#HEY WAIT IT’S LIKE THE EXPLODING HAMMERS SITUATION (but not as bad obviously)

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I’ll make you get canceled and called part of a harassment campaign for not being friends with a guy who kind of sucks

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 5

Hope you enjoy this part :)

Special thanks to @kaddistar who helped filling in the gaps and made the story complete with her awesome ideas ;). Thank you so much! :D

Read part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2,018

Strolling on the pavement, lit up by street lights, it finally stopped raining. Roads still covered in rain from the downfall as you step in a puddle of water. Blaming yourself for making that stupid, unnecessary joke about a sensitive topic named the DEO.  

“I mean... why? Why did I do that? Who knows what could have happened otherwise tonight... ”

On your way home, walking because it's not that far away, you feel like you're being followed. Looking cautiously over your left shoulder, you identify two shady guys. Sternly eyeing you from a distance. And both carrying weapons? One is wearing brass knuckles while the other has a club attached to his belt. You scoff. These two? Yeah, you can fight them with ease. No problem. 

As you turn your head around again, a couple of other guys are standing in front of you. Waiting and blocking the way. One holds a baseball bat, the other is unarmed and in the middle someone with a beat up, swollen face, also gripping a wooden bat tight. You slightly recognize him, but it costs a lot of effort. It's the DEO Agent you viciously beat up earlier today at DEO headquarters. Trying to protect Alex as it, um- escalated a little. 

“This time I’ll take you down! I will break you”, he howls at you, aggressively signing the bat while you keep your distance.

So… five guys, almost all armed. Can you take them all by yourself? Being slightly injured and unarmed? 

“How about no…”. You don't hesitate and sprint away as fast as you can. Crossing the dangerous street and dodging the moving cars, only concentrated on escaping. The five men initiate their manhunt for you and accelerate fast. A few seconds later you catch the sound of screeching tires and a car honking loudly. Apparently one of them got hit by a grey sedan. Knocked out cold, motionless on the hood of that vehicle. One down, four to go. 

Swiftly evading other pedestrians that you encounter in your flight as you ended up on the pavement at the other side of the road. Going back to where you came from, hoping you will reach Alex’s apartment in time. You perceived your bulky chasers had crashed into some people, hearing them cursing and shouting furiously. Guess they're not that light-footed as you. You have to admit, you're scared. No envision of how this will end. 

“Pick up, pick up!”, hollering at the phone as you had quickly pressed speed dial. You had to call her. To inform her of what’s going on right now. Desperately in need of her help since you’re on the run, attempting to get away from these crooked men. But she’s not picking up, still hearing the phone ring. You cry out again.

“Come on Alex… Just pick up the damn phone!”. She’s sure as hell mad at you, you know that. Is that the reason she’s not answering? You give up. But, no- wait, you can’t. You can’t give up. Not now. You try her again. Still nothing as the call switches to voicemail. You grunt in anger, but decide to leave a message. It’s at least something... Heavily panting as you’ve kept on running, you speak:

“Hey Alex… I’ll make it quick. Um- I’m kind of on the run... as some men want to, eh, attack m-

The call is disrupted. You make an unpleasant landing on your right shoulder and your head smashes onto the concrete. Watching your phone crack on impact because it slipped out of your hand.

“Fuck...”, you growl. One of them catched up, faster than the others, and had thrown you on the wet, dirty pavement since he ambushed you from behind. You slowed them down right?! You should have never made that useless call. Only a block away from Alex. You were almost there...

The others have also reached you while you’re still struck down. Disoriented due to your crash on the sidewalk. They start beating you up pretty bad, for sure using their weapons. Luckily you inflicted some damage, disabling one. You kicked him right between the legs. The perfect spot. Now he’s on the ground next to you, in what seems to be in insufferable pain. Good. However, there are three left, who as of now have you surrounded. It’s too late to escape. You’re trapped, seeing the baseball bat approaching fast. 

It broke a couple of your ribs. Now having difficulty breathing as you’re gasping for oxygen. Hearing the awful, disturbing sound everytime the blunt object smashes you. Curling up from the pain, bringing your knees to your chest. But one still managed to brutally kick you in the stomach with his solid boot. Only makes breathing even harder... The metal brass injuring your face while you desperately try to keep your guard up. The taste of blood dominating in your mouth and feeling excruciating pain in your whole, damn body. Not able to sense where the pain is as it’s everywhere. You can see bystanders watching, too afraid to interfere. However some are on their phone, hopefully calling 911. 

“Why aren’t they doing something?! Help me! Help...”. You try to scream, get these words out, being in a serious miserable state right now. Except no sound is generated. Not that it mattered though, judging by the look on their faces and lack of action from the people observing you. You slowly lose consciousness, unable to keep your heavy eyes open. Pain getting worse and worse by the second. Still breathing and trying to think of happy thoughts...

///

[Flashback]

Heavily panting and sweat pouring out ‘cause you’re running up a great amount of stairs. In pursuit, chasing an alien with fire powers. Alex is in front of you, leading the team of Agents, including you, while you’re all fully packed and geared up. The old staircase is barely lit. So you use the flashlight mounted on your rifle to provide the little light needed to find the correct pathway. You’re almost out of breath as you eventually enter the rooftop of the building through a rusty door. Having passed all eighteen floors... This absolutely qualifies as a killer workout. Feeling sweaty and extremely heated in the uniform you're wearing with a heart rate somewhere around 170 bpm. The bright sunlight blinds you for a short period. Using your arm to cover your eyes, considering you need some time to adjust due to the transitioning from darkness into the light.  

“Stop! Don't move, you're under arrest!”, Alex yells while you see another team of DEO Agents rappelling down from a transport helicopter to provide the needed backup. Except the alien doesn’t obey at all. Was to be expected... Alex reacts, firing her gun, as the alien also fires- um... fire?

“Look out!”, shouting while you quickly sprint towards Alex, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her away as she was almost burnt to a crisp. Sensing the heat radiating from the flames closeby, you both land on the gravelly rooftop. Noticing a curtain of fire had appeared, separating Alex and you from the rest of the DEO team who were still behind. Supergirl is not available at the moment since she and Director J'onzz are busy with another important case. But that’s okay, as of course, you have the situation completely under control... *cough*  

“Great...”, you exclaim as you watch the alien rapidly turning around and flee while jumping to another building nearby. Alex had already freed herself from your tight grip, because your arms were still wrapped around her, and picked herself up from the ground. She doesn’t hesitate. Focused on the fugitive, she sprints towards the building’s edge and leaps. Landing majestically on the other building’s rooftop. Seeing her, you stand up and follow. But abruptly stop at the edge. 

“How the hell do I do this? Don’t look down. Don’t look down...”. You want to continue, assist Alex in the arrest and have her back, but waver. Obviously you had peaked over the edge, following all those eighteen storeys down. Now staring into the depth. Lastly gaze focused on the distant harsh asphalt beneath, located between the two tall buildings. Suddenly gasping for air, unaware you stopped breathing for numerous seconds.      

“How does she do this so easily?”. Apparently Alex doesn’t have any form of fear. “It’s now or never”, you speak to yourself, trying to provide the immensely, well-needed courage. You take some steps back, accelerate, and jump, as powerful as you can. Heartbeat hammering in your chest. Landing on the other building while rolling over your shoulder. You experience a rush of adrenaline bursting through your veins. Seeing them in the distance, you start to race towards the alien and Alex with all the energy left. They clearly have a head-start. Hearing the helicopter blades whirring, you look over your shoulder and see the other DEO team up in the air, tracking you. Petrified every time you jump from rooftop to rooftop, but you do it anyway, not being able to forgive yourself if something happened to Alex. You hop several buildings until there is no way out anymore. Still behind, you notice the alien is now aiming for the black DEO helicopter. Most certainly wants to shoot it down. You have to act right now, or it will crash and explode, costing all the Agents inside their lives.

Slightly panicking now that you feel the pressure of executing this flawlessly. There is no room for error. You look around, focussing, searching if there is something you can throw its way. It doesn’t matter what, as long as it can be used to distract the alien long enough. Turning your head while still running, your eyes lock with a metal object. Probably from an air-ventilation system. Grabbing it while in pursuit, you aim, calculating the perfect speed and trajectory.

“Alex! Duck down!” you scream with your last breath while powerfully swinging your dominant arm. Releasing the metal fragment. Brilliantly spinning through the air towards the runaway.

The alien already had their arms locked on the DEO chopper. Ready to blast flames to set it on fire. Suddenly it gets startled by the piece of metal striking their head painfully as Alex loyally followed your instruction. Slowing your pace down, being completely exhausted and now really out of breath, you see Alex. She has the situation perfectly under control. After she ducked down to evade the flying element, she swiftly jumped on the fugitive. Who as of now is a prisoner since Alex has pinned them down to the ground, easily cuffing the suspect. If you didn’t throw that object, the events could have played out an entirely different way…

Arriving at DEO headquarters, exhausted from the chase and definitely transmitting an awful, stinky scent, you enter the main floor. Stepping inside, you hear a loud clapping sound. Quickly looking up, you notice DEO Agents applauding, including J’onn and Kara who had returned from their mission. Alex walks up to you, probably due to your peculiar expression. 

“W-why are they clapping?”, stuttering as you stare at them in confusion.

“You’re the hero of the day (Y/N)!”, she brightly answers, while you’re still perplexed. 

“But… I-I just did my job. And you were the one that actually captured the fugitive”.

“Yeah… They’re also praising me you know. This is not all for you ”, Alex sarcastically returns, wide grin on her face. “You prevented what could have been a disaster. So you deserve this (Y/N)”, while she placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Come on”, Alex gently moved her hand to your arm and pulls you towards the group of Agents. You don't like to be in the center of attention which your face is currently displaying, skin coloured vibrant red. You just did your job, right? But you obviously can’t complain. This feeling of complete joy and happiness, overflowing your entire body. It feels right. You embrace it. Every second of it. Deeply breathing in this moment of total appreciation as you feel completely wanted, right here, right now.

Continue with part 6

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

One Night to Confess

Summary: When people get drunk, bad things usually happens. Well, not for everyone, but for you, yes. It was the first time you drank that much and bad luck made sure that at the same evening the person you loved called you. And unfortunately you told him things so embarrassing you want to disappear. Like confessing your love to him on the phone.

Requested? Yes, by anon

Pairing: Reader x Derek Hale

Word count: 1861

A/N: Okay I was a bit tired when I started writing this imagine so I’m not really sure about it, but I hope y’all like it! (the gif isn’t mine, credit to owner)

It should’ve been just a normal evening. A calm evening with a few friends that mysteriously turned into a party where the whole city seemed to be invited. So obviously alcohol made its way somehow to the house. Everywhere around you there were now people of your age having fun, dancing and drinking. And you? You were looking at them, uncertain. Everyone seemed to have fun and you wanted to try. You never really drink alcohol, not that you didn’t like the taste, but you had never felt the need to drink much. So you never got drunk.

And you had no idea what the effects of alcohol could have on you.

“Y / N!” Your best friend came behind you, making you jump. You were very focused on your glass of beer that remained untouched. You still hesitated to let yourself go.

“Hey,” you greeted her without leaving the amber liquid as the party went on without you in the house.

“You’re not drinking?” She asked you, taking a drink for herself and hopping to the rhythm of the music, inviting you to do the same.

"I don’t know …” You told her before confessing that you never got drunk and that you were a little scared.

“Y / N. "Your friend told you seriously before drinking her whole glass, grinning and looking at you. "How can you never have drink? Go! Enjoy it, it’s party! ”

You smiled at her and she gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder to encourage letting yourself go. You looked one last time around you and saw them again, teenagers who seemed to have so much fun. So you made your decision.

You wanted to have fun like them.

You drank your whole glass under the victorious cries of your best friend, proud of you.

One, two, three, four, you lost the count, but damn it was good. You didn’t understand what held you back all this time, it was like you had no worries, you could do everything. Like you were invincible and everyone was at your mercy.

After a while, a little tired of dancing and feeling kinda hot, you decided to go take some air. You hadn’t had so much fun for a long time, it felt so good to let go!

You had just come out in the fresh air when your phone rang. You glanced on the touchscreen to see who could call you so late at night … or was it the morning? Your phone also indicated the time, but stuffed as you were, you couldn’t see what numbers were displayed because everything was tangled. And you took at least a minute to decipher the name of the person who was calling you.

Usually, you would have been excited if he called you. Your heart would have beaten so hard and for a second, you would have blushed. The person who called you at that particular time was the person you were in love with. So in love and so incapable of confessing to him. But alcohol came to your head and it was late, or very early. That’s why, despite the danger of saying things that you would forget or regret the next day, you answered Derek.

“Heyyyy Derek!” You saluted him, staggering on the street in front of the house where the party took place.

"Y / N? Everything's fine?” His grave, hoarse voice said in the hollow of your ear and you imagined him for a moment whispering softly words … or exciting ones. You laughed for no reason, raising the doubts Derek already had.

"Y / N you’re drunk?”

“Nooooooooooooo, I don’t see what you’re talking about, Der, me, drunk? Pffff, you know me better than that,” you added as you sat on the sidewalk feeling the world turn around you. “Hey Derek you know what. ”

Your mouth was pasty and you had trouble talking, but you weren’t going to stop. Your filter was gone, burying under the numbing effects of alcohol.

“When the sun rises on Beahon Cills …. Beacon Hills … it’s … as beautiful as your smile because … because you rarely smile like the sun rarely radiates but as soon as you smile I can tell you that my heart shine!” You tell him, proud of your blow.

Silence.

"You don’t know what to say uh!”

“Y / N, you’re drunk, I’ll call you back later,” he started but you didn’t let him finish.

“Wait, Der … Derek! I have to tell you uhm something imtorpant … important! ”

You heard him sigh at the other end of the line.

“ I’m in love with you! ”

And it was only on the next morning that you realized what you had done.

“Oh shit …” You mumbled with your pillow against your face in an attempt to stop the world from turning. You’re head hurt so much, it was horrible, as if someone was hammering on your head and every blow sounded and gave you migraine even more.

But the worst wasn’t nausea or your head about to explode. It was all you said to Derek on the phone and you remembered that too well. You had loudly declared your love for Derek Hale, using your poetess talents, singing how beautiful his beauty was, even more beautiful than the sun itself and how successful he was in making you happy with almost nothing. That your friendship was the most perfect thing for you and that the love you held for him was, in your opinion, as indestructible and magnificent as a rough diamond.

And the worst?

The worst thing was that he rejected you. Again and again. Until you were too tired and hang up to get home by taxi.

Shame and sorrow lived in you. You told him. Confess everything. And now he knew, he had rejected you and he would laugh at you or worse, he would tell the whole pack your pitiful speech.

You would’ve liked to disappear in your mattress and never leave this hiding place again. But you had to leave your room one day. You glanced from under your pillow to catch your cell phone and grunted under the sudden light.

It was past noon, but it wasn’t what marked you. It was rather the notifications of missed text messages and calls. The name of the person was written on a white painful light that in this situation was very dark.

Derek Hale.

You put your pillow back and shouted all your embarrassment in it. The day was going to wait.

You did your best to avoid him. As soon as you knew he was around or somewhere near, you would immediately go in the opposite direction. Your friends and the pack found your behavior strange and even worried about you. You had become almost paranoid, seeing Derek everywhere and imagining a discussion with him after everything you had said. And that thought alone managed to put you in a bad state, embarrassed enough to want to bury you alive. You ignored all his messages and his calls.

And obviously, the inevitable happened.

Derek stuck you a few days later after classes, gym class to be precise. Your best friend, that traitor, knew your feelings about Derek and planned everything with him. After gym class, while you were in the shower, she pricked your clothes. So of course you waited until the locker rooms were empty to take out a towel and look for your clothes that your friend had put in your locker. And it’s by going back into the showers and grumbling that your vengeance was going to be terrible that you finally put your clothes on. But what you didn’t expect, on the other hand, is the muscular silhouette that awaited you and that blocked the only exit. You didn’t need to look at him twice to recognize him, only a glance was enough to know it was him. His build, his way of standing with his arms crossed. And you had nowhere to fly, no excuse to give him without looking suspicious of something.

You were trapped. Your friend was really going to pay for it!

“Y / N,” Derek began walking toward you and your heart began to pound as the red rose to your cheeks when you heard your first name pronounced by his mouth. The embarrassment was read all over your face like an open book. “We need to talk about the other night. ”

“What night?” You avoided his question by feigning ignorance, while slowly retreating.

“The one I called you and you were drunk.” He added with that serious look of him.

"Ah? I don’t remember any call,” you lied. “Besides, I don’t remember anything about that night,” you added, pointing your head with a nervous smile. You stepped back as he walked toward you. And you knew that soon the wall was going to stop you from escaping.

Suddenly, Derek stopped moving forward and leaned his head to one side, a slight smile on the corner of his lips.

“When the sun rises on Beacon Hills,” He began with a slight smile. "It’s as beautiful as your smile because …” He went on. “Because you rarely smile like the sun rarely radiates but as soon as you smile I can tell you that my heart shines.” He finished before regaining his seriousness and raising his eyebrows. "You don’t remember that?”

The tears invaded your eyes without being able to hold them back. Of course you remembered it, you didn’t avoid him for nothing! But him doing all that, organize that plan to get yourself in the locker room only to make fun of you, it was too much.

You were already embarrassed. Now you were really hurt.

“I hate you …” You muttered as you picked up your gym bag and headed for the exit, but Derek blocked you.

“Derek let me go,” you say calmly, trying as much as possible to hold back the sob of shame that rose in your throat.

“I’m in love with you,” was all he said and stayed where he was. A true marble statue. He was still laughing at you about what you said to him on the phone, you knew it.

“Stop …” You tell him trying to pass by him, but he held you back by putting his hands on your shoulders.

“No, you don’t understand,” Derek said. “I’m in love with you too. ”

You looked up at him without understanding, his face so close to yours.

“But you rejected me …”

“You were drunk, Y / N. I wasn’t going to confess my feelings and wondering if you would remember the next day. ”

This time it wasn’t tears of sadness and shame that invaded your eyes but rather relief. Your eyes remained magnetized for long seconds before your mouths came toward each other for a sweet chaste kiss.

“So it’s true that my smile is …” Derek started, smiling.

“Shhh …” You laughed, giving him a friendly tap on his chest before hugging him.

[tysonrunningfox]

Eret III: Chiefing Intensified

My babies were all waiting and wow, they are ridiculous.  Also, Gobber is here and I love him.  

Previous Parts

The chief keeps me until almost sundown, talking nonstop and explaining the whole smoker setup and how much food the village needs to keep running smoothly until the winter breaks. I almost hate how easy it is to ignore who he is in favor of what he’s saying, but maybe after the last couple of days, I just can’t handle full situational awareness at all times.  My head would explode.  It’s dangerously close as is, counting row after row of smoked yak and listening to all the ways it could go bad anyway.  

Because nothing’s ever foolproof. All the preparation and carefully thought out decisions in the world and sometimes you still end up completely and utterly fucked.  

He finally lets me leave when I spot Aurelia, walking past like she’s trying to be secretive on the way to my old house.  She looks both ways when I walk up to her like she’s making sure I’m alone and Bang sniffs her hand in cautious greeting, like he’s still worried about her from her outburst the night before.  

“I won’t turn you in for stalking,” I roll my eyes, “I’m going to head over to Fuse’s shop now, if you can convince Arvid to come, I’m sure we’ll have something to tell him.”  

“I swear, you Vikings and your dragons,” she scoffs, “always banding together despite your differences for the greater, scaly good.”  

I almost ask her to tell him sorry for me.  

But that wouldn’t be real and I’m not sure I’ll mean it when I see his face, all red tattoos and blind, stubborn anger.  

“I can go talk to him if interacting with Vikings is such a burden for you.”  

“Right, because you haven’t been pummeled in a while,” she rolls her eyes and pats Bang’s head before turning to continue on the rarely used trail to the Hofferson house.  We never walked home, always flew or left by boat. It feels like she’s opening up a new path to the house by walking on it and I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t know how shallow my bitter, confused jealousy’s grave is.  

But I don’t know how much worrying about it matters, anyway, because Arvid hates everyone with the misfortune of being connected to the chief.  

“See you at Fuse’s shop, Arvid-less or not,” she looks back over her shoulder and nods, a familiar determination in her face.  She’s going to get him to fight with her, at least.  

“Sounds good,” I wave, glancing at the sky and seeing Toothless circling overhead before deciding to walk.  “What do you think, bud?  Want to walk with me or want to go home?”  I scratch Bang’s head and he groans, pressing his face against my leg before turning and taking off towards the nearest shore.  He’s probably hungry, or well, hungry and miffed at me for not going fishing with him.  

Maybe he’s going to go see Dad, get a few fish off the boat.  I’ve never gone this long after yelling at my dad without apologizing to him. It used to drive me crazy, his stony, silent disappointed face that cut so much deeper than mom yelling, I’d do anything for him to stop.  But this is different because he was wrong and this situation is wrong and I can’t back down now, not when I’m finally getting somewhere.  People think there’s a reason to tell me the truth now, and I can’t turn back from that.  

People wave as I walk into the square and I wave back, skirting around a couple of conversations that people try to start.  I wonder if it’ll always be that way, or if I’m still just a novelty people want to check out.  

My feet take my by the forge window, the ultimate habit, and I look in to see that Smitelout’s gone and Gobber’s alone, organizing a stack of what look like saddle orders.  Gobber looks older than I remember too and I hate that even more than Dad looking old.  He looks up and I wave, feeling wrong and foreign on this side of the window.

“Need something?” Gobber asks, halfway between angry and something almost apologetic that I’ve never heard from him before.  

“No,” I shrug, leaning forward slightly on the counter, “I mean, it’d be great to not be in loads of trouble for storming out yesterday, but…”  I look up at him, eyebrows raised until his expression softens.  

“I think I can make an exception.”  Gobber stands up, hand on his knee like it hurts.  It probably does.  He probably had to take up a bunch of my slack yesterday because no matter what decision I make, it gets harder for someone.  “Just this one time.”  

“Yeah, I think I won’t make a habit of learning that my mom used to be engaged to the chief and freaking out.”  

“With your luck, I don’t think you can assume you’ll be that lucky,” he walks over, handing me some small part with hammer marks that aren’t mine or his, “Smite finished this up for your mom today, it’s a saddle repair, think you have time to finish it up?”  

“Yeah, of course,” I put the piece of iron in my pocket and look at him again, “seriously though, I’m sorry.”  

“Quit groveling,” he brushes me off, “you stayed on the island, that’s enough.”  

“I’ll have you know I had a tantrum on a boat in the bay, so I did leave the island,” I don’t know why I’m telling him, because I don’t want advice, “I yelled at my Dad.  I yelled at everyone yesterday, you aren’t alone if you need like a support group to cope or something.”  

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gobber rolls his eyes, but he looks at least a little bit mollified, “Smitelout hurts me more with that glare of hers.”  

“Well, it’s a savage glare,” I give a fake shudder, tapping my hands on the counter and standing up, “and I have to go see Fuse about one of her crazy ideas, but uh…”

“Go,” he waves me off, “and don’t forget that you’re mine the first day the chief doesn’t need you. Your half finished projects are taking up half the storage shelf.”  He waves gruffly at the mess with his metal hook hand and I wish I could be more like that. I wish I could pull off the grumpy, untouchable thing, that my explosive, reckless idiocy wasn’t the whole sum of my charm.  

“And that’s what I get for apologizing, more responsibility,” I step away from the counter and laugh, “way to encourage me owning up to my actions.”  

“That’s not my job,” he laughs, “thank Thor.”  

“Yeah, lucky you.”  I point towards the Thorston house, “well, I don’t want Fuse experimenting on me if I’m late so…”

“We need you in one piece, so get out of here,” he waves me away and I tap the counter one last time before going, feeling lighter and more tired than I was.  

Usually, I hate the snow and how it’s a thick, cold, heavy blanket over everything fun, but this year? This year I’m hoping for an early blizzard that goes above my head and gives me an excuse to sleep for a week. Preferably a week where no one talks to me and I don’t have to share a house with the chief and Stoick looking to me for entertainment the whole time, but I don’t think I’m ever going to get everything I want all at once.  

The door of Fuse’s workshop is open and there’s a stream of greenish smoke leaking around the top of the doorframe.  I knock on the open door, and she jerks to look at me like I snatched her out of some deep thought.  

“Oh.  Hey, I thought you’d be here earlier.”  

“Sorry, got held up with the chief,” I look around at the piles of ingredients all over her counter, “if you can’t do it anymore we could talk tomorrow or something.”  

“No, this is fine, just…don’t touch anything,” she nibbles on the black singed edge of a fingernail and wrinkles her nose at the taste.  “Is Aurelia coming?”  

“Allegedly, with Arvid, if he’s still interested in helping.”  

“It’s for the dragons,” Fuse turns to look at a parchment covered wall, “even he’s not self-centered enough to refuse to help the dragons.”  

“What are we looking at?” I step into the room beside her, looking at the same wall.  It’s covered with her perpetually wrinkly parchment and she’s drawn about a dozen diagrams of the sick dragons’ island, about half of them slightly wrong and crossed out.  I’m impressed that she could be so accurate from memory and I touch the point of the volcano on the drawing closest to me.  

“I talked to my uncle Fishlegs some, pretending I had some new found interest in geology, and he says that there’s probably caves under any volcano of this size and that they’re probably full of softer rock than what makes up the rest of the island,” she wraps the end of her sooty braid around her finger while she talks, snaggletooth digging slightly into her lower lip, “that means that even if we can’t access them, if we bomb near them it could cause a collapse and if what the dragons are trying to get to is underneath.”  She shrugs, picking up a mostly new book that’s obviously rarely borrowed and offering it to me, “want to read about it?”  

“Want is probably the wrong word,” I take the book anyway and flip through it, skimming a few of the runes and wrinkling my nose, “I trust you, anyway, you tell me what to make and I’ll make it.”  

“Huh, ok,” she cocks her head and takes the book back.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“I guess I just figured you’d be taking charge of this, like all that chief training would be kicking in already.”  

“I think I’m learning most about delegation,” I swallow, because I can’t help but think of my mom wanting to help and the chief not letting her.  And the pressure of everything on the island making him stupid and selfish.

And how easy it is to think of myself as some chosen dragon savior when I know how well that turned out for the last guy.  

“Yeah?”  She says it like filler, like she knows she has to say something to remain in the conversation but she doesn’t have anything useful to say.  

Somehow, I don’t care that she lied to me.  She’s the only one that did it practically.  

“Consider yourself acting chief of blowing things up.”  

“Making that official might make the chief suspicious,” the corner of her mouth twitches into a rare smile, like she forgets that people need expressions more than rocks do, “but I accept.”  

“Should we wait for Arvid to talk about this more?”  I look out of the door and see the shiny brick red of Aurelia’s hair at the bottom of the path to the Thorston house.  She can’t have been at my old house long to be back here already, unless she gave in and flew at some point.  I wonder if Arvid’s even coming, but something tells me she wouldn’t have left unless he promised to.  “And Aurelia might be more interested in the boring rock book than I am.”  

“Sure, she can borrow it.” Fuse looks out the door too, almost nervous for a moment, “and why would we wait for Arvid?  I figure we’ll just tell him where to put the heavy things.” She doesn’t sound like she’s trying to insult him, it’s just something that comes naturally.  

“He said he wanted to help,” I shrug, “plus, he’ll just get pissy if he thinks we’ve been plotting without him.”  

“Then why invite him?” She looks at me in that openly complicated way she does, like I’m fully welcome to stare at the unbreakable code of her brain.  “Obviously we’re going to plan some of this without him, you know, given that I’m the only one who knows what we need and you’re the only one who can make any of it.”

I open my mouth to start making up an answer to that, but a landing flap of wings catches both of our attention.  It’s Arvid, swinging off of Wing a few steps from a wary Aurelia who pauses halfway up the hill.  I don’t expect Arvid to wait for her, but he does, falling into grudging step beside her while she says something about an argument.  She catches my eye and shakes her head, shrugging her coat collar up to her ears and walking faster.  

Arvid follows, avoiding looking where he’s going entirely and staring at the back of Aurelia’s head like she spat in his food and he can’t quite figure out why he’s not pissed about it yet.  

Aurelia looks halfway smug before she trips on a rock and Arvid reaches out to reflexively catch her arm, apparently still in the habit from a lifetime of saving my face before deciding to break it.  She shrugs his grip off with one of those sharp, jolty, poorly thought out motions, stumbling sideways and almost falling again.  

“That’s not going to get me on your side.”  

“I don’t have a side,” Arvid wipes his hand on his pants like touching her sullied it and she sets her jaw like she’s mad even though I’m uniquely suited to see the pangs of a deep-piercing, stupid crush.  

“Yes, you do, and it’s against Eret and I’m with him.”  

“Chief’s brats stick together, I know the drill,” Arvid says that to hurt me, refusing to acknowledge my existence like he knows I hate the most.  

“Oh my gods,” Aurelia rolls her eyes, walking away from him, “you act like we pledge allegiance to the chief before remembering to breathe.  It’s not a cult,” she stops outside and looks around like she’s expecting a trip wire, “hey, Fuse.”  

“Hey, Aurelia.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Arvid asks, feet planted where they were when she last talked to him.  He seems to be oddly stuck, like he stumbled into an impossible patch of quicksand.  

“Right,” she turns back to him, hand on her hip and an expression like she likes the height boost of being further up the hill, “I forgot, I’m so well liked around here I must worship the Chief Hiccup designed natural order of things.  It’s not like I’m stuck hanging out with the village weirdos or anything.  No offense, Fuse.”  

“Not offended,” Fuse turns back to her counter, organizing two seemingly identical bags of black powder.

“Hey,” I don’t sound as offended as I want to because I’m stuck on Arvid staring at her with this wide-mouthed, dead cod expression.  

“Didn’t realize being a princess was so rough,” he sneers, a weak recovery of his bad attitude.  

Aurelia scoffs, “right, because it’s not like my dad literally rewrote laws to find an heir that wasn’t me.  In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a dick.”  

I laugh.  Arvid turns an embarrassed shade of pale and patchy red that I haven’t seen since his voice stopped cracking and girls started looking at him before he looked at them.  

“Are we going to talk about the dragons or not?”  Fuse isn’t quite bored, but she doesn’t care about Arvid’s bumbling either.  

“Yes, please,” Aurelia steps inside and sits on the second stool next to Fuse, poking a small clay pot with a careful pinky and asking what’s in it.  

Arvid steps up to the doorway and looks around, avoiding eye contact until I clear my throat.  

“Took you long enough to get here.”  

“Not my fault the princess wanted to walk.”  He glances at Aurelia like she’s a target he doesn’t know what to do with.  

“You waited for her?”

“We weren’t done with our discussion yet.”  He doesn’t step inside, his toes barely touching the shadow of the door frame. He looks around like he’s thinking about storming off and looks back at Wing like he’s reminding himself it’s for the dragons.  Not me.

Because he wouldn’t do anything for me anymore.  

“Discussion?”  I think for a stupid, homesick, heart-pounding second that he might answer the question, but he glares at me, eyebrows a hard, straight line.  

“It’s none of your business.”  

“Do you have to be such an asshole?”  Aurelia whirls on him, tone sharp and newly honed, like she put real work into the edge.

Arvid’s face goes patchy again, white except for two pink splotches framing the tattoos that aren’t quite so inflamed anymore.  He crosses his arms and shrugs one shoulder at her like he doesn’t have anything to say, he just is an asshole and he can’t change.  She rolls her eyes and turns back to whatever Fuse is showing her.  

“How long’s this going to take?”  He shrugs, leaning against the doorframe and making the entire shed shift slightly.  

“We’ve got to plan to make at least twenty four large explosives, it’s not like deciding to punch someone, it takes time,” Fuse takes a small bag off of a hook on the wall, “an emulsion of this is yak fat could potentially be a delayed explosive in water, we might be able to plant it near any of those caves we could find.”  

“I’m not going to stand here and be insulted,” he looks at me to stop it, for a second, before he realizes that we don’t do that anymore.  

I wonder if he talked to dad.  If he learned what I learned yesterday.  I wonder if it’s bugging him too or if he’s really to the point of caring about me so little that he doesn’t care.  

“Then don’t make it so easy,” Aurelia drawls like her heart’s beating way too fast and she doesn’t want to give it away.  

Arvid swallows hard, “just because I’m not Eret doesn’t mean I can’t help.”  

“His name isn’t an insult,” Aurelia stares at him, “neither is chief’s kid.  And please, contribute.  Prove it.”  

“Dagur’s chimney,” Arvid’s voice is flat, like he doesn’t know what to feel about this and he can’t muster up the will to figure it out, “we dropped a smoke bomb in it and one wall fell.  Isn’t a volcano just like a massive chimney?”  

“That’s…” Fuse frowns and pulls a ball of parchment out of her pocket, flattening it badly with the side of her hand and starting to scribble on it, “that’s not a horrible idea. It might be easier to explode than implode if everything underneath it is already filled with lava.”  

Aurelia shrugs one shoulder, lips half pursed, “who knew you had it in you?”  

Arvid crosses his arms more tightly, side of his neck going patchy too.  

I almost say that I did, because I have always known that he’s not stupid even if he didn’t know it, but something terrifying about Aurelia’s expression keeps me quiet.  She didn’t see that coming.  Arvid surprised her and if I know anything about Aurelia it’s that she knows everything before anyone else knows there’s something to know.  

“Remember that last part you made for me?”  Fuse either doesn’t notice the awkwardness or she doesn’t care, digging through a stack of papers for a drawing, “if we figured out which wall of the volcano was weakest and aimed an explosion at it from the inside it could…you remember the part right?”  

“Yeah, I do.”  

“We need to make it work,” she says that just to me, “with something bigger than I designed it for but we could make some smaller bombs and test it out.  I could use help with that, you could help me fill shells.”  

“Yeah, I can do that,” Aurelia volunteers too enthusiastically, like she expects the offer to go away, and Fuse looks expectedly at Arvid.  

He shrugs.  

“Is that a yes in gruff asshole?”  Aurelia asks, opening her mouth like she’s going to say more but then pausing like she doesn’t want to talk over him.  

He shrugs again, frowning when her face reddens.  

I’m too tired for this.

“Let’s meet at the forge,” I decide, and Fuse is right I already feel like chiefly training matters somehow and that they’ll listen, “when…let’s do it when it snows.  The chief will be busy and everyone else will be at home, no one will notice us.”  

“Sounds good,” Fuse stands up and looks around expectantly, “and I have to get some things done now.”

“Oh, sorry,” I scratch the back of my head, “we’ll get out of your hair.”  

“No, it’s fine,” she looks at me, specifically, “I want to get your opinion on something—”

But I can’t focus on what she’s saying when Aurelia is raising an eyebrow and staring at Arvid expectantly until he moves out of her way with that same dead-fish face.  Because it still feels wrong and weird and painful and Aurelia and I have to get home for dinner, anyway.  

“Some other time?”  I feel bad when Fuse looks legitimately disappointed and for some reason it makes me want to pat her shoulder again, but that was bizarre enough this morning so I shove my hands in my pockets instead. “Being chief in waiting is the job that never stops, you know?”  

“Yeah,” she looks at Aurelia, looking like she’s going to say something else and then stopping because it’s not something I practically need to know, “some other time.”  

“You’re the best,” I follow Aurelia outside and start walking towards the chief’s house, oddly relieved when she follows me.  

Like she was going to do something else.  Like I didn’t want her to.  Like it’s none of my business just like Arvid said but I can’t help but feeling like it has something to do with me.  I don’t even know what it is but I already want to stick my hands in it, maybe being with the chief so much is going to my head.  

She looks back at Wing taking off and tries to play it off as a stretch.  I snort.  

“You know, I understood the going to talk to him tactic, but the violently shutting down everything he said thing was new.”  

Maybe part of me is hoping that she’ll tell me to leave her alone so that I can absolve myself of involvement in her decisions that still feel creepy even though I want to let go of that.  I want to kill that deepset seed of loyalty that makes me want to defend Arvid, I want to stop feeling like I have to protect her or that there’s anything to protect her from.  

So basically I’m doomed to feel odd and awkward no matter what I say, and barring learning to shut up, that leaves retreating into sarcasm as my only option.  

It’s funny, conversations seem a lot more like battles when I’ll be stuck throwing my own punches afterwards.  

“Nah, it’s the oldest one on the books,” she shrugs, “he asked me why I was running ‘errands’ for you and it pissed me off.  You only outrank me in theory.”  

“And why would he think anyone would want to be chief with you undermining their confidence and botching errands all day?”  

She elbows me in the ribs and I laugh, reaching to ruffle her hair before she stops me with a glare that says I’ll regret it.  

“Today was fun though,” she tucks her hands back into her too long sleeves for warmth as a piercing wind slices up from the ocean, “being a part of the secret planning.  Seeing why Arvid is scared to pick a fight with Fuse. She’s crazy, I actually believe she’s going to blow an island out of existence.”  

“If anyone can do it, she can.”  I hold onto why I want to, because talking about it makes it feel bigger.  Like I might be as silly and over my head as the chief seemed to think when I tried to bring the sick dragons up to him.  

But if he could save dragons from Vikings by showing off, I can surely save them from something as comparatively predictable as an island in their way.  

“You know what I keep noticing?”  Aurelia looks down the grassy slope, “I don’t remember the last time I saw a wild terror. At first it was a nice thing, like not stepping in dragon dung for a while, but now it’s just ominously quiet.”

“Just like the house last night with no yelling parents.  Do you think the chief’s going to sleep upstairs again?”  I change the subject like it’ll feel like less pressure. It doesn’t.  

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “but I hope he puts away the happy family breakfast act.”  She looks at her fingers, forcibly blasé, “just when I think he’s over the whole confusing me with my mom nonsense, he brings me her favorite food like that’s not upsetting.”  

“That’s why you were weird this morning?”  

I wish again that I could really talk to Arvid or that Ingrid were here or that Rolf’s spine could ever be self-supporting with the stick up his ass, because they’re the only ones besides me and Aurelia who could ever understand this.  This feeling of belonging two places at once and nowhere at all in the same instant.  The choices we have to make the lines we have to draw, the sides we have to choose even when none of them feels like ours.  

I remember Aurelia’s mom. I remember that she was pretty and that she looked at me with confused bitterness I never thought was personal. I remember that my parents didn’t hate her the way they did the chief.  They made excuses for her weak norse and told us all to give her space, the kind of space meant to console, not offend.  

Aurelia doesn’t remind me of her at all.  Mostly Aurelia reminds me of all the things about myself that never made sense until they did.  

Well, that and why known paternity is important to prevent a child from experiencing icky pubescent crush-related trauma.  

“Yeah.  That and Stoick didn’t wake me up because he was bugging you.”  

“Bugging is right,” I jokingly roll my eyes, “no, he just wanted me out of the way to get to Bang. It’s a love connection.”  

“He likes you too,” she steps ahead of me to get the door, fighting with it and the wind for a moment before heaving it open, “that makes one brother who can stand you.”  

“Thanks for keeping score,” I walk in past her and look around, pausing at the chief sitting in front of the fire with Stoick’s terror in his lap.  

He perks up like he’d kill for another deep talk and I look around for Mom.  

Aurelia storms to her room and slams the door with spiteful dedication.  

“She went on a flight,” the chief offers, staring after Aurelia and looking confused and pathetic and like he’s never tried to talk to her, “your mom did, I mean.”  

“Oh, that’s probably why Bang’s not home yet.”  

“Right, he’s probably with her,” he nods, “I guess I’m not used to my dragon flying off without me.”

“Yeah,” I nod, thinking about leaving again because this is awkward and I haven’t apologized to my dad yet and I’m scared if I fall asleep a week will pass and I’ll wake up to another new, messed up reality.  

I sit down on the ground and start helping Stoick with the tower of blocks he’s building because it’s the only thing that doesn’t feel like a decision.  

[batsy-batsy-batsy-blog1]

Gotham’s Most Wanted [The Joker x Harley] Part 2

Day 2 of JokerxHarley Week: Greed

(This fic is going to be a series, one chapter for each day of the week, but some chapters may have more to do with the theme of the day than others) Check out @jokerxharleyweek for other submissions

Summary: Harleen Quinzel finds someone she never expected in a world she’s convinced is out to get her. (Highschool AU)

AO3.org

For the first time in a very long time, Harleen didn’t wake up with fear on her mind, she woke up with thoughts of him. He knew her name, poured his heart out, sat with her for almost two hours. She would have sat with him all night if it hadn’t been for the sounds of her father BANGING on the bottom floor. The second she heard he was back, she had disappeared back into her family’s apartment in a flash, not even checking to see whether Jack was awake or not.

Jack.

She sighed happily as she slid out of bed, put on some clothes, and blinked on some mascara. Expertly, she tied her hair into two pigtails for two reasons, 1) It was adorable and 2) It made her look more innocent, less people would suspect her of her little crimes. Obviously the pigtails hadn’t worked their magic when it came to stealing Miranda Costello’s laptop though.

Harleen carefully poked her head out her door, and surveyed the situation. Her father was passed out on the couch like she assumed he would be, an ash tray full of cigarettes and empty beer cans surrounded the floor around him. She swore her life came straight out of an angsty teen novel. Her mother was no where to be seen.

She tiptoed her way to the front door like she had done last night. She passed the kitchen on her way and froze. Her mother’s wide, glassy green eyes caught her own blue one. Harleen was caught with her backpack slung over her shoulder, leaving way earlier than she needed to, and her mother was caught clutching a nearly empty vodka bottle in one hand, and raiding the alcohol cabinet for more with the other. The alcohol cabinet was the only reason her mother ever went into the kitchen anyway. They both said nothing, slowly returning to what they were doing, a silent agreement to keep what they saw a secret.

As Harleen began to descend the rickety, spiralling staircase to the main entrance, she briefly glanced over the railing and she was so glad she did. Jack. The unmistakably fluff of black spiked hair was two flights below her.

“Jack!” She called. He looked up, and when he saw who it was, he rolled his eyes and kept going. Harleen wasn’t going to stand for that. She jumped down the stairs two at a time to catch up with him, but it wasn’t until they were out on the street, and she saw the back of his over-sided purple hoodie was she close enough to call his name again.

“Jack!” She yelled again, he was only ten-feet ahead of her now. This time he didn’t keep quiet and continue walking. This time he whirled around, and ran at her. He slapped a hand over her mouth, and dragged her into one of the plentiful ally ways that littered this street. It took everything she had not to completely flip out. From her experience in life, a hand over her mouth meant suffocation, but he released her as soon as they were alone in the ally, he wasn’t going to hurt her.

“Are you insane? You can’t just yell in the middle of the street in this part of town this early in the morning, you’ll be shot! Are you stupid?” He reprimanded her. Harleen’s eyes narrowed at that remark.

“No, I am not. Don’t call me that.” She ordered me. He just rolled his eyes, and began to walk away again. “Hey, I’m talking to ya! No one’s gonna shoot me ‘round here cuz they know who my father is, he works with Falcone.”

“For, not with, for, you’re father is scum.” Jack retorted, but he didn’t seem angry, just bored. This is not how she had wanted this conversation to go. And Jack was walking away again.

“Hey! Stop doing that!” Harleen whined jogging to catch up with him. “Look I don’t disagree my dad’s scum, I’m just saying the people ‘round here no not hurt Falcone’s people.”

“And I’m just saying, you ought not to feel so safe. You think cuz you’ve got a big bad dad, you’re fine, but you’re dad isn’t one of Falcone’s ‘people’, he just thinks he is. Falcone’s wouldn’t care one way or another if your daddy was dead, not to mention his annoying daughter.”

“You didn’t find me annoying last night,” Harleen mumbled.

“Is that what this is about? Look Harleen I’m sure you’re a sweet girl, but I don’t do sweet. I was drunk last night, that why we talked, that’s why I told you all that stuff. Just because we had one conversation does not mean we have some sort of connection now. I was so fucked up, I would have had a heart to heart with the fucking wall.”

“I think you’re lying, I think you liked talking to me, and I think you’re just trying to push me away now because you’re afraid of human connection.”

“What the fuck? You think you’re some kind of psychologist?” Jack gave her a confused and annoyed look all rolled into one facial expression.

“No, but I’m taking a psychology class, and I’m really good, so I’ll probably end up being one.”

“Well I hate psychologists, they’re all idiots you think they're helping me. They don’t, just want their fat paycheque.”

“You don’t think being able to read people and pick apart their mind is fun?”

“I can already do that, I don’t need a class.”

“Fine whatever, we’re getting off topic, there’s a reason I wanted to talk to you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I think we should be friends.”

Jack actually laughed at that one, not the same laugh as last night. This one was real, he found actual humour in her statement.

“No thanks Harleen, I don’t really do friends.”

“I know, that’s why you need me, so next time you get drunk you won’t be having that heart to heart with the wall.” She giggled, she swore she saw a hint a smile on his lips. She only ever saw him smile when he was wreaking havoc on the school.

“You only want to be friends because you have none.”

“I do!” she defended herself.

“Like who?”

“Well I got Red, you know Pamela Isley?”

“Oh, that chick hates me more than the average person, but congrats on your one friend!”

“I have more than one! I got, um, Selina Kyle!”

“You’re friends with Selina Kyle?”

“Well yeah, sorta, kinda, well we have an understanding.”

“So no, not friends?”

“I guess not.”

“Didn’t think so. Let me rephrase Harleen, I just don’t think we should be friends. You’re nice and everything, but you’re too sweet and innocent. You wouldn’t enjoy the things I like to do in my free time. I mean you smell like cotton candy for fuck sake.”

“Try me, Jack. You might be surprised.”

“Harleen, your hair is in fucking pigtails.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, she swears, how rebellious!” He covered his mouth with his hand in mock horror. “Okay, for example the reason I’m off to school so early is this. You see that ATM up ahead? Yeah, I’m about to break into that.”

“Oh wow, I’m so impressed, an ATM, how high risk!” It was Harleen’s turn to be sarcastic.

“Well it’s not like you’re off to rob a bank there Hun, let me guess, you’re headed off to school so early to what? Get some extra studying in?”

“Yes actually.” She shrugged as he scoffed at her. “Well that, and to stash like stuff.” She swung her bag off her shoulder and opened it to reveal it was stuffed full of electronics.

“What is all that?” Jack seemed genuinely interested in their conversation for the first time.

“Shit I’ve stolen from our classmates. Like that’s Miranda Costello’s laptop she’s all bent out of shape about. There’s phones and tablets, and just stuff like that, stuff people are dumb enough to bring to a school full of poor kids, who come from bad neighbourhoods. Like I got a solid gold pen in here Bruce Wayne brought to school.”

“Bruce Wayne huh? I hate that guy.”

Harleen just shrugged, zipping her backpack up, she didn’t really know much about him, except for the fact she had stolen his pen, and he had the locker beside her. Well that and his dead parents, but everyone knows how that song goes.

They were now stopped in front of the ATM Jack had been talking about. He crouched down and examined it’s lock.

“Look, you may wanna get out of here, unless you want to be an accomplice.” He warned her.

“Oh you’re right, we could get put on death row for this one.”

“Fine, but I warned you.”

“So, ya gonna pick the lock?” She crouched beside him.

“I’ve never really been one for silent, sneaky crimes.” He produced a hammer from his own backpack. “I’ve always been a slut for chaos.” His face split into something that could only be described as a maniacal grin, and he laughed as he swung the hammer once, twice, tree times against the lock.

“Oh fuck!” Jack exclaimed as the door swung open, causing the both of them to jump backward slightly. “Exploding dye pack!” He was right, there was a somewhat small bang, and then bills were fluttering to the ground, coated in a thick dark blue dye that matched the dye splattered across Jack and her skin and clothing.

He scooped up a small pile of bills into his backpack, tossing the hammer in along with them. Harleen did the same trying to find the least affected bills.

“Run, come on!” Jack was on his feet and offering her his hand, he was smiling so wide. She smiled back and gladly accepted.

They took off down the street, Jack pulling her along. They wove their way through Gotham’s complicated maze of streets for at least 15 blocks. They took detours through ally ways, hoping fences using crates and dumpsters, but every time he went before her, and every time he waited to take her hand again. Jack laughed the whole time they ran, it was infectious causing her to giggle along with him. He finally stopped, turing off a main street into yet another ally, and leaned against the brick wall. They slid down into a sitting position.

“Now that’s was I call a good time.” Jack sighed. His eyes were closed and he wore the most content smile in the world. Precious.

Harleen felt her adrenaline pumping wildly through her veins, and her lungs heaving to catch her breath. She could feel her cheeks flushed from the running and every time she breathed it felt like she was swallowing razor blades from the cold.

“I feel awake.” She whispered, mostly to herself, but Jack opened one eye, taking in her expression.

“I’m going to give you one day. We do what I want to do, and if you think you still want to be friends after that, then fine, but this is your one day to decide. It’s also my choice so if you piss me off, then you’re gone. Now, come on.” He was on his feet again. “I got somewhere we can hide your stuff, and this ink-covered clothing. He was offering his hand again.

He helped her to her feet, and led her down a couple more streets, until they ended up at the backdoor of their school.

“I broke the lock off this door last year, and they still haven’t fixed it or noticed for that matter.” Jack chuckled, holding the door open for her.

Harleen had never been in this part of the school, it was usually so clean, and orderly, but down here it was unkempt and messy.

“I like it better down here, I feel more in my element. Everything upstairs is so fucking perfect and fake. Nothing is perfect, this basement is like a reminder that even the things that seems the most put together and lovely, have secrets, dirty, broken secrets.”

Harleen ate up his words, like he was some famous poet.

“Here we are!” He announced, gesturing to a plain old grey door. She was slightly disappointed, she was suspecting something a little more hidden.

“A janitor’s closet, isn’t that a little cliche? And wouldn’t the school easily be able to get in here, and you know, find my shit?” Harleen crossed her arms.

“Maybe they could have two years ago, but around the same time I broke the lock on that door back there, I changed the lock on this one, and only I have the key.” He grinned, holding up a key chain with about four or five keys on it.

Harleen stepped closer to him, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Now we’re talking.” She took the key chain from him, examining each of the keys. “It’s this one isn’t it?” She held up a small silver key with a circular head.

“How could you tell?” He asked, mildly impressed.

“Psychology doesn’t seem so dumb now, does it?” She giggled, turning away from him and inserting the key into the lock. He rolled his eyes.

“What are the rest of these keys for?” She asked, fiddling with a few of them.

“We’re not that close yet.” He said, snatching the keys back, and shoving them in his pocket

“Yet.” She smiled opening the door, and her mouth dropped open. The little closet was full of things, electronics, clothes, jewelry, anything you could imagine. Now it was Jack’s turn to look smug.

“Greedy little bastard, aren’t ya?” She laughed.

“You may have stolen a few bits and pieces, but I’m the king sweetheart.”

“You don’t say.” Harleen replied in awe, following him inside the little room, shutting the door behind them.

“You can toss you’re bag anywhere.” He said. “And we gotta get rid of these clothes, we may have broken into an ATM, but the world doesn’t need to know.”

“But I don’t have any other clothes here.”

“Guess you can wear some of mine for the day, here.” He tossed her a flannel and a grey t-shirt that had been handing on a make-shift clothing rack. “You’re jeans will be fine, you can barely see the stains of them.”

“You want me to change in front of you?” Harleen smiled slyly.

“I don’t care, do what you want.” He shrugged, but as she turned around and pulled her shirt over her head, she could feel his eyes on her back. She smiled, she had him.

“Hiya Red!” Harleen greeted her friend, sitting down at their shared table in the chemistry lab. She turned her head to see where Jack had sat. He was in the very back with the goggles everyone was supposed to keep on their faces at all times pushed up on his head, covering his wild mop of black hair.

“See I have friends” She mouthed at him.

“One.” He mouthed back, Harleen replied by sticking her tongue out at him

“Hey, Harleen! I’m talking to you.” Pamela snapped her fingers in her face trying to get her attention.

“Sorry Red! What were you saying?”

“Where were you this morning we were supposed to study? And why were you 15 minutes late to class? What are you wearing? And most importantly, for the love of god, why did you walk in here with Jack?” She spat his name out like it was poison.

“Slow down, one thing at a time Pammy! Okay, this morning, I- uh, got a little held up, I only just got to school, that’s why I’m late too. I had to change clothes, mine got ruined, and as for walking in here with Jack, he’s the reason I’m late.”

“Ugh, figures.” Pam grumbled, shooting a glare in Jack’s direction. “I hate that guy.”

“I like him, I think we’re kinda friends...” Harleen trailed off after seeing the look Pam was giving her.

“Friends with Jack? Since when are you friends with that fuck up?” She whisper-screeched.

“Pamela! Quiet down, finish your lab work.” Their chem teacher snapped, and Pam began to angrily mix their solution.

“Honestly Harleen, being friends with Jack, is just going to derail you entire senior year. There’s a reason everyone calls him a clown!”

“Red, I think you’re being-“ Harleen started to defend him, but Pam cut her off.

“It’s because he can’t take anything seriously, and everything is a joke to him. He’s a total train wreck Harleen.”

“Listen red, I know you’re one of my only friends and I appreciate that, but shut up. You’ve never spoken to him in your life.”

“I don’t have to, to know guys like that are going no where, probably going to end up dead in the gutter!”

“Pamela!” Harleen could have started shouting at her right in the middle of class. “That was too far.” Her voice low, and menacing, so much so that Pam knew she said too much.

“I was just making a statement.” She mumbled.

“Well next time you want to make a statement like that, don’t.”

“Wait, what are you doing, that’s not right!”

Pam and Harleen turned around to see little Edward Nygma jumping around Jack’s shoulders, waving his hands. Incidentally he had ended up being Jack’s lab partner.

“Relax Nygma.” Jack was saying as he finally replaced him goggles to his face. Now, duck!” He shouted, grabbing Ed by the shoulders, and pulling him to the floor with him. Their was a small pop, then their mixture exploded. When the smoke cleared, Jack was peaking over the table, the tips of his hair singed, and the entire table blackened. Ed whimpered from the floor, but the teacher, who Harleen kept forgetting the name of, looked ready to explode himself.

“Jack. Principal’s office. Now.” Jack stood up, bowed, and casually sauntered out of the room. A low rumble of laugher started up in the room, but one look at the teacher had everyone silent. “Edward, clean that up. the rest of you get back to work.”

Harleen turned to look at Pam, but she had already gone back to working on their own assignment, she was mumbling to herself, and shaking her head as she did so.

“Friends with Jack, I mean honestly...”

“Harleen, where have you been?” Harleen whipped her head around with a big smile on her face to see Jack walking toward her. She had been walking to the main doors with Pam, they had both been a bit short with each other that day since the events in chemistry class, but they were each other’s only friends, so they had to suck it up.

Jack walked right up to them and caught her by the arm, pulling her away from Pam, into the busy crowd of students making their way out of the school, so she couldn’t follow.

“I thought we were supposed to spend the day together, just us, that’s what you agreed to isn’t it?” Jack raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, but you got sent to principal’s office first period, and never came back, I just figured you got suspended again.” She shrugged, but delighted at how eager he seemed to have her around.

“You think I actually went to the office? No- god Harleen, rule 1 of hanging out with me, you get in trouble, cause more. You get sent to the office, don’t waste the opportunity of being out of class by actually going where you’re supposed to, and find something fun to do.”

“So what did you do?” The were outside now, and Jack was leading to the back of the school again.

“That’s what I’m showing you.”

As they got around to the back, they were about to round the corner when Jack stopped her and physically pushed her back around they corner.

“There’s a cop car back there, and cops and they’re talking to the principal. Did you give me up? Is that why you wanted to be ‘friends’ so I’d show you where I hide my shit, and you’d give me up? Is that it?” He held her against the outside wall out the school, eyes flashing, all too alike to her father’s.

“No, get off me! I stashed my bag of shit in that room if you forgot. What? You think that was just a bag full of props? You think all that stuff was actually mine, and I’m just playing you to get you arrested again?”

“I just-“

“Don’t fucking accuse me of that shit.” She shoved him.

“Calm down, I have to cover my bases.” He looked down, apparently focused on straightening out his sweater, but she assumed he just didn’t want to look her in the eye. “It doesn’t even matter now, they’re gonna find everything in that room, all our stuff is gone.”

“No no no no, I have to get back in there, we gotta get it before they find it!” Harleen eyes widened in fear.

“Are you kidding, if any of them even see me near there, they’re gonna arrest me in a heartbeat, no, we aren’t going back there.”

“No, you don’t understand, my dad...” She trailed off, imagining wha he would do once he found out she lied, stole, and had been arrested. “My name is in my backpack with the stuff.”

“I really wanna call you stupid right now.” He shook his head, turning his back from her, trying to think. “If they find that backpack, you’re gonna go down for the whole room.”

“No, that can’t happen.”  She went the corner to peak around see what was happening, and her eyes almost popped out of her head. “Jack come here, look at this.”

“What?” He peeked his head around above her’s. “No way.” He laughed coldly.

“The principal and a cop doing a drug deal.” Harleen was still in awe.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Don’t wanna get caught spying.” He pulled her away from the wall, and started walking back toward their neighbourhood. “That’ll just teach ya, everyone is shit, no matter how good they seem.”

“I can’t argue with ya.” She agreed. They walked the rest of the way in silence, but she could practically feel the anger radiating off him.

As they reached their front doors opposite each other, he turned to her.

“You wanna come inside, my mom probably won’t be home until late?” He asked, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“I wanna, I do, but I gotta be home when my dad gets home and I don’t know when that will be.” She said sadly.

“Well, I could come there if ya want?” He offered.

“Yeah! Okay!” She was agreeing enthusiastically, before she thought about it. How would she get him out of the apartment before her father got home? And how would she avoid him meeting her mom?

Shakily she took her house key out of her pocket, but she couldn’t keep her hand steady enough it get it in the lock. Without saying a word, he took the key from her, and did it himself, pushing the door open. She shut the door behind them and when she turned back around, she came face to face with her mom. So much for him avoiding meeting her.

“Oh Harleen, do you got a friend over, do ya?” She drawled, giggling. Drunk as usual.

“Yeah mom, come on Jack.” She sighed, trying to lead jack past her, but her mom snatched her wrist with what could only be described as her claws.

“You know ya dad don’t like boys in the house little lady, he won’t be happy to find him here.” She smiled, showing all her yellowing teeth. Her mom used to be beautiful, but years of alcoholism, smoking, and beatings from your husband took that away from her, leaving Harleen with this broken shell of a woman, for a mother.

“Yeah, that’s why he’ll be gone before dad gets back.” She pulled her arm away, creating stinging scratch marks on the sensitive skin.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t know he was here.” Her mom laughed loudly, which quickly turned into a hacking cough, and the whole scene ended with her passing out on Harleen. She stumbled under the weight. The whiskey bottle her mother had been burning like a child slipped from her hand, and smashed of the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, but could you please clean that up for me, while I put her in her room?” She had never felt more embarrassed in her life, but he just shrugged it off.

“I know the drill.”  He agreed

“Thank you, there’s probably a towel to dry it up with, and a broom for the glass in the kitchen.” She directed, awkwardly pointing in the direction of the kitchen under her mother’s dead wait.

Harleen began to drag her mother’s unconscious body toward her bedroom. It wasn’t easy, no matter how fit Harleen, what a person’s dead weight is fucking heavy. She felt as if she struggled for an hour trying to toss her mother onto the bed, but in reality it was most likely 15 minutes.

Once she finished dealing with her mother, she found Jack standing back in the main entrance holding a wet towel, and a small plastic bag, witch what she assumed held the glass pieces.

“What do you want me to do with these?”

“Nothing, I’ll take them, thank you.” She took the items from his hands, giving him a small smile.

“It’s no big deal, I’ve done it a million times.”

She led him to her tiny bedroom at the back of the apartment. He father had thrown up some pieces of ply wood and a curtain when she was born, sectioning off a minuscule corner of the living room for her bedroom. Just enough room for a bed, and a dresser stuffed in. But she did have a window, right above the bed.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” She said as she crawled up on the bed and forced open the rusted window, tossing the towel and the bag of glass outside. “Can’t have dear ole daddy finding those.”

Jack jumped and flopped onto the bed, causing her knees to buckle from where she stood on the bed, she fell, landing on top of him. but this wasn’t some adorable ‘moment’ like in the movies where their eyes meet, and their faces so close they could kiss. Instead, he knees fell right onto his groin, and she smacked her head off the wall. They both crumbled to the ground in a fit of equal parts pain and laughter.

Once they got themselves together again, they lay side by side on her bed. She didn’t know how long they were there, but conversation with him came as simply as if they had been friends forever. He was funny, really funny, making her laugh more than she had in her entire life, and she knew she wanted him, just him.

“You know you’re name is a mouth full, Harleen Quinzel.” He commented after a few minutes of silence.

“Don’t remind me, I hate it.” She groaned.

“What you need is a nickname, I’ll have to think of one.” He said, making her smile. She liked the idea of him having his own name for her.

“Okay then, J.”

“I never agreed to a nickname.”

“Too bad, you got one.” She smirked. He chuckled, ruffling her hair.

BANG BANG.

She knew what that meant all too well.

“Oh god, you got to go.” She scrambled.

“What why?” She could see he didn’t want to.

“My dad, he just got back, I heard him downstairs.”

“How the fuck would you have heard that, we’re on the fourth floor?”

“Believe me, I think I’ve learned the sound of my dad, I always hear him. It doesn’t matter, he’s gonna be up here soon, you have to go!” She pushed him out of the bed with her, over to the curtain that serves has her door.

“Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not done talking to you.” He said flipping around to face her, so her hand that had been on his back pushing him out, were now on his chest.

“So, I guess that means we’re friends?” She smiled, not moving her hands.

“Fine, friends.” He rolled his eyes, he did that a lot, whether he meant it or not, and she was hit with a surge of confidence. She bawled her hands into fists, gathering his shirt in her clutch, and pulled him toward her, kissing him freely, and to her delight, he kissed back. When she released him they were both smiling.

“Just friends?” She asked.

“Go to sleep Harleen, it’s late.” He chuckled, and was still smiling as he backed out of her room, never breaking eye contact with her until the curtain forced them to.