#and just hear the guttural scream of said man as she finds out the kids hes tasked to look after has been shattering glass for an hour now

[abimee]

zero and unukalhai could have to me the same type of friendship themis and tonio has where the age gap makes it so that they dont fully get each other but it would be a little weird to categorize it as a ''sibling like friendship'' because they arent that close. but i think zero could be the one unukalhai and taynor go to when they wanna experience some child-endangering fun because they missed out on having a near-death experience unrelated to being powerful mages in their YOUNG young days and they know zero can be coerced into it because shes the most ''sure. whatever'' person they know

[yaminalapis]

@transingthoseformers I wrote a prelude

Prelude: A history of Maumee Lake Plain and its monsters

Since the founding of Detroit in 1701, rumors of monsters of all kinds have abounded. Stories of gigantic insects, too big to be of this world and regionally inappropriate, are almost as old as the city itself. As time marched on, and with no solid proof of their existence, these rumors faded until they were seen as nothing but spooky stories to keep kids inside at night. Little did people realize that these were more than mere stories.

November, 2057

“I can’t believe we have to come down into the sewers just to relax.”

“Hey, you don’t want my parents to see me smokin’ squares, eh?”

Two teenage boys hefted themselves into a large drainage pipe for the Detroit sewers. The taller one was skinny like a beanpole, with ragged red hair hidden under an equally ragged beanie. The smaller was dressed in a cobbled together outfit that had clearly been thrown on last minute.

“Man, I didn’t even wanna smoke, I wanted to go get a coney.”

“We’ll get your damn coney after I have a square.” The taller one snapped, fumbling for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “I swear, you need these man, or at the very least a joint.”

“Weed smells gross. I don’t like it.” The shorter boy grumbled, looking at the stained floor sheepishly.

“That’s what vape pens are for, dumbass.” The taller boy hissed, taking a drag from his cigarette. The smoke he exhaled gave the implication he might be a demon in another life. The two stood in silence for what felt like a long time, the sounds of late night Detroit filling the air and any room for conversation.

The shorter boy looked up, his brows furrowed. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That sound. It sounds like jackhammers.”

The taller boy stomped out his cigarette in the stagnant water of the pipe, one final puff of smoke escaping. “Your hearing needs to be checked. There hasn’t been road work in this part of the city for years.”

“I’m not hearing things, it sounds like a jackhammer.” The shorter boy protested.

“I don’t hear anything, quit your-“ the taller boy started to snap, only to stop when he too heard it. It sounded like it was coming from just beyond their position in the tunnel.

After a few tense moments, the noise stopped. Just as the taller boy was about to continue snapping at the shorter one, a jarring crash, like a huge creature smashing through a concrete wall blasted through the drainage pipe mere feet away.

“What the hell is that?!” The taller boy shouted. As the dust settled, it seemed that the crash had just been the drainage pipe collapsing.

That was, until a large hand warped the dust and curled around the broken wall. Then another, on the same side. The creature that emerged from the hole was at least 20 feet tall, probably taller. It had two pairs of arms, an insectoid abdomen branching off its rear, a pair of bent antennae and a set of mandibles caging its mouth, but otherwise looked like a giant woman. The back of its head sported what looked like an ant head, and it’s black and brown coloring made it near indistinguishable from the dim background if not for the purple glow of its eyes cascading down like spotlights on the two boys.

It said nothing, and the boys said nothing back. After what felt like hours of staring, the smaller boy took a picture with his phone, the flash illuminating the entire creature for a brief second. The creature roared, a mix of a woman’s guttural scream and a hissing teapot.

The boys fled in screaming terror, but the creature didn’t pursue them. Instead, it made a chittering sound not unlike snickering.

“Glad to see humans haven’t changed after all these years.” she said, mostly to herself.

“Lasius, what did you find?” Another female voice asked, a similar ant like creature emerged, slightly shorter and red in coloration, but otherwise the same.

“A tunnel?” A smaller voice asked. The owner of the voice peeked over the debris. It was significantly smaller and didn’t carry any specific insect traits, aside from having four arms and a set of antennae.

“No little one. This is too perfect to be a natural tunnel. Invicta, you’re not gonna believe this. I think we made it into the human city.” Lasius said, stepping over the debris and into the drainage pipe itself.

“It took us this long?” The smaller voice asked.

“We’ve been expanding south this whole time, of course we didn’t find an entrance into the city that way.” Invicta said.

Lasius stepped to the edge of the drainage pipe, bracing herself on the rim. “Things have changed significantly since our last encounter with humans. We should report this to the queen and requisition a scouting team.”

“Do you think they’ve developed arms to hurt us yet?” Invicta asked, pulling the smaller creature close.

“It’s hard to say. Humankind has always been skiddish, so if they have the means, they’ll certainly use them. For the colony’s safety, we should close up the tunnel until we can secure it.” Lasius said. “Get the rest of the team, and maybe call a team of wasps to help for good measure. Return Xyloni to the Dome.”

“What?! But we’re just getting interesting!” Xyloni protested, being escorted by Invicta back down the tunnel. Lasius followed after a few more moments of observation.

“Xyloni, this is a matter of not only your safety, but the colony’s safety. When we offered to take you into the mines to observe what ants do, we did not anticipate to find an entrance to a human settlement. This is an extraneous circumstance.” Invicta said. As Lasius pulled what rubble she could back over the entrance, tension hung in the air.

[aquamarinescarlet]

Don’t give up just yet

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.6k

Warnings: two curse word (I think), brief mentions of sex and cheating, angst (bare in mind these warnings don’t apply the way you think they do, you’ll have to read to understand)

Summary: The classic soulmate AU, sentences written on each other’s wrists, but with a twist.

Author’s note: This was basically an excuse for me to reinvent the soulmate AU with the wrist tattoos thing. It’s sorta angsty, but I just thought the ending was too funny. Just experimenting here, tell me what you think.

PSA: Dividers are the count down till the day: black is reader focused, red is wanda focused, gold/yellow is also reader focused, but I thought it deserved a little spark.

“You should call her, y’know.”

“Why would I do that? She made her point very clear.”

“It’s her wedding day, Y/N,” Mia reasoned, “and this fight was months ago, you have to get over it.”

You rolled your eyes at her insistence. This discussion has been happening every day for the past two weeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I the one who should get over it?” You emphasized.

“He is her soulmate, and she is your sister, the least you could do is pretend.”

“Ugh,” you let out a guttural scream, “I can’t do this anymore Mia, I stand by what I said. That man is an asshole and this soulmate thing is stupid. I don’t trust him, no matter what the words on both their wrists say, and I’m not gonna watch her go down with this and not do anything about it.”

Mia didn’t respond, she knew she’d reached your last nerve. You watched as the woman left your office, sending a last sympathetic glance your way before walking into the hall. 

Mia was right in some points, and you knew that. She was right about it being your sister’s wedding day and that you should be there to support her. She was wrong about you needing to be the one to apologize though. The way people manipulated their lives to fit this whole twisted Soulmate Theory made your blood boil.

The Soulmate Theory was quite simple: everyone was born with a sentence written on their wrists, popular belief is that those are the first words your soulmate will say to you. It was cute, and it worked most of the time, not for your sister though. Or at least you thought so.

Oli's soulmate was Isaac. They had met three years ago and eventually started dating. Oli was a firm believer of the Soulmate Theory and had never dated anyone before, so it was all new and exciting.

You started noticing the patterns roughly one year after they started dating. He was controlling her, discreetly, barely noticeable, but it was there. 

First with clothes, Oli had made it a habit to always ask for his opinions on her clothing, and he would tell her he hated something, regardless of her telling him over and over again she had liked it. You made little comments here and there about his actions, mostly jokes but with some truth behind, she didn’t notice.

Second was friends, Isaac would always want to meet Oli’s friends, and if she went out with one he didn’t know he would make her feel guilty. You started giving more serious warnings, pointing out what he was doing more clearly, she didn’t care and called you crazy.

Third was her feelings, he had his mind set on what her role should be in his life. He praised Oli endlessly when she cooked or cleaned. Other than that, he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to her stories, didn’t appreciate her paintings and drawings… 

It got to the point where she wouldn’t want to paint anymore, when she was telling a story it would be without her usual excitement. Her smile no longer reached her eyes, she was constantly tired. 

You confronted her about it, several times, but it was of no use. You’d point out the facts and she’d retort with ‘he is my soulmate, the universe bound us together, he wouldn’t do this to me!’

Three months ago was the last time you two talked. She told you he asked her hand. She knew you would be against it, she tried to ease you into the idea of her being with Isaac for the rest of her life. You weren’t having any of it. 

After hours of screaming, arguing and loads of tears, she told you not to come to the wedding, and you said you wouldn’t. 

It’s now four days from the date and you’re not going as long as he’s the one she’s marrying.

You stared at the words on your own wrist. ‘It’s you’. That sentence haunted you for years. What a stupid set of words for your soulmate to say.

As a kid you adored the Soulmate Theory, you paid meticulous attention to the first words you’d exchange with anyone, you made new friends nearly every day in hopes of hearing those words, but they never came.

Until they came. At first it was exhilarating, but the ones you said didn’t match the ones on the person’s wrist. You were extremely disappointed. And then you heard them again, and again, and again… It became almost routine. Every single person you met would say ‘it’s you’ or some variation of it. 

You being who you are certainly didn’t help. During college you had started a tech company and now it had grown to be one of the biggest and most important in the field. The new inventions did win you several prizes and a lot of money. You were also stupid famous, being the young brilliant CEO and all. 

Ever since, you gave up on looking for your soulmate. It seemed counter productive to get yourself all worked up just for it not to happen every single day. You made your peace with it, although a small part of you just wanted to meet said person.

The situation with Isaac and Oli helped. Seeing that it could end up hurting you made it easier to not fixate on finding your soulmate. Nonetheless, the desire was there; hidden, pushed to the back of your mind, but still there.

You just wished your sister could see it too, that the Soulmate Theory is not the solution to all her problems. 

“Relax Steve, it’s all taken care of.” 

“What about the flowers? Did you book the buffet? Did you check with the band? And the decorations? I saw some people didn’t RSVP yet, should I redo the seating charts?” Steve rambled on as Wanda just laughed.

“The flower problem is solved, the buffet confirmed, so did the band, the wedding planner is working on the decorations and redoing the whole seating chart seems… unnecessary, they still have three days to confirm their presence.” She reassured the man who was more stressed than her about the whole situation.

“Okay, sorry, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” He huffed, taking a seat on the couch. 

“It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry.” She couldn’t help the weirdness that surged upon uttering those words.

“How are you so calm?” Wanda just shrugged, not really sure how to answer. 

Steve took a deep breath and gazed at the red head, offering her a smile. 

“I’m going to sleep, all this wedding stuff has been stressing me all day.” 

“Okay,” Steve made his way to his bedroom but she called him before he reached the hallway, “thanks for the help Rogers.” 

“No worries.” He shot a last smile before disappearing. 

Wanda found herself alone in the living room, the silence only making her thoughts scream louder.

She would be married in three days. It seemed unbelievable. After losing her parents, being experimented on at Hydra, fighting along Ultron, losing her brother and becoming an Avenger, she never thought she would have time to fall in love.

Yet, here she is. Although the feeling wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. It wasn’t exciting, or nerve racking. She felt no different than any other day of her life. Steve seemed like the one who was getting married, not her. 

Vision is sweet and caring, she feels so happy around him. Then what is causing all these doubts to haunt her?

She knows what it is, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

Those words. Those stupid words painted forever on her wrist. ‘Don’t do this’. Ever since joining the Avengers she started using several bracelets to hide them, but they still burned on her skin every single day.

She’d heard of the Soulmate Theory at a very young age. Her parents had explained how those were the first words she’d hear from the love of her life. She would spend hours daydreaming all sorts of scenarios in which someone would say those words to her and they’d fall in love.

After her parent’s death, that stopped being her priority. At the Hydra base she’d only see her brother and a couple dozen different Hydra soldiers, too old and mean for a soulmate. 

Gaining powers was a game changer. She was older then. Stronger. They finally allowed her and Pietro to leave the base and create chaos in Hydra’s name. “Do good” in Hydra’s name. She believed she was doing the right thing. She truly did. 

Hearing her first ‘Don’t do this’ made her question everything. It came from a little kid nonetheless. A scared little kid. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought at the time. But that mistake happened, again, and again, and again… 

When she joined the Avengers her eyes were opened to all the pain and terror she had caused. All the people she hurt. Then it dawned on her, what if one of those ‘Don’t do this’ came from her soulmate? What if she had hurt them, or worse, killed them?

The idea terrified her. So she hid those words on her wrist. A reminder of the evil she’s done and the love she’ll never have. She promised herself to never look for her soulmate, she already caused them enough pain, they didn’t deserve to get tangled in the mess that was her life.

And then Vision was created. Him and Wanda got along greatly. He made her happy. They fell in love, or at least that’s what Wanda told herself, that she fell in love with him. It was possible, there’s no rule on the Soulmate Theory that says you can only fall in love with your soulmate. Plus, Vision is not human, so he doesn’t have words written on his wrist, he doesn’t have a predestined soulmate, technically he doesn’t even have an actual soul for this sort of thing. They could be each other’s soulmate. A loophole on this stupid theory.

Why didn’t it feel like that though? Why was she questioning it so much? And why now? Three days before her wedding?

She took off the bracelets and stared at the ink, brushing her fingers lightly over it. She loved Vision, she affirmed to herself. She wants to marry him. This is what she wants. And she believes in these words, for a while. Long enough for her to fall asleep, turning off her brain from overthinking the situation too much.

Work has had you occupied all week. With back to back meetings and loads of paperwork to fill out, you’ve barely had time to think of anything else.

But now it seems like everything is done and you have more free time than you’d like. 

You left the office early, not having much to do there anymore, and, instead of spending all afternoon home alone, you decided to go out for some coffee.

You were sitting on your usual table in the small coffee shop close to your place. It was calm, quiet and homely, a nice contrast between the places you frequent. The warm cup on your hands did nothing to distract you though.

The book you’d brought was long forgotten on the table as you glanced at your phone every few seconds. It’s two days till the wedding and, even though you tried not to think about it, you hoped your sister would text you saying she broke it off. It was unlikely, but wishing she could get some sense knocked into her wouldn’t kill.

You were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice a woman glancing at you until you caught her trying to call your attention.

“It’s you!” She said, astonished, pointing to the cover of a magazine showing a picture of you.

Recognizing that issue as being a rather old one, you just nodded and offered the woman a friendly smile. She took that as an opportunity to approach you.

“Hi. Sorry,” she sounded excited and also nervous for bothering you, “I just wanted to say what an inspiration you are to women all around, to me especially. I’ve been opening my own business and seeing what you do has been such an encouragement to me. So, thank you!” 

You were surprised by how nice she was. You’d expected her to ask you to invest in her business or something, like everyone who approaches you does, but she didn’t and it was a nice change of pace for once.

“What kind of business are you opening?” You asked. Listen to her talk would be a good distraction, plus, you could use the company.

“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she said, “I don’t want to bother you any further.”

“Please,” you urged, “I have the rest of my day off and I could use someone to talk to. Unless you’re busy, then I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.” You laughed to ease the woman’s nerves.

“Sure?” You nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from you. 

She accepted it and you spent at least an hour talking before she had to leave. It was a pleasant conversation, she praised your work but didn’t refrain from giving some interesting criticism on your business. The topic of an investment or a partnership never even came up. 

It got your sister out of your mind for a while, although it didn’t last long.

Laying on your bed, your eyes fought to stay open, your mind swirling with all possible scenarios regarding Oli. She would be miserable if she went through with this, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You love your sister, you care so much about her, but she refuses to listen to your warnings. You could swallow your pride and go to the wedding. You could try and support her. But that would just make an accomplice to her stupidity and you’re not going to just stand there and pretend that that’s ok.

You thought about texting her, way too many times. But your relationship is already rocky as it is, the least you could do is hope she gets some clarity on her own.

One day till the wedding. She’s 24 hours away from the happiest day of her life. Why is it, then, that Wanda doesn’t feel as happy as she should be. 

She didn’t have to fake a smile, she was happy, but that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

None of the others seemed to notice it. They just thought it was the nervousness of having everything set so the day could run smoothly. Vision even brought up the possibility of her having cold feet about it, but she denied it thoroughly, assuring him she wanted this.

And she does. She wants to get married, have kids and build up a family of her own. She wants it all. 

It still seemed weird though. Like something was off. 

“Steve just called,” Nat interrupted her thoughts, walking back into the room, “everything is set, prepped and organized for tomorrow.”

“Let’s try on the dress then.” Carol urged the girl to put on the piece of clothing for the millionth time.

It did her justice. Slim at the top and flowy at the bottom, accentuating all her curves perfectly. It wasn’t big and puffy but light and delicate. She smiled at her own reflection as the other women crammed around her to take a look.

“You look beautiful.” Pepper said in awe. 

“She does, doesn’t she.” Laura agreed, even though she’s the one that helped her choose it.

Wanda didn’t say anything, just smiling and appreciating her own image, excitement growing on her chest from wearing it in front of everyone the next day.

The girls spent hours planning how they would do her hair and makeup. There were so many ideas, disagreements and arguments that Wanda was completely drained by the end of the day. She was happy though, to see her friends being there for her, eager to help and make sure everything was perfect.

It was nice to have people around since she lost so much throughout the years.

After the women were gone and she found herself alone, Wanda’s thoughts from the beginning of the day came back, hitting her like a train.

Was she really more excited about wearing a dress than about getting married? Was this a sign of her actually getting cold feet? 

She shrugged them away, affirming to herself these are just stupid uncertanties people always get before their wedding day. At least that’s what happens in movies, so nothing to worry about... right?

Thankfully your work slump had subsided as now a gigantic pile of papers sat on your table. Some contracts had to be restructured and a set of stores had to be chosen to distribute your newest technology. 

You thrived in that scenario, with countless reports and 2D drawings of the prototypes scattered about the room. Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, seemingly unaware of the events that would take place later that day.

That peace, however, was short lived. Your brain short circuited for a second when you checked what had caused your phone to buzz.

Two voicemails. 

From none other than Isaac. 

It was right then that it dawned on you: Oli was marrying that asshole today. In only a couple of hours actually.

Before listening to the messages you started to record your phone screen, maybe he would try to threaten you or something and you could use that to convince Oli to break things off with him. It wouldn’t kill to be precautious.

The first one was sweet, although it almost made you gag, it was sent with good intentions. Isaac was asking you to go easy on Oli, regardless of your feelings towards him, you should be supportive of her and her decisions. Too pretentious for your liking, but sent with good intentions nonetheless.

The second one started awfully weird. Some muffled sounds, things you couldn’t quite make out. Until you heard a loud moan, your eyes going wide as you pushed your phone away from your face. Isn’t it technically ‘bad luck’ to see the bride on the wedding day? You didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the voice on the phone started to moan each other’s names. The woman didn’t sound anything like Oli, because it wasn’t Oli. Isaac was cheating on your sister? And on their wedding day!?

Oh you weren’t about to just let that go. You stopped the recording, thanking your intuition, and quickly ringed Oli.

It rang once… twice… three times… and then voicemail. You tried at least four more times until you figured she just didn’t want to talk to you.

“Marie can you come in here please?” You called your secretary.

A few seconds later she popped her head inside your office.

“How can I help?”

“Can I use your phone!?” You sounded more exasperated than you wished.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call your sister today?” Damn, that woman knows you too well. You sighed loudly.

“Please… I just…” You trailed off, sounding desperate this time around.

Thankfully Marie gave in and lent you her phone. You typed Oli’s number and rang it, several times, she didn’t pick up once. You were starting to get truly desperate now.

“Do you have the address?” You handed Marie her phone back.

“Here.” She handed you a piece of paper from her pocket. 

It was on the other side of the city, at least a one hour drive. You quickly grabbed your coat, purse and phone, rushing out of the office, only being stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You gave her a reassuring smile and a quick nod before making your way to your car. Marie has been working with you since the beginning, she always knew when you were up to nothing good. She also knew that when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.

The drive was excruciating. You kept making stupid mistakes and taking wrong turns. Everything seemed to work against you, being it: accidents, red lights, slow drivers, pedestrians. Even the birds chirping around were pissing you off.

You finally reached the venue and stopped the car messily in the front entrance. You quickly ran up the stairs, and almost tripped and fell when you heard the officiant was already performing the ceremony.

You reached the doors and yanked them open, hopefully interrupting the wedding before it was too late.

“Don’t do this!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, nearly breathless. 

The guests all turned towards you, surprised. So did the couple on the podium.

Except those people weren’t Oli and Isaac. You recognized them, Vision and Scarlet Witch, or at least that’s the names they went for on television. You’ve seen them before, doing business with Stark had its perks, but had never been introduced.

You could’ve felt bad, but your stomach was a turmoil of faith and nausea. You were either really early or really late to stop Oli.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “wrong wedding, carry on.” You turned around to leave, but not before noticing the bride glancing at her own wrist.

You didn’t get the chance to take a single step out the door before her voice filled the silence that had settled.

“It’s you.” You stopped dead on your tracks. Your wrist burning slightly, not the kind of pain to cause discomfort, just enough to be noticeable.

Those words. 

Her looking at her wrist.

Your’s burning now.

You turned back around, earning all kinds of confused glances from the guests. Your eyes fell on the woman, a smirk plastered on your lips.

“Seems like this isn’t the wrong wedding after all.”

[harveywritings92]

BNHA vampire soulmate scenario: When you first saw them.

 The first time you saw him, he was feeding off someone.

TWs: Blood, death stalking and attempted assault.

-------------------------------

Mr. Compress: {Your Quirk: Card capture: it's similar to Mr. Compress's quirk but you can entrap people and objects in cards by manifesting these clear glass like cards that slip out from your wrist, you can use them as throwing weapons too as they're very sharp, the only drawback is that you can get severely dehydrated if you overuse it.]

You were walking home late from work just hungry and physically done! today was crap show! first you missed the train then half way to work you forgot you realized you forgot your lunch!, Your boss (who's usually pretty chill) for whatever reason decided he hated your guts today and yelled at you in front of everyone! and to rub salt on the wound you spilt hot coffee all over yourself! so now you arms and chest have burns on them that were itchy as hell! you just wanted to crawl into bed, and forget about this day. 

You decided to cut through the park when you saw a odd pair, a man in a yellow trench coat and top-hat and mask which was pushed to the side kissing a woman in sundress under a streetlight. "huh, how sweet." you sighed exasperated before continuing on you way, when you noticed foot steps coming out behind you, you cautiously reached into your coat for one of your cards... you knew it wasn't the man in the top hat as you did a quick glance over your shoulder he was still  'occupied' you could smell stale alcohol in the air remembering the beware of mugger sign at the park entrance and figured out what was going on when the person was in grabbing range.

You whirled around grabbing your would be assailants arm forcing it up and pulling him towards you, you hissed  felt a sting on your cheek as your free hand slammed your card into his chest "release!" you barked as a powerful cyclone burst from the card sending the man flying off his feet *Thank-you Anko-san* you mentally cheer happy that your friend had a wind-quirk and let you capture it's effects in a card; said card then shattered as it was a one-shot use like all your offense cards. 

The man wheezed as he was thrown to ground next to the "couple". while you took off running! not seeing Top-hat pull away from his lady friend and sniff the air. 

Atsuhiro dropped the woman he was feeding on she slid limply to the ground as he readjusted his mask and followed that delicious scent and found a bloody knife on the ground *Could it be?!* his heart was beating abnormally faster as picked it up and sniffed it he lifted his mask up and licked the blood off the knife, Atsunhiro almost felt alive again as the sweet taste of his mate's blood touch his tongue... 

He was so elated his mask was blushing! (cos anime logic!) "My Darling❣~" he purred in pure ecstasy, but soon his euphoria was cut short when he heard the man who attempted to rob you on the ground cough, the vampiric ex-magician turned in his direction, he could smell this uncultured brutes scent all over the knife mixing his mates. 

Atsuhiro's primal urges were screaming at him to kill the man for harming his mate, however the ex-showman had something else in mind... The next morning you were watching the news on your laptop seeing the mugger at the park last night had been caught, and was being charged with murder for another woman. You felt your stomach churn as the photo of the woman who you saw making out with the top-hat man flashed on screen. 

Than you felt a a chill go down your back!

You nervously looked away from your screen and scanned around the nearly empty café, there's was only you, an elderly couple wearing matching tracksuits enjoying some tea and having a conversation, a tired and obviously hungover mother and her two rowdy kids having breakfast, and lastly a man with black hair and copper eyes wearing a yellow casual suit and gray news boy cap reading a book.

You squint at the title....The magicians nephew, you frowned letting out a small hum; swearing you felt someone's eyes on you, thinking you were just paranoid from last night... you unconsciously traced the healing cut on your cheek and went back to you doing your work, not seeing the copper eyes of Atsuhiro watching you from behind his book with a knowing smirk.

-----------------------------

Dabi: You were walking home drunk to hell as your friends kept you out at the bars until 3am, you decided to take a detour home to get a late night snack/early breakfast at the 7/11 a few blocks from your place, as you were walking to the store you spied what looked a couple making out against the dumpster a few feet a ways, even in your drunken state you couldn't help but scrunched up your nose the sight. "at least take her to cheap motel buddy, jeez..." you muttered the man in the black hood growled back in retort as you entered the store.

While in the shop you frowned seeing you favorite snack was out of stock. "D-dammit." you huffed and looked around before spotting the clerk who was unpacking some packs of ramen. "Hey d'ya got any f/snack left?" you asked trying to keep from slurring your words. "Yeah there should be some packs over by the-" the clerk went to point but forgot they were holding a box cutter and accidentally jabbed you in the leg just under your knee. "Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" the clerk gasped while you tried waving them off, it was just an accident, but if it made them feel better you bought some band-aids and disinfectant along with your food the clerk felt soo bad they gave you discount and with that you walked out in to the night....

When you got out your leg was still bleeding it didn't really bother you as you too tipsy to care, besides it's just a tiny cut, as you were leaving you noticed the "couple" still going at it, however now it felt kind of off... and that's when you noticed the man in the black hood stiffen... you stomach felt like it was full of rocks as you watched him slowly turn to face you.

Dabi was busy draining this dumb bimbo who followed him out of the bar after he told her to piss off, but seeing as he hadn't fed on fresh human blood in months, (he was drinking blood-packs of pig's blood.) he decided screw it, she'll know the consequences her actions that is if he doesn't suck her dry.. "at least take her to cheap motel buddy, jeez..." a drunk woman muttered as she passed them Dabi let out a frustrated growl at that jab yet another reason he hates feeding in public, about ten minutes later the vampire's attention was suddenly pulled away from his dinner when a sweet enticing scent invaded his nose. 

Dabi's eyes snapped open his senses were on fire as his inner monster snarled *mine.....mine...* his breathing became labored as he turned away from the woman's neck; her blood dripping down his chin as he turned to look over his shoulder, saw a [y/ht-wt] woman with [y/hc] and starring at him in shock, his eyes drifted down and saw the blood dribbling down her leg, he let go of the woman he was feeding on, she let out a weak wheeze as she fell limply to the ground not that he cared, Dabi took a step towards his mate reaching out to her, only for the woman to snap out of her shock and run....

Leaving the vampire standing there in an almost trance like state, before he looked inside the store could smell faint traces of her blood in the air and saw the clerk washing the bloody box cutter; A guttural growl escaped Dabi's throat as he approached the door. 

The poor oblivious clerk didn't know what was coming as the door chimed telling them a customer had entered the store... "Welcome!" they greeted cheerfully. from an outside point of view there was hot flash of blue from inside the 7/11 followed by the store fire alarms going off.

The next morning you were hiding under your blanket hugging your knees your whole body was shaking while you were watching the news... there was a fire at the 7/11, the clerk was killed their remains were so badly burnt they were carbonized...

-----------------------

Bakugou: You had just started working for his agency as a secretary and were working on late paperwork one of your coworkers pushed on you so they could go on a date, you grumbled as you made your way to the elevator to drop the files off on Bakugou's desk, and were stunned to find the top floor was pitch black! you were trying the navigate in the darkness by feeling desk, when your hand brushed up against a pair of scissors someone left out you hissed feeling them cut your palm, you could feel the blood dripping down you hand and decided screw this! you were going to leave the papers on the desk outside of the boss's office for him to find in the morning, when you noticed the door was open a crack. 

You could hear deep breathing, a woman gasping and grunts, your cheeks felt hot as you though Bakugou was getting frisky with one of his fans. *I never took him for that sort...* you were just going to pretend you didn't hear anything and walk away, but curiosity got the best of you, and with careful steps you crept toward the door and peeked in, and felt you stomach drop when you realized what was going on was not a wham-bam thank you ma'am situation, you threw your hand over your mouth when you saw Bakugou eyes glowing red had his fangs sunk into this woman's neck draining her of blood! Scared you were about to quietly back away from the door when you saw the blond blink pull away from the unconscious woman, sniff the air and... you ran before he could even turn his in the direction of the door, and made it on to the elevator just as a shock of blond hair rounded the corner.

The next morning Bakugou was on edge as he recalled the events last night, one minute he's feeding off some pushy fan-girl and the next, his senses were taken over by this amazing smell it was so enticing he forgot about his hunger and overwhelmed by the insistent need of find it's source... as Katsuki turned his attention to the door he saw someone dash and and he gave chase just in time to get a split second glimpse of a woman with {y/hc} before the elevator doors closed.  

{later after he sent that fan home via cab) 

Bakugou inspected his office and found a blood trail leading from random sidekick's towards his office the couple hurried drops towards the elevator, he curiously swiped his finger threw the blood on the desk where the trail began, licked it a content rumble left his throat, his inner monster purred. *Mate...mine* however that euphoric feeling he felt had soon soon worn off into frustration as the next morning rolled around he had been in the agency all day, and no one who came in today had that scent on them! 

The blond was pissed and ready to rip someone's head off, when he overheard two of his employees talking. "Hey where’s Y/n? I have to thank her for staying back and doing my extra work last night." the other employee shrugged. "She said she hurt her hand last night and was staying home." Neither had noticed the explosive blond who immediately went to his office and pulled your file out for your address, and he here was standing on your front porch, sniffing the air as a cocky smirk graced Katsuki's lips breathing in that sweet scent from last night. "Found you..." he purred. 

[bearstarseraphffxi]

Subtext and Connotations

“Stupid kid…” Piccolo said to himself. He looked at the small human — no not human, not completely anyway — who had fallen asleep and casually collapsed onto him without a care in the world.

A world that had just gotten immeasurably bigger ten months ago.

Piccolo did not know how to react at first. This kid was a first for many things. He stayed still hoping he’d fall off.

But no… The son of his greatest enemy had just leaned forward and was now draped over one of his legs.

Piccolo sighed. He looked up at the moonless night sky. He absentmindedly wondered which pinprick of light was the fault of what he was about to do. What he had been stewing over for four months now, making him seriously analyze his birth and what could have gone wrong with the transfer. He was Demon King Piccolo, damn it…

Piccolo looked over to the west and sneered. He could practically hear Kami snickering in his head.

Piccolo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He put his large hand on the boy’s head. “Sebnek yemtaw himefinnew.”

Gohan moaned and twitched.

Piccolo jerked his hand away, but Gohan simply moved his arm and somehow ended up even more over his leg before he went still again.

Piccolo sighed in relief.

~~***~~

“Hey, Mr. Piccolo?” Gohan asked, adjusting his pants from the morning bush and small ki-blasted hole visit.

“What?” he said annoyed.

Piccolo stood as he always did, his back to him, but Gohan did not mind. That was just Mr. Piccolo.

When his mother was mad at his father, she would turn her back and talk in that tone when he would win the argument, then reword what he had said to make it look like she got exactly what she wanted all along. He did not know what he was “winning”, but Mr. Piccolo was being a lot nicer to him recently when he wasn’t beating him into a pulp.

“What does Seb nek yem taw—”

Piccolo partially spun around. “What?! You were awake?!”

Gohan stuttered, “I… you always randomly attack me. But you were gentle, so I went back to sleep.”

Piccolo regained his composure, crossed his arms, and towered over the boy. Any other child would be terrified, but this one just smiled back at him.

Piccolo sighed in annoyed defeat. There was no scaring this one. “I called you a silly boy last night in my language, that was all.”

“What part of it means silly?”

“Himefinnew. It is a single word that means a silly child.”

“You can call me Himefinnew any time you want, Mr. Piccolo,” Gohan said grinning, with what few teeth were left.”

Piccolo reached his hand out and grabbed Gohan’s head, then gently spun him around. “Let’s just keep it Finnew for short, got it?”

“Yes, sir! Mr. Piccolo,” Gohan said happily.

Piccolo suddenly punted the screaming boy high into the air. “Never turn your back on the enemy!” Piccolo shouted, jumping after him to start the day’s training.

~~***~~

Three months later…

“Hey guys!” Bulma shouted, holding her phone in one hand and waving with the other, “Dad says he’ll be here in about twenty minutes with the two cargo planes to take us to my place!”

“Does it really take this long to traverse your own planet?!” Vegeta snapped. “This planet is puny judging by its gravity!”

Bulma put her hands on her hips. “Oh, stop complaining, homeboy. It hasn’t even been an hour yet.”

“An hour?!”

Everyone glanced at the arguing couple before returning to their own conversations.

Piccolo glared ominously as Gohan was speaking with Dende and three young adults. They were laughing at each other’s bad accents while speaking each other’s languages. “He” knew that the three couldn’t speak properly and that the laughter was not genuine. “He” knew ‘teenagers’ when he saw them, the old word suddenly sounding like he heard it for the first time, even though it was spoken with “his” own mind’s singular voice.

It had only been a few hours and these sensations were getting old fast.

“(Hey there),” a Namekian came up to him awkwardly in their native tongue. “(How are you doing, after… everything)?”

Piccolo sighed. “(I)”, he stressed, “(am fine… Lumache. Really. Go comfort the others who are taking Guru’s death badly.)”

Lumache smiled relieved, but his face quickly changed to confusion. “(Are you sure? You’re speaking with a bit of a lisp.)”

Piccolo smirked. (It’s the accent here on Earth. I doubt ‘Kami’ will be coming down from his ‘high horse’ to meet any of you. But this is how we speak here.)”

Lumache tilted his head concerned. “(Is this ‘Kami’ another aboriginal like the pet?)”

“(Gohan is no pet)”, Piccolo said, barely containing his rage. “(And ‘Kami’ is…)” he paused. “(… the name of my egglayer’s hatchmate.)”

Lumanche raise his finger, “(But… ‘Kami’ is not a Namekian name.)”

“(I know, but his name is Kami. So get used to it.)”

Lumache bent his raised finger. “(And he was also called a… ah…)” he hesitated looking for the right words.

Piccolo smirked. “No, his name was Namekian and I will be using it going forward. That was the deal.”

Lumache sighed relieved with a thankful grin across his face, “(Oh, that goodness. I was worried, dear brother.)”

Piccolo was feeling both a little bad but also waiting in great anticipation to laugh at his reaction when the conversation with the teenagers got loud. He turned his full attention back to Gohan and Dende.

Piccolo uncrossed his arms, then bent his elbow as he balled his fist.

~~***~~

Moments earlier…

The teenager in the middle of the trio was making funny noises to the laughing of his two companions and the giggling of Dende.

Gohan, however, was being encouraging. “You’re getting close. Just find a soft spot near the top of your throat to click the area just behind the tip of your tongue against it.”

The teenager threw his hands up, and spouted what Gohan knew to be curses. “(This is bleep-ing ridiculous!)” he continued.

“(Don’t feel bad,)” Gohan said. “(I still can’t get *guttural sound with a secondary high pitch right afterwards* right. ‘Mr. Piccolo’ said he knows of a few ‘human’ languages with the sounds happening at the same time and that after the fighting we could look into ‘throat singing’ together.)”

The one on the teenager’s right chuckled. “(Yeah, and I’m sure this ‘Piccolo’ has been a big help since you speak with such a bad lisp.)”

“(He doesn’t have a lisp,)” Dende corrected. “(It’s just the accent of the people here. I’m told everyone speaks that way.)”

“(Dende,)” the one to the left shook his head. “(And the elders always say you were the smart one. Here you are believing everything a piccolo says.)”

“Dende,” Gohan whispered in English, “is there a word that’s also said as piccolo and not just a person’s name?”

Dended had a look of shock on his face. “You don’t—”

“(Dende, don’t bother,)” the teenager in the middle said. “(There’s no point learning this stuff.)”

“After everything that just happened, how can you say that?!” Dende said loudly, and in English.

The entire congregation went silent and turned to look at them.

As Dende started to whimper and Gohan wrapped his arms around him, the three knew they all looked bad.

“(Since you can’t say my name right,)” Gohan offered an olive branch, “(My teacher, ‘Mr. Piccolo’, calls me something when I’m being stupid. ‘Nickname’ doesn’t have a better translation than that.)”

Unknown to the youths, everyone’s sight was turned to the sudden fighting stance of the person all the Namekians but Dende knew only as Nail’s new Keeper.

“(Ok, ‘Hohan’, What’s this ‘Nickname’?)”

“(Himefinnew. He shortened it Finnew.)”

You could hear a pin drop.

~~***~~

Vegeta knew something was wrong instantly as his eyes scanned the clearing. This type of shock, disbelief, and the building rage so pungent it was tasteable on his tongue, this only came with something unforgivable. Vegeta enjoyed getting his prey to react like this. The resulting stupidity was entertainment on boring missions. Killing and eating children usually did the trick. Nappa didn’t even bother with the killing part first.

Vegeta smirked.

This wait just got a lot less boring.

~~***~~

“Gohan! Gohan, don’t say something like that!” Dende grabbed his armor and shook him. “Apologize!”

“What? Is… Is it actually a curse word?” Gohan said horrified as the possibility dawned on him. “Mr. Piccolo said it meant ‘silly child’.”

“Silly child?!” Dende looked over at Piccolo. “Has the meaning changed here?! Don’t you know what it means?!”

Suddenly, an adult came over and grabbed Gohan’s arm. He tried to bite his nails into his flesh, but they bent backwards instead.

Gohan barely had time to plant his feet when the man went suddenly flying through several trees.

Piccolo retracted his arm from the long punch and stormed over. “(Next person who touches that child joins Schnecke pulling splinters out of his tonsils!)”

“(How…)” “(Can we even do that?)” “(Did he just… extend his arm?)” were among the murmurs Gohan could make out. He also spotted several Namekians put their hands over their mouths and looked away, or even bending over at the waist.

Dende tugged on Piccolo’s pants leg. “How did you do that?” he whispered in English.

“(Don’t you dare teach something that barbaric and obscene to the hatchlings! You shame your role as a holy keeper to Na, eh?)” the Namekian paused. “(What even is your name, brother?!)”

“(He’s no brother! Brothers do not harm brothers! He attacked Schnecke!)”

“Why do they keep calling Mr. Piccolo ‘brother’?” Gohan whispered to Dende. “He’s from Earth? So was his father and Kami? They don’t have siblings.”

“Sib-lin?” Dende said confused. “I don’t know that word.”

Piccolo stood proudly, “(My name is Piccolo! Piccolo ‘Daimao’ the Second!” He slowly turned his head glaring into as many eyes as possible, “Heir to my dead egg layer, King Piccolo ‘Daimao’!)”

A pin drop could be heard again as Gohan looked around. All the Namekians had looks of horror on their faces. He kicked himself for being surprised.

“Gohan, what does ‘Daimao’ mean?” Dende whispered in English.

Gohan jerked his head. “Wha? You don’t? Then wha?” he stuttered. He began glancing around anxiously.

“Gohan what’s wr—”

Suddenly a Namekian fell to his knees screaming in anguish. “(Who names a child that?!)”

Piccolo stomped over screaming something so fast all Gohan could make out was Piccolo repeating his name over and over again, but judging by the adults scrambling to cover the children’s ears, he wasn’t old enough to learn a good portion of it.

Piccolo grabbed the Namekian by his collar and pulled him up. “(And if any of you touch Hime again…)” Piccolo extended his nails into long daggers, “(I’ll slice you apart so bad you can’t regenerate.)” He then shoved the man back on the ground and retracted his claws. “Hime!” he said walking swiftly over to Gohan. Piccolo put his hand on Gohan's head, gently turning and shoving him. “We’re leaving. Come on, boy,” he said in English.

Gohan stumbled briefly but quickly walked in step with him into the trees.

~~***~~

Vegeta was disappointed that the show seemed to be over after those two had vanished into the woods, but their energy seemed to still be close by. Suddenly Dende broke the awkward silence by running after them. The others began to shout before the old one the dead Namekian had placed hands on shouted something that made the others stop before he walked after Dende.

Vegeta turned to stalk them when he looked at the Earth woman who had turned at the exact same moment.

They looked at each other surprised before the woman gave an oddly devious smile, took two steps ahead then turned and pointed at him before repeatedly bending that finger. Vegeta took the strange gesture as an invitation to follow and the two disappeared unnoticed.

~~***~~

“Mr. Piccolo, what was that about? What happened there? Why was everyone mad at me? What did—”

“Not now, Gohan. They can still hear us.”

Gohan looked behind them.

“My ears are not for show,” Piccolo answered his thoughts.

Suddenly Piccolo looked behind them as well.

Soon Gohan heard it too.

“Wait! … Gohan, wait!” was heard softly in the distance.

Then came the rapid footsteps.

Dende burst through the trees stopping in front of them. He placed his hands on his knees panting. “Wait… Wait for me…”

Piccolo sighed. “Fine… you can come too,” he said annoyed. He began walking briskly again. “Hurry.”

“Yes,” Gohan quickly got in step.

Dende jogged out of breath behind them.

~~***~~

Piccolo eventually stopped and leaned against a tree. “Ok, this is far enough,” he sighed. He sat on the ground.

“Mr. Piccolo, what happened? Why was everyone mad at me?”

Piccolo sighed. “Gohan… from what I taught you about my language, break down Himefinnew into its parts.”

“Um…” he thought, “Finnew is the third person singular to finir, which means to find something funny, so… Hime is the part that means boy. I find the boy funny, or Silly boy like you first said.”

“Dende, quiet,” Piccolo said cutting him off. He looked back at Gohan. “Now Gohan, tell me the difference between the words red and crimson.”

Gohan paused. “They are both two words that mean the same color?”

“Yes, but there is a difference. Do you know why the word red is almost always used while crimson is not?”

Gohan shook his head.

“Crimson specifically means the color of human blood. To call something crimson is to compare it to blood. Now answer that question.”

“Blood is scary?”

Piccolo smiled, “Exactly.”

“So Hime is a scary version of boy?”

“What?! No!”

“Dende quiet,” Piccolo snapped.

Dende looked down.

Piccolo sighed.

“Gohan, what I’m trying to say is that many words have a hidden meaning. Like crimson is scary. Hime is… I… it…” Piccolo’s face and ears tinged purple. He covered his face with one of his hands. “Gah… what I’m trying to say is… Gohan…

“So you named the child but never told him? Were you ever going to tell him?”

“Elder Moori!” Dende said as the old Namekian walked out of the trees.

Piccolo shot up as his color deepened. “This is a private conversation!”

Moori gave a knowing smile to the adult blushing like a child being caught being naughty. He looked at Gohan. “So tell me Himefinnew, did Piccolo place his hands on your head and say ‘Sebnek yemtaw’ when he named you, or…”

Gohan started nodding before he finished.

“I see…” He looked at Piccolo, “I don’t know how significant it is with our kin on Earth, but for Namekians the naming ceremony is an important step in a child’s life. We do not name at hatching but let the child grow until it becomes apparent what his name is, like Dende here,” he looked at him, “Dende literally means ‘He writes in stone’. We named him that because he can memorize and repeat anything he hears perfectly.”

“And Nail means humility,” Dende said looking up at Piccolo.

Moori snickered, “Nail was not happy when he was named that by Guru. You don’t know this Dende, but Nail was actually very arrogant as a youth. He was sent to live Guru not because he was virtuous, but because he was a delinquent.”

Dende’s jaw dropped.

Moori looked at Piccolo, “Nail never lost that fire despite him learning to outwardly behave. I was greatly worried for you, but after everything that just happened…” he walked over and put his hand on piccolo’s shoulder. “I know you two will make a fine man once everything settles down in a few hours. Only a man with the pride in his name like that could embrace him fully and not be ashamed of his lesser instincts,” then he smiled knowingly, “Isn’t that right ‘Daimao’?”

“You know what that means, elder?” Dende asked.

Moori took his hand off Piccolo’s shoulder and looked down at him, “Yes I do. It’s a word that means the unpleasant part of all of us, like arrogance,” he glanced at Piccolo, “Or anger.” He looked back down, “While ‘Kami’ is the nice things about us, like friendship and loyalty.”

“But they are both words like crimson, right?” Dende asked.

He nodded. “Yes, they both have a special connotation that makes them very rare. Even the adults don’t know those words.” Moori looked down at his hands. “Even I… did not know those words until a little while ago.”

Dende nodded understanding.

Moori extended his hand. “Come with me, Dende. Let the ‘titim’ and ‘hime’ talk alone.” Then he turned in a random direction. “That goes for you two as well!”

“What?! How did you know we were here?!”

“You stupid bitch! Don’t you know how to keep your stupid mouth shut!”

“I am not a stupid bitch, you—”

Piccolo grumbled putting his hand over his face again.

Moori smiled, “I’m sure you’ll be able to relearn your awareness. Nail was always too easy to sneak up on.” He took a step then stopped, “It may not be my place to say, Daimao, but maybe losing some of your suspiciousness would be a good thing. It can be lonely as a piccolo no matter where your home is.”

He took Dende’s hand and left.

Piccolo sighed as the volume of the argument coming from the trees rose up several notches.

“So… we’ll be talking later, right?” Gohan asked, looking in the direction of the screaming.

Piccolo chuckled, “Yeah… … Actually, Gohan,” he knelt and whispered in his ear.

~~***~~

10 minutes later at the clearing, a large box-shaped plane touched down.

Dr. Brief hopped out.

“Daddy!” Bulma ran over.

“There’s my baby girl!” They hugged. “Phew. Oh boy, I’ll call your mother and make sure you have a nice bubble bath waiting with lavender candles.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“Hey! I thought you said two transports! That’s only one!” Vegeta shouted pointing.

Dr. Brief pulled out what looked like a grenade from his pocket and threw it a good distance away. Suddenly an identical craft appeared in a puff of smoke.

Vegeta gritted his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping.

Bulma threw open the passenger side door, “Come on, Homeboy! Come ride in the cockpit with me!”

Vegeta stiffened and clinched his fists. “As if I’d spend another second listening to your prattle!”

Then sit in the back with the friends of the people you killed for three hours, you jerk!”

“I’ll ride with the old man!” he looked at Dr. Brief to see him already talking with Dende.

“Sorry, sonny! The kid’s beat you to it!”

Vegeta bristled. “Fine!” he stormed over and shoved her out of the way. He climbed in and slammed the door.

“Jerk,” she said, wiping the grass off her. Bulma turned to the group as her father dropped the cargo ramp on his plane. “Ok everyone! Load up so we can finally get out of the bugs!”

Piccolo helped everyone find a seat, the elders and children bucketed on the benches while the teenagers and adults sat on the floor. Gohan did the same for the other plane.

Gohan came around to Bulma’s window.

She rolled it down.

“Everyone’s in over here. I'm going to ride with Mr. Piccolo in the other plane.”

“Ok, Gohan.” Bulma rolled up the window.

On the other side, Piccolo was talking to Dr. Brief.

“Everyone is ready. I’ll be with Gohan in the other plane.”

“Okey Dokey. See you when we land,” Dr. Brief smiled.

The Briefs watched Gohan and Piccolo walk over and disappear behind the other plane in their side mirrors. After a brief rock that felt like someone climbing in, the two rear doors closed.

As the two planes flew away, Piccolo and Gohan floated in the air watching them, having flown up after rocking the plane to avoid being seen on the ground after takeoff.

Gohan had his hands over his mouth stifling a giggle.

Piccolo grinned. “Deceit is fun, isn’t it Gohan?”

“Yes, don’t tell Mom I said so.”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

The two dropped their arms and sighed at the same time. Then they looked at each other.

Piccolo dropped to the ground first, Gohan landing moments later.

“Ok… We’re were we…” Piccolo said slowly.

“Actually, Mr. Piccolo,” Gohan said looking up.

Piccolo looked down.

“Could you tell me what you were saying when you were screaming your name? Besides the bad words, I mean. You spoke too fast. I… got the part where you threatened to chop him up, though.”

Piccolo sat down, “This… is going to be… just about as hard to explain as Hime is actually…”

Gohan looked down, “Oh…”

“Sit down, Gohan.”

Gohan sat down mimicking Piccolo’s legs position.

He halfheartedly smiled, then sighed. “Gohan… ‘Piccolo’ has a very specific meaning, and in fact wasn’t even a name until Kami called out, ‘I banish all that is abhorrent! Piccolo!” when they cleaved. Did you know how they were born?”

“A person ripped in two and became all good and all bad. But you’re not all bad, Mr. Piccolo.”

“Gohan, the ability to care for a child is a biological function. It has nothing to do with good or bad. My father felt every one of my brother’s die by your father’s hands just as much as Guru felt Frieza rip their lives away one by one.”

Gohan gasped softly.

“You didn’t know about my brother’s, did you?”

Gohan shook his head.

“Gohan. You know how babies are made, right?”

“A mommy and daddy each take half a small piece of themselves that can’t live alone, stick them together to make a new person then the mommy either grows them in their tummy or lays an egg and they grow in there until they hatch, right?”

“That is how things work on Earth,” he nodded. “But that does not work for Namekian’s like me.” He adjusted his position. “We don’t have both mommies and daddies. There is only one kind. We take a whole piece of ourselves, already alive, and place in an egg to grow again. That is why we feel the deaths of our children, because literally a piece of us has died.”

“What does this have to do with your name?”

“Because ‘piccolo’ means anything that is not part of us. Born from us. Is. Us. But like red and crimson, Piccolo is saved for special things, like an alien planet and the people who lived there. You are a piccolo, even if people won’t say it to your face.”

Gohan looked down, “And anything piccolo is abhorrent, right?”

Piccolo put his hand on Gohan’s head. “Not everything.”

“What…” Gohan started sniffling, “What did you say?”

“I was born on an alien world. I was raised as an alien. I am an alien. There are many other words I could have used to convey that, but using my name was just me beating it into their thick skulls without using my actual fists.”

“Being able to defeat your opponent without ever needing to touch them is just as big a part of war as actually fighting hand to hand combat.”

“Correct. If you weren’t such a goofball, there would probably be two Dende’s right now.”

Gohan gave a quick few laughs, then when quiet.

Piccolo waited silently for him to speak.

He waited a very long time.

“Mr. Piccolo…” Gohan finally started, but never finished his thought.

“Say what you are thinking Gohan,” Piccolo ordered, “Nothing you can say will ever make me mad. I have a thick skin.”

“Do… Do I… Do I have two grandfathers now…” he glanced up at his face, “that are kings?”

Piccolo smiled, showing his teeth.

Gohan gasped. Piccolo swore his eyes were sparkling.

Piccolo sighed and closed his eyes. He raised his finger. “One time. This one ti— ACK!”

Gohan flung his arms around Piccolo’s neck and knocked him flat on his back.

“Oofff,” he said, having the wind knocked out of him.

“Titim. Titim.” Gohan kept repeating, now crying in his ear.

Piccolo sighed and looked up at the clouds. He then suddenly raised his arms and gave two middle fingers to the sky.

Even thirty miles below, he could hear the laughing.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 21

First

Previous

Next

~~~

Now that she didn’t have the adrenaline of ‘gun! to my head!’ keeping her awake, her eyes drooped. She ran her fingers over every fold of her costume to look for bugs, then frowned when she didn’t find any. After triple-checking herself she found that the criminals had actually been nice enough not to do anything. Huh.

She opened a portal and stepped in front of the bat family, smiling weakly as she gave a wave. “Salut.”

Nightwing rushed forward and slung her arm around his shoulders to keep her properly upright. “Christ! What did they do to you?”

"Some sort of tranquilizer,” she mumbled, closing her eyes. “We need to warn the Waynes.”

She could feel Nightwing tense under her, and the silence that spread through the bat family told her that they, too, were struggling to come up with an answer to what she’d said.

“You’re not in any state to do that,” said Batman, finally.

“I can open a portal.”

“You’ve been to Wayne Manor?” Asked Nightwing, his smile evident in his voice.

Shoot. They knew how her powers worked now, she had to be more careful.

She opened an eye just enough to send him a glare. “No, but I’ve been outside it.”

His smile dropped. Good.

“You need to get home,” said Red Robin. “I’ll make sure everyone turns around.”

Marinette blinked a few times and looked up at him. “But patrol --.”

“Go,” said Red Hood with a sigh. “And take tomorrow off, too.”

She groaned quietly and pouted, but they were smart enough to look away. Dang. After making sure that everyone wasn’t watching, she opened a portal to her bed and dropped onto it.

She closed the portal and exited her transformation just before her eyes shut.

~

Two nights later, she was out on patrols again. The bat family had complained and tried to talk her out of it, but they couldn’t exactly stop her. She hopped over a rooftop and checked around, only to pause when her receiver crackled. She turned it on.

“Language!” Said Batman and Nightwing.

She grinned. “What happened?”

“Since when have Gothamites had bulletproof windows?” Red Hood complained.

Red Robin’s grin was evident in his voice when he spoke: “Oh? Are you alright?”

“Well, considering I just bodyslammed into a window, I’ll say no.”

She snickered. “I assume you do that often?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s probably why they’ve started doing that, then.”

“Shut up! I’m in pain!” He complained.

“Wait! Everyone, shut up! Why did you bodyslam a window?” Said Robin.

“I don’t know how to pick locks. Also, there was a burglar.”

There was a chorus of everyone screaming 'WHAT' and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Where are you? I can pick locks.”

“WHY?” Asked Nightwing.

She shrugged. “Chat’s dad sucked. Anyways, where are you?”

He mumbled an answer and she headed in that direction.

She couldn’t help but laugh when he came into view, laying spread eagle on the sidewalk and glaring at the window above him.

“Hey.”

He looked up. “Yo.” He pushed himself to his feet and they walked to the door.

She pulled two pins from her pockets and went to work on the locks. After a few minutes of work, it finally clicked. She opened the door with a bow so deep Alfred would be jealous. “After you.”

He grinned and pulled his gun out. She took out her pistol.

They stepped inside the dark house. There was a family tied up on the ground of the living room and she smiled kindly as she knelt down, untying them. “You should all get out of here.”

“My wife is still here! You have to help her!” The woman whispered urgently, locking a hand around her wrist.

Marinette nodded. “Of course. We’ll do our best. You need to get your kids outside, ma’am.”

They looked reluctant, but they complied.

She glanced at Red Hood and her smile dropped. They raised their guns in unison.

They slipped through the halls together, footsteps muffled by the carpet. They kicked open doors, leaning in with their guns at the ready, then continued on to the next.

Within a few minutes they had cleared the whole house, all that was left was the door to the basement. They shared grim looks and she swung the door open slowly.

They stepped down a bit, hands searching the walls for a light.

They only got a few steps down before a shot rang out. The railing between them splintered and the pair whipped around, guns out.

It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the light. The criminal was holding the woman in front of himself as a shield, revolver pointing at each of them in turn.

“Drop your weapons!” The man screeched in a high voice.

The vigilantes glanced at each other. There was no way they could get a clear shot at him with the woman in front of him, anyways. They flipped their safeties on and dropped their weapons over the railing.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. The man was clearly in a panic. Any wrong movements might make him shoot. However, as her eyes found their way to his revolver, she recognized he couldn’t have more than five shots in his gun.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

Before Red Hood could stop her, she had hopped the railing. A shot rang out, nailing the wall where her head had been seconds before.

Four shots to go.

Unable to stop for a second, she dropped to the ground and reached for her pistol.

Pain. She registered the pain before she heard the shot. Her shoulder screamed in protest as the bullet clattered to the ground at her side. Her suit did nothing to lessen the pain, it only kept her body in one piece.

She just needed to hold out a little longer.

Three shots left.

She pushed herself to her feet, fighting the urge to cradle her arm as she held out her pistol.

Another shot. This one hit her square in the chest. She stumbled back a few steps with the force of it. A coppery scent filled her mouth.

She couldn’t care. As long as she was the one being shot at...

Two shots.

“LADYBUG, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU --?” Began Red Hood. Apparently he’d snapped out of his shock.

Crap. She’d hoped it would last longer than that. She could see the criminal turning his gun onto him in his surprise and forced herself forward --.

The shot hit her leg. He must have realized that his normal shots weren’t working and was trying to slow her. Or maybe he was just shaking. It didn’t matter. She tried a step forward. She wheezed in pain. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

She shifted her weight onto her other leg.

One.

She lunged the last distance and grabbed the hand he was holding the gun with, forcing it down and pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before raced through her from a point on her side. She broke into a wide grin even as she was forced to stumble back, her hand flying to where the bullet had hit.

They’d won.

She turned her head to look at Red Hood, to tell him that it was safe now, that he could get the hostage now. The words died on her lips.

Why’d he look so horrified?

She waved her hands to say ‘get a move on’ when something caught her eyes.

Her hands were slick with red.

Her gaze fell to her stomach. Maroon stained her spandex.

She had lost consciousness before she’d even hit the ground.

~

Pain jolted her back to the present. Her vision was a blur of color. She blinked her tears away.

Red Hood was leaning over her, using his trademark jacket as a temporary way to bind the wound.

She smiled faintly. Good. His jacket didn’t match his outfit anyways.

Oh. Wait. He was saying something. She stared at his mouth, watching it move and move, but unable to hear anything above the ringing in her ears. Was it from all the gunfire? Was she dying?

She didn’t want to know.

He picked her up as gingerly as he could and, after saying something to the likely traumatized woman, raced her outside.

God, she wanted to sleep. Her eyes drooped over and over again, only to jerk back open with every painful step. She pressed her face into his shoulder and tried her hardest not to cry.

~

Her back hit the bed and she shot awake. The bat family were all leaning over her, yelling at... her? Each other? Themselves? They were all yelling over each other, but she couldn’t distinguish voices or words. She supposed she should just be glad she could hear again.

She could see everyone cleaning her wound, but her body had stopped feeling the pain. Was this shock? Wasn’t shock bad?

A hand reached out to touch her earrings and she caught it before it could take them off. She tried to speak but blood gurgled from her throat. Still, Nightwing seemed to get the idea, tugging his hand from her grip and moving to tend to her wounds.

Her shoulders relaxed. They were trying to treat her in her suit. Good. She didn’t want them to know.

~

She opened her eyes blearily. Sunlight streamed through the window, assaulting her vision.

She groaned and reached a hand up to block the light, only for pain to race through her veins. A guttural scream escaped her lips.

A person she didn’t even notice shot up from where they’d been sitting and stepped into the light.

She blinked a few times, then gave a weak smile. “Hi.”

“You’re stupid,” said Robin, leaning over her to make sure she hadn’t irritated her wound.

She grinned. “No, you.”

He snorted. “That’s all you got? No witty comeback today?”

“Well, I was shot.”

His smile dropped a bit at that and he had the decency to look sheepish. “Oh. Right.” When he was sure that she hadn’t messed her body up any more than she already had, he dropped back into his seat.

She closed her eyes and relaxed into the soft pillows. She should ask what type of mattress this was. It was worth saving up for--.

“Why’d you do it?”

She opened an eye to find Robin watching her intently. She sighed softly and turned her gaze to the ceiling. “I... the guy had a gun. I can’t -- or at least I thought I couldn’t -- get hurt by guns. Red Hood and that lady could. What else was I supposed to do?”

He frowned. “But you’re not invincible.”

“Apparently not,” she agreed. “But I thought I was.”

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stood and closed the curtains for her.

~

She woke up a while later and, after very carefully testing out her wound, pushed herself up to a seated position. It hurt, but she could make do. She checked her bandages just to make sure she was fine.

Then nearly jumped out of her skin as her eyes found Batman standing in a dark corner.

Her shoulders relaxed as he came to sit at her bedside.

“Salut,” she chirped, giving a small wink.

He didn’t smile, though that wasn’t all that surprising. “Hi.”

Her grin slid from her face as she looked around. “How long have I been out?”

“The better part of two weeks.”

Horror flickered across her face. “Two weeks? And you didn’t wake me up?” She started shoving her blankets away, only for him to press her back into the bed.

“Lay back down. You were shot five times, you need rest.”

She scoffed. “What I need is to report in for work. My boss is lenient but she isn’t that lenient --.”

“Relax.”

“Relax?” She repeated incredulously. "How am I supposed to relax? My job is on the line!”

“Your job will be fine.”

“Not everyone is rich! I can’t afford to just miss whenever I need!”

Batman frowned. “I can give you money if that’s what you --.”

“What’s with you rich people and offering money like its nothing? My problem isn’t money! I actually enjoy my job, I don’t want to lose it!”

The man sighed and held up his hands in an attempt to placate her. “I can put a word in for you --.”

“And let you or my boss figure out my identity? No thanks! Let. Me. Go.”

They stared each other down.

“You’re acting childish,” he said finally.

“Childish?” She repeated, her voice screaming danger. She pushed herself out of bed despite the pain and stalked towards him, jabbing her finger into his chest. “You want to call me childish?”

She didn’t know why she did it, honestly. Maybe it was the stress about her job. Maybe she was still woozy from her bullet wound and the sedatives she’d been put on to lessen her pain. Maybe it was her anxiety about the fact that she’d been hurt. But she did:

“Mr. Idon’twanttokillanyone is really going to call me childish? Newsflash: your personal morals don’t matter! They stopped mattering the minute you decided you were going to become a vigilante.”

His eyes widened. “I --.”

“Shut up! It is your duty to make sure that these people -- these people that trust and depend on you -- don’t come to harm --!”

He frowned. “I don’t let them come to harm.”

“You don’t -- you --!” She clenched and unclenched her fists. “The moment Joker breaking out of Arkham became a pattern and you decided to keep sending him there, you began bringing harm to them. Every little breakout is your fault! You can’t seriously think Arkham will continue to hold him, can you? No! But you keep sending him and people keep dying!”

The man sighed softly. “I don’t want to become like the people who killed my parents,” he explained.

She tried not to scoff too hard at that. “Your feelings don’t matter! This is your duty now, but that doesn’t make it about you! You think I actually want to kill someone? To kill him? I don’t -- I’ve never --” She swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill over. “-- I can’t even stomach the thought! But at least I understand it’s necessary!”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but she didn’t want to hear it. Tears blurred her vision as she picked up her yoyo and jumped out the window. She didn’t even bother to look back, to pay attention to the familiar architecture, to pause to make sure she wasn’t hurting herself more, to do anything at all.

All she cared about was getting away from that.

~~~

i was gonna put the words “sorry in advance” at the beginning of the chapter but didn’t want to ruin the surprise

still, i considered being nice and i feel that deserves a little praise

don’t worry guys you’ll get a bit of fluff tomorrow i’ll make it up to you i swear--

~

ah, yes, the scene that started it all

i remember reading this post and expanding on the scene a little

and it eventually became the story you’re now reading

go send the post and poster some love, it’s great

~

Me: *starting to finally get to sleep after tossing and turning all night*

My ghost: *opens the door* hey just coming to check on you are you alright are you sleeping well --

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh​ @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes​ @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything

[anothertimdrakestan]

Light Of My Life Pt.2 Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely returning anon!

“I’m the anon who requested the avenger reader and ......... *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* It’s so good! i love the readers powers and how they get sparky when they’re happy! I always thought that captain America and tony stark and Natasha and everyone else would be protective of the reader so I wonder what would happen if she introduced Jason to the avengers? Do you think they’d find out that he was red hood? (And they’d keep it a secret but maybe then they’d be REALLY protective)”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

HI AGAIN IM SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK LOVE!!! We been knew I love me a good protective family and Jason sooooo my beautiful anon you did it again! Chef’s kisses right back at you angel <333 Because you liked the happy sparks let me show you what happens when all the emotions come out to play.... mwahahahaha CHECK OUT PT 1 HERE!

“Fuck no.” 

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend as he pouted. “Hey I met your family you have to meet mine!” you chided, Jason had been reluctant to meet the other Avengers. The last time he’d ever met one besides you was as Robin pre-death when Stark came to visit Bruce Wayne and Iron Man visited Batman. The two never really got along and since Jason idolized Bruce he hadn’t been the kindest to Stark. 

You’d only recently learned this when you told the other Avengers why you always wanted to be in Gotham. Cap was happy you’d found a friend, he understood the necessity of having a person you can talk to and rely on, and he missed his person so he wished you the best. To say Stark was pissed was an understatement. Not only was he secretly rooting for you and Spidey to get together but he always got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about the Wayne family. “No” was his only reply and you had to give him the “even though you’re my father figure and my boss you don’t control my personal life” speech which ended in a hug and some cursing under his breath. To your surprise Peter was equally upset and said next time you went to Gotham he needed to meet this elusive, powerless, gun wielding, Jason.

And just like that here you were in Gotham, wrapping in your boyfriend’s arms, trying to convince him to come meet the “A-list” as he called them. “You’re going Jay. Maybe you can bring Tim he loves the Avengers he’d die to meet them!” you cooed, knowing Jason would agree because he never wanted to tell you no. Jason knew how excited you were, he could feel the light shocks that danced on your skin as he held you. Begrudgingly he agreed. You had decided it would be better to meet as your human personas rather than stir up the media with an Avengers visit to Gotham. 

“Hey gorgeous” Jason grinned as you gave him a spin in one of your favorite outfits, beyond excited to introduce him to the people who were your family you rushed over to him. As you toyed with his t-shirt collar you admired his appearance, Jason was fashionable in the lowkey, vibey kind of fashion, it was perfect, and undeniably attractive. You could tell he was trying to hide his nerves, he gripped your hand tighter than normal and fidgeted slightly, he knew these people were your home and you could tell he wanted to make a good impression even if he wouldn’t admit it.

You’d invited them to your now shared apartment with Jason. The two of you had spent a while cleaning and prepping for guests and the apartment was spotless. Getting the text from Stark that him, Peter, and Natasha were headed up and you saw the three of them cloaked in jackets and hats entering the main lobby. Giving Jason’s hand a squeeze you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a reassuring looking. Jason leaning into your embrace whispered “it’ll go fine” and you couldn’t tell if he was saying it to himself or you. Almost on cue there was a loud knock and before you could get to the door Tony burst in with Natasha and Peter following. “WHERE IS HE!” Tony yelled and you rushed over grinning. “Shut up Stark behave yourself!” he brought you into a quick hug before looking at Jason. “Hello Todd” he said, Jason looked a little shocked that Tony had either remembered from those years ago or had done his research. Jason stuck out a hand feigning confidence and Tony took it strongly. 

Inviting everyone in you all sat cooly around the living room. As you talked with Natasha about recent events and living in Gotham you noticed that Jason looked afraid to touch you, sitting rigid next to you. Glancing over you saw him getting death stares from Peter and Tony anytime he moved a muscle. “The two of you stop it!” you chided, grabbing Jason’s hand and realizing it was slightly shaking. “I expect it from Mr. Father Figure but really Parker?” you quipped as he shrugged in agreement. 

You could feel your aura radiate with annoyance and Peter and Tony looked taken aback. “Hey Sparky- Y/N it’s fine” Jason looked embarrassed at his use of one of his many nicknames. “Dude you use electric puns too!” Peter looked excited as he told Jason about some of his favorites. As the two bonded you groaned when Peter said “DUDE LIGHTNING MCQUEEN IS SUCH A GOOD ONE!” and went in for a high five over your embarrassment. Tony broke the bro-moment, “So Jason Todd, second Robin, heard you died. Haven’t seen you in a bit do you prefer Todd or Hood?” Jason gulped, straightening up as he squeezed your hand. “Um, Todd is fine, yeah I did and it was really hard but I have Y/N and she’s really been amazing and also yes I was Robin when I saw you a long time ago and you totally already know that but yeah” he took in a deep breath as Tony processed his answers. Turning to you he asked “and he’s nice to you? Good friend? Good lover? No ring yet right? I learned the hard way waiting too long isn’t great but you better not rush this kid” you rolled your eyes hearing the same line of questioning as always. “Tony shut the hell up” Natasha interrupted. “Look, Jason’s whole body is angled to Y/N, he’s holding her hand through the sparks and probably shocks, he hasn’t gotten angry at your dumb overprotective dad moments, and everytime one of them looks at the other they calm down a little more. They’re in love Tony leave them be.” Tony starred in silence before standing up, drawing in a breath you could feel Jason tense. “Alright then I approve. Let’s get this party started! You guys got booze?” 

A couple drinks in an everyone was best friends with everyone. You and Peter weren’t of age yet so you both skipped but Tony was definitely nicer a couple drinks in, and Jason was a lot less tense even though he wasn’t drinking, determined to stay sober to answer any questions he was asked. Peter still looked like he didn’t trust Jason but you couldn’t help but grin as you watched the only father figure you’d ever had bond with your boyfriend. You finally felt like you had a family, it was perfect. 

Perfect until Peter Parker got attacked. 

As you frantically zapped through light posts you heard Jason on his bike behind you. Tony and Natasha didn’t want to alert the press with two of the most prominent Avengers being seen in Gotham and after a couple drinks they decided to let you and Jason take the lead. So as Red Hood and Y/H/N took to the Gotham streets after Clayface who had engulfed a terrified Peter Parker, Black Widow and Iron Man watched from above. 

You zapped in front of Clayface, your skin practically sizzling. “you!” ZAP “are!” ZAP “interrupting!” ZAP “my!” ZAP “DAY!!!” you screeched, letting out all the anger and stress pent up from the day. Unfortunately, your electricity didn’t have much effect on a giant piece of dirt, so you went for keeping it’s attention while Jason fiddled with some explosives. 

You zapped around the scene, being careful not to let Clayface get a hand on you for fear of him trying to engulf you too. You could barely hear Jason, cursing yourself for leaving you comm somewhere in the apartment but you could make out “Y/H/N it’s ready but Peter’s in there!” from Jason. “Shit alright I’m going in I guess!” you called, unsure if your powers would even work inside of Clayface. With a deep breath you ran straight ahead, preparing for whatever came next when a figure shoved you out of the way. Instinctively you shot into a lamp post for safety when you saw Red Hood press the button for the explosives and dive into Clayface. Once you realized he just sacrificed his life for yours appeared on the pavement screaming for Jason. Lightning cracked above you as you cried out amid the explosion. At the peak of the explosion everything you felt was too much, needing to know if Jason was okay and it Peter was still alive you felt stuck to the ground. Letting out a guttural scream you gave up trying to hold everything in. The lightning dissipated as you felt your energy connect to every current in Gotham. As the smoke cleared you saw a pile of Clay and no Red Hood and your heart snapped in half. Sinking to your knees you felt the power of every light in Gotham and it was too much. As your tears poured you needed the pain to stop, it had to stop, you’d lost everything. 

And then it did. No more sparks, no more current, no more emotion, no more pain. 

Your eyes fell out of focus as you stared ahead. You didn’t see two figures emerged from behind the corner of a building. Your eyes were blurry and you felt numb, unable to recognize the voice of Jason as he called out for you. Everything was quiet and muted, no buzzing from the streetlights or vibrations from cell towers, you felt disconnected, lost. Slowly blinking, thoughts of your past boyfriend jolted through you so quickly you couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was right in front of you. His voice sounded like a faint whisper calling for you. A different reality almost. You felt yourself get lifted into the air, off the ground and into someone’s embrace. 

This embrace carried you home. Home. That was your apartment. With Jason. But he was gone and someone had brought you home, setting you softly on the couch.

“What the fuck happened to Y/N” Jason pleaded Tony who looked just as confused. “I think she’s in shock, maybe she didn’t have her comm in and didn’t hear the plan for rescuing Peter then dealing with Clayface?” Tony whispered as he looked at you as you stared at a wall, tears slowly cascading down your cheeks. Natasha squatted next to you, waving a hand in front of your face. “She’s in shock but we need to shock her out of it, anyone got a spark?” Tony quickly reprogrammed part of his suit to deliver a fair amount of voltage into your body. Taking a deep breath Jason just wanted to hold your hand but he knew that was not going to be safe until you woke up. As everyone stood back Tony counted down “One, Two - ”

Suddenly you felt the connection again, it jolted through you and danced on your skin, you felt the humming of the fan in your apartment. Your apartment, you were home. Home. Home is with Jason, and you could feel him next to you. Jason, was, home. Safe.

“JASON YOU IDIOT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING YOU FUCKING DIED AGAIN!” you bolted up and began wailing on his chest, shocking everyone around you at your burst of, well, energy. Without thinking Jason just pulled you into his chest, swaying slightly back and forth you melted into his grip. “Y/N baby Stark thought your comm was on like mine and we thought you knew the plan, you were making a good diversion and everything” Jason explained. “Then Parker and I come out after the big boom and you’re like completely zoned out. Like even the sky was clear, and your eyes didn’t have the little sparkle they always have, we thought you’d lost it or something” he rambled as you finally put the pieces together. Glancing up at him you whispered “so you’re okay?” and he nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily Sparky” you found comfort in the nickname that was slowly growing on you. 

After a cup of tea and some relaxation you were feeling a lot better. Peter was impressed at how quickly Jason thought on his feet and that he’d put himself in danger to save him and was a lot happier with your relationship. You’d told him about Tim and how well the two nerds would get along so he tagged along with Stark who was out meeting Bruce and trying to explain why there had been an explosion and Avenger sighting in his city, and Natasha used her expertise to know it was time for you and Jason to have some alone time, so she headed out as well. 

Now you were resting in Jason’s arms as he toyed with your hair. Breaking the silence you admitted “I think I severed my powers when I thought you died” and Jason looked up, his face asking you for more. Delving into some of your own truths you admitted “I always knew my powers were emotion driven. Like our kiss that one night. And I knew there was a reason that I have to keep some energy inside and reign it in, but now I know that releasing it all doesn’t explode, it makes me implode on myself. Like the energy I use is raw emotion and when I thought you were gone it hurt too much and I cut it off” you sighed, enjoying the feeling of letting it off your chest. You could’ve sworn Jason slyly wiped a tear away before pulling you in close as he too sighed. “I think you’re right Y/N but that means your powers are more interesting than we ever knew. And I know what it feels like to lose everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for ever being the reason you felt the loss. It kills me to think of you in such pain you couldn’t feel it anymore. Because you are the strongest person I know and I know how painful it must’ve been. I’m so sorry. And I love you” 

The big eight letters. They felt right. Raising your head to his you took his lips in yours, trying to convey the same words right back at him. In the moment of pure love you felt warmth envelop your entire body, unable to contain the joy. Mid-kiss you let a grin slip onto your face and you pulled away. “Jason Todd I love YOU!” you moved to throw your arms around him and as you outstretched your fingers you released some of your love into the air and suddenly everything in the room when black. 

“Y/N you just shorted out the apartment building. But I love you too” You were kind of glad the lights were now off because Jason couldn’t see the furious blush that developed on your cheeks. Flopping down on to him you mused “Too many emotions for one day, I feel pretty shorted out too” and Jason hummed in agreement. As the two of your drifted off into sleep you heard him mumble:

“You better get control of these emotions I can’t be telling you I love you then having you break my toaster. I need my waffles you know” and you groaned. 

“I’ll put that on the list of things to worry about. Right beneath the end of the world so pretty high up there” 

“Thanks I appreciate it. Good night my lovely bolt of lightning”

“Goodnight you sappy fuck”

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

Flying the Nest; One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest Fic- Chapter Two.

Sorry I am late, guys and girls! I completely forgot that Sunday had been Easter, so it was a busy day with family. This is a bit longer than chapter one and has a bit more of a backstory on Janie. I’m also trying something new to include the reader in my story, too! Let me know what you think of this idea and the second chapter. I’ll be staring the next chapter tomorrow! Enjoy :)

I don't remember speaking this much since I received the call that Charles Bogney had been found in his family's guest room, hanging from his belt behind the closet door. His mother found him, a bottle of Percodan underneath him, what little was left strewn below his feet on the wood flooring, an empty bottle of 40-ounce Belgian imported beer shattered on the ground from when he dropped it as he lost consciousness and passed away, alone and in misery. Our mutual friend, another toxic ex-boyfriend of mine whose name was Bryan Harris, had to be the one to call me. I had been trying to get into contact with Charles for the last few weeks of his short life. I felt something was wrong. Deep inside I knew if I didn't get a hold of Charley, he would die prematurely. Unfortunately, my gut feeling and seemingly spot on premonition had come to fruition. The first few weeks after Charles had died, I blacked it out. I remember feeling as if the world stopped and froze as Bryan had stammered the news of Charles's death. My heart skipped a few beats and my vision started to become blurry. I dropped to my knees, the phone on the ground as I let out guttural cries of pain that escaped my lips and waves of tears burned my eyes like acid. I cried inconsolably for the first 96 hours of Charles leaving the planet. I couldn't make the trip to his native state of California for his funeral, and I refused calls and visitors for much of the first month of his passing. My only nutrition became opium, cocaine, amphetamines, and alcohol. My family treated me as if I was a lepper, never understanding I had lost the great love of my life, despite the toxic and harrowing past we shared.

 Mac listened intently as he showed me around the grounds. The outside, where the patients (which we coined them the lovable nuts) could come out for fresh air and sunshine for an allotted amount of time per day was fenced in, but it was a spacious and breathtaking piece of land. Large trees that covered most of the land, little trails for patients to walk with supervising orderlies or nurses, tables for patients and the staff alike to enjoy a little solitude during the day. It even had a fairly big basketball court and exercise areas near the shockingly high chainlink fence, which was adorned with razor wire to dismay any patient who thought of running away from the hospital. Overall, it looked like paradise for someone who enjoyed being a prisoner. Mac talked of hearing about the patients going on some field trip, however, it would be just for the boys. The girls had had their own trip last week. As we stopped at the entrance of the second-floor corridor in front of a massive pair of white double doors, Mac turned to me and looked broken. He cleared his throat, forcing me to pay attention and face him.

 "I'll never forgive myself for leaving you with Harry and Ethel. You probably wouldn't be as bad off if I just would have taken you with me. You were just a little girl, though. And I was an irresponsible and young angsty teenager. I thought maybe they would have taken better care of you than they did me. I'm so sorry Jane. I have done horrible things but nothing has given me more pride and made me want to be a better man than having you as my kid sister. You'll never have to be alone again." Mac spoke in a low yet sincere voice.

 "It wasn't your job to parent me. You were eighteen when you struck out on your own, and I was only nine. They were so awful to you. You had to get out before they drove you certifiable. Charles brought me here for a reason. I feel it. I'm just glad to have my big brother back. We're going to make this place ours, Mackie. Then when we get out, we can start lives worth living." I said, patting his shoulder.

 "If you need me, even if it's at night, I'll come find you. There are phones in here, all you have to do is call and ask for me. I'll be here in a jiffy. I'll see you during our counseling session with Ratched and the crew tomorrow. Get some rest, Baby Jane."

 As soon as I walked in, I was brought to intake. My medical history was repeated, I was weighed, my temperature taken, asked a slew of questions, and then I was given an ugly patient garb to wear. As I was taken to the room I would be sleeping in, I saw that in each room there was a telephone with a pamphlet that had numbers to the nurse's station as well as the number for Spivey's office and the number for the nurse's station on the men's floor. Each room on the ladie's floor had three beds for three patients per room, a chair and desk, and a nice comfy-looking Cloth chair with a desk on one side and in the far right corner a bookcase filled with books to read. I would have been far more comfortale to be in a solitary room, or shared a room with my brother and his roommates, but it was against the hospital's policy for men and women to be roommates. I sighed, taking in a breath of courage, and went straight to bed, avoiding the two people I would be bunking with until I had the energy to introduce myself. In fullfledged withdrawal from opiates and alcohol I was  writhing in pain already after only 14 hours without a hit and a drink and I was so sleep deprived. I felt dead on my feet. I threw my haggard body on my bed and soon enough, sleep overpowered me.

 The comfort of unconsciousness would not last for long, though.

 The Ladies ward had come alive with an ear piercing scream in the dead of night. It was only a quarter past one a.m. when animalistic cries and screams of "Charley! Please! No!" had caused an overnight nurse, the security guard, and an on call doctor, and every patient on the ward to jolt awake in sheer terror. After several unsuccessful attempts at shaking my writhing body awake, a slight slap to my cheeks jostled me and my eyes widened as I jolted upright in bed, taking in gulp fulls of oxygen as if I had been strangled. I shrink back as I see a roommate of mine looking worried and sitting gingerly on the edge of my bed.

 "Are you okay?" You ask.

"I-I-I'm fine. I-I'm so-sorry. I... I have night terrors.." I stammered, trying to explain my problem.

"I have them, too. Don't be sorry. My name is (y/n), but everybody calls me (y/n/n), what is your name?" You asked.

"It's ni-ice to meet you, (y/n). My name is Janie McMurphy."

 Before we could get to know each other further, three staff members burst into the room with a mix of alarm and annoyance etched into their faces. Turkle, the nighttime guard of the hospital joined a nighttime nurse  whose name I had already forgotten, along with Spivey's nighttime replacement, Doctor Stuart. Another body scrambled in not too long after, a flustered and scared Mac. I buried my reddening face in my hands as four voices bombarded me with questions I was too tired and ultimately too annoyed to deal with.

 "Sweetheart, what happened?" Turkle asked. "You have a set of lungs on you, don'tcha?"

"Do I need to call Doctor Spivey for you, Miss McMurphy?" Doctor Stuart asked.

"I'm going to get you a diazepam pill, Miss McMurphy. It's all okay, I promise. Mister McMurphy, we'll give you five minutes then you need to go back to your own bed on the bottom floor." The nurse said, winking at Mac.

 "She had a night terror, Mister Turkle," (y/n) began. "It's okay, I got her up. Could I have one too, Nurse Katt? I can't fall asleep tonight." they asked.

"Sure. I'll be right back. Doctor Stuart will be sure to write this occurrence in a note for Nurse Ratched and Doctor Spivey and you can see them both tomorrow morning. Five minutes, Mac." Nurse Katt added as she, Turkle, and Stuart left the room.

 (Y/N) shyly smiled at Mac when they made their way back to their bed, turning on their side to face the wall to give the two of us some form of privacy. I was hugging my knees to my chest in the bed, avoiding Mac's eyes. He let out an audible sigh and sat beside me, placing a comforting arm around my shoulders. I trembled, trying to keep my eyes from overflowing with tears and took in a shaky breath, resting my head on my brother’s shoulder. We didn't talk; we sat in silence until I faced him.

 "I'm sorry you came up here, Mac, but I'm fine." I said.

“The nurse called me as soon as she heard your first scream. I came as soon as I could. Why are you sorry?” He asked softly.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mostly for waking you up, brother. I just can’t control these fucking night terrors.” I replied, scrunching my eyes shut as more tears threatened to brim over.

"How long have these damn things been happening?" He asked, looking down at me.

"For almost two years... Since Charles killed himself." I replied, quietly.

"Meet me in my room around seven o'clock, ok? We'll have breakfast together and head to therapy together. It's going to be okay, Jane. Thank you, (Y/N), for helping my sister, sweetheart. I appreciate it." Mac smiled as he stood up and ventured back to his own floor.

 The next morning I awoke before my two roommates, one being (Y/N) who stayed up with me until the diazepam knocked us into another universe, and another patient around our age named Elise who had slept through the night terror debacle.  (Y/N) said that Elise was used to their night terrors and usually saved a few barbiturates so nothing would disturb her at night.

I made my way to the first floor, skulking into the first room on the right, which Mac said would be the room he shared with “one giant motherfucker named Chief, but he’s harmless so don’t be scared.” I felt uncomfortable in my new uniform, or prisoner’s gear as I called it. As I looked around and made my way through the large corridor and found Mac laughing with a rather large Native man, I nearly ran right into someone.

“Oh! God, I am s-“ I began, finally taking in who I nearly ran right through.

“I-I-Its n-no problem, Muh-muh-Miss.” A very red Billy Bibbit replied.

“No, really, Billy, I am very sorry. I was looking for my brother and just wasn’t watching where I was going.” I smiled, looking away shyly.

“M-M-Mac  is-is-is ri-ri-ri-right in there, Miss.” He smiled, pointing to the door behind me.

“Call me Janie.” I said, finally looking at him and finding myself entranced by his big blue eyes.

“Okay… J-Ja-Ja-Jaaanie.” He smiled back, forcing my name out through stutters that flustered him.

“Did you, uh, wanna have breakfast with Mac and me?” I asked.

“O-Oh, I’d like to, b-b-b-b-but  I have my morn-ning appointment wi-ith Doctor Sp-Spivey now. Raincheck?” He asked, hopefully.

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Billy.” I smiled, watching as he walked away.

“My dear, dear sister,” Mac began, smirking devilishly as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“I do believe you would eat that boy alive if you two became an item. Come on in, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

 I walked into Mac’s small room and saw the man he was speaking with earlier, getting his shirt on. He nodded at me and I waved. I looked around their room and was surprised at how gloomy and small it was. The ladies had larger rooms with picture windows and furniture. However, the men’s room only held two beds and a kind of chain fence separating rooms with the other men in the ward. Their one large window in the room was locked down tight and had bars on it so the patients had no way of escaping, even if they managed to open their window. I watched Mac talk quietly with the man he called Chief, leaving me standing there awkwardly. Over an intercom it was announced that it was time for medication and all patients needed to walk single-file to the medication window. I walked out with Mac and Chief and found that the women in the hospital were standing in a line next to the men, and I stood with Elise and (Y/N).  

“Remember, Janie, breakfast after this. We’ll go to the cafeteria; there’s a small window table we can eat at.” Mac whispered, and I nodded.

Billy and I stood in line side-by-side, and every time I looked over, I caught him staring at me, which made him turn scarlet. I felt self-conscious, wondering if I looked too fat in this uniform, or if my hair was a rat’s nest, or if there was something wrong with me. Mac was utterly amused and mouthed “Billy has a crush on you” to me, but I rolled my eyes and shook my head. He was just being nice, or so I thought.                                                                                   

The doctor put me on diazepam at night in hopes of ending my night terrors, and in the day time had me on a cocktail of medication. Something for my debilitating anxiety, two different medications that were supposed to work together for depression, something for my PTSD and flashbacks, and a mood stabilizer. Within ten minutes I was at the table with Mac, and he was telling me how he ended up here, a girl had lied about her age and her parents found them having sex. She lied that he raped her and her parents pressed charges and that while he was innocent, he figured he would never beat the case so he came here as a last ditch effort  to avoid spending a third of his life in prison. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I nodded. I believed my brother and I loved him. He had a knack for choosing the wrong girls as I had a knack for choosing the wrong guys.

Several of his new friends sat with us; Taber, who I noticed liked to scream a lot, a pompous and annoyingly whiny man named Harding, a smart and friendly older man named Cheswick, and a little guy who didn’t talk much but was always smiling, whose name was Martini. Chief was minding his own business and standing in the far left corner of the cafeteria, near the exit and watching everyone. He liked to make the staff think he was deaf, mute, and dumb. Once Mac found out that in fact, Chief could not only talk and hear but he was as sharp as a tack, he laughed heartily and gave the Native man a high five, impressed with his trickery and his way of staying sane in this insane place.

“Hey, Billy boy! Can ya show my sister the good Doc’s office? She kinda forgot where it was and I’m still eating this slop here. I’d owe ya one.” He said, winking at me.

Billy had stopped by the table as he had finished his meeting with the doctor to let me know Doctor Spivey was looking for me. He tried to avoid my gaze but caught several glimpses of my blue-green eyes before bashfully turning his head away. I nodded and stood up as Mac grabbed my wrist.

“U-u-Uh, su-sure, M-M-Mac. Come on, Ja-Ja-Janie.” Billy replied, holding out his hand to me.

“Thanks, Billy.” I muttered, glaring at Mac who feigned innocence.

 We didn’t speak much on the way to the Doctor’s office. I felt lost in a sea of fog since this was my first day taking the new medication, and Billy seemed pensive along with being super nervous. As we made it to the office, we stood outside there, not speaking nor looking at each other right away.

“Will you be at th-th-the therapy session today, Janie?” He asked, looking at me this time.

“I sure will. Ratched knows what happened last night and I guess wants me to talk about it today.” I replied, feeling nauseous at the thought.

“Don-don-don’t worry. She ca-can be mean, b-b-b-but deep down she’s a n-n-n-nice lady. She’s friends w-with my m-m-mother, so I’ve known her mo-most of my l-l-life. I’ll be there for y-y-you if things get hard. I promise.” He explained.

This time I looked at him. Really looking and overcome with a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time; safety. I barely knew this cute boy but he, along with my brother, were ready to protect me and get involved in my messy life. I wanted to cry and I wanted to hug Billy, but I didn’t know how he would take that just yet. I smiled and thanked him, finally letting go of his hand before watching him walk away. He had a sweet smile plastered on his lips, his eyes lit up as we said our goodbyes. His soft brown curls bouncing as he jogged back to the cafeteria. I slid down the wall and sat there, trying to gain my composure before recounting what I dealt with last night. The door opened after five minutes and I looked up to see the doctor himself extend a hand and help me to my feet.

“Ah, there you are, Miss McMurphy. Let’s get to the bottom of these night terrors, shall we?”

[moskaisley]

migraine pt. 5 | relief

gif cred: @coredrive

rating: mature

word count: 4k platinum hi def TV

warnings: angst but also some comfort bc everyone is in their feelings, violence, descriptions of fighting and blood, mentions of death 

a/n: 

me: yea i’ll post by 8pm!!! also me @ midnight:

 i got slammed with some work from my job last minute so thats why she’s a couple hours late!! such is the life of a freelancer but thank u all for being patient anyway hehe. anyways!! i’ve had a LOT of ideas for side stories lately and i’m thinking of posting them in between the main parts of migraine so maybe look out for that??? 

and thank u all for your kind words on part 4!!! ily all and i hope u enjoy this one. alexa play in my feelings by drake  🥺🥺🥺

summary:

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

Where you find the strength to feel it all at once.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m going on ahead.” 

“Well, I’m not coming with you.”

He scrunches his nose, nostrils flaring. You refuse to look him in the eye.

“Seriously?”

You pick at the threads in the thin blanket on your legs with your nails. He’s fully dressed, standing in the doorway of your tiny dwelling. You’re still in your cot, your last chance to flee with him slipping away with every string you pull.  But fear claws at your insides, paralyzing you in your spot. You hear him shuffle, kneeling beside the bed and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Please, help me stop them,” he pleads.

Your lip quivers, tears threatening to spill over. He’s such a beautiful boy. You loved and loathed his courage; Luca was always braver than you were, fighting off bullies in the schoolyard and sneaking out after dark. He was the first one to defy the Moff when he showed up at your doorstep, and he was the quickest to arm when they came blasters ablazing. But while Luca had moved forward ready to enact his revenge, you were still stuck in front of your burning home, heat blistering against your skin and pathetic tears streaming down your face. You’re still frozen at the other end of a blaster, cowering on your knees before a man clad in black. You’re still being ushered away down the country road with your brother, two very distinct shots ringing through your ears. 

But Luca doesn’t understand. 

“We’ll die, just like them.”

“Don’t you want to die fighting?”

You tear a hole in your blanket.

“I don’t want to die at all, Luca.”

--

You haven’t spoken to him in days. 

It was quite impressive, really.

Ever since your breakdown, you denied yourself any sort of contact with the Mandalorian, bitterness and hurt still raw every time you looked at him.  At first, he tried to get you to respond to him, prodding with simple questions and painfully awkward small talk. But when his one-sided conversations were only met with more eerie silence, Mando took the hint and stopped trying altogether. You didn’t spend too long in the same space with him either; you made sure to work on opposite sides of the ship. Shifts were still maintained at night to watch over your camp while the other slept; but when it was his turn to take over, you only woke him with a wordless shove and quickly slipped into your bunk to get your share of rest.

Sleep never came.

Instead, you aimlessly tossed on the mattress for hours and hours on end, mind torn over the man standing outside your door. You loathed him, you were sure of it. He hurt you, more than anyone ever had. Took everything and crushed it beneath his boots. Then had the audacity to come back and ask for a favor. It was time to just let it all go; to push it far behind you and go on forward with your heart guarded and barred from the rest of the universe. To live and die alone. 

So why was the thought of never seeing him again making your chest tighten with agony?

You dug your face into your pillow a few times, letting out guttural, violent screams of frustration until your voice nearly gave out.

You should be angry with him. He left, he left, he left.

Just like Luca.

In those solitary hours, you thought a lot about your brother, and how painfully similar this all felt: The resentment that festered in your bones clashing with the deep love and care that resided in your heart. You didn’t want to forgive, but living with these thorns in your side was so fucking exhausting. You wondered if the universe doomed you from birth, never destined for a moment of peace. The warring feelings within you made it impossible to sleep easy, and soon enough, the sun would come up. Mando would be outside rapping on your door and you’d start the day over again. Rinse and repeat.

By the fourth day, the lack of sleep had caught up to you. 

Precariously perched on top of a ladder, you took the day to work on the repulsor grilles. Your mind was in a daze. You struggled to figure out which parts go where, and your hands were so clumsy you kept losing your tools to the small slot you’d been tinkering with. After dropping your screwdriver for what seemed to be the seventh time today, you were so fed up that any caution was thrown into the wind. Hot metal and active wires were the least of your worries as you carelessly shoved your hand down the slot for your lost tool. Your fingers grazed the handle, but as you shifted to get a better angle, you felt a burning shock shoot through your arm. You all but ripped your hand from the slot, wincing as you feel something tear at your palm. Your sudden movement was enough to drive the ladder toppling over. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact. You hear a low grunt as your body collides into Mando’s, strong arms quickly wrapping around your waist to steady you. Your cheeks grow hot at the feeling of him, and for a moment, your body pleads to stay in his arms just a little longer.

“Are you okay?” the low timbre of his voice brings you back from your panic. 

You quickly push off of him but hiss at the searing pain radiating from your hand. Turning over your palm, you grimace at the big nasty gash that gushes down your forearm with blood. Mando grips your shoulder and spins you around, trying to take your injured hand. 

“Let me see.” 

“I’m fine.” 

You recoil, holding your palm close to your chest and bleeding all over your shirt. Impatient, he goes in to grasp your wrist and wrestles with you again. 

“Will you quit being difficult and hold still?” he growls, voice devoid of any softness. The edge in his voice makes you freeze. It’s the first time on this journey that he spoke so firmly with you. Too tired to fight, you let him take your hand into his and study your injury. 

“Sit,” He lets go of your hand and gestures to the ground. “You’re going to need stitches. And then you’re going to rest. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you grit.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he chided harshly, as if lecturing a child, “I don’t need someone wrecking my ship more than it already has. You can work when you’re capable.”

He briskly storms back into the ship to grab the medpack, effectively ending your spat. Collapsing to the ground, you curse under your breath in irritation as you stare at your stinging cut. A piercing ache begins to radiate in your temples and weariness starts to settle into your bones. You’re so tired. The emotional turmoil of the past week had sucked every drop of energy you had left, and you were left feeling like you’d been hit with a landspeeder. 

A worried coo draws you from your thoughts, and the child looks up at you expectantly. 

“Hey, little guy,” you said, patting his head lightly with your free hand. He gingerly toddles to your thigh and tilts his head at your bloody palm. The kid begins to fuss, gurgling as he claws at the side of your leg. You scoop him up into your lap, and he settles down, satisfied.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” 

Then, he closes his eyes and holds his hand out, hovering over yours. You feel the flesh on your wound begin to move. Your gash is closing before your eyes and the skin is completely healed, as if it was never there at all. You pressed your fingers into your palm; the burning pain had subsided and the skin beneath it was completely smooth. Brows furrowed, your eyes dart from your hand to the child, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Your mind is racing. You hear Mando shuffle back out from the Crest, quickly dropping beside you and checking your hand.

You’re both stunned to silence as the child in your lap falls fast asleep.

--

Early mornings in the forest were cold.

You’d been shivering in front of the fire for a few hours now, wrapped in a threadbare blanket you’d taken from your bed. You stared pensively at your palm, gently tracing your fingers over where a cut should’ve been. With a sigh, you hug your legs to your chest, and rest your forehead on your knees. After the child healed your injury, you thought your shock would’ve kept you from getting rest, but you slipped into sleep the second your head hit your pillow. You woke up later in the middle of the night, insisting to trade shifts with Mando. 

“I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday,” you told him, “Go to bed.”

In all honesty, you needed the early hours of dawn to collect yourself as your mind was all over the place. Between the mysterious child, your clashing feelings for your partner and your impulsive career change, your life had seemed to unravel in the span of a week. You thought of the way he spoke to you the day before; he was quick to care for you, but his voice was emotionless and cold. It sounded very similar when he left all those years ago. You know he only means to keep distance between you and respect your wishes. After all, you were the one who wanted to separate for good after this mission, but the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you could only come to a single conclusion: the Mandalorian had successfully derailed your life yet again.

The cry of an animal pulls you from your brooding and you’re swift on your feet with a vibroblade in hand. Stalking around the trees, you keep low in the foliage and slowly move towards the source of the noise. You see a fathier standing on the main trail hooked to a lopsided wooden wagon. Fruit and vegetables were spread all around the road along with a broken wheel. An old man rounded the corner, looking tiredly around him and began picking up the mess. The grip on your blade relaxes. Standing to your full height, you walk forward to meet him on the main path.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call to him, “Do you need help?”

He gawks at you, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the forest. He gives you a smile.

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, child.”

You learn that his name is Amir. He’s a farmer with fields down the road, and for the past 50 years, he’d make the trip every weekend into town to sell his harvest on the same wagon. He tells you how the fathier lost control, pulling the old carriage and damaging the wheel. 

“I suppose I must invest in those blasted speeder-whatevers,” he sighs. 

You chuckle lightly. He sounds like your father. 

“Please, let me fix it for you.”

Amir sits on a rock to the side of the trail, and you try your best to repair the wagon. Making light conversation with him as you work, you spoke of your own family’s orchard and recounted the times you spent on the farm. His company relaxes you and for a moment, you’re able to forget the chaos that consumed your thoughts earlier. 

“It’s hard work, this life,” he says, “but it is fruitful all the same.”

You laugh earnestly at his joke. He smiles at you warmly, patting his hands on his knees. 

“Where is your family now?”

“They were lost to the Empire. Our farm was burned down.” 

He sighs sadly, “War seems to take from us both. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please, don’t be. It happened a long time ago,” you say quickly.

A beat of awkward silence passes. Amir changes the subject.

“So what are you doing here? In these woods. You look less like a farm girl and more like a mercenary.”

“Close. I’m a bounty hunter. Our ship crashed just past those trees.”

“You’re with someone else?”

“Yes. A Mandalorian. He’s–” you pause, thinking carefully over your words, “He’s just an old colleague of mine.”

But Amir is a very observant man, and he notices your hesitation.

“Tell me more about this Mandalorian of yours. I’ve never met one before.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say sheepishly, “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“A long story?” He questions, mischief flashing in his eyes, “I thought he was just a colleague.”

Warmth travels to your cheeks as he looks at you expectantly.

Cheeky old bastard.

But you indulge him, giving him a watered-down version of your history with Mando; how you met, how you worked together for many years before you parted ways, and how he came back asking you to help with his weird magical son. Amir listened intently, and when you finished, his face was pulled in thought.

“It’s a bit odd for a bounty hunter to have a child, isn’t it?” He wonders aloud, “I take it isn’t the safest profession in the world. I could see how he could need the help.”

You chew on your bottom lip, attention focused on twisting a screw. 

“We... didn’t split on the best terms. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I see.”

Amir notes your sudden change in demeanour, observing the way you tensed at the subject. 

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

So you answered him honestly.

“I’m angry with him.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. 

“My dear, you can be angry with someone and still love them.” 

What a nosy man. 

You shrug laughing lightly with him as you go back to work. As you mull over his words, you find them resonating deep within you. Had it been anyone else, you probably would’ve ignored or straight-up denied the question, but connecting with Amir had made you feel comfortable to speak freely. It felt cathartic to put your feelings into words. 

“You know, Imperial soldiers occupied the town for many, many years. My daughter decided to join the rebellion after she joined the local militia. We got into a terrible argument, begged her not to fight, to stay home but–” Amir struggles to finish. You’d stopped your tinkering with the wheel, instead listening carefully to his story. Your heart twisted, as the grief he felt was very familiar. You reached out to hold his wrinkled hand, giving him a sad smile. 

Amir takes a breath, looking wistfully towards the treetops as he continues,

“Sometimes, when people hurt us, we think we want nothing more to do with them. But when they’re gone, we only regret the love we never spoke out loud.”

-- 

Din thought he was dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking food. 

When he left the Razor Crest, you were feeding the child a small bowl of sautéed vegetables and rice. To the side of the camp, he spotted bags of fresh produce and grain. You greet him with a relaxed grin.

“You know, some of the things you’ve kept in there haven’t been touched since we split. It was kind of disgusting.”

He’s so confused.

“Where did you get all of this?” He asks.

“There was a man who broke down on the side of the road. I helped fix his wagon and he gave us food in return.”

You pat the child’s head as he finishes up his meal and take him into one arm. Din only stares, bewildered, as you pick up a dish that was sitting by the fire pit and hold it out to him. 

“Eat. And when you’re done, come find me,” you say, “We need to talk.”

--

“We need to talk.”

Words stronger than any weapon. 

Anxiety churned in his stomach, nearly rendering him incapable of keeping any food down. But your cooking was leagues better than any ration pack that he’d had in weeks; Din wasn’t about to (literally) throw the opportunity away, especially if this was some of the last moments he’d ever have with you. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, heart warming at the way you made it especially spicy for him. From the window of the cockpit, Din watched you leisurely skip rocks across the water while the child excitedly wandered along the shore. It was almost unsettling how quickly your energy had changed within a day; it reminded him of the days before he left. The days where there wasn’t a giant rift between you. 

When he finished his meal, Din rounded the corner of the ship expecting to see you at the shore, but you were nowhere to be found. He approached the edge of the water and stared at the abandoned pile of smooth stones. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly tugged by his arm and thrown flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, chest heaving for air and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, you meandered into his view.  He expected to see your face contorted with rage once again, but to his surprise, your expression was cool and collected as you pulled at the wraps around your hands. 

“We’re gonna spar,” you say, tone suspiciously even, “And you’re gonna tell me everything about the kid.”

Din stares, bewildered as you tower over him.

“Why?”

You still don’t look at him directly, instead tugging tightly at the cloth against your wrist and checking if you’re satisfied with your work. 

“If memory serves me correctly, we’re still evenly matched. 350 to 350,” you say, not even bothering to address the second part of your demands. 

But Din will take whatever you give him at this point, so he complies and swipes at your ankles with his legs, knocking you down. Taking the opportunity to get back onto his feet, he squares himself into position. You propel yourself back to your feet with much more grace, brushing yourself off and bringing up your fists. Din swears he can see faint lines of a smile on your lips and a glint of excitement in your eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Even if I’m mad at you.”

He smirks. 

“Never.”

--

You were always better at close combat than he was; the nature of your preferred weapon required so. But what Din lacked in skill, he made up for in stamina, and that’s why he was able to keep your little competition even for such a long time. Your fight had been going for nearly an hour, and at this point, you’d normally tire out and start getting sloppy from exhaustion. But your residual feelings of frustration and dream of kicking his ass for the past three years kept you fierce on your toes. It also helped that he had a story to tell. 

You listened attentively as Mando told you of the Mudhorn in between your relentless assault of jabs and kicks, how the child used his strange powers to lift a giant beast and how it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He also told you how he actually delivered the kid to the client, but turned back to rescue him before the Imperials had a chance to do any harm. (You noted how his voice dipped slightly in shame admitting this to you.) He told you of Sorgan, Tatooine and his reunion with Ran, and how no matter what system he seemed to end up in, the child was always in danger. As you processed this information, your attention seemed to slip, and Mando was able to throw a punch straight into your nose. 

You stumble backwards, cursing at the pain and feeling warm liquid pooling on your upper lip. He relents for a moment, pacing towards you in worry.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” 

You cut him off by gripping his arm, using his momentum to drive him over your shoulder and throw him on his stomach. Pressing your boot into his back and pinning him firmly against the ground, you tease.

“Not the first time I had you like this, Mando.”

You keep your foot firm against him as he struggles to push himself up against you, heavy breaths crackling through the vocoder of his helmet. Eventually, he relents and holds up his hands in surrender.

Pride blooms warmly in your chest, and you collapse on the ground next to him.

I nearly broke one of his ribs this time. You’re dizzy as you come down from the high of adrenaline coursing through you, exhaustion settling into your sore body. 

“If I sustain another injury on this stupid mission, I’m taking all the credits for myself,” you say, wiping the blood gushing from your nose. 

You hear him chuckle lightly beside you.

“You deserve it. I’ve been a total ass.”

“That, you have.” 

Catching your breath, you focus on the sounds of birds in the trees, and the feeling of wind cooling and relaxing your body. It was so tempting to just give into him, but you remembered what you called him here for– why you initiated a duel in the first place. The talk with Amir this morning helped clear your head, but it still terrified you to address it all. 

You take a deep breath, basking a little longer in this moment of peace. 

“Thanks for not holding back,” you said earnestly, pointing to your nose.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from your clothes, you turn to him and hold out a hand.

“Are we good?” he asks, hope slipping through his voice.

“No. Not even close,” your lips curl into a sad smile, “But it’s a start.”

You pull him up to his feet, and your grasp on one another lingers for a fleeting moment. You’re the first to let go, brushing your sweaty palms against your pants. Walking to the shore of the lake, you take a few rocks in your hands and continue skipping them across the still surface of the water. Your heart is racing; you feel his gaze on you, expectant for … something, anything. 

“When my brother left to become a rebel,” you began, voice taught with anxiety, “I was only 18 years old. For a long time, I was so angry with him. Who leaves their only family behind? Alone? To fend for themselves? I was–I was convinced I didn’t care what happened to him after that. That I hated him. ”

Something painful catches in your throat. You skip another rock.

“We were so young. He wanted to take me with him, y’know? Find the Moff that killed our family and get revenge. Destroy the Empire and end their reign of terror. I was too afraid; all I could think about living to see another day. But after a while, I missed him so much–I just wanted my family again. I started to regret not going with him, but then I met you.”

Mando didn’t respond, listening carefully and hanging on your every word.  

“And when you came along, it felt... nice to let someone in again. Not just as a coworker but as a friend. To not be alone. To have someone in my life. To– ”

To fall deeply, wholly, and beautifully in love.

Frustrated, you grip the smooth stone in your hand tightly. You feel like you’re rambling; there’s just so much.

Mando finally speaks, “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m still hurt and angry,” your voice was beginning to tremble, “That being abandoned for a second time was the worst feeling in the galaxy.  I need you to know that.”

You hear him walk towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Mesh’la, please look at me,” he pleads.

“But I also need you to know that and I left things like this, I’d never find peace.”

You turn around to face him, tears in your eyes and heart leaping in your throat.

“Because there was a time where I thought I’d know you forever. And I don’t want to let it go.” 

--

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn​ @adlerorzel-blog​ @theocatkov​  @paryl​ @fruitsaladtree​ @allisondavis236​

thx loves 💘

[leilabeaux]

When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 1492

Summary: Ivar finds more than just gold when he raids the Kingdom of Powys.

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: Oh, looky! I’m back with another one about my new favorite couple. And I’m also back with my bad titles :) Figured I should go back to when our couple first met. It’s not quite an easy start.

 ----

 “Who is she?” Ivar questioned the eleven prisoners kneeled before him, the last of King Fremund’s men sent from Gwynedd to help defend the Kingdom of Powys. Even with the swords and knives held against their necks, they stayed silent much like the stubborn woman in his tent. “Am I not speaking the right language? Maybe we should start ripping you open slowly, one by one, until I can get my point across.”

The shudder he heard let him know that he was being understood clearly but still no one spoke. He signaled to one of his men to commence cutting into the first prisoner in line while he went over to stand next to Hvitserk, hoping he’d get some answers soon.

“I don’t understand why you care so much about this woman, Ivar? Just put her with the other thralls,” He contested before taking a sip from his horn. Both brothers unphased by the shouts and screams in the background.

“There’s just a mystery about her. These Christians don’t typically let their women pick up a sword yet she fought as valiantly as their strongest man,” he praised. Though small in stature, you were hard not to notice as you sped down the hill even faster than some of your men. No fear or hesitation on your face. Not even after you were captured, especially not after you spat in his face when asked for your name.

Hvitserk gave him a disinterested shrug. “Maybe they just decided to let this one fight?,” he countered.

“Did you not see how they formed a wall around her when we had them surrounded? Why go through all that effort even if she was a common shieldmaiden?,” he wondered, mostly to himself. He didn’t think his brother was as invested in this puzzle as he was.

Whatever flippant answer Hvitserk was about to offer was cut off by a guttural scream from the tortured prisoner, begging his captors to stop.

Ivar raised his eyebrow at his brother before walking over to the man tied on the table. Blood from the deep cut through his stomach was pooling down onto the surface he was laid on. Leaning down to bring his ear close to the prisoner’s mouth, a smirk slowly crept across his face as he heard his whispers. 

He stood up straight and pointed towards the remaining prisoners, “Kill them all including their very helpful friend here, they’re no use to me now.” He began walking to the direction of his tent. “I think I’m going to pay our important guest a visit.”

----

You were being held in a tent separate from your men, tied to the pole in front of you. The rope burned your now bloodied wrists as you struggled to get loose. You first tried to untie them but just like your captors, their knots were equally as ruthless.

You didn’t plan for this. You had seen yourself celebrating the Heathens’ defeat with your men or dying a true warrior’s death with your sword in hand on the battlefield. You even accepted that you may be a target of your husband’s wrath once he found out you ran off yet again but being captured by the enemy never entered your mind as a possibility.

A scream that sounded off in the distance reminded you of all the stories you heard about what these men were known to do to their enemies. In desperation, you began to lean back away from your bonds, praying the blood seeping down your hands would help you slip through. You probably shouldn’t have spat in their king’s face. Better yet, you should have listened to your men when they pleaded to you to let them escort you back to Gwynedd but your stubborn pride wanted just one taste of a fight.

“And what would be your plan after you got loose?” a melodic voice broke through your panicked grunts. You jumped at the sound, maneuvering your way around the pole, desperate to have something between you and the Heathen King. “I have three of my men standing guard out front, not to mention everyone else in my camp. Would you fight them all?”

You hoped that he would take your silence as an act of brave defiance and not because you didn’t consider your next move if you ever got loose from your binds. If you were fated to die, you’d rather have someone remember you as brave instead of stupid.

He slowly walked closer to you to take your hands into his one, gently caressing one of your wounded wrists, “Still nothing to say?” He held his hands up as if he meant no harm when you pulled your wrists away from him. “I’m going to ask you this one more time, little one, and do try to not spit in my face again: who are you?”

You chose to lower your head at his question as if the answer could be found on your face. With his axe underneath your chin, he brought your head up to look at him.

“I think it’s best you know that sometimes I can be a very impatient man and don’t like to be kept waiting,” he warned while looking straight into your eyes. The edge of his axe threatened to dig into your skin but still you refused to answer him. He titled his head to the side and pulled his weapon away from you before he started chuckling, “I’m kidding, I already heard enough from one of your men. I must say, you’re a very interesting woman. Most queens would try to use their status as a bargaining chip but not you.”

Upon seeing your eyes widened in surprise, he had his confirmation, “Hmm..I assumed he was lying to me when he said I had the Queen of Gwynedd in my hands. Some men will say anything when they’re being gutted like a fish. Maybe you could at least tell me why would King Fremund send such a precious thing,” he reached out his hand to caress your cheek but you shied away from his touch, “out to fight while he sits comfortably on his throne.”

You chose to look straight ahead instead of answering him.

“That’s fine, Little Queen. Stay quiet,” he whispered as he smoothed his hand down your hair before making a move toward the tent entrance. “I’m sure your men will have plenty to say if they don’t want to have the same fate as their friend.”

“No!” You cried out to him. You didn’t want to be responsible for anymore lives lost from those who were sworn to protect you. “Just don’t...don’t hurt anyone else. I had ordered them not to say anything.”

“Well I will see to it that no more of your men will be harmed. I swear.” The feeling at the pit of your stomach told you not to trust his words or the smile on his face. “So why would Fremund send you to fight for him?”

“He didn’t. He doesn’t even know that I am here,” you gave out a frustrated sigh as you pressed your forehead against the wood in front of you, “Only the few men I have left here, and now you, are aware of my whereabouts.”

“You looked very comfortable with a sword and I’m sure he’s aware that you have the heart of a fighter. If he’s a smart man, wouldn’t he think of coming to Powys to look for you?”

“No, he thinks that I would never have the courage to run into battle. That I should only be a proper queen, not a silly girl with silly dreams,” you willingly locked eyes with him as you admitted this. 

Looking down at the rope around your wrists, you guessed that Fremund was right. You were just a silly girl acting out a fantasy. You took some consolation in the fact that if you die, then you would never have to hear him say that he told you so.

He lifted your head up with his axe once again so that he could look you in the eyes one last time, “It’s a shame he probably won’t ever know that he had such a strong Queen by his side.” 

You closed your eyes and held your breath, waiting for the blade to cut through your neck. Instead you heard it whack into the pole before your arms fell down at your side. Your brow was furrowed in confusion as you opened your eyes.

“As my guest, it’s only right that you get a chance to make yourself more comfortable before we leave.” He walked towards the entrance of the tent but paused right before he made his exit, turning to look back at you. “Y/N, do not take advantage of my kindness. You try to run away from me, I will see to it that you can’t run again.”

----

Tags: @soleil-dor​ @tsumamibaddie​ @hotarubi-the-firefly​ @walkxthexmoon​ @ivarsgoddess​ @youbloodymadgenius​

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 12

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

A/N: For some reason my taglist didn’t work last time. Some people didn’t get a noti so make sure you read ch. 11. Link in masterlist!! 

Masterlist

Best Excercise For The Heart? Getting Chased by Mob. 

Peter's heart was beating on another plane of existence.

His palms were sweaty and stomach just a bit queasy. He knew he shouldn't have had such a big breakfast, but it's not like May would let him leave the house without at least three pancakes shoved into his mouth.

Bucky greets Peter by slapping his hand over his shoulder making him jump in surprise.

"Woah, chill out kid," Bucky said with a chuckle.

"Sorry," he shook his head. "I'm just a little nervous."

"I got ya," Bucky replied. "Listen there's nothing to it, you just gotta sit there. The boss is gonna do all the talking. He just wants us there for backup. Natasha can’t make it so you’re gonna take her spot."

"But why does he want me there?" Peter asked curiously, "I'm still new and–"

"The big guy thinks you've got a lot of potential," Bucky explained and Peter's eyes grow wide in shock. The mob king thought he had potential? He smiles in hiding, trying to not let it get to him. Too late. Head full. Pride skyrocketing.

"Truth is, I don't see it," Bucky stated flatly, "but he's weird like that."

"Thanks, you're so nice," Peter replied, mildly sarcastic, but Bucky lets it go just this once. He shakes him with another pat on the back.

"Come on, get in," he pushes him into the office.

Peter takes a seat next to Sam who gives him a friendly smirk. At least he thinks it's friendly. He really can't tell with those two.

Steve enters the room and Peter sits straight up. The kingpin smiles warmly. “You brought the kid.”

“You told us to,” Bucky replied.

“Right,” Steve said as if he forgot. “How’s it goin’ kid? You and your girl doin’ alright?”

“Yes Sir!” he replied quickly. Steve Rogers remembers that he has a girlfriend. Wow, what a nice guy.

“Now listen here,” Sam brought him back to earth. “When the guy comes don’t get all bouncy. Just chill out and relax.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded.

“And don’t go blabbing random stuff, ya hear?” Bucky reminded him.

“I don’t do that!” he retorted.

“Only talk when spoken too, but never answer if you don’t know what to say,” Sam instructed. “Never show someone else that you’re unsure. Always be confident even when you’re not.”

“Talk but don’t talk,” Peter repeated. “Be confident even when you’re not. That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It makes perfect sense,” Bucky retorted. “You’re just stupid.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Don’t mess this up, kid or your ass is grass,” Sam warned, earning a loud, guttural groan from Peter.

Steve chuckled. “Listen, Pete, just go with your gut, ya hear? Just go with what you know, alright?”

“Yes, Sir!” He nodded like a child.

A knock came at the door and opened.

“Mr. Rogers,” the secretary popped her head through the door. “Mr. Rumlow is here.”

“Let him in,” Steve waved towards him. She opens the door wider and Brock Rumlow enters. Peter observes him. A scar running across his left cheek with beady black eyes that just screamed sneaky. Not even a word and the boy already knew he couldn’t be trusted.

"Mr. Rogers," Rumlow greeted, extending his hand.  

"Mr. Rumlow," Steve shook his hand, "Just call me Steve."

"So the rumors are true, you're an easy man to talk to."

"I just hate the formality and if we can," Steve stated, "let's finish this quick."

"Of course, I know you're a busy man." Rumlow smiles, taking a seat in front of him. "What I'm here for. What I want from you is help," he said. "I need money, investment money. I need three million dollars in cash," he explained further.

Peter's eyes widened. He spoke as if it was a small amount and Steve looked at him with utter nonchalance as if he's just asking for spare change.

"And what else?" Steve question, hooking his leg over the other, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.

"I need connections and you have very powerful friends," Rumlow continued. "I need those politicians you keep in your back pocket."

"And what's in it for us?"

"Forty percent," Rumlow stated. "And by the end of the year you'll be raking in around eight to ten million," he estimated.

"And the Lucchese?"

Rumlow chuckles. "I'll take care of them from my own share."

Steve ponders on the information for a bit. His expression was hard to read, leaving the rest in the room waiting in anticipation of his decision. He sat relaxed in his chair, not slumped, but confident and nonchalant.

"So, I get forty percent for finance, political influence, and legal protection?" He points out, extending his fingers as the list goes.

"That's right." Rumlow nodded.

"Why me though?" Steve questioned with a shake of the hand. "Why do I deserve all this generosity?"

Rumlow scoffs. "If three to four million is a small price for you, kingpin, then cheers to you."

Steve's eyes look at him sharply, then he smiles. To Peter, it's more dangerous than friendly.

"I've heard you're a businessman," Steve reminded him, burning out his cigarette in an ashtray. "A serious man needed to be treated with respect."

Rumlow's cocky smile falls and twists into a subtle scowl.

"The thing is I've been looking into this new drug you're proposing. This is nasty stuff worse than any other drug on the market as of now," Steve criticized and Rumlow wasn't pleased.

"Now let's just say this stuff hits it big. Bigger than crack and weed, which it probably will," he stood up and paced the office. "Those crackheads will take anything that gets 'em off for a good ten minutes. But let's just say hypothetically, it gets stuck in the hands of a policeman or even worse—a kid, and he gets caught smoking or even worse dead with that crap. That causes a major issue for me," he points at himself while standing in front of Rumlow.

Rumlow looks up at him and it's like he already knows the answer.

"Yeah, I've got a lot of friends, but I don't think the mayor would be so friendly if he knew I was caught up in this stuff," Steve remarked. "That thing you got is nasty."

"Mr. Rogers," he retorted firmly.

"Listen, I don't care what a man does for a living," Steve cut him off. "I mean look at me. But your business is a bit dangerous."

"If you're worried about your investment. The Lucchese will take care of it." Rumlow assured.

Steve shakes his head with a laugh. The Lucchese were going to insure him? What was he some second rate gangster?

"My answer is final, Mr. Rumlow. It's a no." Steve stated firmly. "Good luck with your business. I know you'll do very well and I wish you all the best. As best as your interests don't conflict with mine." He wished him with a warning in his tone.

Rumlow stands up with a scornful smile. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Rogers," he shook his hand. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," Steve said, placing his hand over their hands and giving it a final good shake. "Buck, please see Mr. Rumlow to the door."

"No, no," he replied. "That won't be necessary. I can find it myself," he nods and leaves the room. “Not like I found much help here anyway.”

"Hey, Pete," Steve said, he points his head towards the door, "follow him out from a distance."

Peter nodded, dashing for the door.

"You think we did the right thing?" Bucky asked, leaning against the desk.

"We can't risk our connections, Buck," Steve said, lighting another stick. "Besides, me? Insured by the Lucchese? Get the fuck outta here," Steve remarked, a chuckle coloring his words making the two erupt in laughter, filling the room with a lighter air.

"You know you don't have to walk me to the bus stop anymore." You said, walking out of the restaurant. "It's only a block away."

A sudden blow of wind rushes past, making you snuggle into the wool scarf wrapped around your neck. You dig your hands deeper into your pockets and look over at Steve to find him unphased by the freezing temperatures of January. Freak.

"I take my job as your bodyguard very seriously." He replied.

"You're not my bodyguard. I don't need a man to protect me." You retorted defiantly.

"Woah there, Susan B. Anthony," Steve put his hands up in surrender, "I was just saying. Don't get all feminist on me."

"And what's wrong with being feminist?" You jabbed.

"Nothing. I love women. All of them. They're amazing. Absolutely wonderful," he complimented. "But not in a creepy way. More of a respectful and cool kinda way."

"Just stop talking, you're making my head spin," you sighed, shaking your head.

"You're so dramatic," he nudged you with his shoulder.

"You're the dramatic one," you pointed out.

"Am not," he retorted.

"Are you joking me right now?" You asked incredulously. "Oh heavens no, she doesn't speak the language of arts whatever shall I do?" You acted breathlessly desperate. Steve rolled his eyes and kept walking.

"How can someone be so simpleminded? I guess I'll just die right here." You fainted against his shoulder with your hand on your forehead and a dramatic sigh.

He pushes you off of him, secretly liking how open you're being with him.

"Ha ha ha, you're hilarious," Steve deadpanned.

"Thanks, I know," you replied boastfully.  He snorts, looking away so you wouldn't see him smiling.

He failed. It was hard to miss that pretty smile of his. I didn't mean that. It was a completely objective observation.

Even if you told him not to walk you to the bus stop, you had to admit you enjoyed his company. Your cold cheeks were brushed with a numbing red, but the rest of you was warm. You didn't say a word the rest of the way there, just listened and watched.

You quietly listened to the distant drone of traffic, watched the lights of houses flip on and off. Cool steam rose from the sewer holes and swept along the asphalt of the street. There's not a soul in sight and what sane person would want to be out on a cold night like this? Your footsteps grew gradually slower not really in a hurry to get anywhere. Like they're trying to make the journey last as long as it can.

You don't know why, but the air feels tense. Heavy with something you can't really find a name for, but something you knew all too well. You pull your sweaty hands out of your pockets, stretching them to get some air through the cracks.

Steve watches his footsteps and how they're in sync with yours. He feels more at peace here with you than he's felt in the past week. You're like a remedy to all his problems.

When he's with you, the pressures of the mob slowly fade away. The burden of working over a hundred men and maintaining his power disappears for just a moment of time. When he's with you, he's not the kingpin, he's just Steve. Just a normal guy. You've never really seen him as anything else and he hopes it'll stay like that forever.

"That's strange," you said, checking your phone for the time while approaching the bus stop. "The bus is usually here by now."

"Maybe it's just a few minutes late?"

"Maybe."

The two of you waited for the bus patiently. Ten minutes had passed and the bus was nowhere to be seen. You looked from side to side to check the street and your eyes fell onto the car standing right across you. It was black with tinted windows. You recalled seeing the same exact car outside the restaurant and that part of your brain stuffed with crime shows is finally starting to crank its gears.

The car was off and there was a good chance that no one was inside, but you were never one to believe in coincidences.

"Steve," you said making sure not to look at the car again.

"Yeah?" He asked and from his face, you think he's already noticed.

"I might be crazy but I feel like I've seen the car across the street," you said, calmly. "At the restaurant."

"So have I," he nodded with a smile as if he's just having a casual conversation.

"Then what do we do?" You asked, shrugging.

"Let's just walk," he replied, pulling you along with him.

You walked down the sidewalk side by side and while your expression was calm, your insides were a frantic mess.

The quick rhythmic beat of your steps against the cracked sidewalks wasn't the only thing breaking the deafening silence of the street as the sound of car doors slamming and burly footsteps shuffled behind you slowly.

Your fingers intertwined with Steve's instinctively and he squeezes your hand tight. You look at him, heart thumping and thoughts racing.

"Hey, baby, don't worry, I got you." He gave you an amused smile, masking his own fear.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened, or the second, or the third. It's happened many times just not with an innocent civilian by his side. He had a knack for being a bit reckless but with you here he couldn't take that risk. Your safety was his top priority.

You pouted with a huff. "Don't call me, baby," you warned, your strides growing wider to match his.

"At the corner, we make a run for it," he ordered.

You nodded, taking silent, deep breaths to calm your speeding heart. You didn't dare to take a look behind in fear of what you'd see. Not like you needed to see anything. The sound of their footsteps was enough to know that something was wrong, slow and anxiously needy. Each step towards the end of the street gets heavier. The ones behind getting dangerously closer.

Steve pulls on your hand as he makes a sharp turn at the bend, dragging you behind him like a kite in the wind. You don't even know how you're keeping up with him at this point. It's just one foot in front of the other powered by an extraordinary rush of adrenaline.

You can hear the baying howls of the men behind you, ordering you to stop as if you're actually going to do that.

Steve's death grip on your hand is the only thing that keeps you anchored to the real world. Your thoughts are blank and all you can think of how you're possibly going to get out of this.

There are two of you against at least five of them.

Scratch that. More like one and a half against five.

You're screwed. This was where you died and you didn't even get to graduate from college yet.

Steve takes a sharp left at the corner and squeezes you into a tight alleyway between two buildings.

You put your hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your breathing. Heavy footsteps draw nearer and continue past the alleyway until they fade into the distance. Your hand drops to your side allowing you to take free breaths of fresh air.

"You okay?" Steve asked, catching his own breath.

You look up at him and nodded. "Yeah."

The alleyway was narrow, very narrow, and the two of you were pressed against each other with only enough wiggle room for one to move.

Steve's cheeks redden by the way your body is pressed against his in all the right places. Sure he's imagined it before, but not exactly like this.  He looks at everything but you, so he doesn’t lose himself.

He's not alone in his embarrassment as you start to heat up despite the frigid temperatures of a midwinter's night.

"D-do you–um–do you think they're gone?" You whispered.

He shrugs unknowingly. You squeeze past him just enough to stick your head out. You look to the left then to right.

"I think the coast is clear," you said, getting out of the tight spot. Steve follows suit and pats the dust off his clothes.

"Well that was something," he chuckles nervously.

You place your hands on your hips with a judgemental look. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

Steve scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

In the distance, the shrill screeching of wheels blares in the night with a blinding light coming in your direction.

You should run, but your legs feel like mush and getting caught sounded better than running right now. Steve covers you with himself as the car slows just in front of you.

The window rolls down to reveal a cheeky Bucky.

Steve groans for the whole neighborhood to hear. "For fuck's sake, Buck, you scared the shit out of me."

You peek out from behind him to find Bucky. His eyes meet yours and he smirks devilishly.

"Sorry, big boss, been lookin' everywhere for you," he gets out of the car with a chuckle. "And of course I'd find you canoodling with ya girl."

"I am no one's girl," you stated firmly, jumping out from behind.

"Right. We're not there yet," Bucky replied and Steve might just snap his neck if he keeps talking. "Anyways my name's Bucky, I'm an old friend of Stevie's. Nice to finally meet ya," he extends his hand. You shake it warily. "That's Sam," he points at the man standing against the car behind him and I guess you already know Pete."

"Hi, Y/N!" Peter waves, falling out of the back window with a gummy smile on his face.

You gasp at the sight of the curly-haired boy. You run up to him at the window.

"Peter! What are you doing here?" You questioned. "Do you know what time it is? Go home to your girlfriend!"

"I wish." Peter sighed sadly, arms dangling out of the car. "But I can't, I'm on night duty."

"Listen," Bucky directed towards Steve, "we got some trouble down at the dock in the Bronx. We think it's Rumlow."

Steve mutters a curse underneath his breath.  

"I guess he's the same bastard that tried to kill me like five minutes ago," he cursed. "Can't take no for an answer."

"Who's Rumlow? And why is he trying to kill you?" You asked, eyes solely on Steve, questioning his every gesture.

Steve sighed, not really wanting you to get involved in all of this. He knew it'd happen someday, but not this fast.

"I think it's best if we not talk about this out in the open," Sam advised. "So get in the car."

"Best idea you've had all day, Sammy," Bucky noted opening his door.

"Shut up."

Peter opens the door and scoots over to let you in and you have no choice but to go in. After what just happened, there's no way you're walking home alone.

Steve sits right next to you and closes the door behind him, signaling Sam to drive. It's kind of awkward being stuck in a car with a bunch of mobsters, but beggars can't be choosers. At least you know they won't kill you.

"Nat's already at the house," Bucky told Steve. "She's the one who found out about the whole mixup in the Bronx."

Steve nodded with a cautious look in his eye. Bucky knew exactly what he was saying without him even saying a word.

"Not in front of her."

"So where exactly are we going?" You asked.

"My place," Steve replied.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought.

"If it's not a problem can you just drop me home?"

"I could but then I'd be worried about you all night," Steve said and it goes straight to the tips of your ears. It shouldn't have. The three snickered at Steve, but he ignored them. "Stay over my place for the night?"

“What? No, I can’t.” you denied. "I don’t even think they saw me,” you noted. “So it’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that sis?" Sam asked with a chuckle. "The mob ain’t as simple as it sounds. They’re probably already trying to figure out who you are.”

“Stop scaring her," Steve warned.

“I’m not scared.” you retorted. “I just don’t wanna intrude.”

“Or get involved," Bucky added.

“Maybe that too. So just drop me off please? I’ve got class in the morning.”

“Sorry, I can’t let that happen," Steve shakes his head in denial. "After what happened tonight who knows what’s gonna happen? I mean they could be trailing us for all we know. You really want those goons knowing where you live?”

“No," you whispered. You didn't think about it like that.

“Then just for tonight, okay?" He places his hand on top of yours and it feels nice, but not enough for you to accept. "I’ll drop you off first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky turned towards you from the front. “Stevie’s got a really nice place. With big fancy iron gates and a giant fountain. Never-ending fridge. The whole shebang."

Steve rolls his eyes. Sometimes he questioned why he even knew Bucky.  

"Besides you'll love Lucky," Sam pointed out.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Lucky? Who's Lucky?"

"It's the boss's dog," Peter answered.

Your jaw goes slack in shock. "YOU HAVE A DOG?"

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly.

"WHAT KIND?" You questioned shaking his arm violently, "HOW OLD?"

"It's a Samoyed and two." He replied, pushed up against the door by the way you're bouncing on the seat.

"Okay let's go to your place," you agreed. Steve chuckles with a shake of the head. "Hey, Sam right?"

"Yeah?"

"No offense man, but can you drive any faster?" You questioned.

"I don't want a speeding ticket," Sam confessed.

You look at him incredulously.

"The Brooklyn Mob is just a bunch of twinks," you jeered.

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed.

"And you're the biggest one."

TAGLIST: @ashwarren32​ @chuckennuggets1213​ @captainchrisstan​ @rootcrop​ @savedbystark​ @siriusement​ @little-dark-empress​ @great-goddess-of-sin​ @scuzmunkie​ @achishisha​ @calwitch​ @thirstybunz​ @littlebees-things​ @booktease21​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @boxofteenageideas​ @imsonick​

[murderousbitch]

trigger warning: light mentions of abuse & death.

         It was no secret that the life she had left behind had not been a life one would willingly return to. In fact she hadn’t returned to Boston for several reasons--fear of what she would return to, the pain and suffering, the memories that were more like nightmares--but after so long, she had to finally return. She tried to fight it, to make Giles send someone else, anyone else, to retrieve the one of many slayers scattered across the world. But she was closer and she knew the area better than anyone. There was no other option.

Returning to a place that held so many negative feelings and thoughts, it made the already cold air cooler, causing her lungs to seize with every breath she took. God she hated the cold, memories of when her mother forgot to pay the electric bill, the countless nights spent shivering under piles of blankets. But she had to shake those thoughts and focus on the task at hand so she could get the hell out of dodge before anything happened. There was far too many possibilities of what could happen, who she could run into, and of what she could end up doing. Needless to say, she was going to follow the leads she had of the girl, Rebecca Hicks, and hope that she found the other in no time.

The hotel she was set up in was one that she had passed so many times, wondering how it felt to be sleeping on a bed that wasn’t dirty, to have a mattress that didn’t come from someone’s alley. Her mom was cheap, never had any money to spend on the essentials so there were many items that should have never been used again, especially by a little kid. But that was one of many things her mother did or failed to do, things that lingered in the back of her mind as a silent reminder to do better for herself. Needless to say her first night back was restless and sleepless, leaving the slayer laying in bed staring at the ceiling, begging to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. But it wasn’t one and she knew that, of course she knew that, but the thought of knowing she had willingly came back...it weighed on her soul.

“Damn it, Faith! I done told you not to fuckin’ touch my things,” the woman belted out as she towered over the seven year old, finger wagging in her face before the cold harsh slap came.

Her ears ringed from the impact of the slap, her cheek stinging as a hand print formed. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at her mother, still holding the small eye shadow case. “I’m sorry, momma...I just...I’m sorry,” she muttered, handing it back only to have it forcibly taken from her hands.

She must have fallen asleep, the memory dream waking her up violently. Heart pounding in her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks, her breath coming fast as she sat up in bed. “It wasn’t real...” she told herself, shaking her head as she wiped at her eyes, trying to slow her breathing. But it had been real, had happened a long time ago, even if it did feel like it had just happened. After that, Faith couldn’t sleep so she got up and took a shower before getting dressed and grabbing the case file she had on Rebecca. She would start off with the basics, start looking in the girls usual hang out spots, her home, places like that. Then she would reach out and tap into other sources.

Rebecca’s home had been a bust as was her school. However she wasn’t giving up hope on finding the girl, knowing she was somewhere in Boston. Thing about being a slayer, they shared a connection and could sense when others were around so it was just a matter of time before she found her. Though, admittedly, as she walked around the town she once called home, she had a feeling of dread, fearing that every corner she turned, she would see her mother. Logically she knew it would be a possibility of running into her mother, but she was praying that it didn’t happen. But with the longer she wandered around, checking out each lead she had, the more the area felt familiar until there she was.

The house had never been in the best of shape but it looked worse than it had the last time she saw it. Staring up at the window that had been her bedroom a lifetime ago, the slayer swallowed thickly as she stood in the yard. No one was living there, hadn’t for quite sometime, the NO TRESPASSING sign on the door coupled with the tell tale sign of emptiness was all she needed to know. A neighbor took notice of her standing there after what seemed like hours, the brunettes eyes finally tearing from the wreckage of her childhood to look to them.

“If you’re lookin’ for the owner, you’re ‘bout six or so years too late,” the man muttered as he crossed the joint yards, pausing when he got a good look of the woman. “Ah hell...you’re Donna’s kid ain’t ya?” he asked, head tilting as he looked through the bottom of his glasses.

There really was no denying it, Faith knew that and so she gave a nod. “Yeah, that’s me. Donna’s kid,” she mumbled, eyes falling to the ground as knots began to form in her stomach. Something was wrong, had been wrong, the way he said she was six years too late... “She’s dead ain’t she?” she asked, eyes briefly glancing to the man.

He nodded, rough and calloused hands rubbing together to keep whatever heat was there. “Heart attack six years ago...May of 2006...yeah that’s right. ‘M sorry you gotta find out this way, no one knew where you were or else I’m sure somebody woulda called...” and with that, he gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder before he began to walk back to his home.

Deep down she had always known her mother was gone, had succumbed to her addictions. But hearing it, knowing for certain? It left her feeling a mixture of emotions. So with that information, she gave the house one last look before she walked back to the rental car and drove off. It’d be the last time she’d see the house on 1490 SE Hyland St.

Almost as if her mind was in autopilot, Faith found herself sitting outside of the cemetery where her grandmother Etta was buried. She knew that’s where her mother would be, where most folks in this part of town were buried. Getting out of the car, she made the trek into the cemetery and found her way to her grandmothers grave. It had taken her a bit, getting turned around as she hadn’t been there since she was a child, but when she found the weathered plot and the newer one next to it, she knew she’d found them.

                                        Donna Renee Lehane                                        Mother. Daughter. Wife                                   13, April 1966 - 25, May 2006                                  May the angels guide you home.

Again, a mixture of emotions clawed as they worked through her system as she read the plot. Silent tears running down cheeks, not sure if they were out of sadness, anger, relief, or all of the above. But that’s all she could do or show, was stand there and cry as memories flooded her mind, none of which painted her mother in the best of light. And in truth, Faith didn’t have many good memories of her mother, all the bad ones out weighing the good and burying them. So after a half hour of standing in the cold, the sky growing dark, she tore herself from the graves and began to walk towards the entrance.

In the midst of wiping at her face, the slayer tripped over a root and caught herself before her face met marble. Cursing to no one but herself and the dead that slept, she pushed herself up only to be met with a name that she had done her best to never think of or speak.

                                        Ronald “Ronnie” Gallo                                          Son. Brother. Friend.                                    23, Dec. 1975 - 08, Sep. 2001                                     Heaven earned a new angel.

The guttural sound she made when she read the epitaph on Ronnie’s gravestone sounded inhuman to her own ears. However it was the only reaction she ever had when she thought of the other, Ronnie having been one of the people who traumatized her just as much as her own mother had. There were no good memories of the man nor feelings as tear filled eyes stared at the marker. She had spent so much time wishing she had killed him, the only person she truly wished she had killed, or wishing he was dead in general. And now knowing that her wish had came true, there was an emptiness in her that was quickly filled with rage.

Disrespecting the dead was frowned upon by many, but Ronnie Gallo deserved no such thing. Scrambling to her feet, the slayer looked around in a fit of rage until her eyes settled on a broken piece of stone before she moved back to the marker. She had nearly beaten him to death the day she was called as the next slayer, but that wasn’t enough, no, no he deserved more. So with the strength she used to take back her freedom, she smashed and busted the grave marker, a scream twisted into a growl leaving her as she demolished and made sure no one knew who laid there six feet under the ground.

It’s unsure how much time passed between destroying the grave, getting in the car, and mindlessly driving to the furthest bar. But when she poured herself onto a stool at the bar, Faith truly wished she had pawned the job off onto one of the others. Because her biggest fear had came to light even if two monsters from her past were now dead, it didn’t matter. She’d faced them and now had to quell the memories out of fear of if she didn’t, she would spiral out. So as she sat there, she drank every beer that was placed in front of her before she switched to something harder, not even noticing that the bartender wasn’t exactly human. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have cared because nothing mattered in that moment. Not him, not Rebecca, not herself, nor the monsters that had chased her for years.

However in a moment of clarity, dark eyes finally rested on the face of the man who hadn’t questioned her and provided the drinks. He had a charming face, rugged, looked like he had seen some shit in his life as well. She would later find out what his name was, Deeks, and he would soon aid in helping her reground herself and get back on track with her whole reason of being there. But for that first night, Deeks just kept her company and kept an eye on her while she indulged herself and prayed her mind to be quiet.

However, Faith should have known that her mind would never be quiet. Not for long.

[rideboldlyride]

Perfect: Chapter 8

Like the Waves (Back and Forth)

Ao3 Link Here!

Zuko,

So I guess I should start now, huh? I mean, it’s only been a few days, but I have to start somewhere. We just skimmed Kyoshi Island, landing in Chin Village. Did I ever tell you about this place? They had planned to boil Aang in hot oil at one point. Now they have this day where they eat raw dough in celebration of … not…. boiling him? I’ll have to tell you the whole story in person one day. 

Anyway.

Chin Village is the first stop on our little crusade, it seems, since Toph already found the Triad here. (That girl has got a nose for sniffing them out). We followed them, but so far it’s been a pretty uneventful trip. I’ll have to wait to write when there’s actually something interesting to write about…

***

Dark. Black. Flash of inky nothingness flies through the air.

A heavy splash, followed by a guttural grunt. The sound of cloth whipping through the air. Followed by footsteps.

Men’s voices echoed down the hall, angry, confused. Moonlight streams through the windows, being caught up in an unnatural fog.

Silence eats up the heavy tread. 

Loud crash. Like a spirit of the damned, a beast straight from the Spirit World descends upon the throng. 

The screams are swallowed up by the night. Red, brown, blue, and water. So much water. The men could drown on the dry ground.

They fall like dead bugs around the phantom. 

One is still conscious, cowering.

“The Painted Lady…” his voice is reverant, trembling. 

“Where are you taking the children?”

***

… I seriously wish there was more to tell. The little bit of information I was able to snoop out of what Toph found seems to point us to Gaoling. She’s… not exactly pleased about it. I don’t think she’s talked with her folks in a while. I guess we’ll see if she’ll talk to them now. 

Doubt it.

How are the new settlement talks going? I heard you are playing a big role in that. I know I’m not really in any position to help, but if you want a fresh set of eyes, I’ll be happy to help.

Hope this letter finds you safe and as sane as being the Fire Lord is going to keep you.

Katara

***

Katara,

I’m surprised that you haven’t been up to mischief. That doesn’t quite sound like you. I guess I’ll have to take your word.

Sounds like Chin Village was going to be a quick stop. It’s a pretty small village, isn’t it? My Earth Kingdom geography is a little rusty. 

Aang boiled in oil- I don’t think I’ve heard that story before. 

I’m surprised to hear that Toph hasn’t seen her parents in a while. Well, maybe not surprised. But definitely sad to hear it. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to smooth any interactions. The Bei Fong’s and I have crossed paths multiple times, and they seem to listen to me. Do you know what direction you’re heading in, once you get to Gaoling? That is a bit of a step up from Chin Village. 

The settlement talks are going about as well as you might expect. Kuei thinks that the islands belong to his kingdom (or at least, his advisors do), and yet my advisors tell me there’s evidence of an old Fire Nation village there. I’m not exactly sure how far to push the issue - it’s a bit of a touchy subject, when my people are involved.

I’ve been trying to do some pushing on my end, about the Triad. I’m sad to report that I’m not getting very far…

***

A ring of steel on steel echoed through the alleyway. The grimace on the strained man’s face was hardly a match for the grotesque twist of a face on the spectre’s mask. At that moment, the opponent was doubtful of the nature of the man before him. 

Earlier, inside the building they had vacated, one of his gang mates had laid a blade’s edge upon the black skin of the spirit before him and drawn red blood. He had sworn that a man’s voice had bit out a muffled curse at the action. But as the blue and white mask leaned in, there was no sign of a man’s presence behind it. No hint of skin, no rush of breath. Just heat, unbearable, aggressive heat. With a twist, the man felt his blade slip through his fingers and clatter down the street. 

A pair of dao blades intersected before his throat. 

When he swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple scraped the blade’s edge painfully. One blade was removed, and with a switch of a grip, it came tumbling back down, it’s butt meeting the side of his skull. He plummeted into the darkness.

Over his body, the Blue Spirit stood tall. Returning his blades to his sheath, he bent down, patting down the pockets of the man unconscious before him. A sound caught his attention, and with a deft hand he withdrew a small piece of parchment from a pocket. Unravelling it, he scanned it before slipping it into a private pocket of his own. 

With one more look down at the man unconscious before him, he hefted him over his shoulder and disappeared into the night.

The next morning, he would be found bound, with a fresh piece of parchment pinned to his front, showing evidence of the small cell of the Triad in the region near the Fire Nation capital, discarded before the Head of the Guard of the city.

***

… But this does not mean I have given up trying. Anything you need help with, Katara, please, just let me know. 

By the time this reaches you, I’m sure you’ll be in Gaoling. Please be safe. I don’t think I want to explain to Sokka why his baby sister is being held by a group of gangsters. 

Speaking of Sokka, I hear that they’re planning to visit in the next few months. I won’t lie, I’m excited to see them. There’s something empty to this palace without you all here.

Be safe. 

Zuko.

***

Oh Great and Fiery One, 

Hi.

Sorry, couldn’t help myself. 

Those settlements, Zuko, how old are the remnants? I can understand why you’re nervous to push anything with Kuei, but if they belong to your people… If they’re old remnants, it might just make sense to strike a deal for some archaeological dig but if not- if they’re just from before the war, then why would Kuei want the islands anyway?

I’m sorry to hear about your work on the Triad. I could’ve used the help. As it is, we’re chasing a bit of an enigma. So far the SB (that’s all I’m going to call her, since I don’t want this falling into the wrong hands) has remained elusive. There’s a whisper, but it’s a quiet one. Supposedly, this is the first place she emerged on the scene. According to what I’m finding, she hadn’t intended to be used by them. They just found her…

***

“I do not suffer fools or liars!” A voice like a dark demon split the air, and the man before her cowered in the fog at her feet. 

“I would never lie to a spirit - especially as powerful of a one as you, my Lady!” Lord Bei Fong was shivering.

“Then tell me who she is!”

“I don’t know!” He crooned, his voice wavering, as if on the edge of slipping into unconsciousness. “She was found here, yes! We brought her in, but when they came for her, we knew nothing about them or her!”

“You took her in? You, Bei Fong, are not known for your hospitality to the weak and needy.”

“She was no beggar.”

Anger spurred the spirit closer. Red lips curled in disgust as she growled out her words. “Then who was she?!”

“Someone of rank -- that’s all I know!” He threw himself to his knees, prostrate, arms covering his head. There was no more to be known as to the Spirit Bridge’s identity, but maybe she could identify where she was taken to.

“Where did they take her?”

“North - North and east. I don’t know where exactly.”

The Painted Lady straightened, blue eyes glinting in the light. “These thugs prevail on my patience, pry on my good will. Tell me all there is to know about the Triad.”

***

… and they used her. Sounds like she’s a prisoner more than an accomplice. But she’s going to have to go on hold for a few days. (hopefully only for that long. Gaoling is taking too long to comb through, and I’ve got a feeling my road leads to Omashu, at least, and I don’t want to be sidetracked for too long.) There’s a village, Linpan, that is currently being plagued, like Yomi was. It’s out in the middle of the plains, where there isn’t much of a lawful presence at all. I wonder over it’s condition, but it’s better not to concern myself too much till I get out there. 

I won’t lie, I already miss Sokka and Suki. And Yuka. I worry that I’m going to miss so much of her life. Maybe when it’s all said and done, I’ll go ahead and let Pakku set me up. Just so I can settle down. 

Who am I kidding?

Please send my love to my family. I’ll see you eventually. Be safe too, Zuko. 

Katara

***

Very funny.

You call me that again, and I won’t send you Sokka’s leftover seal jerky. 

You asked about the settlement: It’s from just prior to the war. The only real reason we’re trying to settle it is to search for the little bit that remains of the Fire Nation culture prior to the war. Most of the settlers planned for are historians. The rest are just to keep the historians afloat. I’ve tried explaining this to Kuei, but I’m beginning to wonder if his advisors are only bringing him their own narratives. 

Can I go chase bad guys with you?

This SB… she’s interesting. Her being a prisoner - that changes the dynamics in a lot of ways. And we know it’s a woman? I wish we could figure out her identity. It might help us in the long run. 

***

Pitter patter, pitter patter. 

It was an easy beat to fall into. Feet on ground, as light as the fall of the rain. Wet shale tiles were like ice in the rain. The spirit would have scaled it effortlessly. The man, instead, slipped and cursed, but managed to find his footing again. 

A chorus of yelps and hollers came from the rooftop just vacated. He ignored them and the pain shooting through his arm and shoulder. The Blue Spirit rounded the edge, jumped into an alley, slid down an old open-aired drain, and was gone. 

He had retrieved what he came for. The man behind the mask smiled victoriously.

***

So you’re headed to Linpan? If you come across anybody named Gansu, Sela or Lee,... I don’t know. Thank them from me? You might want to wait till the end of the visit to say that, though. What’s taking you out there, anyway? Last time I was there, some of the authorities were not the … friendliest. Please be careful, and don’t pick any fights.

Rather, don’t let Toph pick any fights.

When Sokka and Suki arrive, I’ll make sure to pass along your love. Have you been writing them?

Please, Katara, stay safe. This isn’t an easy quest you’ve taken on. I worry that you’re not telling me everything. 

Zuko.

***

Zuko.

Yes, I made that a sentence. 

If you’re going to self-project here, I want to be abundantly clear that I know you aren’t telling me everything. I’ll start spilling when you do.

It was a bit of insanity when I got here. Seems the Triad had just struck. Mostly snagged kids, from what I could tell, but a few women too. Went looking for that family you spoke of, but the town told me that Gansu didn’t make it back from the war. His oldest kid did, though - Sen Su. Unfortunately, Lee and Sela were a part of the ones taken.

Don’t worry, though. I think you know what happened next…

***

The wheat faded under to black and desiccated under her foot. 

Gold withered to black. Nutmeg and blood. Blue and brown. White billowed around the spectre’s feet, face. 

If there were footsteps, it was only the promise of death behind her. 

The men cowered, some of the more devout falling to their knees, lips trembling out unheard prayers. Close association with the spirits led powerful men to paranoia, a constant gaze over their shoulders.

Funny that, the spirit considered. If one kept his eyes over his shoulder, they were less likely to see the pit before them. 

Red lips curled. 

Villagers stood tall. Avenging spirits did not come for the innocent, they whispered to the children. The Painted Lady was the most righteous of them all.

But what of the Blue Spirit, the children responded. The mothers hushed them. It was improper to speak reverentially of a different spirit in the midst of an avenging one. 

With the slightest whisper of cloth, arms were raised, fingers curled like talons. The fog seemed to still, hovering. 

She rose -

She waited -

She descended.

***

Lee and Sela are back home, along with their friends. Before we left, I mentioned you. I don’t think you realize how much has changed since you left. They insisted that Toph and I stay with them another night. Lee asked if you still had your dao swords -- Zuko, you should come see them. 

This cell of the Triad isn’t going to be coming back anytime soon. I think Toph and I scared them enough that they’ll be having nightmares for at least a few months. Hopefully. I didn’t come here expecting to find anything out about the SB, but I actually did! She was in Omashu for a long time, even though she’s been moved since. I’m not quite sure where to, but I’ve got a sneaking sensation that I’ll be seeing the walls of Ba Sing Se before this is all over with. 

I’m surprised about the settlement. I can’t help but wonder if Kuei isn’t getting the full story. What can you do about it? Is there anything you can do about it?

As for being safe: I’m doing my best, Zuko. But I wouldn’t go around being high and mighty - I heard that you fended off another attempt, this time without Mai. I think you might be in more danger than me. 

Don’t let that happen again, unless I’m there, okay?

I miss you, Hotman. And … thank you. Thank you for insisting we write. It’s keeping me sane between the bouts of Toph’s snoring at night. 

I’ll see you soon, Zuko. 

Katara

***

Katara, 

How did you hear about that? I guess I forget that you write to other people too. As for your request, I’ll do my best. 

I’m glad to hear about Sela, Lee and Sen Su, but I won’t lie that it hurt to hear about Gansu. He was a very wise man, and it’s a loss to everyone who knew him. I’ll… try my best to come see them. That was an awkward time in my life, so I doubt it’ll be easy. 

It’s surprising to hear about the SB in Linpan. I’m guessing that this side quest of yours was to rout the trade routes they have. It’s just odd to find out crucial information from a little town in the middle of nowhere. Please be careful...

***

The dock rolled slowly in the surf. Bamboo mats swayed under foot. Inky darkness filled the gloom. In the black night, a devilish white grin flashed. Curled fangs snarled silently. The boat moored bumped slightly against the rafts, echoing an unearthly scrape across the soft waves. 

The phantasm stole up a plank. 

Silence long reigned in the dark. A sudden smack of skin on metal rang through the empty dock. A crash. A scuffle. A stuttering cry. 

The hatch opened without care, and a woman in practical nightwear stumbled out. In the silver of the moon’s light, the bronze at the apparition’s arms glinted, the white that lined it’s face glowed, the swords in its hands reflected like two slivers of the moon. A line of red ran down the very edge of one sword. 

It loomed over the woman, staring down coolly at her. Her mouth worked without a sound. A single blade point was shoved under her chin. She whimpered. 

“I’ll leave!” she shrieked. 

A blue face shot forward, their stance readying for action. The woman cowered even more. 

“The children, I’ll leave them here. I promise! Just don’t -- don’t hurt me!”

The black pits of emotionless eyes stared a moment longer at the woman. They nodded, pulling back and away. With the grace of many years of practice, the twin swords swirled about him, sliding into the sheath at his back. 

He stepped away, just in time to hear it. 

A loud cry echoed from the hatch. Holding a vase like a club, he brought it down on the Blue Spirit’s head. 

The dark clad figure stumbled, but only for a moment, bringing a small dagger from his boot across the man’s chest. A line of red blossomed there, only a slight wound, but the man staggered away, clutching at it. Something inhuman escaped the wraith and it rounded, something feral in their posture. 

For the first time, the Blue Spirit spoke, it’s voice like wood tumbling over stone. 

“Leave.”

The woman bolted to the side of the injured man, but turned wide gray eyes back at the Spirit. 

“Yes! We will! Forgive him his impudence!” She fell to her face, sobbing. “We’ll leave! We’ll go, and you’ll never see us again!” 

She continued to sob into the night, but the offended spirit she placated had long since disappeared.

***

Don’t make me have to come find you.

As for Kuei, I wouldn’t be surprised. We all know he has a tendency towards poor decisions in regards to advisors.

I’m trying to secure a time with him in the upcoming months. I need to make a run to Omashu myself. Bumi has got something he needs to show me, he says, but for all I know, it’ll be more gemmanite crystal in a new color. 

Maybe he’s perfected red?

Either way, he’s now going through White Lotus channels. It’s starting to frustrate Piandao, and that’s never a good thing. Who knows? Maybe we’ll cross paths there. 

(I hope we do. I’ve been missing you too.)

Zuko

***

They readied themselves on their Ostrich horses, a small pack strapped to the hind quarters of the beasts. Before them, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, sending the flat lands aglow. Katara shuffled before the ostrich horse, trying to steady herself for the rocking ride that always left her backside screaming the next morning. Toph, beside her, was a surprisingly comfortable rider, even if Katara had to lead them both, Toph’s ostrich tied to the back of her saddle. 

“Please be safe on your journeys, Miss Katara.” 

The young woman turned to the older, a smile pulling at her face. Sela handed over two packs - she could tell they were laden with food.

“Sela, please don’t. You three need the food more than Toph and I do.”

A hard look crossed her face, and the older woman’s hand did not falter. “Do not deny my hospitality, Katara.”

The look melted as the waterbender wrapped her up into a hug. “Thank you.” 

From the homestead, two young men walked out into the morning. Sen Su shook his head vigorously. “I’m pretty certain that we should be thanking you. I would have tried, but I doubt I could have gotten them back without your help.”

There hadn’t been much more to say, Katara felt, so with one more press of a hug to the family, she mounted the ostrich horse. 

“Make sure to write, okay?”

All three nodded. As she started to spur her mount, Lee shot forward, a look of concern on his face. 

“Oh! Miss Katara?” She turned a friendly smile to him, and he continued. “When - when you see the Fire Lord again, can you tell him that I’m sorry?”

“Sorry? Lee…,” Katara sighed, dismounting. She placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Lee, Zuko is one of my closest friends --” Pointedly, Katara ignored Toph’s shot of laughter. “ -- so we write each other a lot. If I know Zuko at all, he would never feel that he deserved an apology for your behaviour. If anything, he’d be the one apologizing to you.”

“Still,” the young man pressed, “can you tell him for me?”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah, Lee, I can do that.”

***

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hurt, pt. 2 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan’s confused and his guilty conscience is killing him, while Y/N gets some unsettling news.

Warnings: ANGST, talk of abortion, swearing, indicating smut

Word count: ~1700

Hurt - Series Masterlist

Ethan looked down on his clothes as he threw them in the wash. Sighing heavily, he leaned his forehead on the wall in frustration, slamming his fist into it with a guttural grunt.

"Damn it!" He let his mouth run, closing his eyes as he punched the wall once more.

Since the moment he saw Y/N collapse, Ethan had felt his mind had turned on him. The image of her frail body, the blood, the short little breaths she took in her unconscious state - it tortured him - haunted him. If he was being completely honest, she had been haunting him since he told her he wanted an out. That day, he only looked at her for a fleeting moment but it was long enough to grasp his attention and sear itself in his memory.

"Babe?" Then he heard her voice. The woman's voice usually relaxed him but instead, Ethan tensed up. He's been going slow and reluctantly ever since he and Y/N split and even he didn't understand why. He was a single man, but he still feels tied to the woman who he walked out on. He still feels he belongs to her.

"What?" Ethan didn't bother hiding his current animosity, making him regret it instantly as he saw his current girlfriend flinch at his harsh tone.

She had been an almost love Ethan left behind when he moved out to Los Angels. She had been the girl he always dreamed of. 

And then he met Y/N. The perfect girl for him. The one he saw a lifetime with.

But he decided to listen to the devil on his shoulder and looked back at his past instead of the future.

He truly thought he let go of Bianca, the beautiful sass queen he wanted as a boy. But life had set her in his path again...as his assistant, as cliche as it seems. He adored her natural, curly black hair even if it was short and usually a mess on top of her head. He loved her curves and the way they fit in his hands. And he loved her dark, chocolatey skin - every inch of it.

He tried to stay away and keep himself centered. He tried to be professional. But he lusted for her. He desperately wanted to mark every inch of her skin with his lips and he wanted her to arch under his touch. And while Y/N was waiting for him to come home, making his favorite meal even though she too had a long day at work, he was busy staring at the beauty he lost once upon a time.

And he hated himself for it.

Especially now when he wanted to enjoy the moment and be happy, but he couldn't even get himself up when he was in bed with his girlfriend. Not when all he'd see is Y/N and her teary eyes before him. Not when he heard her voice cracking in every accusation thrown his way.

He always knew he didn't deserve Y/N, but when he felt his loyalty shift, he knew he should let her go. She deserved a man who wouldn't let his eyes and mind wander.

But it didn't. Not really. Not when he was by Y/N's side. He still didn't understand that.

"I was going to ask about the blood and you going around punching walls, but forget it." Bianca rolled her eyes, turning around to leave him to his neurotic breakdown. She was beyond annoyed with the baby steps he's been taking because they've kissed so far, but she wanted more and he seemed to have trouble in that department. Even more so by the fact he still had his wedding band, hidden away in his sock drawer.

"I...damn it!" Ethan punched the wall again, aware he's not going to be at peace until he sees Y/N and confirms she's well. She isn't the type to faint. She was always strong, much stronger than he is. But if he's being completely honest, her words got to him. They gutted him. He wished to be able to ignore it and act normally after seeing her, but he was completely lost.

"Reschedule everything I have for today." He ordered Bianca as he left his...well, it wasn't just his house two months ago but since Y/N left it's become his.

While Ethan set himself on a coarse to the hospital Y/N was taken to, she sat in her bed with her eyes glued to her fidgeting hands.

Everything inside her screamed in horror just because she had that tiny piece of Ethan inside her. She hoped, she prayed she doesn't have a viable pregnancy. There wasn't a single cell in her body that accepted the news with open arms. She was going in full denial of her situation.

In the four years she spent with Ethan, two of them as a married couple, they talked about having kids after the two year mark. Since everyone said the first two years are always rocky and most couples get a divorce in that time, they decided to wait.

Who knew they would end up adding onto the statistics? Who knew the pregnancy would happen as planned without it being wanted anymore?

Snorting in disbelief, Y/N felt her eyes welling up as she was placed in front of an impossible choice. She was pro choice, always. But she also believed she'd never have an abortion if she was well off and able to care for her child.

Could she have this baby? His baby? Now when he had ruined all the good they had? Now when she was rediscovering herself - the Y/N without Ethan for he left a big gap in her life, personality even.

The thing about married couples is that they always compromise on everything in order to keep a peaceful life going. They compromise and change and adapt to fit each other's personalities better.

Without Ethan, Y/N felt herself going through an identity crisis. Without him, she couldn't find the parts of her that were there before she met him. Now that she lost him, she had to find herself.

How would she do that when she's carrying his baby?

The thought repulsed her. The thought of having to see him and his stupid face or his mistress as they are happy and she's stuck with a baby, it repulsed her. You see, the thing about men and women, it's a fact that divorced women with children are much less desirable and tend to stay single or have their relationships crumble...but men? They are sexy...DILFS. They find a replacement quickly, despite having a child.

Another thing rattles her...her baby loving his mistress...loving her more than its mother? That terrified her. After all, if the father chose someone else over her, why wouldn't the kid?

Y/N didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she wanted to end the pregnancy or not. Hell, if she kept the baby she didn't know if she'd let him know. After all, Grayson was the one who always wanted loads of kids and a marriage. That was never Ethan's style. Should have trusted him when he said that on their first date.

"Hello. You asked for a consult?" The doctor came in, his smile pleasant and wide, comforting even. His blonde, luscious hair seemed to mock her for he looked more like a movie star than a doctor. He is tall and he is bulk and the white coat didn't help her mind from remaining pure. And his accent? Fuck, she was so weak for accents!

"Y-yeah." She stammered, mentally kicking herself for having an instant crush on this blue-eyed British doctor. The blue eyes she always felt herself attracted to didn't help either. Funny how she ended up falling in love with a guy that was a complete opposite of what she used to dream about.

"Okay, so, I'm doctor Henstridge and I'm here to do an ultrasound and answer any questions you might have." He closed the blinds, pulling up a machine closer to her bed.

"Mrs. Dolan, I'm going to need you to lift your hospital gown up." The doctor chuckled at her awestruck gaze, used to it by now. It wasn't easy being a good looking doctor in a gynecology department.

"Ugh, sure. As long as you never address me as Mrs. Dolan ever again." She quipped, doing as he told. He quirked an eyebrow, nodding to acknowledge her request. She could tell he wanted to ask, but he didn't and she was grateful for it.

Applying some gel, he began his exam shortly after.

"I was wondering if I'm still allowed to...choose on what I want to do here?" She asked with hesitation in her tone, biting her lip as the sound of an ultrasound shook her.

"I have to asses when you conceived first." His response was short as he tried to concentrate, but she didn't bother listening to him. First, she knew exactly when she conceived, unable to forget the date when her whole world came crashing down. Second, the sounds she heard distracted her.

"What's that sound?" She craned her neck to see, her heart jumping with the continuously changing rhythm of a drum roll kind of a sound. It left her with a slight panic, but the doctor laughed it off.

"It's a heartbeat...three from what I hear."

Y/N leaned back as he turned the screen to her, pointing out three blobs on the screen.

"And you can see them too! Was this a natural conception?" Doctor Henstridge asked, finding it strange as well. Natural conceptions rarely end in triplets, but seeing as the patient clearly wasn't happy about her predicament, natural conception seemed to be the only plausible explanation.

She couldn't hear him though, her mind stopping as did her heart. She could hardly breathe, trying to process the whole thing before her panic came out in an outburst.

"You're telling me I'm having triplets?!"

PART 3

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[ruckystarnes]

Characters (Main): Bucky Barnes & Child!Natasha Romanoff

Rating: Bordering Teen and Mature

Warnings: experimenting, possession, demons, de-aging, occult, torment, hunting/stalking 

Words: 1,916

Square Filled/Daily Prompt/Prompt: C5: It’s not your fault

Written for/Dedicated to: @buckybarnesbingo

Summary: HYDRA experimented on Natasha, unleashing an unholy demon onto the world. Anyone who tries to stop her...it...ends up dead, because once you lay eyes on the demon, you enter in a game of tag with only one outcome. With the dwindling members of the Avengers, they devise a trap to exorcise the demon with Bucky volunteering to be the bait.

A/N: This is based on the Nightcore song Hide and Seek sung by Lizz Robinett. Since it’s Halloween season, I wanted to do something a bit horrorish with no happy ending. I will advise the song and this story are a bit unsettling. Please heed the warnings.

The sound of the doorbell made Bucky jump, sweat beading on his forehead and temples. He swallowed hard as a shaky hand turned the phone to look at the video feed, showing a little girl standing outside the front door with vivid green eyes and red hair pulled out of her face, secured with a black bow. Her light red dress, puffed out by the black petticoat, seemed almost inanimate considering it was storming outside.

“Buuuucky,” she called out in a singsong voice with a malicious smile. “Open the door. I hate waiting.” Her knuckles rapped out “Shave and a haircut” on the wooden door, innocently bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Bucky’s stomach clenched, watching the sinister looking girl he used to know as Natasha. Somehow, the woman he loved was now nine, looking like some possessed lolita murderess.

“You can’t run, Bucky,” she taunted innocently, disappearing from the camera view. “I seeee yooouuu.”

His blue eyes snapped to the window beside him to see her standing close the glass, her breath fogging the window slightly. She gave him a childlike smile that made his blood turn cold, lifeless eyes that held a hellish amusement. Once their eyes locked he could feel a pull, her lips curling upwards in a wicked grin. The look reminded him of what he had seen on the tapes.

~*~ Two Weeks Earlier ~*~

A horrific scream ripped through the silent compound, stopping Steve and Bucky in their tracks. They shared a look, worry written over both faces.

“Cap,” Clint’s voice cracked over the coms, “found Nat. You won’t believe what HYDRA planned to do to her.”

Dread washed through Bucky knowing full well that HYDRA was capable of anything when it came to experimenting and torture. He listened to Clint explain something about a lore with something called Xuos, reverse aging, and hide and seek. Nothing was define nor coherent with what Clint was reciting, the notes incomplete. Just the way HYDRA like: to keep prying eyes guessing.

“The lore and game sounds like a ruse,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes flitting through the dark room as he tried to figure out where that horrible scream came from. It didn’t sound like Natasha, but if they’re doing something to her, she might not sound like herself.

“Guys, there’s a kid here,” Sam’s voice cracked through, the coms increasing with interference. But before anyone of the guys could caution Sam, they heard a guttural scream that was cut short, followed by a childlike giggle.

“Sam,” Steve called through the coms with only silence as an answer. He repeated his name and Bucky could see fear in his friend’s eyes and the slight desperation in the way he said Sam’s name.

“I’m almost there,” Clint pants and they could hear running somewhere in the building making Steve and Bucky turn in the direction. “Jesus Chr---”

“Barton?”

Steve looked at Bucky, almost all color gone from his face as they made their way down the dark corridor only to stop outside of two swinging doors with a dim light shining underneath. They both listened, unable to hear anything coming from the room. Steve moved to peek into the cloudy window and Bucky heard his friend gasp. 

“Buck, we need to get back to the compound,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the window.

“What is it?” A part of Bucky didn’t want to know.

“We...we need to go now.”

“But the others. Steve we don’t le---”

“Now!” Steve seethed turning towards the brunet and pushed him as he whispered ‘run’.

~*~

“Buuuuuucky!”

The thing that wore Natasha's younger self was still smiling but it was now tight. It folded her tiny fists to pound on the double paned glass.

"You can't win, Bucky," it called, its voice still light and melodic. "What makes you think you can when everyone else lost?"

Bucky shuddered slightly, remembering all the broken and gored bodies that this girlish Natasha left behind. First it was Sam, then Clint. And when he and Steve ran, she...it followed. He remembered the last two weeks being filled with fear and blood. So much blood.  Barely anyone on their team was still alive. She got Steve within a day, ripping his throat out with a calm coldness that was unsettling. Scott and Hope were the ones that made Bucky sick the most. The demon stepping on both when they shrunk before forcing their bodies to morph back into their normal size, revealing the grotesque aftermath: necks snapped, arms and legs bent at odd angles, backs crushed.

Strange was the one that was helpful in figuring out what had happened to Natasha. And the thing that was controlling Natasha? It was from another dimension, a soul eating demon of sorts that likes to stalk its prey using the body of children. Xuos. Strange expected Mordo was the one to assist HYDRA in learning of this abomination, known as Xuos, inhabited a plane that was unreachable unless a sorcerer was able to unlock the three gates.

~*~ Last Week ~*~

“Are we really safe in numbers?” Tony asked with a sense of dread mixed with anger. “I feel like we are sitting ducks here, Doc. I’ve already had to watch on a camera feed of that...that...that thing, being a smaller version of Natasha, kill Happy and Rhodey.”

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look at Tony, knowing how hard that must have been. He witnessed the little terror take out Steve easily even though he fought as hard as he could. He looked around the room and the faces that were there all have seen the carnage this thing could unleash.

“The only way we can get rid of it is to send it back to where it belonged,” Strange answered evenly, but Bucky knew his patience was thin while he tried to keep the fear out of his mind. 

All of them were scared.

They have lost half their team, most of their strongest hitters. Thor, Bruce, T’Challa... It made Bucky sick as he lost himself in the horror, so when Wanda touched his shoulder he jumped, metal fist pulled back.

“It’s alright James,” she whispered, her hand squeezing his shoulder as her other covered the metal limb to lower it down.

“The notes said something about a relic, or emblem,” Carol added, pushing off the wall she was leaning against. “Bucky was able to translate most of the notes. They had to use something to bind it here. What if we destroyed that? Could it weaken it?”

Strange’s brows furrowed as he looked over the transcribed notes that Bucky worked on shortly after retrieving them from the warehouse a few days after they lost Sam and Clint. “It might, but we won’t get Natasha back. That’s something Xuos done himself and they are now one. Removing him will kill her.”

“What about killing her?” Tony rushed, “I mean, we know that she can take a wallop, but she can’t be invincible.”

“She’s already dead,” Bucky grumbled, “Have you not looked at her? She’s dead. They are just using her as a vessel. Dead things can’t be killed twice. What we do know is that you lock eyes with her, you’re next. She comments on finding the poppet and Strange said before the thing hates fire. What if…”

“No James,” Wanda interjected, her hand gripping his shoulder harshly, “you are not going…”

“My closest friends are gone Wanda. Most of our team is gone. We NEED to stop her...this thing. Besides Carol, I’m the only other one that could possibly stay ahead just enough for Strange to get this Xuos back to where it belongs.”

“It’s suicide, Barnes,” Tony sighed.

“Got a better idea?”

Carol fixed Bucky with a hard glare before resigning, nodding her head.

“Besides, if we never got separated in Munich---”

“What’s happening right now, Barnes...it’s not your fault.” Tony’s words struck Bucky. Stark was a man who held a grudge and he had against Bucky in the past. 

“Even if that’s true, I feel responsible.” 

~*~

“You know I hid the poppet when I arrived,” the little girl called out. Bucky could hear a knob jiggle somewhere in the abandoned house. He hoped the others arrived soon, as there wasn’t much to keep this little girl, who wore his ex-lover’s face, from getting to him.

Bullets only seemed to piss it off and Bucky wasn’t about to engage in a knife fight with the thing.

“Bucky, why don’t you wanna play with me? I thought you loved me?” The lithe voice was taunting him, reminding him of Natasha and it brought bile to his throat. He heard a snap followed by a creek. The demon managed to break through the wards on the house. 

“Your sorcerer isn’t any stronger than the one who brought me here,” she called out, “he was a delicious appetizer with the other men that were there. Though I would have to say that I rather enjoyed your friend, Steve, the most. His memories...how you were the last thing on his mind when I finished him. You know that’s how I find my next one. From their memories. Grievances make people weak. I can taste yours Bucky. You lost your friends, your ex-lover, and your current. You can blame Wanda for sending me to you. Steve and Wanda cared about you as much as Natasha did. Like how you had nightmares about all your victims, you like cinnamon dolce lattes, and you’re scared of the dark and storms.”

Bucky bit his tongue, not wanting to give away his spot in the small bedroom upstairs. This thing...it knew things only the people he cared about knew. He kept his weight on the support beams under the floor, moving only if he had to. What Nat-no, Xuos, didn’t know was that they had found this thing’s doll and Tony was retrieving it while Carol observed the terror he was experiencing. 

“Buuuuucky!”

God, he was starting to hate his name, and he vowed to go by Jamie after this was done...if he survived, that is. 

“You think I can’t hear you above me? Your heartbeat is giving you away, Bucky.” 

He twisted his wrist to pull up the holo to see where people were at. Tony was close and Carol made her way down from the ozone. Sure he reassured his friends that he was fine with being the bait. As long as they were able to send this demon back before he, she, it could kill anyone else.

Light footsteps made their way up the stairs and Bucky had to calm his heart, but it failed when Carol’s voice broke through the silent coms.

“Barnes, you need to get out of there.”

He shook his head. The others were two minutes out. He had to hold out for that long at least.

“Barnes, she’s right outside your door. You need to get out of there. Now.”

“I got this Air Force,” he grunted, turning his com off as he readied himself for the small redhead to come in.

“Bucky, I found you,” she sang as the doorknob turned. He could hear Tony’s jets as the room lit with the bright blue-white of his arc beams.

“Time to pay the consequence,” the demon possessed Natasha sang, the door opening to reveal the sinister smile on his ex-girlfriend’s childlike face, framed by deep red curls. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, “as long as I am the last one.”

[fairlyspnfanfic]

A New Start - Part Four

Part One   Part Two   Part Three

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My ears were ringing. A loud, high-pitched tone that wouldn’t clear inundated my head.  I blinked my eyes as they teared in response to the pain coming from the emerging bulb I could feel growing in the back of my skull.

“Ow,” I complained. I turned from the door I had reached for to see Smythe facing me, a craze in his eyes I had seen many times before.

“I said stay away from the door, Agent.” He raised his hand again and I had just enough presence of mind to notice the metallic knuckles wrapped around his hand.  Instinctively, my hand raised up and my fingers curled around his wrist, my nails digging into his flesh.  I saw the wince of pain on his face and took it as a small victory.

“Now Sean,” my tone took on a thick air of sarcasm. “It’s a very serious matter, assaulting a federal agent.” He curled his lips and revealed his teeth which were clenched shut, grinding against one another as he brought his free arm back, his fist ready and poised for a punch. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

My right leg came up swiftly, finding it’s mark in the center of his chest as I released his wrist and watched him fall back landing hard on the floor.  As my kick landed, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of the air leaving his lungs and the fabric of my skirt tearing.  I stood up straight and placed my hand on the back of my head, examining the size of the knot that was now there.  “Damnit, Smythe.  I liked that skirt.” 

Sean was pushing himself up off the floor, and his eyes were glaring at me as if they could burn straight through my body. I grabbed for my gun at the small of my back and aimed it at his head, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “Sit,” I said, stressing the word as I pointed the barrel of the gun towards the chair next to him.  I reached into the inside pocket of my blazer and grabbed the silver handcuffs that rested there and made my way over to him.

I locked one cuff around his wrist. “Hear me when I say this.” I grabbed his other wrist and pulled him to his feet as his protests of pain accompanied my words.  “You move a muscle, and I will not hesitate to shoot you. You run, I shoot.  You fight, I shoot.  You piss me off in any way, I shoot. Do you get the theme here?” He was completely silent.  I pulled him over to the decorative Ionian column that marked the path between the living and dining rooms and pulled his uncuffed arm to one side and the cuffed hand to the other.  The lock of the cuff caught as I tightened both sides around his wrists. 

“Well, no sizzling, no burning.  Silver’s not going to do it on whatever you are.”  I walked back over to the door I had been attempting to open and turned the handle.  The smell of body odor and sewage washed over me immediately, gagging me causing me to recoil for a moment before I could collect myself and press on. There was a stairway leading down into a dark and dank basement.  My feet found each step as I made my way down.  I could hear feet scurrying and hushed voices panicking as I continued my slow descent. 

“No!” Smythe screamed. I dropped my head, exasperated as I walked back towards him.  

“What part of ‘I shoot you’ was unclear?” I muttered under my breath as I raised my gun into the air and brought it down swift and hard against the side of his head.  His eyes fluttered shut as he slumped over into unconsciousness.

I looked down at my torn and now fraying skirt.  Great. The damage was irreparable.  A fissure in the fabric starting at the seam and splitting off and up my thigh, to a point that had I not been on a job at present, I would have been immensely uncomfortable. But as it was, I had work to do.

My descent down the stairway was slow and calculated as my nose was accosted by the still foul smell wafting up at me.  Gun raised, eyes alert, one step at a time.  At the base of the stairs was a light switch on the wall that I knew would be needed.  It was pitch black and no matter how I tried, my eyes failed to adjust.  I reached for my cellphone, shining its light at the floor and hoping it would be enough illumination to guide me without giving away too much.

“Hello?” a little voice peeped from across the room. “Shut up!” another small voice answered. Children’s voices?  I quickly flicked the switch, turning the lights on in the room.  It was the standard creepy unfinished basement.  Complete with exposed wooden 2x4’s and unpainted drywall forming walls to rooms that had been planned by never finished.  

“Who is she?”

“It’s not him?”

“I’m so hungry.”

“Are we safe?”

“You’re not Mr. Daddy.”

Little voices rang out as at least a dozen children starred at me, their eyes wide, terrified and seemingly starved.  I instantly recognized them.  Each from a separate poster in the files I had gone through earlier in the day.

“Oh my God.” I quickly tucked my gun back into my waistband. “You’re okay, it’s all okay now.”  I glanced around the room.  There were two large buckets in the corner with flies buzzing around them.  I didn’t need to guess at their contents after seeing the puddle surrounding one and the trail of soiled paper at the rim of the other.  These poor children.  “Let’s get you all out of here, okay?”

I walked quickly around the entire room, ensuring that each and every child there left with me. “Where are we going?” one of the boys asked.

“I’m going to take you all back to your homes.  Back where you’ll be safe.  We just have to get upstairs, okay?  I need you all to stay with me and do exactly as I say.”  They each nodded. “Stay behind me but keep following me, okay? Until I say otherwise.”  I reached back again for my gun and held it in front of me, ready to go.  We all climbed the stairs together.  Once at the top, I motioned for them to wait.

I peaked out and glanced over to make sure Smythe was still knocked out.  He still sat slumped over next to the column I’d cuffed him to. I cocked my head towards the kids but kept my eyes on him as I whispered.

“Walk quickly but quietly. We’re going out the front door so we need to go now, okay?  Keep me between you and him.  Go. Now.”

They went, their movements quick but sloppy.  They were malnourished and some of them seemed to be more fatigued than they were scared.  

The smallest of them, a young boy who looked about nine, began to lag behind, his attention focused on Smythe.

“Come on,” an older girl mouthed, tugging on his arm. I walked up behind the boy as I watched the rest of the children, all but him, step out through the doorway and onto the front stoop into safety.  Smythe was just beginning to stir.  In one swift moment, I bent down, wrapping my warm around the child and picking him up, and ran for the door as Smythe’s eyes popped open, taking in the view of his escaped captives and me, their rescuer, fleeing his home.

His guttural screams filled the house as the front door slammed behind me. I tucked my gun away again and pulled out my phone, dialing Detective Stehlen’s number.

“Stehlen here.” His voice no longer held the smarmy confidence of our first meeting.

“Stehlen, it’s Agent Stark. You’re going to need to get some ambulances and the whole team to me now.”

I gave him the address and hung up after a brief explanation of what to expect upon his arrival.  I ushered the kids as far from the house as possible just as the detective pulled up.  His brand-new black Charger with the police lights and sirens going seemed to grant the kids a bit of comfort.  He stepped out of his vehicle and his eyes went wide with shock.  “How?” he asked as I sat the boy I was still holding in the backseat.

“I looked.” I could hear the ambulance sirens coming.

“Stehlen, you’re going to take this win, do you hear me?”  His shock turned into absolute confusion.

“There’s way too much to explain.  Suffice it to say that you’re the hero on this one, okay?  I was never here.  I didn’t help.  You cracked the case.  Just you. Got it?” He answered with a slow confused nod.  “Get them all home.”

His confused nods continued as I walked away. “Stark,” he shouted.  “You’re going to have to explain this to me, you know.”  I waved him off and continued walking to my car as I listened to the children begin to tell him that the bad man was inside.  I pulled away just in time to see four ambulances pull up.

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I had gotten home just in time to change for work and put in a double shift.  I wrapped up and made my way into the apartment again about fifteen minutes before there was a knock at the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come on in, B.  Door’s unlocked.” I answered assumedly.  It was only ever one person knocking at my door at this hour.

I was wrist deep in a bowl of ground turkey, mixing in as many spices as I could to get it to make a burger that tasted like beef and not poultry.  The door clicked open behind me.

“Hey, I’m just making turkey burgers and salad for dinner quick before I head to bed.  It’s been a day.  Want to join me?”

“As propositions go, I’ve heard better lines,” a familiar voice rang out. “But what the hell. Never could say no to you, could I?”

I dropped the meat into the bowl instantly and turned around, reminding myself to breathe.  My eyes locked with his.  Still pierce-my-very-soul green.

“Dean.” I breathed out.

“We need to talk.”

Part 5