another choke.

Though I’m pretty sure it came from Loki’s direction this time, who stood up abruptly with so much force, it sent his chair clattering backwards.

“King Ehrendil, please forgive her – she knows not what she speaks of,” he jumped in, bowing ever so slightly in Ehrendil’s direction.

I wanted to hurl.

When was he relegated to something so weak and meek?

I opened my mouth, but Loki shot me a sharp glare and a warning shake of his head.

He gestured at me with his hand, beckoning for me to lower myself as a humbling act in front of the arrogant king.

Over my dead body.

Glaring back at him, I squared my jaw.

He’d be a fool to think I would continue holding my tongue.

I turned back to Ehrendil, who was trembling with rage in his seat at his very moment.

“Why should I respect someone who can’t even raise their own child right?” I blasted, throwing my hand out in Halwen’s direction.

Glancing over at her, I wanted to laugh palpably at the pathetic imagery of her hand on her chest in feigned shock.

At her affronted facial expression.

At the damsel in distress act she still insisted on pulling.

“Father, I--…,” she immediately responded in that saccharine voice only to have Ehrendil hold up his hand, cutting her off.

“You dare speak of my daughter in such a manner?” he growled.

“Oh, please. I think you can do away with the theatrics as we’ll all agree that theydon’t work on me,” I bit out.

I didn’t think it was possible for him to grow redder.

But he did.

“Guards!” he roared.

Still, I didn’t flinch.

Quite frankly, I was beyond the point of caring.

Throw me in a cell for all I care – it wasn’t as if I wasn’t being thrown around like a ragdoll at the rate they were going.

“Ah, I see. So, that’s where she picked it up from – the second you all hear something you don’t like, you decide to stronga—” I started to scoff only to yelp when I felt fingers wrap themselves tightly around my wrist and yanked.

Hard.

Painfully.

“Wha--?” I protested, whipping around and finding myself face-to-face with a pair of familiar green eyes that flashed with anger.

Loki.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“What am I doing? Can’t you tell?” I rebuked, gritting my teeth in defiance as I tried to wrestle my wrist out of his grasp.

But it was to no avail and I grunted in frustration.

“Let go!” I growled, using my other hand to shove at his chest.

He barely budged.

He pulled at my wrist with so much force, I winced and stumbled forwards.

“That’s enough to your madness,” he snapped, eyes alight with rage.

And it felt like a slap to my face.

I froze.

And it was if the world had stopped turning.

That’s enough to your madness.

Again and again the words rang in my head.

Loud and clear.

I felt like I was reeling.

I shouldn’t have been surprised – really. Breaking my heart seemed to be a thing he had grown accustomed to.

But it hurt.

God, did it still hurt.

And there it was – that familiar sting behind my eyes and the rising acridity in my throat he always seemed to bring.

“Madness?” I croaked.  

He paused, the hitch in my breath cutting through the anger in his eyes.

I gave a hollow laugh as I nodded my head.

“Yes. Madness…,” I whispered, voice breaking.

I blinked.

Trying to swallow the pain.

The hurt.

But all it did was leak onto my cheeks.

Eyes wet and bright.

So they could see clearly for once.

He faltered.

Eyes filled with questions as they searched mine.

“You’re still defending her after all this time?” I breathed.

I couldn’t help but feel the bubble of rage boiling beneath all the layers of hurt and heartbreak.

And worse –betrayal.

My wrist went limp and slack in his grasp as frustration flared to life in his eyes.

“I’m protecting you!” he seethed.

A sound of exasperation.

“I don’t need your protection,” I snapped, seizing his distraction as an opportunity to knock his hand away.

Before he could get another word out, I whipped my attention towards Halwen.

“You say you lovehim,” I pointed out, eyes narrowed in accusation as I felt the word ‘love’ roll off my tongue like acid – cheapened by her presence.  

Her lips pursed, much like her father – a petulant little child who insisted she had been wronged.

Her eyes widened and the voice that came out next was soft and small.

Like a victim.

“We were meant to be wedded… until… until…,” she rebuked, pausing for effect as she turned to look around the table – giving everyone a good show of her tears glistening in her eyes.

I had to hand it to her – she was really getting into it.

Playing the crowd like a fiddle – save for a bemused little snort I heard from the adorable buffoon that was still seated next to me.

“Pray finish,until…?” I taunted and it was perhaps barely noticeable to everyone else in the room but I saw the slight shadow of a furrow between her brows – irritated she had been caught in the act and I had called out on her bullshit.

She pursed her lips, scrunching her nose slightly as she shot me dagger glares.

“Until…you stole him and destroyed the treaty,” she snapped.

I let out a rather incredulous laugh.

She paused – confused.

I couldn’t help it – the bubble of birth bursting forth from my chest.

Because, really, how was one supposed to take her seriously?

“So, which is it?” I asked with a shake of my head even as the sound of my laughter lingered in the air of puzzlement.

There were little hushes of bewilderment amongst the crowd – even Odin and Queen Frigga exchanged inquisitive glances.

I could feel Loki’s eyes on me.

Probing.

Burning.

What are you up to, Little Writer?

Could almost hear his voice inside my head.

“Which is what?” she huffed, impatiently.

I looked at her, eyebrow raised as I scoffed to which she shot me an indignant glare.

“Pray tell, if you think so lowly of us Midgardians – what makes you think I command enough of a presence then for such a disruption? Am I, one, inconsequential enough that you can barely stomach eating at the same table as I do – or, two, does my existence hold enough weight to break, as you say, a treaty yearsin the making?” I bit out, condescendingly.

Her features looked painfully pinched.

Good.

Even a quick glance at Ehrendil showed him struggling to comprehend and swallow this turn of events.

Well, this Midgardian chit still has some fire in her blood.

“Yo—,” she started to retort, but I cut her off with a brush of my hand.

“So, again, which is it?” I repeated, forcefully, with a square of my jaw.

I’m pretty sure I heard a choke or two.

And even if it didn’t come from Halwen and Ehrendil themselves, it looked as if they were about to get conniptions.

“Oh, brother, I like this one,” came a muffled whisper and it was difficult to suppress a smile even in the heat of things.

And even though Loki remained wordless – nothing but a comfortable stretch of silence that laid in the wake of Thor’s words, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of courage.

“Or… perhaps, rather, he wanted to break this treaty because he doesn’t want to wedyou. Did that ever cross your selfish little mind?” I pushed forward.

If I hadn’t already pushed her over the edge, that certainly did as pink slowly spread across her cheeks and her eyes narrowed with hatred.

“Frankly, I shouldn’t even be surprised – God knows both your parents appear to have a habit of treating people like gifts ready to be exchanged for conveniences. Like gifts robbed of their dignity to make their own choices,” I continued.

But I had barely gotten the last word out of my lips when a loud roar erupted within the walls of the hall – startling me.

I turned to its direction.

Odin.

His eyes spat with rage upon meeting mine and I could have sworn I heard the crackling of electricity in the air.

The tiny hairs on the nape of my neck and arms stood erect.

I felt Loki start beside me, his hand reaching out instinctively to clutch my forearm – as if a warning to brace myself.

“Insolence!” he bellowed, his voice a furious timbre that echoed like the rumblings of purgatory.

He stood up brusquely, hand outstretched as he pointed at me – the pariah. Eyeing me like I was nothing more than a piece of rotten garbage who had been discarded past my use.

The entire hall fell into silence – gripped by fear as if death had touched upon them.

Their King had spoken.

“You know nothing of our traditions or the importance of what is at stake here,” he snarled.

I opened my mouth, barb at the ready on the tip of my tongue only to feel the grip around my forearm tighten.

I shot an irritated glance at Loki only to pause momentarily at the warning look on his face.

“Don’t,” he mouthed.

But I was beyond caring.

Shaking his hand off roughly, I whipped my attention back to Odin.

“You know, people often mask really shitty attitudes and moral aptitudes with this justification label they love to slap onto everything – tradition. Like, why are you being such an asshole? Don’t look at me, I’m just following tradition! Or, who made these barbaric rules? I don’t know, but we’ve got to follow them, because… wahey… it’s tradition, right?” I seethed, throwing my hands up in the air.

I was pretty sure I was making myself out to be a total nutcase what with my rant in the middle of what I could only define as an intergalactic meeting but hey, if they were already treating me like dirt, I might as well go all the way and get a things that have been weighing me down off my chest.

Damn did it feel good to say that.

Odin remained unmoving.

His expression harsh and pinched – almost painful to look at.

Almost.

“And while we’re at it – yes, I’m calling you out on your really shitty attitude and F-grade minus parenting. I mean, you’re acting like you’re so shocked and scandalized that a Midgardian girl, or whatever the fuck it is you call us, is here – when in reality, you’re the one who had this fucking brilliant idea of dropping your son off on Earth so that he could learn some manners and humility…” I continued ranting, before pausing just for a fraction of a second.

“… both of which you could use in spades,” I finished, chin tilted in Odin’s direction.

I could have sworn I heard a grunt.

And he looked as if he was about to pop a blood vessel.

If only I were so lucky.

“So, you only used Earth and me just because our reputation of being professional babysitters really preceded us. I mean, we’ll take the flattery – but I’m not here to undo all the fuck-ups you’ve done throughout your years of shitty parenting. And more importantly – don’t discard me when I’ve finally served my use. The whole time I’ve been here you’ve treated me with nothing but contempt and disgust and why? Because you think me and my kind are beneath you?” I fumed.

I knew I was running my mouth – knew I was courting trouble what with the way Odin was turning red in the face. With the way his jaw was locked and his eyes hardened as he tried his damndest to stop his hands from shaking with rage.

But I saw it – the telling tremble.

The slight curl of his lip.

Or perhaps it was I who was trembling – word after word falling out of my mouth, fueling the rage that ran in my veins.

I had had enough.

I wasn’t about to allow myself to be pinned on the spot and interrogated as if I had anything to be shameful about. As if I had anything to be blamed about when it was clear these were immortals who had no qualms about tinkering with the lives of mortals for their convenience.

To hell with all of them. If I was going to go down, I may as well go down in all my pent-up truth.

Plus, just taking in all their shell-shocked and scandalized expressions made it worth it.

“I��ll have you know – in our world, we call that racism!” I spat.

I felt a hard yank on my arm.

“What?” I snapped at Loki, eyes livid emeralds and exasperation smeared across his face.

“Do you have a death wish?” he hissed.

I had to force a choked laugh down my throat.

“Yes, because that is what you immortals do. When you don’t like something, you lash out and use brute force to twist someone’s arm and bring them to their knees,” I rasped.

I jabbed a finger in his chest.

Hard.

“You’re like that. Ehrendil’s like that. Hell…,” I broke off, shifting my attention back to Halwen who up to this point, had kept her pretty little pout sealed as she watched events unfold in my undesirable favour.

“… that’s why you’re so upset. It’s because he’s a toy you can no longer have and you need someone else to blame. Someone else you can hurl all your hatred and abuse towards because the very idea of his adulation for you having vanished is simply inconceivable,” I scathed.

Her bottom lip wobbled and I could practically see the cogs turning in her mind as she scrambled to come up with a defence to refute what I had just laid out for everyone else to see.

“Well, here’s a news flash, princess – this is all on you. You took the good he had for you and killed it all on your own. Whatever it was he felt for you – you destroyed it the night you found out his true identity as…,” I continued, only to be interrupted by a fit of coughing from Halwen.

I felt the entire room’s attention shift.

As if everyone was sitting a little straighter, ears perked and primed for what had almost been revealed.

Almost.

“… as the less favoured prince,” Halwen cried out, scrambling for a cover with alarm flashing in her eyes as she looked over anxiously at Ehrendil.

Tensed.

A grim look on his face.

His lips pressed together in an unforgivingly harsh line.

And that was when it hit me.

He doesn’t know.

I looked back at Halwen and for the first time, saw desperation in her eyes – her plea to me loud and silent all at once.

Less favoured prince.

The words rang out loud – hung low and heavy in the air like shackles draped over Loki’s neck.

And it was because he was still a prince – still an Asgardian, not a Frost Giant that they still wanted him.

That marriage was still on the table.

It wasn’t him they wanted.

It was his identity.

The honour that came with it.

The power that came from its pretense.

She wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

And it felt like a sledgehammer to my gut.

I turned to him, slowly.

Feebly.

A strange wave of melancholy washing over me, bringing to high tide tears in my eyes.

They stung.

He looked at me, eyes pained and confused. His arms hung limp by his side like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

It wasn’t my secret to tell, but God, God did I wish I could tear off the mask he had spent years hiding behind for the whole world to see.

For the whole world to accept.

For me to… love.

“Do you see?” I whispered, voice tethering on the edge of breaking.

His eyes searched mine.

Gently.

Tenderly.

Bright and shiny with unshed tears.

“That’s why he still wants you. That’s why shestill wants you. Not for who you are. But for your title,” I croaked.

Is this what you want?

The silent question hanging between us.

Is this the life you want to squander away?

He blinked.

But the tears that rolled down were mine.

It was strange standing there – feeling my heart break not just for myself. But for him.

And for the first time – I saw it.

Finally saw the understanding unravel in his eyes with so much softness and vulnerability, I came undone.

Undone in the way his lips parted, my name slipping out so quietly and breathlessly from between them like a prayer that would bring him to his knees.

“I--,” he started to whisper, soft and gentle and yielding – in all the ways I had ever envisioned him to be whenever he looked at me.

In all ways that filled out the hollow in my chest.

Even if only for a second.

But it wasn’t to last.

“Enough of this insolence!” Odin announced, gruffly.

And it was gone.

All traces of tenderness vanished in the air – there was no room for even a wisp of it before this King.

I turned to look at him, slowly.

Head held high.

Cheeks stained with tears.

And our eyes locked.

“You dare enter our realm and denigrate our traditions and the order of things,” he accused and it took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at the hypocrisy.

A. Lot.

“Isn’t that what you have done too?” I scoffed, unable to keep the retort from shooting straight out of my mouth.

And he had the audacity to wonder why Loki had turned out this way.

That gave him pause.

Irritation flickered across his face briefly, but he ignored it – pushing through.

“You speak of choices so freely…,” he resumed and I steered myself ready for the stinging barb that was bound to follow.

His eyes narrowed.

And I tilted my chin upwards in defiance.

“Do you truly believe he would choose you over her?” he mocked.

I swallowed.

He knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of me.

And the truth was – it did sting.

“Over this kingdom?” he booked, his hand made a sweeping gesture across the table.

Hitting exactly where it hurt.

Dead centre.

Because that was the truth – Loki loved power. No, perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. Loki craved acceptance, desired adulation – and he was blinded in his belief that power would bring it all to him.

Odin was right.

Loki would never give up the kingdom.

His silence throughout the entire ordeal was in it, an answer itself.

And while it hurt – each thought a stab to my chest – this was nothing new.

This was something I had spent nights crying over.

Wheezing.

Gasping.

Hollowed out.

It was a demon I had since learnt how to make peace with.

“It’s okay,” I breathed, my throat starting to constrict.

It’s okay.

And I wasn’t sure if the words had been just for me.

A reminder.

Be brave.

The little voice in my head whispered.

Odin frowned – unable to make out what I had just said save for the slight unintelligible mumble it had come across.

“Speak up, Midgardian,” he ordered, his patience wearing visibly thin.

“I said, it’s okay, I choose me,” I said.

Weakly.

Feebly.

Yes, it was wobbly.

Yes, it was shakey.

And yes, I sounded damn near close to everything falling apart.

But I said it.

Odin’s eyes widened.

“It’s okay,I choose me,” I repeated once more.

Louder.

Clearer.

Like it was some sort of catharsis that fueled liquid courage in my veins.

“You choose yourself?” Odin echoed, incredulously.

As if he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

I nodded.

Be brave.

Came that little voice again.

And this time, there was no fear.

No ragged breathing.

No pounding in my chest.

There was only peace.

There was only bravery.

There was only me.

I took in a deep breath.

“Choosing myself means being unafraid of speaking what is true to me. And me, this Midgardian whom you hate and despise so much, me – I have seen your son. I have seen who he is and I lovehim. The question is – do you?”

A sharp intake of breath.

Loki.

But I didn’t look his way.

No matter how much it killed me inside.

Be brave.

Even to the sound of your own heart breaking.

My bottom lip quivered.

“But don’t worry – I don’t intend on loving him any longer.”

[decembercamiecherries]

Strawberry

Part three of the Miraculous x Hunter series created by @emthimofnight, featuring a prickly Killua (secretly Chat Noir) being saved by Ladybug (secretly Gon), who is determined to protect his best friend no matter what, even if said best friend doesn’t want his protection!

All parts of this series will be put up on my ao3 soon, and there will be more drabbles to come! I wasn’t joking when I said me and emthimofnight were talking about this au nonstop haha XD

Word count: 2067

Other Miraculous x Hunter links: 

GonNoir mirror drabble, Killugon ballroom scene drabble

Fanart by @emthimofnight that started this whole thing

Killua really hadn’t planned on spending his free afternoon running away from the Mayor’s akumatized daughter- but, well. That’s just the kind of thing he’d gotten semi-used to since becoming Chat Noir.

“KILLUA ZOLDYCK!” came the horrible ear-piercing wail. The sound made Killua want to cover his ears as he pelted down the cobbled street but he resisted. He had to find a place to transform as soon as possible, or else that girl would terrorize the entire city-

“COME BACK HERE AT ONCE!!!!” 

“Why don’t you try and make me, huh?!” he hollered over his shoulder and smirked at the shriek of rage that echoed off crooked rooftops and looming skyscrapers.

He didn’t have anything against the Mayor’s daughter, really. She was a pretty but shy girl whose parents- along with Killua’s own mother and father- were adamant on setting her up with Killua. 

And that was about as likely to happen as Killua giving up on chocolate.

THUMP.

The pavement shook underneath his feet and he nearly stumbled. Shit. He couldn’t afford to lose his footing now; if he did, he would be caught by the newest akuma victim before he could change into Chat Noir.

Civilians screamed and pushed him to the side in their attempt to get away from the chaos unfolding behind them. Killua did his best to duck around them while simultaneously peering down alleyways, searching for a hidden place to transform.

He cursed under his breath. None of these would work. Not as long as people were still running around in masses like this-

A sharp, sizzling noise filled the air. Nearby buildings took on a greenish hue and Killua’s hair stood on end.

“WATCH OUT!”

Killua’s heart leaped at the familiar call. He twisted on one foot just in time to see the one and only Ladybug drop from the sky. He landed right in front of Killua, planting himself in between the silver haired teen and the akuma laser-beam weapon aimed in is direction.

The Mayor’s daughter released the trigger with a scream that was more of a yowl than anything, but Ladybug’s yo-yo was already spinning through the air in a blur of scarlet red and scattered black.

Ladybug’s weapon deflected the laser with ease, shattering it upon contact and scattering its remains harmlessly into the air. Killua let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Thank god. Ladybug was here and he could take care of the akuma so Killua could finally transform-

Ladybug whirled around. Killua had a split second to register to the determined glimmer in his brown eyes before Ladybug swept Killua’s feet out from underneath him. The next second, they were soaring through the air.

Killua gasped instinctively at the sudden height and his stomach rolled. Yorknew stretched out below them in all its glory.

Killua knew this sight by heart; he’d jumped higher than this with Ladybug as Chat Noir more times than he could count. But being here now, held tenderly like damsel in distress by freaking Ladybug as his civilian self, had to be one of the most mortifying things in the entire world.

Or maybe fate was just another old lady who hated him.

“Don’t worry, citizen!”

Killua’s head snapped up. Ladybug beamed at him, his dumb classic ‘hero smile’ in place.

“I won’t let you fall,” Ladybug continued proudly. He landed on another rooftop and leaped again before Killua could protest.

A wave of prickling irritation washed over Killua. What the fuck. He hadn’t asked to be carried in bridal-style away from the akuma! Who did Ladybug think he was?!

“Let go of me!” he said loudly over the whistle of wind.

Honest surprise flitted across Ladybug’s face. “I- but, I must protect you-”

"You did that already!” Killua snapped. He tried to squirm his way out of Ladybug’s iron-like grip but the superhero didn’t loosen his grasp on Killua’s arm and legs. “Just- put me down! NOW!!!” 

“I can’t do that! You’re in serious trouble! That akuma villain is after you.”

Killua snarled, “I- don’t- CARE! Put me down already!” 

“But-!”

They were falling back down towards the rooftops again. Killua saw his chance and took it.

Seconds before they landed, Killua elbowed Ladybug in his chest. Hard. 

Ladybug inhaled sharply at the unexpected jab and his hold loosened. Killua twisted, prying Ladybug’s hands off him and throwing his own hands out to brace for impact.

The palms of his hands scrapped across jagged pebbles and tiny rocks as Killua landed on the newest roof. He managed to land on his hands and feet though- fingers splayed out flat against the cement, sneakers pressed securely into the ground as his legs curled into a squat- just like a cat should.

He looked up just in time to see Ladybug land nimbly a few feet away. The troubled expression on his partner’s face was almost funny enough to make him laugh out loud.

“Why did you do that?!” Ladybug asked, sounding truly upset. “You could have gotten seriously hurt if we were higher up!”

Killua barely resisted rolling his eyes. He wasn’t so stupid as to try that at a height that would have killed him!

“Yeah, well.” He stood up gracefully, ignoring the stinging pain in his hands. That was going to hurt tomorrow. “If you had let go of me like I asked we could’ve avoided that whole thing. But nooooo, you had to go and be a hero.”

Ladybug puffed out his cheeks indignantly. “I am a hero! I’m Ladybug! And as Ladybug, it’s my job to protect civilians from danger-”

“I didn’t need your protection,” Killua cut in. “I was doing just fine on my own before you showed up.”

“No, you weren’t! You were about to get hit by that weapon and you would’ve been injured if I hadn’t stepped in!!!”

Killua huffed. “I would’ve survived.”

“You don’t know that!”

Ladybug’s bottom lip was stuck out in a full pout now. Killua eyed Ladybug’s white-knuckled fists at his side, the rigid firmness in Ladybug’s stance. 

It was clear that Ladybug wasn’t gonna leave anytime soon. Killua bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning. Great. This was just fantastic. 

Killua cared about Ladybug- he did, honestly. How could he not care about his ridiculous partner after running around Yorknew and saving akuma victims with the guy for the past couple of months?

But this was just annoying. How the hell was he going to transform with Ladybug standing right in front of him like this?! Revealing his true identity was out of the question. 

Maybe if he played nice, Ladybug would leave?

“Okay,” he amended. “Okay. Maybe you did help. A bit. But that’s over now, so, thank you very much, you can go back to saving the rest of Yorknew now-”

“I’m not gonna leave you!” Ladybug said, abashed.

...what?

“Why the hell not?!”

Ladybug slapped his hands on top of Killua’s shoulders. He stared intently at Killua’s face, gaze never once wavering, and Killua instinctively leaned back. What was up with that expression?

“You seem to be confused,” Ladybug said slowly and Killua barely held back a shriek of rage. “There is no need to worry, Killua. I swear I will keep you safe from the akuma!”

Killua’s eye twitched. “I already told you,” he grounded out. “I don’t need your help! You did your job by shielding me from the laser beam- now go and save someone else already! You’re supposed to be the hero of Yorknew, aren’t you?!”

“You do need my help,” Ladybug insisted stubbornly, fingers digging into the soft cotton Killua’s purple sweatshirt. “The akuma is after you, specifically! So you’re the one who needs the most help right now. Chat Noir can take care of everyone else while I take care of you.”

Chat Noir won’t be able to do anything if you keep hanging off me like this!!! Killua thought shrilly.

He knew the akuma wanted him, but Killua had never seen Ladybug so dead-set on keeping a specific civilian safe before. This was crazy! And there was no point in trying to dissuade him, either; once Ladybug wanted something, he refused to let it go. He almost reminded Killua of Gon in that way.

Gon. 

Killua’s heart fluttered. Gon was home with Aunt Mito right now. Killua knew that because he had actually been headed there to do homework before the akuma attack hit. For Gon’s safety, at least, Killua was grateful. There was no way Killua could have kept track of him with Ladybug on top of him like this.

So. Ladybug was the real problem, here.

Killua refocused on his superhero partner. Ladybug still had all of his fierce attention aimed directly at Killua. The spotted mask did nothing to hide the intensity of his look. It was almost annoying, actually.

“Would you stop-” he impulsively tugged at Ladybug’s red and black bandanna, relishing the startled cry that followed, “-ogling at me like that?! I’m not gonna disappear or anything!”

Ladybug stuck out his tongue childishly. “You’re so mean, Killua! I’m trying to save you and you just-”

“Saved,” Killua corrected him. “I don’t need saving any more, Strawberry.”

Ladybug’s mouth fell open. His hands slid off Killua’s shoulders and Killua breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Finally.

“Did- did you just...call me strawberry?!”

“Mhm.” Killua folded his arms with a smirk. “S’not my fault your outfit is red and has black spots all over it. Plus, y’know, your hair kinda looks like leaves the way it flops over like that.”

Ladybug’s expression was a hilarious mix of emotions, like he was too confused at the comparison to be offended. Killua’s grin widened. He couldn’t help it. Ladybug was made it too easy not to tease him and hopefully Killua’s comments would be enough to make him push Killua away for good.

“What, no comeback to that one?” Killua jeered.

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth-

“WHERE ARE YOU KILLUA ZOLDYCK?!”

The bellowing roar was loud enough to make air tremble. Killua clapped his hands over his ears, wincing, but Ladybug’s head snapped around to find the source of the noise instantaneously. 

“COME OUT, PRETTY BOY! NO ONE IN YORKNEW SHALL BE SAFE UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!”

Ladybug ran over to the edge of the roof, leaning over as far as he could without falling over. He was searching for the Mayor’s daughter, Killua realized as he lowered his hands.

“Killua...” Ladybug said lowly. He turned back around and Killua’s heart started to race at the dark intent in his eyes. Ladybug was getting serious, now.

“I’m gonna draw the akumatized victim away from here, okay?” Ladybug told him. “She’s gotten too close to us. I thought Chat would’ve gotten here by now but...well, he’s late sometimes.”

And who’s fault was that?! Killua thought as he clenched his jaw. He was going to sit Ladybug down and have a conversation with him later about shadowing civilians. It wasn’t good for the rest of Yorknew if they concentrated on any one specific individual.

(Killua didn’t let himself think about what he would’ve done if Gon had been the one in danger. Killua would never let that happen to his best friend. Never in a million years.)

Killua blinked when Ladybug suddenly appeared in front of him again. Ladybug grabbed his hands without warming, squeezing them lightly and giving Killua a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

“I won’t let her get to you,” Ladybug swore. “I pinky promise! So stay here until I come back, okay?”

Killua didn’t have time to react to that before Ladybug had dropped his hands and was flying over the rooftop edge. 

“H-Hey!” Killua shouted at Ladybug’s retreating figure. “Don’t treat me like some kind of weak, fragile thing, damnit!” 

But Ladybug was already gone. In the distance Killua could already make out the scream of the akuma. Ladybug must have found her.

“Stupid,” Killua muttered, shaking his head. Ladybug owed him big-time for the amount of shit he’d just put Killua through.

At least he’d finally left Killua alone.

“Stay here, my ass.” Killua twisted the miraculous ring on his finger and savored the rush of warmth the flowed through him at the glowing light. “As if I’d let him have all the fun! CLAWS OUT!”

(short follow up to this drabble)