#every time i look at my hands i’m reminded of hal

[danothan]

I FINALLY HAVE GREEN CLAWS OHHH JOY IN THE WORLD!!! 💚💚💚

after months of growing them out and searching for the right polish, i finally have the nails of my dreams,,, YIPPEE!!!

[color: dnd aurora green in gel]

[house-of-slayterr]

beloved 🥺

im normally not the one to come knocking, asking for comfort, but i truly had the worst day at work today (plus, it was a late shift). may i ask for a lil comfort with hannibal or halsin? 🥺🌻

if you wanna hug me, you gotta scrape me off the floor first /j slkfjskdfj

thank you so much for just reading this. absolutely no pressure!!

i love you and i hope your day was/will be good!!

Noooo wifey, who hurt you?! I’ll eat them! I’m sorry you had a bad day at work. Sending every hug in the world, I’ll get a nice new shovel to scrape you off the floor.

Of course you can have some Halsin and Hannibal comfort 🥰

Halsin:

You come back to camp after a long stressful day hard at work. Nothing seemed to go right, and the more the day went on you just wanted to curl up into a ball and hide yourself away. The hours ticked on until the sun started to set and it was finally time to rest for the evening. Hang up your aching bones on the shelf and just become a sleepy pile of mush.

At least, that was your plan, until something, or more aptly, someone caught your attention.

“Pretty flower come look” his voice calls as he spots you.

It’s something he’s taken to calling you, your beauty reminding him of the flowers from back home. And the minute he saw that smile on your face, and the blush in your checks the first time he called you it, he knew it would stick. You were his pretty flower, and he was your handsome bear. Something so simply it seemed everyone in the world understood besides the two of you.

You saunter over to him, and he’s yet to notice your sour demeanour.

“My pretty flower, look, I’ve found the most beautiful little duckling. He’s got spots”

Halsin holds out his hand to let you see the small creature, looking even smaller in his arms.

“Very cute” you reply half hearted.

He frowns, setting the duckling on his shoulder and cups your face in his hands.

“My precious petal, what’s wrong?”

“Hard day” you shrug.

Halsins frown deepens and he bends down to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry things are hard sometimes, but you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. If anyone can handle a bad day with grace, it’s you. But would you like to know something else?”

“What’s that?” You look up at him.

“Even the strongest warriors are better together than alone. Consider my evening yours. Whatever makes you happy we shall do.”

“Halsin you don’t have to-“

“Nonsense my dear. You deserve the world on a platter, anything less I simply won’t allow. Let me spoil you rotten, with praise, and affection and a sense of adventure. Allow me to make you feel much better.”

“That’s very kind of you Hal”

You warp your arms around his torso and give him a tight squish. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as he hugs you back, before scooping you into his arms.

“Tonight I’ll treat you like a princess, and if you’ll allow me, I’d make you my queen forever.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips when he see no protest in your eyes or body language. And he pulls away smiling.

“You are my heart, pretty flower, let me fill yours with love. No more thinking tonight. You just relax while I take care of you.”

Hannibal:

Hannibal heard the sound of the door open before you even had your coat off. He takes off his reading glasses and sets them on his desk, getting up to come greet you.

“Evening my love” he says when he sees you, but his face instantly drops reading your body language. “What happened?”

“Just work stuff, it’s stupid” you try to brush off.

“Now dove” he gently grabs your chin making you look at him, “you know better than to lie to me. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours darling.”

You give a heavy sigh, it almost impossible to say no to the charming man before you. He takes your hand bringing you to come sit on the couch, his hand comfortingly stoke your thigh as he listens to you rant about your day.

You can see his jaw tense occasionally in distaste about the travesties of your day.

“I think you’re too good for that place” he admits with no shame or guilt.

Why would he, he thinks you’re one of the best people he’s ever met. Never even once has he thought about tasting you in a way other than a gentle kiss, or more passionate endeavours. But you were his sacred lamb, the one who made him better, made him want to be better. If anyone made you sad they were sure to be added to the menu. Not that he’d ever force you to eat it, but he’ll surely enjoy his meal.

“That’s sounds quite unfortunate little lamb. I’m terrible sorry you’ve suffered so today. Let me make it up to you. Dinner and a nice glass of wine, then after a massage and I’ll draw you a warm bath. How does that sound?”

“Amazing” you admit, looking at him softly. “You’re absolutely amazing”

You give him a quick peck on the cheek, earning you a rare laugh from the stoic dr.

“It is you who is amazing my love. You bring joy and meaning to so many lives around you. And if they don’t notice your hard work, I certainly do. The world will see your value as I do someday my darling. But until then I will offer you the praise they so thoughtlessly lack”

He kisses you back gently, a proper kiss this time. One that can show you his feelings. One that leaves you feeling worshiped.

“Let me pamper you my little lamb. Maybe perhaps I’ll even watch one of those shows you enjoy, if you behave for me and don’t lift a finger to help with dinner or the washing up. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He smiles at you, whisking you away to be pampered for the night. Figuring his work can wait until later. He cooks you a magnificent feast of all your favourites. Even if he wouldn’t typically approve of them in his diet. He whispers sweet nothings and small praise to you as he gives the massage, making sure you understand just how important and loved you are.

Him joining you in the bath is up to you, he wouldn’t mind either way, just pleased that you needed him for comfort and happy to take care of your burdens. You end up falling asleep one his chest with your comfort show on as he plays with your hair. Hoping your dreams will drive away any stress left in your body so you’re up to spirits in the morning.

An: ahhh sorry if this is bad beloved, I was making dinner and writing at the same time and just wanted to get it to you quick, so it’s not proof read at all 😅 but I hope you like it, I really tried. Still getting back into writing so I’m not as confident about it right now.

[train-wrecc]

Here For You

Marcus Baker x female!reader

word count: 4.5k 

warnings!: mentions of depression, anxiety, a panic attack, i think that’s all…

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n knew Marcus could struggle with his depression and anxiety at times, so she tried her best to be there for him, whenever he needed her, she was right there.

She was always trying to remind him all the time of the love she had for him. To support him in his darkest times. 

From the simple things, like cuddling him until he finally felt something, to cooking him something and making sure he ate every last bite no matter how long it took him. She was there when the world just felt like too much for him. 

Marcus stared off into space, seemingly out of it. Y/n had been talking to the boy, he could see her lips forming the words, but couldn’t hear what they produced. All of a sudden it’s like every person walking past the pair had their eyes glued to him, staring at him. The murmuring of students talking amongst themselves somehow seemed to get louder. The squeaking of their beat-up sneakers meeting the shiny linoleum floor sounded at max volume. It’s as if all at once he was hearing everything and nothing at all. His heart seemed to ache, and clench, his throat feeling as if it was closing up, losing his ability to breathe in oxygen. His eyes clamped shut, hands flying to his ears trying to stop the loud chaotic noises which flowed through them. He took in deep gasps of air trying to regulate his breathing. “One, two, three, four, five.” He murmured, his face stuffed into his legs which he’d pulled toward his chest. 

“What’d you say?” Y/n turned to the boy, she had been ranting about family problems, as she looked into the distance. 

Her eyes were met with the boy huddled, panic radiating off of him in waves. How could she have not noticed he had been having a panic attack? “Oh god, Marcus, hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, look at me bub, okay?” She told him, her hands lifting his head to face her. Tears welled up in the boy's eyes, as he silently wished he could just disappear, as he continued to take deep shaky breaths in, the more he tried to regulate his breathing the more erratic his heartbeat got. 

Y/n brought her hands to Marcus' face, gently caressing his jaw in soothing circular motions. “Focus on me honey, everything’s gonna be okay.” She said calmly, nodding her head to him.  She gently grasped his hand, placing his hand against her wrist, “Squeeze my wrist, feel my heartbeat..” Her other hand moved to clasp the back of his neck. 

Marcus's breathing had somewhat slowed, however, it was still beating quite fast, “Bub, I want you to tell me five things you can see, okay?” 

The boy nodded quickly, “The- the lockers…, my-my shoes, that b-blue recycling bin, an old book …- on the floor, a p-poster.” He took a deep breath, stuttering out his answers, continually trying to calm himself.

“Good, okay, you’re doing great baby, now tell me four things you can feel,” She said his hand now being held in one of hers.

“I c-can feel the cold AC, the hard brick wall b-behind me, y-your… h-hand in mine, the material of m-my hoo-... hoodie.” He let out.

“I’m so proud of you, you’re amazing bub,” She responded placing a kiss on his hand, “Now give me 3 things you can hear, okay,” 

He inhaled a deep breath, before exhaling, “A locker being s-shut, laughing, and… m-music.”

“Good, you’re doing even better baby, now 2 things you can smell, okay,”

“Y-your perfume, and oranges…” He says, letting out a deep sigh.

“Now, 1 thing you can taste,”

“I can’t taste shit right now, Y/n/n” he lets out a laugh, burying his head into the crook of her neck. 

“Alright, alright,” She giggled, running her hands through his brown strands of hair.

Marcus let out another deep sigh, continuing to nuzzle his face deep into his girlfriend’s neck, taking in the scent of her comforting perfume, his breathing much less erratic. 

“Better?”

“Yeah..” He whispers, voice shaky still. 

The bell rang as the couple sat in the hall still, wrapped in their own little bubble, Y/n trying to protect Marcus from the world.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

However, it had come to the point where Y/n’s sole focus was Marcus and nothing else. Not herself, not her school work. She was so deeply in love with the boy, she’d truly do anything for him.

These past few weeks had been especially hard on both, Y/n and Marcus. It was the 1 year anniversary of Marcus's best friend's death. 

Marcus laid in bed most days, not having been to school for more than a week. Something as simple as brushing his teeth seemed to be too difficult of a task to do.

He felt completely and utterly alone no matter how much Y/n tried to hug him so tightly he’d feel her immense love for him.

Y/n hadn’t been feeling the best either, to be honest. Trying to be positive for Marcus all the time was draining her. Seeing him so depressed and lacking motivation seemed to be taking quite a toll on her, leaving her feeling useless, not being able to help her boyfriend, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

Most days she spent twisting and turning all night, exhausted but unable to sleep. Her mornings consisted of drinking coffee to give her some form of energy throughout the day and covering her under-eye bags with hefty amounts of concealer. 

Y/n sat at the lunch table, barely able to keep her eyes open. Continuously shutting them, then having to practically pry them open, “You alright, Y/n/n?” Abby questioned the girl which looked anything but alright.

“M’fine,” She responded, plastering a false smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Abby nodded in response, obviously not believing the girl. 

“How’s Marcus been doing?” The redhead decided to ask. 

“Not so good, I just wish there was something I could do to help him. It’s the worst he’s been in a while, and I try and try, but nothing seems to help,” She shakes her head in disappointment at herself.

“Maybe he just needs some space to heal on his own…?” 

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care about him anymore or, or worse, that I’ve stopped loving him because of some mental illness.” 

Abby nodded, saying nothing more, and just being there for her friend.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

By the end of the school day, Y/n wasn’t feeling too well but decided she’d stop by Bluefarm and get Marcus his favorite dish from the restaurant in another feeble attempt at trying to somewhat cheer the boy up, or at least motivate him to sit up and eat, he was skinny already, and had been getting thinner as the days went on.

Y/n opened the front door to the Baker household and walked in. She and Marcus had been dating for a little over a year, and most days she was at his house, which was basically a second home to her. 

Ellen had even given her a key. Y/n entered the house and is met with Max sprawled out on the couch in the living room, scrolling on her phone. 

“Hey, Max, any changes?”

“Nope, nada, zilch.” 

“I even offered to show him my old cringy TikTok’s. He didn’t even respond!” She shrugged.

She silently nodded, turning and rolling her eyes at the girl, like cringy TikTok’s were gonna magically cure her twin brother's crippling depression. At times Y/n felt bad for Marcus, him having to take the backseat all the time due to his sister always having to be the center of attention.

The girl made her way upstairs to check on Marcus. Walking in she was met with his mess of a room, and him lying in bed which had become his permanent spot as of recently.

“Hey bub, I brought you your favorite!” Y/n cheerily told the boy, slightly wiggling the bag at him.

The boy’s worn-out brown eyes burned into the wall behind her. The only response she received was him turning to face the opposite side of his bed, away from Y/n. She let out a quiet sigh, setting the food down on Marcus's side table. Her eyes glanced over the mess of the room, figuring she might as well try and clean up his room a little while she was there. 

Y/n began grabbing the clothes that were haphazardly thrown around the room, and placing them in the hamper. After she began grabbing all the trash in the room, which ranged from old soda cans to bags of chips which she didn’t even want to know how long they’d been there for. The trash made a noise as they fell into the trashcan causing Marcus to turn and look at what his girlfriend was doing. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned in a monotone voice, almost sounding like a statement rather than a question.

Y/n looked up, a smile growing on her face at the boy speaking. “Trying to tidy up your room for you, Y’know maybe it'll make you feel a little better, being in a clean space-” 

“Can you just not, Y/n… I don’t need you to clean my room for me, okay?” The girl silently nodded at the boy who seemed to be a little upset at her for trying to help him. 

“Did you hear when I said I got you Bluefarm?”

“Yes, I heard you the first time Y/n, I’m not deaf like my dad.” The boy said with a bite to his tone, even mustering the ability to roll his eyes at her. Marcus wasn’t exactly sure as to why he was acting like such a dick. Maybe it had to do with Y/n always being there, he didn’t have any space for himself. No time to deal with his depression by himself, and people always crowding him, pushing themselves onto him. He just needed time. It especially irritated him when Y/n did things like this, doing everything for him. He felt like a fucking useless baby. 

“Okay,” Y/n murmured quietly, pursing her lips.

“Well, uh, do you want me to get anything for you, water? Or-” 

“No, can you just stop Y/n, I- I don’t want your help okay? I’m not a fucking useless child, stop treating me like one. God, if I wanted you here, I would’ve texted you, okay? If -if I had wanted to talk to someone I would’ve called my fucking therapist, so can you just leave, okay, I don’t want you here. I just wanna be by myself for a little, but clearly, that’s too fucking much to ask of you.” He angrily spat at the girl. 

Y/n’s eyes widened more and more at each sentence that left the boy's mouth. She nodded, not knowing what to say. She turned before he could see the tears forming in her eyes, quickly running down the stairs and out of the house, without uttering a word to anyone. 

She slammed the door to her car, and it was as if it was a dam breaking. The salty tears streamed down her face, warming her cheeks. All she had wanted was to be there for him, help him. But he clearly didn’t want her help. She had gotten that now.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n woke up the next morning her eyes swollen, and aching. She laid in bed, not going to school that day. She didn’t feel like dealing with anyone today. The night before she had come home a mess, still crying silently. Her parents immediately knew something had happened with Marcus, Y/n rarely cried like this, they had given her space and told her she could stay home for the next few days if she wanted. 

She let out a sigh, Marcus's words from last night still on repeat in her brain. She got up, slapping some water on her face, before going downstairs to her kitchen, wrapped up in the warmth of her comforter. She grabbed a pint of her favorite ice cream before settling on the couch in the living room, creating a nest for herself. She turned the TV on to watch Scooby-Doo in an attempt to take her mind off things. 

She had gotten a couple of texts from Abby, all asking why she wasn’t at school or where she was, however, she couldn’t be bothered to respond, shutting her phone off.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n hadn’t been to school or visited Marcus in a few days, leaving Marcus to feel guilty for saying the cruel things he had. He did need space, but he shouldn’t have told her it the way he did. The space had left him missing Y/n, but it also made him realize how dependent he was on her, and her on him. After the weeks he’d spent bathing in this deep depression he finally felt a little better. His mind felt somewhat clear now, not as lost and muddled as before. He got up and took a shower, the first shower in a few days which he was sort of ashamed of. The shower was good for him, helping him feel better. He changed his bedsheets, before returning to his bed. He had gotten up, and showered, he figured that was more than enough progress in a day than he had made in a while. 

His phone dinged with a message from Abby, which read, “Hey, has Y/n been to visit you? She hasn’t been to school in a couple of days now. She’s not responding to my texts… whenever I go over her parents always tell me she’s sleeping. I’m worried about her.” 

Marcus wasn’t sure how to respond to the message, clearly, this had something to do with him going off on Y/n. “No, I kind of went off on her a few days ago. I didn’t mean to, I was just frustrated and took it out on her.” He typed.

Another text came in, “After everything she’s done for you, Marcus? Really? God, guys are so dumb. Did you apologize?”

“No… I know I need to but I just needed some space…” He sent.

“Well, now you’ve got it, huh.”

Abby was right, he was dumb. 

Marcus sighed, he knew he had to go apologize to Y/n however he just couldn’t bring himself to get out of his bed again. He had decided he’d go the next day and make things right.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Marcus had done it. He was out of his bed and stood on the steps of Y/n’s house. It was around the middle of the day, and he could see her parent’s cars were nowhere in sight, meaning Y/n was the only one home.

He rang the doorbell, expecting to hear footsteps, something, however, he was met with silence. He stood there for a few seconds, reaching up to ring the doorbell once again. And once again, silence. So, he rang the doorbell, again, again, again, and again. He knew Y/n was stubborn but so was he, and he wouldn’t leave until she at least answered the door. 

He heard feet stomping toward the door, finally, he thought. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” The girl practically ripped the door from its hinges, her voice dripping in anger and annoyance. When her eyes met his her eyes widened as did his. His beautiful girlfriend stood wrapped in a blanket, her hair a mess atop her head and eyes bloodshot red, lips chapped. The girl attempted to slam the door on him, but he stopped it with his foot in between the door and the frame.

“Bub, please.” He pleaded.

“You wanted space Marcus, I’m giving you space.” She responded, her voice slightly raspy. She pushed his foot out, closing the door, and trotted off angrily. Y/n knew technically she had no right to be angry at Marcus, but it was either that or feeling bad for herself, and she had enough of the latter. He wanted space, so he was gonna get it and maybe it’d be good for her as well.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n had returned to school the day after, she hated getting behind on work. Marcus wasn’t anywhere to be seen. However, Y/n was surprised to see him at school the following day, immediately darting off in the opposite way of his direction. She ignored him like the plague.

Marcus had had enough space it had been almost a week of Y/n ignoring Marcus. He had tried everything to try and catch her at school to talk, but she always somehow managed to slip away from him. He figured she had needed space as well so he respected that, but he was tired of this. 

Marcus once again stood outside of Y/n’s house, this time he had a different approach, an approach he was quite used to using. The window, it never failed him. He had successfully climbed the tree by her window, attempting to pull the window. Which listened, being pulled up. Success, he thought. He stumbled into the girl's room, once a common occurrence. 

The girl looked up hearing the crash of something, pulling one of her headphones out, as she glanced up quickly before returning to her homework. Wait a minute- she looked up again, Marcus. 

A sigh escaped her lips, returning her headphone to her ear. Just ignore him, give him space, she thought to herself.

“Y/n please, are you seriously going to ignore me, when I’m standing right in front of you, talking to you.”

Silence.

He walked to her bed, and sat in front of her, as she continued to work on her homework. Reaching up to her ear, he pulled one of her earbuds out. 

“Marcus, stop it.” 

“Come on y/n/n, can we just talk, please.” He said, gesticulating as he spoke.

She snatched her earbud from him as he spoke, placing it back in her ear. 

“Are you serious right now?” He questioned.

Her eyes remained glued to her homework. This time he grabbed both of the earbuds, shoving them into his pocket. 

“Marcus, seriously, you’re beginning to piss me off.” She muttered through clenched teeth.

“Good at least I can get something out of you other than silence.” He replied. 

“Get out. I want you to leave.” Marcus sat there for a second, “Now, Marcus.” Her tone became slightly higher in pitch as she got angrier by the second. 

“Y/n-”

“I’m trying to give you the space you so desperately want Marcus.” She said, getting up and marching toward her bedroom door. 

“I’m-” 

“Marcus, leave before I shove you out the fucking window, or worse get my dad.” The words flew from her mouth harshly. 

He swallowed as she gripped the door knob. His eyebrows pulled together, unsure of what to do. 

“Pease, y/n/n,”

She turned to open the door, but before she could leave he pulled her against him, and into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He whispered to her.  

Y/n froze for a second, missing the feeling of his arms around her, but she broke out of those thoughts, shoving him off of her, “You don’t want to leave fine then, I’ll leave,” She said. She hastily made her way downstairs, Marcus, following behind her, no longer caring if her dad saw him. She walked past her parents in the living room, sliding her slippers on that were strewn by the front door, beginning to walk out and onto the driveway. It must’ve begun sprinkling while they had been in Y/n’s room, feeling small droplets falling on their skin.

“Y/n, where are you going!” 

“Away from you Marcus! Did it occur to you that maybe you’re not the only one who needs space!” She said walking into the street, she wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew it was away from him. The boy that had hurt her deeply, after she tried and tried to help him. After she put him and his needs, and wants, before her very own. 

As she stomped away from the boy, rain began to pelt down harder. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay! I’m an asshole! I don’t know what more you want from me!” He shouted over the rain.”That’s the problem, Marcus!” She shouted back, wiping her wet hair away from and out of her face. Marcus gazed at the girl, his eyebrows drawn in confusion.

“I- I love you, Marcus, so much!” She continued to yell over the rain, “I do everything and anything you want, to make you happy, to help you! But it’s like, you don’t even notice it, you don’t appreciate it! And fine, that’s okay, I can accept that because I love you! You ask for space, I give you space! I want space, and you can’t respect that! You- you climb through my window and invade my space! I would never speak to you again, Marcus, if that’s what you wanted, no matter how much it would pain me to do, I’d do it! I just- sometimes I think I love you too much for my own good! I love you more than I love myself! But, I don’t care! I just- I want to know that you love me, as much as I love you! That you truly missed me, my presence! Because, sometimes it feels like you don’t, Marcus!” She sniffled, her tears mixing with the rain, the pair shivering in the cold of the rain. 

Marcus remained quiet as he took in his girlfriend's words.

“I-” Y/n’s voice was shaky and raspy, “I know you struggle with your depression and anxiety, and I know that I’ll never know what that’s like, and If I could I would take all that away, so you wouldn’t have to go through all that, Marcus! Believe me, I would do it, in a heartbeat, but I can’t.. So I’m here! Here when you need me! Here when you want me! Here when you don’t need me! It’s draining, Marcus! I’m- I’m so tired! This most recent state of yours, I couldn’t sleep because I was so worried about you! Because I always put myself before you! And it’s not your fault, I don’t want you to think that this is on you or your depression, because it’s not, it’s me! I can’t stop loving you! I- I can’t stop needing you! I can’t stop being there for you! I don’t even know who I am without you! I’m- I’m nothing… without you!” Y/n sobbed, her hands clasped against her head, frustrated with herself, teeth beginning to chatter.

Marcus couldn’t tell if the droplets on his face, were from tears or the rain, or both.

“Maybe, maybe, we’re not meant to be together Marcus, because this… it’s not healthy. I didn’t want to admit it but… I depend on you too much. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last before I fall asleep. You deserve someone, someone who’s not so clingy. Someone who can truly help you through your depression, who can help you stay afloat. Someone better than me.” Y/n spoke, her throat beginning to ache from all the shouting over the rain. 

Marcus walked toward the girl, grasping her face in his hands, “I love you, Y/n. I love you with every fiber in my being, I- I would do anything for you, trust me. You don’t know how much you mean to me. And I’m- I’m so sorry I never showed you how much you mean to me, how much I appreciate you. I- I depend on you maybe even more than you depend on me because you’re right. You’re always there for me, and I love you so much for that. You hear me Y/n, I love you, so fucking much, and I’d be lost without you. I’m sorry I didn’t notice how exhausted you’ve been. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I’m sorry for not showing you how much I appreciate you, love you, missed you. You’re the one who deserves so much more Y/n. Because you are more than enough for me, you could have had any guy you wanted, but you chose me. I’m so grateful for that, and I’ll start showing you more, I promise.” He said caressing her face in his hands, as she sniffled.

“I love you, Y/n, and I swear to god, if you give me another chance, I’ll do better, I promise. Please, please don’t give up on us.” His voice broke, “ I know we may not have the most healthy relationship, but I don’t care. I love you, you love me, that’s all that matters. We can fix this, and continue to grow together and separately and still be together, please bub. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that, I will never, never do that again. I’ll talk to you more about how I’m feeling, I’ll start seeing my therapist more often, I’ll do anything.” Marcus cried as the rain continued to pour down.

Y/n nodded, sniffles still coming from the girl. 

Marcus pulled her into a tight hug, almost squeezing the life out of her, Y/n returning the tight embrace, clinging to him. Tears silently streamed down both their faces. The pair stood in silence under the rain which had slowed to a light drizzle. Marcus pulled away from the embrace after a few minutes. He gazed into Y/n’s eyes, which he loved so much and that returned the same fond gaze before pulling her into a kiss. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d kissed, let alone a kiss like this one filled with love and fervor. As the couple pulled away from the kiss gently, eyes catching a rainbow in the distance.

“I love you, Marcus Baker.” Y/n sniffled.

“I love you more, Y/n Y/l/n.” He grinned at the girl in his arms.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N- I don’t really know how to feel about this… but anyways I probably didn’t depict depression properly because I don’t know what it’s like. But I hope I did somewhat okay? Also that anxiety thing, I just know that wouldn’t do shit for me. When I have panic attacks they just gotta happen and somehow I just eventually calm down, idk 😂

I don’t know why the ending keeps getting like cut off by tumblr somehow 😭

[sslloowwbbuurrnn]

Summer Reading #1: The Perfection of Yoga by His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda

   My hot girl summer reading pile is off to a slow but steady start. I’m on holiday for a fortnight, which is the perfect opportunity for me to read this pile of books I’ve been growing all year, and I’m gonna blog about it cos I can. Welcome.

   I am currently slowly reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, to be consumed one bite at a time. Will keep this one going alongside the others which I will zoom through, and it’s full of tasty nuggets of wisdom that I’ll share as I go. Comparable (from my perspective) to reading the Biblical book of Proverbs. Other texts that I’m chipping through include the Secular Buddhism podcast by Noah Rasheta, and I’m about to dig into Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson. I’ve recently listened to an interview with her which covered the basic concepts, so it’s fresh in my brain. These are worth mentioning from the get go as they’re all pretty philosophical and certainly influencing the lens through which I read these other books, and for my own purposes I want to share bits and pieces from these as I digest them. I’m consuming these texts and observing how they alter my perspective as they sink into my brain. It reminds me of an excerpt from Listening, a R.A.P. Ferreira track with a spoken sample from jazz pianist Hal Galper:

“You have to be listening 28 hours a day. One of the things I count on in my teaching is that everyone has been listening, so that once I make a point, the ring of truth occurs. They say, "Oh, I've heard that," or, "I've felt that”.”

   He might be speaking on music theory, but it resonates with me as I learn new concepts and then come to understand them as they become relevant in my life. I’m excited for this collection of books. It’s also my personal project as I spend this fortnight alone with my parents and after a very busy start to the new year - I’m gonna return home all wise and enlightened and shit.    Noah Rasheta shares a quote from the Dalai Lama at the beginning of each podcast episode which I feel is relevant too:

“Do not try to use what you learn from Buddhism to be a better Buddhist, use it to be a better whatever you already are.”

   I like this as it reflects my attitude while reading the books that I am. I was wrapped up in the harmful control of Christianity for most of my life so I’m not really interested in rushing into another religion, but I am curious and seeking self improvement, and I’m excited that my learnings don’t need to fit within some kind of box. My mind is more malleable than it used to be, and I am open to whatever advice is going to help me become a more empathetic and caring member of this human community. I’m inspired to write too as it will help me remember what I learn; it’s fun to look back on my journaling and writing; and my partner is a passionate writer and it has re-awoken that in me a little. It’s a purely self-serving project but I hope other people enjoy my musings too. So without further ado, let’s jump in the deep end and criticise a religious text.

   Today I finished The Perfection of Yoga by His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda. It’s a very short book, elaborating on concepts around yoga and excerpts from the Bhagavad-gitā, which I received for free from some Hare Krishnas at some point. Have been looking forward to reading it as I love yoga and I wanted to understand more about its cultural background, but as it turns out that is not really what the book is about at all. I didn’t learn anything about the practice of yoga as I understand it, but I certainly understand the Hare Krishna religious practice more than I did.    As a brief preface, my previous experiences with the Hare Krishnas include great food and bumping into annoying airheads on Cuba St. At every interaction they’ve really buttered me up and tried to win me over. The funniest interaction was one handing me a copy of the Bhagavad-gitā on the street as a “gift”, but as I walked away they were like “oh sorry, that’s $10”. I tried to return the book then, telling them I’m a poor student and I have no cash. They pulled out an eftpos machine. I can’t remember if it was this interaction or another one, but I also tried to decline the book due to religious differences as I was a Christian at the time. But then they went on about how much they love Christians and think we’re kind and wonderful. One way or another I was too spineless and ended up buying a copy of the Bhagavad-gitā. I tried to read it but as it was worshipping another god in the text, I put it down as it didn’t fit with my beliefs. Years later I grabbed this mini one on yoga.    The other context I had going into reading this was that my partner recently told me about his brief time being involved with them years ago. While he felt the food and chanting was good and elements of their beliefs, he concluded the Hare Krishna movement served mostly as a way to scoop up the hippies of the 60s, and that it is taking advantage of young, directionless people, and separating them from their relationships and personal interests in a cult-like manner. After reading The Perfection of Yoga, I can understand why he came to that conclusion.    The author Prabhupāda explains that the only way to achieve the perfection of yoga is by 24/7 thinking of Krsna (moving into Krishna Consciousness) and essentially shutting yourself off to material desires, striving only for spiritual desires and Krsna. You should only eat enough to live, sleep 6 hours a night, and ideally live in complete isolation. Everything you do must be dedicated to Krsna. Enjoying food is one of these material desires (aka sinful, worldly pleasures), so if you prepare something tasty it should only be done for Krsna as an offering, and in Krsna’s mercy he will allow you to eat it. Sex is permitted as well, but all these things are seen as necessary chores to keep your earthly vessel alive. Celibacy is encouraged and if you choose this, sitting alone with even your mother, sister, or daughter is a risk that should be avoided. You should remove material temptations from your life as much as possible. What’s really important is your soul, and time on earth is seen as temporary and your body is not your true self. Your life on earth should ideally be spent only seeking Krsna so that when your body dies your soul can either reach their version of a heaven, (which is again Krishna Consciousness I believe), or if you don’t achieve perfection you will return to earth in a new body to pick up where you left off.    There are numerous other conditions one should adhere to which really shocked me, but it can be summarised as living in absolute disconnection from the world, no attachment to anything material/physical (the “illusion”), and whole dedication to the spiritual through Krishna Consciousness (the “reality”). This all reads to me as control and manipulation, encouraging ill health, eating disorders, inviting sexual and other abuse, cult behaviour, and creating a group of people ready to be inducted straight into Nazi-dom. The use of the words “pure” and “perfection” throughout this text are alarming, and to achieve this perfection is realistically unattainable. It also provides an alluring escapism from dealing with anything going on earth. The text actively encourages isolation - even if they have a family, some Indian devotees will leave their wife and children at age 40 or 50 (I can’t recall exactly and I can’t find the passage) and go to live in isolation and spend the rest of their earthly life seeking Krsna. To me this lifestyle just produces airhead zombies, and another flavour of hippies who lean dangerously close to Nazi ideology and use their beliefs as an excuse to disengage from any responsibilities as a society dweller.    It’s worth acknowledging that the Hare Krishna belief system is not the only one that encourages this isolation from society, I think there’s a version of this ideology present in most religions, whether god-ordained or skewed by followers to suit their wants. The world is a pretty overwhelming place so it’s understandable why this lifestyle is appealing to people. But even so, I’m shocked by the extremity of theses parameters outlined in this book.    The Perfection of Yoga was a short, interesting read, and definitely not what I was expecting at all. But I’m glad I read it, was more accessible for me than the Bhagavad-gitā, and it feels good to learn about other religions. I’ve spent most of my life as a Christian and never learning a thing about other religions, despite being vehemently opposed to them. Now I can wholeheartedly dislike the Hare Krishna movement and back it up. And I’ve gained an appetite to learn more, particularly about the harm caused by this movement, their complex ideas around reincarnation, and personally George Harrison’s album “All Things Must Pass”. If this movement really picked up momentum in the west around the 60s/70s, having ex-Beatle George Harrison releasing a whole ass chart-topping mainstream album worshiping Krishna must’ve really helped their cause.

   Next on my reading list is Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake, a book all about fungi, and Jesus and John Wayne by Kristin Kobes De Mez, which is about how American white nationalism has steered western Christianity into the Trump loving beast it is today. Gonna read these in tandem since they’re quite a contrast, and neither are the kind that I want to race through without having a good chew.

   I’d close with an excerpt from today’s book, except I don’t think there was actually a single passage that I really liked or agreed with... So I’ll close with something from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations instead:

“Men seek retreats for themselves - in the country, by the sea, in the hills - and you yourself are particularly prone to this yearning. But all this is quite unphilosophic, when it is open to you, at any time you want, to retreat into yourself. No retreat offers someone more quiet and relaxation than that into his own mind, especially if he can dip into thoughts there which put him at immediate and complete ease: and by ease I simply mean a well-ordered life. So constantly give yourself this retreat, and renew yourself. The doctrines you will visit there should be few and fundamental, sufficient at one meeting to wash away all your pain and send you back free of resentment at what you must rejoin.”

[navybrat817]

A Proper Welcome

Pairing: Mechanic Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader x Carpenter Alpha!Hal Carter Summary: You want to be more than your secondary gender, even with your heat around the corner. Lucky for you, Bucky and Hal are understanding alphas. Word Count: Almost 4k Warnings: Talk of explicit sexual content, a/b/o dynamics, stubborn reader (is that a warning?), Alpha!Bucky and Alpha!Hal (they are warnings, okay?), future smut.

A/N: This is a continuation of The Start of Something New, lovelies! I adore a/b/o and I'm excited to share this particular reader and relationship as it unfolds. @book-dragon-13​ , thank you for continuing to be an inspiration for this AU. Beta read by the amazing @christywantspizza​ , but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Moodboard created by yours truly. Divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics​ and banners by the lovely @its-just-may​ . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog​ for new fics and updates and reblog or comment if you feel inclined. Thank you for reading!

“I can’t stand being an omega,” you thought when your alarm went off. Moaning, the images of your recent dream filled your mind. You didn’t need to open your eyes to feel how drenched your sheets were. Why couldn’t you control your slick in your sleep?

Warm, strong hands gripped your waist as your soaked hole took in Bucky’s cock. “Gonna look so pretty on my knot, omega.”

A pair of lips pressed to yours eagerly, covering up your obscene moan. “Desperate for it already?” Hal asked, biting your bottom lip. “Don’t worry. You’ll get both of us.”

It wasn’t the first time you dreamt of your handsome, kind neighbors. In fact, you dreamt of them almost every night since you met. And your nighttime fantasies seemed to be getting stronger with each day that passed. It was easy to blame it on your upcoming heat, but something about Bucky and Hal called to you.

Nope. Don't think like that.

At first, you thought they were nice because you were an omega living on your own, but they admired your independence. Or at least what you called being independent. They knew you wanted to prove to your family that you were more than your biology. Your parents were already worried enough, but you reminded them that you lived in a nice neighborhood, and you had your protective collars. No alpha was going to make you submit without your consent.

That would be your choice when and if it happened.

Being semi-independent didn’t stop Hal from bringing you your favorite breakfast now and then. “Just thought you might be hungry and now you don’t have to cook.”

And you couldn’t refuse Bucky’s help when your car refused to start last week. “We’re neighbors and neighbors help each other.”

It also didn’t help that you spent some of your free time with them. So much for being semi-independent. Hal loved showing you his latest projects, like the crib he made for a couple down the street, when he wasn’t trying to convince you to dance with him. Bucky surprised you with his interest in science, his shelves lined with books, and old films. And both gave solid tips for maintaining your garden.

Your alphas were slowly working their way into your life… and heart.

Get it together.

You sat up and pushed the thought from your mind. They weren’t your alphas. They were simply alphas who happened to look out for you, even while they drove you crazy. Hal had no right to look so charming whenever you saw him carry a stack of wood through his yard. And how did Bucky manage to look both brooding and sweet when he worked on his bike?

You felt a little lightheaded as you made your way to the shower. Even though the water was cool, your skin felt warm to the touch. It worried you a bit since you didn’t feel sick. Was your heat coming early? You were meticulous when it came to tracking and planning and already knew it was too soon, if that was the case.

I could ask them to help me.

You dried off and quickly picked out an outfit. You never asked an alpha to help you through a heat before. If it came down to it and you wanted their company, you were certain they would accept your offer. You didn’t see them bring anyone over to their homes. Not that you paid attention to who they dated because they weren’t your alphas. You weren’t their omega.

I have toys. I don’t need them.

Picking out your collar, you carefully put it around your neck and locked it into place. The stylish “accessory” was a blessing to omegas. It covered where alphas could mark you and they couldn’t just rip it since only the wearer’s specific fingerprint and pattern to the back sensor released it.

Looking at your reflection, the collar almost felt itchy, a bit too tight. It never bothered you before. You ignored that feeling as you pulled the sheets from your bed and tossed them into the hamper. Thankfully, you had plenty of spare linens. You almost wanted to tease your neighbors that you should start charging them for extra laundry, but then you’d have to admit that they were on your mind.

It hit you in the chest as you fluffed the pillows how empty your bed looked. The only scent there was yours. You had to admit that it was a lonely feeling. You could even hear your mother's voice in your mind: What if another alpha breaks in and finds an unmated omega?

You could swallow your pride and ask for shirts. It would leave enough of their scents there and, hopefully, scare off anyone who sniffed around. It would appease your mom if she asked and it would help you in general. Neighbors help each other.

As if on cue, the very alphas you both wanted to see and avoid were on the sidewalk when you stepped outside a few minutes later. They stood close together as you silently observed them. Hal gestured with his hand as he told Bucky something, who merely nodded in response as he sipped his coffee. Their scents drifted to you and almost knocked you off your feet.

Damn secondary gender and body chemistry. You were more than that. You didn’t need to simper over these men! But why did they have to be so handsome? Hal’s flannel shirt looked so warm and cozy and Bucky’s Henley looked comfortable enough to sleep in.

Perfect for your nest.

Oh, fuck.

“Howdy, neighbor!” Hal called out cheerfully as you stepped off your porch, snapping you out of your thoughts. His smile lit up his entire face and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was tough not to feel a little cheerful around the bright alpha. It was a good contrast to Bucky’s tall, broad and commanding presence. “We still on for dinner tonight?

“Morning. And yeah, if you guys still want to.”

“You kidding?” Hal smiled, rubbing his stomach. You had, on more than one occasion, seen the washboard abs under his shirt since he had a tendency to go topless every chance he had. “Been looking forward to it all week.”

“It’s just pasta and garlic bread. Nothing to get excited about,” you said politely.

Hal closed his eyes and moaned, the sound making you shiver. “Now I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Think I’m still full from the last dish you made us,” Bucky said with a soft smile, tucking some of his hair behind his ear with his metal hand.

Do not preen or purr. “I’ll make sure there’s plenty for you both to take home.”

“You spoil us,” Hal winked, almost making you whimper. His brow furrowed as he took a step back. “You feeling okay?”

Just need to change my panties again because I can’t control myself. “Yeah, I feel fine,” you brushed off.

Bucky’s sharp blue eyes narrowed as he also took a step back. Can they smell me? Instead of smothering you like some alphas, they were giving you room to breathe. “Are you sure you don’t want to reschedule? We don’t mind.”

“I’m sure," you smiled, shifting a bit. "But could I ask you both a favor?"

"Anything," Hal swore.

"Can I borrow a shirt from each of you?"

The alphas blinked in shock, exchanging a pensive look. "You… want our shirts, doll?" Bucky questioned.

"Yeah. I didn't want to ask, but I can’t get my mom’s voice out of my head about needing an alpha’s scent nearby and I have no family or pack here and my scent is the only one in my bedroom and…” you took a deep breath, knowing how vulnerable you looked and sounded. “Look, it's a lot for me to ask. Please?"

Instead of answering your question, Hal began to unbutton his shirt. “Oh, you don’t have to now,” you told him, avoiding his gaze as he slipped it off and handed it over. Don't drool over his abs.

“We don’t mind,” Bucky promised, handing Hal his coffee so he could tug his shirt over his head. God, don't drool over his body. He gently placed it in your other hand, their scents hitting you again. You wanted to bury your face in them.

“And… we know it wasn’t easy for you to ask,” Hal added.

“Thank you,” you whispered, clearing your throat. “Um… see you both tonight?” you asked, not waiting for either of them to answer as you went to your car. You held your head high and kept your breathing even as you got in, setting the shirts on the seat beside you. Both men were still looking at you when you glanced in the rearview mirror, worried expressions on their faces. You didn’t need them to worry. You were fine.

Everything was fine.

Everything was not fine. You knew the signs of your upcoming heat: your warm skin, the slight cramps, the dizzy spells, and how much your scent glands and cunt ached. It wasn’t there quite yet, thanks to your slow acting suppressants. Your doctor reminded you that heats were something you couldn’t ignore, but your meds helped space them out and slow them down.

The only explanation for why it would come early had to be Hal and Bucky because no other alphas triggered anything.

You busied yourself with cooking, the scent of the pasta sauce and garlic bread providing a brief distraction. It kept you from going to your bed and rolling around in the shirts you tucked by your pillows. The combination of the oak, bonfire and-

You jumped as your phone rang, setting the last dish out before you grabbed the device. It was your coworker, Nancy, a nice beta and recent friend. "Hello?" you answered.

"Hey. You changed your schedule," she said. Right to the point. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. My heat is just coming a bit early. I must have timed it wrong," you replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm glad you got your days switched. Wait, didn’t you say your neighbors were having dinner with you?

“Yep. They should be here shortly,” you said, double checking the time.

“Is that a good idea?”

“It’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” you asked.

“...Are you going to make me say it?” Nancy questioned, making your jaw clench. “Look, I know you feel this need to… prove yourself, but please. Don’t put yourself in a tough situation.”

You gripped the phone as a rush of anger flowed through your veins. This was the last thing you needed. And Hal and Bucky weren’t bad alphas. They wouldn’t try anything without you giving very clear signs. “Don’t put myself in a tough situation? Oh, right. Because if an alpha gets a whiff, it’s MY fault, right? God forbid they show any sense of control.”

“No! That’s not what I meant,” she swore, her voice calm and even. It didn’t appease you. “I know you said they’re good guys and-”

“They ARE,” you hissed. “They’re good men and good alphas. If I tell them to walk away, they will. And if I ask them to stay, that’s my decision. I trust them and THAT is what matters.”

You were met with silence for a moment and you wondered if she hung up. “I know it is and I only wanted to help. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, reigning in your claws. Nancy was only looking out for you and you understood why. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just on edge. Will it make you feel better if I check in with you?”

You heard the sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. “It would.”

“Okay. I’ll text you when my mind isn’t in a complete haze.”

“I appreciate it. Take care.”

“You, too. And… thanks,” you said, hanging up. You had just a few minutes to freshen up. And you would have to remember to message Nancy. You were shocked your parents hadn’t reached out.

Maybe they were starting to back off.

You smiled as the doorbell rang, making sure all the food was at the table. Right on time. A small cramp hit you as you walked to the door, making you stop momentarily. It’s fine. You could eat and send them home. You deserved a decent meal before you were stuck with protein bars and water.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly as you opened the door. Hal wore a button down shirt similar to the one he gave you earlier, but his normally messy brown hair was combed. And Bucky had his dark, soft hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Did they dress up for you?

“Hi,” Hal smiled back, holding up a box in his hands. The red and blue wrapping paper somehow reminded you of the two of them. Different, but beautiful when put together. “Very late, but we got you a housewarming present.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you let them in, touched that they even considered getting you anything.

“We wanted to,” Bucky said, handing over the bottle of red wine. His nostrils flared as he inhaled and exhaled. Fuck, does he smell me? “Dinner smells delicious.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, leading them to the dining room and placing the bottle on the table. “I hope you’re both hungry.”

“Starving,” Hal smiled as he followed, carefully setting the box down in an empty spot. “Work okay today?”

“Boring,” you answered honestly, giving Bucky a small smile as he pulled your chair out for you. “Such a gentleman.”

“What can I say? My mom raised me well,” Bucky smiled before he took the seat across from Hal.

“I’d like to think my mama raised me well, too,” Hal smiled.

“Ahh. So I have a couple of mama’s boys on my hands?” you teased as you took the bowl of pasta, scooping some onto your plate before passing it on. “I should’ve known.”

“Your mama would love us. All I’m saying,” Hal winked before a breeze rolled in. “You want your window open?”

“Yeah. Just felt a little hot earlier. Still am a bit,” you smiled, which was true. You did feel hot.

Bucky’s gaze flickered to Hal as he opened the wine bottle. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I may turn in early tonight. Like I said, work was boring, but it was a long day,” you said, biting your lip. Don’t lie to your alphas.

“Well, we won’t stay late, but I would like it if you opened your gift after dinner,” Hal said.

“Of course,” you smiled. You just had to make it through dinner. It would be easy… right?

“Wait,” you giggled, finishing your glass of wine. “You’re telling me the two of you became friends because of a bar fight? And NOT because you lived close by? How did I not know this until now?”

“It’s true,” Hal laughed, taking the last bite from his plate. “Tall, dark and mysterious here hardly said a word when he moved here. I waved and he grunted in response."

"Grumpy alpha," you joked.

"The grumpiest," Hal winked as Bucky glared at him. "But we were both at the same bar sometime after Buck settled in and these assholes wouldn’t leave him alone. I had to step in.”

“Why were they bothering you?” you asked curiously, pushing your glass away. One was enough. You needed to keep your head as clear as you could.

“My, um… my arm,” Bucky told you, holding up his metal hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you said genuinely, wishing you could comfort him. And wishing you could find those alphas and put them in their place. The metal arm didn't take away from him. If anything, it made you proud that he survived whatever happened.

Will he tell me one day what he went through?

“Not your fault, doll,” Bucky whispered, looking at his friend. “I could have handled it myself,” he added, but there was a smile on his face.

“Oh, I know you could’ve, but shouldn’t have to. I know a thing or two about alphas who drink too much and they had no right messing with you.”

The comment made your comforting instinct come out again. Alphas who drank too much? It wasn't the time to ask. “Who won the fight?”

“We did,” Hal smirked. Bucky smirked, too. “The owner threw us out so it didn’t look like he was showing favoritism, but he bought us a round the next time we went back.”

“And you two have been friends ever since,” you smiled. You appreciated that.

“We have been. The way he acted, it reminded me of my friend, Steve,” Bucky said, grabbing another piece of garlic bread. You heard the name a few times and wondered when the blonde alpha would visit.

“And Buck actually helped me out when my hours got cut at work. I don’t believe in handouts and promised to pay him back,” Hal told you.

“And you did once you went into business for yourself,” Bucky reminded him.

“Haven’t looked back since,” Hal smiled.

Your chest tightened as you listened. The times you hung out with them, you knew the alphas were friends. But hearing how they looked out for and respected each other was something else.

“Kitten?” Hal asked, making you blink.

“Kitten?” you repeated, wondering why he was smirking at you.

“You, um…” Bucky tapped his chest. “You’re purring.”

Your eyes went wide as you felt the vibrations. Fuck, you were purring. Now I can add that to my list of embarrassing moments. “Can we just… forget that I did that?”

“Oh, I don’t think we can forget that… kitten,” Bucky said, trying not to smile.

“Bucky,” you warned in a low voice.

“Aww, did we make our kitty purr?” Hal teased, leaning back in his seat before you could smack his arm.

“I’m a fucking tigress and don’t you forget that,” you said as sternly as you could.

“Okay, tigress,” Hal chuckled, leaning over to get your present as Bucky moved your plate out of the way. “Use your claws to open this.”

You glared as Bucky chuckled, too, but you smiled after a moment. It felt good being the center of their attention, as much as you wanted to deny it. Both of them watched expectantly as Hal set the gift in front of you. Removing the wrapping paper, you gasped as you saw what they brought you: a beautiful, hand carved jewelry box. “This…”

“You like it?” Hal asked hopefully. “We thought you'd like it, but if you don’t, I can make you another.”

“You made this?” you asked, tears in your throat. Of course, he did. He was always doing something with his hands. “Hal, I…”

“Open the lid,” he encouraged.

“I hope it’s okay,” Bucky said as you lifted the lid, seeing a brand new leather collar inside. You picked it up and turned it over in your hand, the sensor waiting to be activated by you. “We just… we like spending time with you and wanted to do something nice.”

You put the collar back and closed the box, sniffling. Alphas didn’t give gifts lightly. And the fact that they were so thoughtful meant everything to you. “I don’t deserve this,” you whispered before a painful cramp hit you. “Fuck…”

Bucky and Hal both inhaled sharply. “Damn it, doll. I knew your scent was off,” the larger alpha said as you tried to stand.

*You’re going into heat, aren’t you?” Hal added, getting up from his chair. “That's why you wanted our shirts."

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bucky pressed.

“I thought I could get through dinner,” you said through your teeth as the pain subsided, walking around the table to leave the room. “And because I wanted an evening that wasn’t dictated by my body.”

“The other times we’ve hung out haven’t been dictated by your body,” Hal pointed out, gently taking your arm as your knees began to buckle. “But you aren’t going to be in control much longer, so talk to us. Is your nest ready?”

You whimpered, somehow holding back from nuzzling against him. “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” he said, your heart racing at the praise. “You have snacks? Drinks?”

“Yeah,” you said again as Bucky appeared on your other side, also taking your arm. Fuck, they smell good. So, so good.

“That’s a good omega,” Bucky praised. You didn’t want it to stop. “Is there anything else you need? Just tell us and we’ll get it. We’ll lock up when we leave.”

“You,” you said dreamily before you could stop yourself, tiling your head back. “I need you both.”

The growl Bucky let out was borderline ferocious, the sound producing a wave of slick. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“And why can’t I?” you challenged as they helped you down the hall. “My home so I make the rules.”

“Because if you say things like that, we want you to mean it,” Hal said, his voice rougher than usual. “We like you and we’re not about to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me. I’m asking you two to help me,” you argued, growling at them. The sound was nothing compared to theirs, but the feeling of rejection hurt. “You think I would just ask any alpha who walks in the door to take care of me?”

“Would you have asked if we weren’t here?” Bucky retorted as you got to your bedroom door.

“Yes!” you whined, wanting to tear your clothes from your body and theirs. Good alphas. They’re giving me a choice. That’s why they’re mine. “I asked for your shirts. They’re the only other scents in my room. I want YOU, alphas.”

Bucky closed his eyes, as if to keep himself calm. “We want you, too. You have no fucking idea how badly.”

"Because I'm an omega?" you asked, your defenses trying to fight before you submitted. You were giving in to your instincts, but you had to know it was more to them.

"Because you're you," Bucky corrected you, opening his eyes. The words were a soothing balm to the insecurities you tried, and failed, to ignore. "Ever since you moved in, we just wanted you and to know you. Omega or not."

Your inner omega fought to get free and present. “Then show me,” you begged, pressing against him to get more of his scent. Your nipples felt hard and sensitive against your top. “It doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Everything will change, baby. Things changed the moment you walked into our lives,” Hal whispered, his mouth close to your ear as you purred. He let out a quiet growl in response. You wanted to hear it while he was buried deep inside you. “Have you considered that?”

“I know things will change and… fuck, we’ll talk later. Please,” you said through the fog, knowing you’d have to face reality after. “Not taking my collar off,” you said quickly when Bucky’s finger ran along it, doing your best not to panic.

“Wouldn’t ask you to, doll,” Bucky said with a soothing rumble, his eyes dark as he regarded you. “We know you’re not ready for that.”

“But if you’re not absolutely sure you want us here… say so and we’ll leave right now,” Hal said, his hands grazing your hips.

“You’re in charge, omega,” Bucky whispered.

Hal and Bucky didn’t move as they waited for you to speak. They were giving you one last chance to change your mind. Your mouth felt dry as you attempted to form the words. “I’m in charge?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Then fuck me like you need me.”

*****

Enojy Part 2, lovelies!

[headaching]

[ID: A screenshot of a tumblr direct message from @hal-your-pal that says: "Can I kiss you?" + Zukka (smiling emoji)" End ID]

On his bed, surrounded by a sea of tissues and several warm blankets, Sokka slips in and out of consciousness.

He should be sweating and kicking the covers off, but he's shivering, unable to draw the blankets close enough. A comforting weight beneath his neck reminds him that he's using Zuko's lap as a pillow.

Sokka groans and rubs his eyes with his palms, knowing it won't alleviate the pressure elevating in his head. Sokka's shaking arms disappear beneath the blankets again as he finally opens his eyes.

He wonders how long Zuko's been watching him with his unmoving hand over Sokka's heart, monitoring his heartbeat, keeping close watch.

Though his face hurts, Sokka smiles at him weakly. "Hey, you," he murmurs, voice husky and worn.

"Hi," Zuko whispers, and slides his hand from Sokka's chest to his jaw. Careful fingertips feather along his jawbone, and Sokka's shivering harder. "Still feeling bad?" Zuko asks, though Sokka knows he's aware of the answer.

Sokka nods miserably. Zuko leans forward press a slow kiss into Sokka's forehead, then touches it with his own for a moment. When he sits up, he sadly confirms, "You're still burning up."

Sokka manages a half-smile and hoarsely whispers, "Feel like shit," in affirmation.

Zuko shakes his head and covers Sokka's cheek with his palm. "My poor baby," he anguishes. Zuko's voice is so tender, it has Sokka's heart beating too quickly, so he averts his gaze by turning his head to the side and resting his cheek against Zuko's thigh.

Sokka winces at the position change— maybe looking sideways isn't such a good idea. After a few heavy blinks, he turns his head back to Zuko, but keeps his eyes turned downward.

"Hey," Zuko whispers, guiding Sokka's gaze up. "Can I kiss you?" he asks with a quiet sort of wonder, as if Sokka granting his request will repair every wrong in the world.

Sokka shakes his head, inciting another wave of nasuea. "I'm sick," he croaks in protest, but Zuko's expression doesn't change.

"I know," he says immediately. Then, hardly above a whisper, "Can I kiss you anyway?"

Sokka’s attempt to disguise his smile is poor. "You're stupid, you know that?" Sokka asks, and when Zuko laughs, he maintains, “Seriously. Only a complete idiot would kiss someone knowing it’ll probably make them sick.”

Zuko shakes his head and smirks mercilessly. “Then I guess I’m a complete idiot,” he shrugs. His thumb glides along Sokka’s forehead to his cheekbone, then across the bump of his nose. It lands on Sokka’s chin and stays there.

Even though he’s sick, Sokka manages to bolster a flirtatious look. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Sokka teases, earning an eye roll.

Ignoring him, Zuko asks, "So, can I?" while prodding Sokka's lower lip. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, then repeats, “Can I?” several more times, reminding Sokka of a petulant child.

After shooing Zuko's incessant finger away, Sokka grumbles, "Why are you even asking?" He shuts his eyes and puts on a satirically withered voice, "I'm too deathly ill to stop you."

“Hey,” Zuko says, suddenly stern. Sokka peeks his eyes open and to Zuko’s serious expression. “I’d never kiss you if you didn’t want me to.”

Sokka heaves a fond sigh. He insists, “I always want you—” but it’s cut short by a hacking cough.

In order to breathe easier, Sokka begrudgingly sits up from Zuko’s lap to cough into his arm. Zuko pats his back a couple times as Sokka fights through the worst of it, and when his breathing finally levels into ragged wheezes, Zuko’s arms circle his shoulders.

Zuko pouts at him, then nuzzles his forehead against Sokka’s cheek. “I’m sorry, sunshine,” he whispers, nearly sending Sokka into another coughing fit. Sokka leans into the touch and reaches around to ruffle his fingers through a mass of messy hair.

“Don’t be,” Sokka rasps, then giggles at the unexpected sensation of Zuko’s lips on his neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks as Zuko trails kisses all the way to the corner of his jaw.

“I just think,” Zuko whispers near Sokka’s ear, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, “if we’ve already been breathing in the same air, I’m bound to catch it anyway.”

As Sokka breathes a gentle laugh, his fingers travel the short distance from Zuko’s hair to his cheek to cradle it tenderly in his palm. Zuko asks, “What’s the harm in a little kiss?” intentionally brushing his lips against Sokka’s ear as he does.

When Sokka turns to properly face Zuko, his arms fall to Sokka’s waist. ���Maybe you’re not that stupid,” he observes.

Zuko seems like he's about to say something, but stops himself and puts on a pout instead. "Are you telling me you wouldn't kiss me if I was sick?" he asks, feigning disappointment.

Sokka's answer of, "No," is instant and honest. "But I already know I'm an idiot," he adds.

Before Zuko can do more than scoff, Sokka kisses him.

Zuko's holding his head firmly in place, and Sokka keeps his eyes open partially to ward off any further dizziness, but mostly to watch the protective, concentrated look on Zuko's face. The kiss is short-lived, then Sokka's hugging his ribcage with his hot face buried in his neck.

Zuko relaxes them both onto the pillows, and though Sokka's body half on top of him and the excessive amount of blankets is probably uncomfortable, Zuko doesn't say a word. He just releases Sokka's hair from its hold to brush through the locks still damp from a last effort bath he took hours before.

Sokka's eyes drift closed when Zuko's fingers begin pressing lightly into his scalp. They're silent for so long, it almost startles him when Zuko proclaims, "You're not an idiot, you know," in a sudden, annoyed tone, like he just remembered Sokka said that.

Sokka's nose scrunches up and he's breathing a laugh into Zuko's neck. "For you I am," he replies, and uses all his strength to tighten his grip around Zuko.

Zuko takes his lead and releases Sokka's hair to draw him closer around his shoulders. Sokka isn't sure which of them tangles their legs together first, but everything feels right, somehow (though he could do without the incapacitating illness).

"Go to sleep," Zuko murmurs at some point when Sokka is still awake. Sokka mumbles an agreement. "I love you, stupid," he whispers, and it drags a final, groggy laugh from Sokka.

Without opening his eyes, Sokka plants a grateful kiss on Zuko's jaw, then resumes his resting place once more. "Love you, too, baby," he says, punctuated by a yawn.

As sleep inches over him, Sokka listens to Zuko's even breathing contrasting his own shallow, whistling breaths. For a moment, Sokka no longer feels pain, only Zuko, shrouded around him like honeyed sunlight.

Sokka wonders if maybe he'll feel better when he wakes. His final coherent thought before falling into a fever dream is a vow: If Zuko does get sick, I'll be the dumbass right by his side, ready to do it all over again.

[dccomicsimagines]

Before You Go - Zatanna x Reader

Requested by Anon -  Could you do one where, Zatanna likes the Reader but doesn't know how to confess her feelings for her. Till Rocket and Artemis convince her to tell the Reader, before she leaves the leaves the Team.

***

“What?” Zatanna gasped, almost dropping to her knees. Luckily, the cave was empty. The rest of the team had left hours ago. “(Y/N) is going to space for a year?!”

“Yeah, she’s going back to Oa.” Artemis prepared to catch Zatanna in case she fell. “It’s now or never, Z. If you don’t tell her now, I don’t know if she’ll come back. Apparently, she requested this. At least that’s what Hal said.”

Zatanna swallowed hard, blinking back tears. She couldn’t imagine you not being here. Not seeing you almost every day. “It’s because I announced I was leaving the team and joining the Justice League, isn’t it?”

Artemis shrugged. “I don’t know, but you have to talk to her or you’ll regret it forever.”

Zatanna nodded. “I will.” She paced. “Where is (Y/N) now?”

“On the watchtower. She was saying goodbye to John and Hal.” Artemis reached out to catch Zatanna’s shoulder to stop her. “Go and speak with your heart. The worst thing that can happen is if she leaves before you tell her.”

Zatanna nodded. “True.” She shivered. “I wish my dad were here. He’d have advice.”

Artemis hugged Zatanna tightly. “Well, here’s my advice. Find (Y/N) and tell her how you feel.” She pulled away to look Zatanna in the eye. “Now go.” She pushed Zatanna toward the zeta tube. 

“Thank Artie.” Zatanna ran forward before she lost her nerve. Her heart going a million miles a minute.

***

Zatanna stumbled out of the zeta tube and onto the watchtower. She ran into Captain Atom and Black Canary. “Zatanna, where are you going?” Black Canary asked worriedly. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Zatanna lost her breath, panting heavily. 

Her heart sank when Black Canary’s face fell. “She left about four minute ago.”

“No.” Zatanna’s knees gave out for real this time and she fell to the floor. “I need to talk to her. Can someone call her back?”

Captain Atom turned, trying to raise your comm. Dinah knelt down next to Zatanna, rubbing her back soothingly. “We’ll try.”

A painful minute passed. “(Y/N) is too far out. The comm won’t work,” Captain Atom said with a frown. The sympathy in his eyes only made Zatanna angry. 

“No! I won’t let it all end like this!” Zatanna jumped to her feet. “Em ot kcab (N/Y) gnirb.” Her eyes glowed blue. The magic sparkled in the air around them. 

“Zatanna, be careful,” Black Canary warned, backing away from her. Captain Atom’s eyes widened in alarm. 

Suddenly, the air popped around them and you appeared. You looked around baffled, letting the shield from your ring drop when you saw Zatanna. “Z, what the hell was that?” You blinked, shaking your head. “I felt like I just got yanked back here.”

Zatanna sighed in relief and ran to you. She took your hands in hers. “I brought you back here, because I needed to tell you something.” 

You blinked. “Don’t tell me you dragged me here to say goodbye?” You flashed her that smirk that always made her skin tingle with excitement.

She swung your arms with hers. Black Canary sensed what was going on and ushered Captain Atom out of the room. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you for a long time. Artemis made me realize that if I don’t tell you before you leave and I join the League, then I’ll regret it forever.”

You tilted your head. She saw the curiosity sparkle in your eyes. “Tell me what?” 

Zatanna took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She couldn’t look at you. What if she saw you wrinkle your nose in disgust at her words? Her heart couldn’t take it. “I love you, (Y/N). Every day I get to see you is one of the best days I’ve ever had. You made me smile every time you enter a room. I love every single part of you and it kills me that you’re leaving and I won’t get to see you all the time anymore.”

Silence followed. Zatanna opened her eyes, scared to see you frowning at her. “Wait, but you are leaving the team? You’re joining the Justice League?”

“I am, because I need to take my father’s place.” She swallowed hard. Every time she got reminded of the mistake she made that took her father away from her, it hurt like a punch to the gut. “But I was going to convince you to join with me.” 

A smile crept onto your lips. “Oh my.” You laughed before pulling Zatanna to you and kissing her right on the lips. Zatanna’s mind broke. Your lips tasted and felt just like she had imagined. You pulled away. “I thought maybe you were grossed out that I liked you or...never mind.” You shook your head, chuckling to yourself. “That’s why I asked to go back to Oa for a year.” 

Zatanna giggled and kissed you again. Her heart was so full, threatening to burst. “Uoy evol I,” she whispered against your lips. 

“I love you too,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around her waist as your ring flashed and suddenly you and Zatanna were floating in the air. Zatanna screamed before relaxing when she realized you had her. “I’m glad you dragged me back here.”

“I’m happy it worked.” Zatanna buried her fingers in your hair and kissed you again. It was the first time in a long time that she felt complete. 

[whetstonefires]

in the shadows

hey guess who has two thumbs and just spent 5 hours straight writing another batman AU?

-

Batman wasn’t a person.

He faked it very well. When the League gathered, the line of his mask against pale skin looked natural and human, a little more perfectly fitted than the Flash’s but not quite as perfect as Green Lantern’s, which was an energy projection and not a real object and thus lay against his face flawlessly, without shift or gap.

His mouth didn’t bend into many expressions and his body language wasn’t voluble, but the emotive gestures that he did make were pretty normal. The rare smile seemed honest. He had a heartbeat, perfectly steady. His shadow (almost) always matched the shape that was blocking the light.

The stories that came out of Gotham, about the Bat—those could be exaggerations, born of terror and manipulated perception. Clark, of all people, knew how much you could convince people to believe things that weren’t real, because they made a better story. Even the scraps of photography and film showing a towering thing of black fog and long fangs could have been some clever trick with projectors.

The fact that Superman couldn’t see through his suit just meant it was well made.

He’d had to pool his observations with Diana and J’onn before he’d been sure he wasn’t imagining things. But Martian Manhunter knew shapeshifting, and said the block against his mind when he tried to touch Batman’s thoughts did not feel quite human. And Superman knew what posing as human looked like. And Wonder Woman knew truth, and its absence.

Batman wasn’t human. Which wasn’t the problem, of course.

The problem was that he was pretending he was. Pretending it rigorously in a situation where there shouldn’t be any need, unless he had something worse to hide. Pretending it in a way that overlaid on a certain inhuman predatory grace began to look very dangerous indeed.

Superman could see both things in him now, watching narrow-eyed through a roof into the room where Batman bent over a child’s bed, cape swirling up larger and darker than he let it get around them. The man and the hungry creature, flipping in and out of focus, neither ever gone but superimposed, like a trick picture that was two things at once.

Knuckles ghosted over the boy’s cheek, claws turned inward, and the child sighed softly, and sunk deeper into sleep. Batman’s heart wasn’t beating, but Clark could monitor the child’s vitals easily from here.

Batman drew his hand back, and tipped his head up—looking back at Superman as though the roof was no more a barrier to his perceptions than to Clark’s. Waited a beat, as if making sure his attention had been noticed, and then passed soundlessly between the other beds to the window, slid it open, and launched himself out through it and up onto the roof.

He didn’t bother to restrain himself to even a plausible approximation of human limits, now. The arm he reached up to the edge of the roof to pivot himself up by was too long, and his shoulder rotated further than it should have been able to, and he landed with impossible soundlessness in a billow of cape that was far, far larger than any cape that only reached to his heels should have managed, and which faded out at the edges into shadow. He knew he was found out.

Superman took the obvious invitation, and sunk down to join him. It was better, sitting like this, facing the same way on the ridgepole of a two-story building. Batman hadn’t hurt that child, that he could tell. There was no need to make this a confrontation.

“I don’t understand why,” he said at last. Out of deference for sleeping children, he kept his voice soft—he would have worried about a human being able to hear it, but now he knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Batman. “Why go to so much trouble to deceive us? We haven’t kept secret what we are. Not from you.”

Alien, alien, user of alien weapon, magical princess…

Batman sighed. He spoke almost as softly as Clark had, and his voice sounded the same as ever, except for the fact that a human voice couldn’t get this quiet without falling into a whisper. “I’m not like you.” He turned.

He’d let some of the details of his human mask fall away—what must have been the exhaustively rendered texture of skin, the flakes of dry skin on chapping lips, a crease at the corner of his mouth that had suggested he scowled or smiled more, outside of his costume. There was no pretense of a jawbone, under the skin, though the jawline externally hadn’t changed. The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

“You’ve visited that kid every day for weeks,” Clark said. “Why?”

Batman stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Batman…”

“You’re confronting me now because you’re worried about my intentions toward Dick. He changed your mind about something. Ergo, you’ve been sitting on this for a while. How long have you known I wasn’t real?”

That was such a bizarre choice of words Clark almost skipped answering the question to chase it down, but he held himself back. This wasn’t a story, and Batman wasn’t even a hostile source so far, if it had been. “Wonder Woman, J’onn and I pooled our observations about four months ago, in April. We were pretty sure by the time we finished comparing notes.” He shrugged. “I suspected something a long time before that, but it’s hard to say when it started to be more than…a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Batman echoed. “Yes, it would start there.”

“So?” Superman prompted. He had liked Batman. He was the last person who could insist that someone hiding the truth of his own nature was reprehensible, though the sting he’d felt about it was an uncomfortable reminder of how much most of his friends would resent him, if they knew the truth. So he’d meant to let it lie, until Batman chose to trust them, or gave them a reason not to trust him. “Why have you been visiting…Dick?”

It wouldn’t be suspicious on its own—well, not very suspicious, all things considered, in context—except that Batman had changed, around the same time. Diana said his presence seemed deeper, Clark thought he seemed to be having trouble staying within the outlines of his human mask. J’onn agreed that he seemed somehow more powerful.

Batman stayed silent a long time. Eighteen heartbeats from the boy below them, slower than those of his peers because he had an athlete’s conditioning already and was more deeply asleep than most of them. At last, the being beside him confessed, “He’s carrying me.”

“What?”

“You noticed I’m stronger now,” Batman said matter-of-factly, in a way that almost managed to cover up emotion. “That’s his doing. I was…fading, when you met me. Not up to capacity. I’m not really meant to exist that way.” He glanced over at Superman again, as though evaluating his reaction, and Clark wondered if he had really needed to do that—if he really only saw out of his eyes. J’onn could make eyes anywhere he wanted some, but he needed them to see. Batman seemed somehow less constrained by biology than that.

“Is it hurting him?”

“No! No. It…shouldn’t.” Batman ghosted a sigh, voiceless, inhuman as the wind. “I don’t know that it’s good for a child to be around me. But I’m not…taking anything from him. I’m not…feeding on him, if that’s what you think.”

It was what Clark had feared. And probably anything that would eat a child would also lie about it, but Batman was his teammate and very nearly his friend. So it was reassuring to have it so firmly denied. He’d come braced for only a little and no lasting damage and he said it was fine.

“Please,” he said. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I suppose I have to.” Batman tipped his head back, to look up at the few stars that smudged themselves visible through the red blanket of light-polluted smog overhead. Clark could make out more of them, even with his ordinary visible-light vision, than a human could have. He wondered what Batman saw. “Will you tell the others for me? Your little conspiracy?”

“Not Green Lantern and Flash?”

“Hal and Barry can figure me out on their own.” That dry sense of humor was the same, even if it was bending amusement onto a mouth that could no longer pass as human.

A breath Clark suspected he didn’t need was drawn. “A different little boy made me up,” Batman said. “Bruce Wayne. You can look the story up in the newspaper archives.

“It was a little over twenty years ago, in Gotham. A mugger shot his parents in front of him.” Another slanted glance, and then he looked away again. He certainly acted like he needed his eyes to see. “It wasn’t more terrible than things that happen to a hundred other people every day, really. But he was the right kind of terrified and angry, in the right place, at the right moment…the police reports all say he tackled the mugger from behind, and got lucky that the man hit his head. But it was me. I took him down.”

He raised his face back toward the smudged stars. “I was such a small thing, then. If that vengeance had been enough—the killer taken in and sentenced, brought to justice—I would have faded away again. Things like me are summoned and dispelled that way all the time. Or he could have taken me back into himself—the danger was past, it wasn’t a chronic part of his existence, so I would have reintegrated, probably, and not hung around rising up to protect him for the rest of his life, and probably disrupting it in the process.”

That amused quirk to the horizontal slash of a mouth, again. “But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He clung. He brooded. He wanted to protect everyone. And I grew.” Bittersweet and fond. “I grew until I really could help. Until anyone could see me, any time I liked. Until I was solid enough to get in half a dozen fights in one night without my blows starting to go right through the enemy.”

There was no way Batman was letting him know these things about how he worked, when he wasn’t holding back, by accident. They were being given.

“Where’s Bruce now?” Clark asked. Knowing it was probably a painful topic, but hoping to hear it was some rule of magic out of a storybook, that only a child had the right kind of belief to sustain a projection of this nature. That Bruce Wayne had grown up and moved on and had a career and a family, and perhaps didn’t remember that Batman was something he’d made.

Batman’s eyes closed, and vanished completely into the black of his head. He’d kept unspooling all the while he’d been talking, Clark realized, and the gouts and folds and flame-like flickers of his cape now sprawled over more than half the roof, leaving a great circle of open space around Superman himself, and a broad open route away from Batman, as though he couldn’t just go straight up if he wanted to get away. The billows of it had now collapsed in on themselves. His voice, when he spoke, was hushed and solemn, but calm. “He didn’t make it to sixteen. He died tackling a gunman who’d been holding up a corner store where he happened to be, buying junk food he wasn’t supposed to have. The cashier fumbled the register key and bent over to pick it up, and the man panicked and started shooting. Bruce saved lives, that night. But he didn’t survive. Because I wasn’t there. I was away protecting other people, like he’d asked me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Inadequate as always, but more so, when he’d pushed for this truth and didn’t even understand enough to know how to offer comfort. He reached out to offer a comforting, boundary-respecting brief pat on the shoulder, like he might have when he had less idea what Batman was, and his hand hung still in the air, as the face Batman turned toward him was human again, so abruptly that even to his accelerated visual perceptions it looked like some sort of glitch.

“This is his face,” Batman told him, and the grief that hadn’t been in his voice before was worn on it, in the pull of the mouth and the bend of pain around the blank white eyes. He looked like he might cry. “The way he would have looked. He never…grew this far, but…”

“In memory of him, then,” Superman said, soothing, and was able to deliver the pat on the shoulder and withdraw. It sounded like Batman was in some ways the only surviving part of Bruce Wayne, and as such had every right to his appearance, but he clearly didn’t think of himself that way, and it wasn’t Clark’s place to try to alter his self-concept, or even make comment when he’d only just been introduced to it. “That seems appropriate.”

Batman shrugged. It looked very human, except for the way the cape parts of him reacted. “I knew it best.”

Had he held the memory of his…creator’s face in his head, updating it carefully to how he would have looked with every year or month that passed? That couldn’t be healthy. It also might be unavoidable, considering Batman’s origins.

“You went on protecting Gotham, afterward?”

“What else would I do?”

“And you joined us. When Starro came.” Batman nodded, as though that was only obvious. Clark supposed it was—when you were a supernatural entity created to protect human beings, why would you not answer a call to band together with other superpowered beings to save the world? “Why did you pretend?” he asked. “To be…”

“Human?” Batman asked. He snorted in derision, either at Clark’s inability to choose a word or his own deceit. “It wasn’t the first time. I talk to the police like this, sometimes. Witnesses. It reassures people, to be talking to a…person.”

That was the same reason J’onn made himself look more human, even in blatant green—it wasn’t entirely unlike why Clark kept his own life as Clark, why Superman didn’t wear a mask. “But why…” He’d gone to such lengths, to maintain the façade. Human jaw and teeth, sculpted solid to catch X-ray vision behind flesh he’d carefully made permeable to it, when even now with the image of Bruce Wayne’s face restored he wasn’t bothering. Consistent physical proportions. Always running close against the edge of normal human limits, of strength and speed and length of jump—not hanging back, but not throwing himself onto the front line either, contributing as much with tactics and analysis as actual combat. “Why try so hard to convince us?”

Batman shrugged. “I wasn’t holding back that much. I told you. I was fading. I was never meant to last. Once it turned out the team wasn’t a one-time thing, I still didn’t want to go through the whole…process of revelation.”

“But you’re doing it now.” Clark found he was grinding his teeth, because he was putting together a picture he didn’t like. “Because. Now you’re expecting to survive.” Batman had been dying. He hadn’t thought it was worth the stress of being honest with them, because he hadn’t expected to exist long enough for their relationships to matter.

Superman glanced down through the roof at the sleeping children, and one child in particular.

“I wasn’t there in time to save his parents, either,” Batman said, and Clark knew that feeling—all this power and yet you could still arrive too late, and be too little. But Batman was defined by that feeling, founded upon it almost, so it probably struck him deeper. “But I was there afterward. I protected him from the followup attacks, meant to stop him testifying about the sabotage he’d witnessed.

“And he clung to me, whenever I came…I do try to comfort them, especially when it’s children, but usually they’re at least a little bit afraid. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have anyone else to cling to. They wouldn’t let his parents’ friends in to see him more than once, and then they left town. And then, after I came to tell him that Zucco and his men were taken care of for good, when I left I felt the distance opening…I realized I was…his, now.”

There was a strange, wondering ache in the way he said it that made it easy for Clark to repress his own discomfort with the idea of anyone belonging to anyone else, and of something that looked like a grown man asserting an intimate personal bond with an unrelated child. Batman was supposed to belong to a child, it was how he’d been made, and he’d expected to die by inches in the absence of the one who’d made him, and now he suddenly wasn’t. This little orphan was the most precious thing in his world, that was plain, and to Clark at least it was equally plain that he felt a deep guilt at replacing the boy who had been his world before.

He wondered, suddenly, if Batman had ever been this honest with anyone in his existence. Had he been this open even with his Bruce, or had his need to protect led him to put on a front, and conceal every uncertainty?

The pale smudge of Batman’s face was still and remote, and his voice was nearly calm, but the darkness of his cape had spilled out over the whole roof now, and it was gently writhing. The route out for Superman, opposite Batman’s main body, had shrunk to the merest footpath. Was that there out of instinct, or a more conscious courtesy?

“You don’t have to leave that,” Superman said quietly, flipping his thumb toward the corridor of open shingle and beam. “I know you aren’t trying to trap me, and it won’t anyway.”

The path snapped shut almost instantaneously, and a little of the strain in the atmosphere faded—Batman had been holding himself back from encircling him completely only with continuous effort. Why? Did he naturally expand to fill the available space? Or was expanding in the form of the cape an expression of emotion that was uncomfortable to suppress, in the same way it was hard to sit still when you felt anxious, or hold your tongue when you got mad?

His teammate’s whole torso was turned away, now, and this too was easy to read—shame at his own inhumanity. In front of Clark, of all people. But then, Clark made it look easy, didn’t he? It even was easy for him, when it came to things like looking like he fit in.

J’onn should have been the one to come. But it disconcerted him not to be able to pick up anything Batman did not intentionally share—Clark didn’t think he’d learned to read human body language yet, beyond the most obvious things—and Batman had been known to use fire.

“It didn’t seem wise to seem to be trying to threaten you,” Batman said flatly, into the night.

“Thank you,” said Superman, because while he didn’t mind at this point, it would definitely have made him uncomfortable earlier, before Batman had made himself so vulnerable. “Could you, do you think?”

A sidelong look. “You’re less invulnerable to magic,” Batman said. “Probably.”

Something to keep in mind. The Flash was the only teammate he had now that he was reasonably sure he could take three falls out of three. Maybe they could start practicing against each other, if they could find somewhere they could risk making a mess on that scale. Sparring—he and Diana had tried it out, gingerly. If Batman wanted to stretch out his re-expanding powers in a secure environment…

“Do you have any plans, going forward?” Now that he had a future to plan for.

“I have someone who helps me,” Batman replied. “Bruce’s guardian, after his parents died. He wanted to leave Gotham, after…but he stayed. To try to help the city, in Bruce’s memory. And to keep an eye on me.” The amusement this time was bitter. “We don’t really get along. He thinks Bruce died because of me—that I made him feel invulnerable, and then didn’t protect him. He’s projecting. But I suppose that’s what I’m for.”

Clark made a face; he didn’t like the idea of people being for purposes. Even people who’d been made. This wasn’t the time to argue about it. “But he helps you?”

“He helps.” Batman glanced down, toward Dick’s bed, as though once again he could see through the roof. “I’m trying to get him to agree to take Dick in. He did a good job with Bruce, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Will that be the best for Dick?” Clark asked, as neutrally as he could manage. He could tell Batman’s intentions were good, but he didn’t know if putting a child entirely within the influence of a supernatural being that had latched onto him, without an external line of support, was a good idea. On the other hand, putting him in the care of an adult who would know he wasn’t delusional could only help. And Clark could be the outside support, if necessary—not that he wasn’t under Batman’s influence himself, but he wasn’t within his circle of it the way this Alfred seemed to be, resentment or not. The resentment might be the most dangerous part.

What part of this train of thought Batman sensed, he couldn’t tell, as his comrade only retorted, “It can’t be worse than here!”

A group home with four beds to a room certainly wasn’t the best environment, but surely he couldn’t be here much longer. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He doesn’t get much privacy. He agreed to meet with Alfred last time he ducked into a closet while I was there, so now Alfred’s the focus of the plan.” Batman sighed again. “He’s so brave,” he said fondly. “It worries me. I wish he were somewhere safe.”

The wild impulse rose to offer to step in, to take the role of legal guardian if this Alfred wouldn’t. Clark sat on it. He didn’t want a child, he wasn’t equipped to care for a child, CPS would be able to see that perfectly well in a single reporter in his 20s living in a one-bedroom apartment in a somewhat run-down building. He didn’t even live in the same state, and child placement was handled on a state-by-state basis so even petitioning for custody would be horrifically involved, never mind obtaining it. Also, he had a secret identity to protect.

He couldn’t always help. The hardest lesson in life, and one he had to keep relearning.

“So your plans are…to get Dick into a safe home environment.”

“And keep him alive,” Batman affirmed. Quick, and firm, and almost not obvious about what a vital goal this was to him. Keeping this child alive, the way he’d failed to keep the one before.

“Of course.” Clark nodded. If everything he’d been told was true—and he thought it was, it felt true—then there was no need for the League to intervene. Gotham was probably safer than it had ever been. “Can I meet him, sometime?” Partly to do his part as an outside support network. Partly because he was curious, to meet this child who’d been able to reach his hand into Batman’s chest and close his fingers around his heart.

Batman glanced over, and then seemed to relax. Even the endless piles of his cape seemed suddenly to behave more like ordinary fabric. “I passed, then?”

“What?” Oh. Of course he’d known. Clark had hardly been sneaky. “Yes.”

“Not that I know what you were planning to do if I hadn’t.”

Clark didn’t know either, other than get Dick away of he seemed to need it.

“All of this is off the record, of course,” Batman added. It was a testament to how distracted Superman was by Batman’s problems that it took a long second for him to realize the potential implications of that choice of words, and read in Batman’s posture and the way his cape had developed hooks of tension in some of its folds that they were entirely intentional.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“You attended a press event in Gotham two years ago. You still feel like you, no matter how you dress.”

“Well.” Superman tried to shake the sudden tension out of his shoulders. Batman was a good detective and data analyst, that hadn’t changed with the rest of it. He’d certainly tracked down the name of the gentleman from the Planet. “I guess that’s fair. And of course it’s off the record. I won’t even tell J’onn and Diana anything but the basics without your permission.”

“Oh.” Batman clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“You have a right to your privacy.” Clark thought back over his own approach to the whole situation and said, with a gentleness born somewhat of guilt, “You are a person, after all.”

“I’m really not,” Batman said, corner of his mouth ticking up just slightly to underline the easy irony in his voice. But the great spread of cape had fallen into easier, more geometric wrinkles, and Clark was beginning to learn to trust that over what he said with his borrowed face. Though he could almost definitely lie with the cape part of himself, too, if he needed to.

“Don’t…” His tongue flickered across the back of his teeth; be brave, Kent. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, huh?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 XVI

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence/death, trauma, allusions to torture.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king proves himself and the reader must accept her fate.

Note: Welcome back, King Loki. Y’all better be ready because our little mouse will never stop suffering.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You felt like you were suffocating, slowly under a heap of rocks. Your return to the palace was a blur. You barely recalled the ride in the carriage or the flights of stairs between you and the chambers. 

You were entirely consumed by your memories and their voices; Magnus, broken before the court, confessing his crimes. Thor, angry and brutal as ever, shouting back at the people as they cried out at their traitorous prince. Neither gave you peace; they were only trapped animals waiting to break free and lash out again.

Hal was a spot in your vision. His voice tickled your ears but you couldn’t answer him as you laid across the bed, clutching a pillow as you rocked frantically. As you calmed, spent from your fit, you rested on your side and quivered every now and then. The sobs would not come, only rattling breaths that seized your whole body.

Time slaked away like layers of ice melting into a puddle. The curtains were drawn back and revealed the shift of sunlight. A pale grey darkened to a dull slate and cast shadows around you, looming over you like the monsters in your mind.

You flinched as you heard the door, the hinges creaked and your fingers sank deep into the feather pillow. Hal greeted the king and firm footsteps marched across the floorboards. Loki’s figure appeared at the edge of your sight as you laid with your back to the hearth. He sighed as he came up behind you and sat on the edge of the mattress.

“You left rather suddenly,” he said as his hand settled on your side. You winced and hugged the pillow tighter. You hid your face against it, the feathers poking through and causing your cheeks to itch. “Mouse…”

You whimpered and curled your legs up. What had this man done to you that was any different than those two savages? You still bore the scars of his switch across your back and your only shield was the life growing in your stomach. It was him who had brought you to this; who had sentenced you to live as a piece of a flesh; who had exposed you to the barbarity of his kin and kith.

“Why?” You asked softly as you turned your head against the pillow.

“I thought… I thought you would want to see vengeance done.” He said sternly. “To see that I’ve brought those beasts to justice.”

You sniffed and shook your head. “I never wanted to see them again… I…” You shrugged and exhaled weakly. 

“I did it for you, Mouse. I dragged that animal, Magnus, down to my dungeons and cut his flesh until he did confess. I watched his blood weep from his flesh and reminded him of what he'd done to you. I made him tremble at my hands. For you.” He sneered. “I’d do it again.”

“You did it for you. For your pride.” You uttered. “You’ve never done anything for me or any other. It is all for you. They humiliated you, took your plaything, kept from you your pleasures. It isn’t about me, it is about what I can do for you.” You wiggled away from his touch, “Do not lie to me, it not only makes me a fool, but you as well.”

“Do not presume to know my will,” he snarled, “Do not talk to me as if I am your subject and not the other way around. And look at me--” He grabbed your chin and forced you onto your back, “When you speak to me, mouse.”

You blinked as a lump lodged in your throat and let the pillow fall away from you. You braced yourself for what he would do next. You remembered the noise of the hinges, the heavy footsteps, the metal against your wrists, the stony touch of loveless beings, the violent claims to your body. 

You grabbed the king’s arm and began to flail. “No, no, no,” You exclaimed, “Please--”

“Gods,” Loki said in exasperation, “Hal! Hal!” You heard softer soles on the boards, “Fetch Birger. Now.”

Loki wriggled his arm from your grasp and grabbed your shoulders. He pinned you down as you kicked out and clawed at the air. “Mouse, shhhh. Mouse!”

“No! No! No!” Your hand flew up and struck Loki’s jaw. He grunted and shook away the jolt.

He struggled with you until the door sounded again and there was a clatter of footsteps across the front chamber. Loki climbed over you as the physician appeared and touched your forehead.

“I don’t know what has come over her.” Loki said, “She has these… episodes.”

“Ah, well she is with child and only just returned from an immense situation. Her nerves are split.” Birgir rubbed your cheek calmingly, “Dear, tell me five things you can see.”

“No, no, no,” you chanted.

“Five things, dear. Five things you can see.” He urged.

“The-- The bedpost…” You wisped, “Y-Your cap… Hal… The ceiling… A chair…”

“Very well, dear, and five thing, “Three things you can feel.”

“Y-Y-Your hand,” you touched the back of his hand, “The bed…” Your eyes flicked back and forth, “The fire.”

“Great, great,” he took your hand gently, “One thing you can smell.”

“The wood. Burning wood.” You gulped.

Birger nodded and smiled at you gently. “Hal, my boy, bring my chest.”

“What is wrong with her?” The king knelt on the mattress beside you.

“I told you. It is stress.” Birger said staunchly and squinted at the king, “Have you…”

“Not in the last days.” Loki admitted.

“But since her return?” The physician prodded. The king rolled his eyes and glanced away tellingly. “And you expect you to be as she was after all that? Do you even know all that happened to her?”

“She does not speak of it.” The king huffed.

“And why should she? To you?”

“You tread a dangerous path, Birger,” Loki warned.

Birger tutted and caressed the back of your hand. “Alright, I’ll do what I can.”

“You have something which can restrain her,” Loki said, “That can calm her.”

“As her condition stands, not much.” Birger stood as Hal approached with his chest, “It is better if she is kept calm. You can burn lavender--”

“No, you will sedate her so she will sleep,” Loki ordered, “I’ve pressing matters and little energy or time for this nonsense.”

“With respect, your majesty, this nonsense is as much to do with you as it is your brother or his accomplice,” Birger insisted, “It will persist.”

“So be it,” Loki pushed himself off the bed, “Find one of your vials and do your duty. She needs sleep, not quackery.” Birger let out a long breath and tapped his fingers on the lip of the chest. “Well, you’ve something else to say?” The king challenged.

“No, your majesty,” Birger looked into his chest and stirred through the contents, “Boy, bring some milk for the woman.”

Your body was limp across the bed, suddenly without strength as you listened to the argument. It was your fault. All of it. If you could just control yourself. If you weren’t so weak and stupid.

“When you finish, you will go.” Loki neared the door. “And do not bother me on your exit.”

The king disappeared through the doorway and you looked up at Birger as he pulled out a glass vial. You saw the irritation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Why?” He asked bluntly, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

You clamped your lips shut and stared at the top of the bedpost. Hal returned and handed a cup of milk to Birger. The physician mixed in drops of the tincture and sat to hand it to you. You pushed yourself up and took it from him.

“Perhaps it is better you sleep for a time,” Birger said. “Are you eating well?”

“Yes, a lot,” you assured him and sipped the thick milk.

“Well, you make sure you keep on. Rest as much as you can.” He looked to Hal, “See if the boy is permitted to take you on walks. You must keep active as you can.”

You nodded and swallowed the milk tainted with the odd flavour of the medicine.

“Is the king rough with you? As he was before?”

You shook your head as you offered the empty cup. “Not since…” You nodded to your stomach.

“Good, good,” Birger set the cup aside and packed up his chest. “Take care, dear. I will be look in as I can.” He hauled his chest up and clapped Hal’s shoulder, “And boy, you will keep her well in my absence.”

“On my honour,” Hal promised and followed the physician to the door.

You felt heavy as you laid back and listened to Birger’s departure. The king was just in the next chamber and you heard the flutter of pages. Hal’s figure lingered as your eyelids shut and you sank down into the abyss. You were smothered by a sleep deeper than any you’d known in months.

🐍

You weren’t certain how long you slept. You woke in a fog. It was dark but for the glow of the fire and the shapes around you, the furniture shroud in grey, seemed distant and yet close. You felt light and airy and your body felt detached from your thoughts.

You lifted your head and peered around, trying to focus on the chair before the hearth. A wraith sat in it and as you sat up, you realised it was the king. You giggled and let the blankets fall away from your shoulders. He glanced over at you and tilted his head as the firelight limned his features.

“Mouse?” He said quizzically.

“Looookiiiii,” you sang as you turned your legs over the edge. He was visibly aghast at your use of his name. You only laughed again as you stood and wobbled. “Such an odd name.”

“Is it?” He lowered his brows and carefully stood to face you, “You should stay, mouse.”

“No, I’m not tired,” you argued and gave a long yawn. “I feel alive!”

“You can barely stay on your feet,” he rushed forward as you stumbled and caught you. “Come on, to bed with you.”

“Wouldn’t you like that!” You snapped and wriggled in his grasp. “But I’m hungry.”

“You’re deluded,” he rebuked.

You laughed and continued to struggle with him. “I’m perfectly well,” you slapped his chest, “I’m just…” You looked down as your stomach brushed against him and your mouth fell open. “Oh, gods…” You rubbed your middle, “I’ve already eaten too much!”

“No, mouse,” you heard a sliver of amusement in his tone, “You… you are just fine.”

“I’m fat!” You pouted and glared up at him. “Why am I so fat?”

He barely withheld a snicker and took your hand daintily. “I have some biscuits. Would you like one?”

“I couldn’t…” You shook your head as you felt your stomach. “I’m already-- but I am hungry. Just one, just one.”

“Well, you must sit if you want one,” he chided. “Understood, mouse?”

“Mouse! Mouse!” You mocked. “I hate that name. I am not a mouse.”

“Alright,” he nudged you back to the bed and you sat heavily, “Then what are you?”

“Hungry. I told you.” You crossed your arms. “Who are you?”

He grinned and looked around as if confused. “It is me, Loki.”

“Your nose is big,” you said sharply. 

“Thank you,” he said rigidly. “Just wait here.”

He left you and returned with a small box. He took out a biscuit with currants baked into it and held it out. He set the box aside and sat beside you as you eyed the treat.

“What is it?”

“It’s a biscuit,” he said curtly. “Like I said.”

“Sure, sure,” you smelled it and cautiously took a bite, “Suppose it tastes like a biscuit.”

He was quiet. You flinched as you felt his hand on your back suddenly. He rubbed a circle there as you chewed and you clapped the crumbs from your hands as you finished.

“Good?” He asked.

“I told you,” you grabbed his arm and shoved it away. “No.”

He dropped his arm and nodded. He watched you as you balled your hands in fists. You stood and stomped like a child around the room.

“As good as it feels, no, no, no!” You swept your finger through the air. “But perhaps…” You stopped and thought for a moment, “No! No!” You sneered at him. “I don’t want your royal cock tonight, sir!”

At last he chuckled and you were startled by the noise. His features contorted in his mirth and you watched him with wide eyes. He stood and neared you slowly. He reached out tentatively and touched your arms.

“Fine. Not tonight.” He assured you. “But you must lay back down.”

“Why?” You quivered and looked at your body again, “Are my legs broken?”

He smirked and shook his head. “No, because it is the middle of the night.”

You frowned. “Oh.”

“So, bed?” He asked.

“Wait!” You stopped him.

“What is it now?” He sniffed.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. 

“Right,” he said and calmly led you back to the bed. “Time to sleep, mouse.”

“Hmmpf,” you grumbled at the pet name and let him lay you across the bed. “I’m not tired.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He taunted as you yawned again into your hand.

“No,” you argued and your eyes closed. “Not at all.”

“Not at all,” he echoed as he pulled the blankets over you.

He sat with you until you drifted off again though you were barely aware of him. You fell back into the warmth of the bed and the haze of your mind. The peculiar scene blending in with your senseless dreams.

🐍

You awoke facing the king. He slumbered beside you, his pale features unmarred by his waking thoughts. Your head was fuzzy and your limbs heavy. You sat up slowly and wiped the sleep from your eyes. The events of the days before slowly came back to you but did not hit you with the same force. You were anxious to think of Thor and Magnus but not terrified.

Loki groaned and reached out to touch your leg, as if assuring himself of your presence, as he stirred. You watched his long fingers as he squeezed you through the blankets and opened his eyes.

“Mouse,” he voice was hoarse as he retracted his hand and swept his dark hair back. “Is there something the matter?”

You shook your head and looked around. You didn’t like how comfortable you felt. You recalled his callous words the day before during your panic and all those times before he had been unkind. How could he sleep beside you as he would a wife? A wife…

You turned your back to him and evaded his reach again as you stood. You hugged yourself as you neared the dwindling fire and shivered. You heard the mattress move beneath him but he did not rise. You looked to the ceiling as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“Why won’t you give me an answer?” You asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What is to become of me when your wife is here?” You spun back to face him. He sprawled across the mattress as his shoulders and chest were bare above them. “I know this… will change. And I know once this babe is born, you will be done with me or cruel as you were before.”

His face darkened but he made no move to rise. He exhaled, a low growl, and rubbed his forehead.

“I needn’t tell you anything more than you need to know.” He sneered. “I will do whatever is best at the time.”

You gritted your teeth in frustration. You hated his riddles. You weren’t going to get an answer.

“My wife will do whatever I wish of her. And when I have a child on her, then you and the bastard will be of little bother.” He uttered. “And when you are ready, you will return to your original duty.”

Your chest knotted and your stomach grumbled painfully. Your anxiety mixed with your hunger and made your core a pit.

“And the child? I am to carry it to some unknown fate?”

“My child. I shall keep it safe.”

“And me?”

“You are its mother. But you are mine, first and foremost.” He bent his arms behind his head. “You will serve me before the child.”

You scowled in disgust but said nothing. He watched you and slipped his hand beneath the blankets.

“I will have a nursemaid for you. You needn’t worry for the child’s health.” He cooed.

“And my own? Do you care?”

He scoffed. “I’ve provided you with shelter, with sustenance, with a physician for your ailments. I’ve seen you well and I ask little in return.” He declared. “Remind yourself again that you are not my wife.”

“Yes, I am your whore. I am aware.” You hissed. “But you do seem to forget yourself.”

“I forget myself?” He sat up. “Oh, let us put things straight.”

You staggered backwards as he was off the bed in an instant. He seized your arm and you struggled with him as he tried to drag you back with him. 

“The child!” You cried.

“Will be well,” he snarled as he grabbed a hank of your hair and twisted your neck painfully. “Come on, mouse, you want things to be as they were.”

“Stop! I only--”

He sat and you lurched against him. He pushed you back and forced you down to your knees and drew you between his own. His cock twitched and hardened slowly as he clung to you. You pushed on his thighs and wrestled with him as he gripped your jaw.

“My patience for you is spent,” he spat as he shoved your head into his lap. “Open up, whore.”

“Please--”

“Let me give you your answer.” He bit out. “When you have born my bastard, I will use those parts of you unruined by its passage.” He squeezed until you gasped and forced his tip into your mouth. “I shall have my wife’s cunt and your mouth.”

You gurgled as he pushed against the back of your throat and slid down it. You gagged and he pulled you back. 

“Breathe,” he warned, “You don’t want to hurt the child.”

He forced you back down and you clawed at his sides. He moved your head steadily, up and down his length until he was entirely hard. You were dizzy and helpless against him. His groans and grunts added to the noise of you in his mouth and he clutched your head tighter.

He fucked your mouth until you were gasping and gulping around him. He wrenched you off of him suddenly and stroked himself to his climax, his seed stringing across your face. He released you and you fell back in a heap. He stood and stepped around you without concern.

“That is what you will be. Always.” He barked as he crossed the room. “Mine. To do with as I please.”

🐍

The days that followed were frigid and fraught. You could not forget that morning as the king’s former disposition returned fully. He left you in the morning without disturbance and you bided the hours silently, barely aware of Hal as he tried to cheer you. When Loki returned, the boy was sent away. He didn’t speak, only sat and stewed in whatever blight had angered him that day.

And when he wanted you, he had you. Hand, mouth, or cunt. You bore it and hid yourself under the covers when it was done. 

Another week gone and Hal announced that the verdict had been dealt. Loki hadn’t said and you hadn’t dared to ask. You listened as the boy explained how the jury and judges had found Thor guilty and condemned him to death by the sword. Magnus, however, was to be hung like a common criminal.

But that did not mean you would be without a villain. Loki’s moods assured you that nothing had changed at all. It assured you that your life would be as it ever was. That the fate he’d promised you down in that dungeon would come to pass. You would never escape him and perhaps, though you’d not realised it, your time with Thor and Magnus could have been your only hope at an eventual end to the agony.

You sat in limbo. You could hardly believe that they would die and yet, you feared the future beyond. For all the certainty of their sentences, yours was still frightfully abstract. You could not decide if you were appeased by their demise or envious of it.

Your inner strife was interrupted as Hal stood suddenly and you turned to watch the door open. The boy bowed to the king as he entered, clothed in fur and his horned crown. You stood and the king looked between the two of you. He raised his chin and looked down his nose.

“Get her a cloak and boots,” he demanded, “You will accompany us to the green.”

“The green? Why--”

“Gird your tongue, woman,” Loki demanded. “Haven’t you asked enough questions?”

Hal glanced at you wistfully but did as he was told. He helped you into the fur-trimmed cloak and you pulled the hood up as he helped you step into the boots and laced them tightly. Hal snatched up his own cap as he followed you and the king into the corridor.

You walked behind Loki and his guards, Hal was at your side and foreboding set deep in your stomach. You could guess at the event on the green though you hoped it wasn’t as you expected.

You came out into the blustery winter light and a crowd gathered around a stage erected over the white yard. Just before the walls of Boulder Tower, housed tight within the borders of the palace, a platform stood awaiting the executioner and his victim. You stopped short and Hal quickly caught your elbow and urged you on. The king peered over his shoulder in a wordless reproach.

The people parted as the monarch approached and you were diverted into the crowd of onlookers by another armored man. You went unnoticed as the king passed to the front of the audience and you stood alone with the steely sentinel.

A hush went over the crowd as the king stood with his head high. The hooded executioner came out onto the stage and waited by the lever. Armor clinked and announced the arrival of the criminal before he appeared. Magnus had only rags wrapped around his feet and shreds of clothing barely hanging from his form.

He twitched nervously but showed little emotion as he was herded up the steps. The hooded man came forward to wrap the noose around his neck and a holy man offered muttered prayers to the condemned.

You froze as you gaped up at the scene. It felt like a horrid nightmare. The prisoner shrugged away the holy man and strained against the rope. He looked across the green and his eyes narrowed at the king stood among the masses.

“Fuck the king!” He shouted and the lever was pulled suddenly.

The heavy body plummeted downward and all could hear the crack of his neck above their gasps. It was a sickly sound that made your legs weak. You saw Hal, close to the king’s shoulder, lower his head and a few onlookers swayed before they fainted. You felt queasy but did not waver.

You only remained as you were as slowly, those who still had sense, roused those in shock and dispersed. Those who had fallen were carried away by their companions and you still did not move. It was only as the king’s figure retreated that you were woken from your trance.

“Shall I have his skull boiled and brought to you?” He asked as he neared with his guards in tow. You shook your head and looked away from him. Your eyes stung. “Do not act as if I’m the same as they were,” he lowered his voice as he leaned in. “They would’ve killed you and the child. Where do you think they were taking you?”

You shivered and pulled your hood low to hide your distress. Loki let out a breath that clouded before him in the cold. Snow crunched as an unseen figure neared and another armoured man came up breathlessly. You peeked from beneath your cloak and king frowned at the guard’s frantic energy.

“What is it now?” He poked the guard’s breastplate harshly.

“Your majesty,” the man caught his breath in rasps, “The prince--”

“What of my brother?” Loki tensed and fidgeted as he glared at the guard.

“He is gone. He has escaped.” The guard announced. “He--”

“What do you mean he is gone?!” Loki seized the guard by the mail that poked up around his cowl. “How could he be gone?”

“It seems there was a plot. Lord Fandral and his ilk--”

“Fuck!” Loki shoved away the man and punched his palm. “Fuck!!!” He shouted and looked around at the liveried guards, “Well, you fools, go find them!”

[the-and-sign-anon]

The Fateful Formal

Guardian Angel: Chapter Four

Teen Wolf x Stilinski! Reader

Word count: 2,019

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You lost track of what was happening after that. Derek disappeared, possibly ending up dead, you were trying to hide from Peter, and the boys got wrapped up in the dance at the school. It felt like there was nothing you could do, so you focused on work instead. You spent every minute you could at the station, only returning home when your dad insisted. Stiles mentioned something about going to the dance with Lydia, which you were excited about. He’d been crushing on her for so long, it was nice for him to actually get to spend some time with her. 

On the night of the dance, you were out in the woods again. When you couldn’t sleep, which was every night now, you came here. Something was calling to you, you were sure of it. All your life, you’d walked through this forest, letting some deep sense of knowing guide you. You’d never gotten lost once, but you always seemed to end up in the same place. For the sake of your sanity, you’d ignored it. Now it had pulled you there again. 

“Excuse me, miss. What are you doing out here?”

You whirled around to see Chris Argent standing a few feet away with a man you didn’t recognize. They were both armed, but tried for calm expressions. 

“I’m just taking a walk.”

“Alone in the woods? In the middle of the night?”

You shrugged. “You’d be surprised how often I do.”

Argent glanced at his companion and took another step toward you. 

“The woods are a dangerous place. Why don’t we help you find your way out of here? I’d hate to leave a defenseless young woman alone without offering my assistance first.”

You weighed your options in your mind. From what you knew about Argent, his offer was genuine. He wasn’t interested in hurting an innocent person, especially a human. If you tried to take off on your own, you could easily run into more problems. And you weren’t sure where Peter was, so being alone was a chance you shouldn’t have taken to begin with. 

“Okay. Thank you…” You figured it would be smart to pretend you didn’t already know who he was. 

“Chris Argent.”

“Y/N Stilinski.”

You shook his hand and followed him through the trees. 

“Stilinski. Sheriff’s daughter?”

“Yep.”

He nodded and you both let the conversation end there.

It didn’t take long to reach the high school. You could hear someone talking, and Chris immediately stopped you. His friend led you in a wide arc around the sound while Argent went to investigate. Once you were at the tree line, you thanked him and watched as he turned back into the woods. 

As soon as you were in the clear, you ran for the open front doors of the school. You felt the slightest bit safer in the school than with the hunters and took a moment to gather your thoughts. One of these days, you’d have to get a handle on that urge to run into the woods every chance you had. It might get you hurt if you didn’t. A few minutes later, Jackson came stumbling through the doors and ran into Stiles. 

“Hey, where have you been? Did Lydia ever find you?”

“I- I was out behind the school…”

You came closer. 

“That was you?”

Stiles took a second to register that you were there.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? Where is Lydia?”

Realization dawned on both of you at the same time and you took off together to find her. You were just coming up on the lacrosse field when all the lights flicked on, illuminating the redhead in the middle, staring at the rapidly approaching figure of Peter Hale. Stiles tried to tell her to run, but she didn’t understand and in the next second, he had her. Her body dropped to the grass as you and Stiles slid down next to her. 

“Don’t kill her, please!”

You kept a hand on Stiles’s shoulder, reminding yourself that he was still there. Peter looked up at him and let his eyes flicker to yours for half a second. 

“Of course not.” You almost let out a breath of relief before he continued. “Just tell me how to find Derek.”

Stiles froze and stared up at him. 

“W-What?”

“Derek Hale. Tell me how to find him.”

“I don’t know that. How would I know that?”

Peter gave you a look like he expected you to agree with him. 

“Because you’re the clever one. Aren’t you?”

“Peter…”

“Tell me how to find him, or I will rip her apart.”

“Look- I don’t know! I have no idea!”

You squeezed his shoulder slightly and gave him a pleading look. 

“Stiles, tell him.”

“Y/N-”

“We both know you can figure it out, Sty. Lydia’s life is more important.”

Stiles looked down as Peter’s patience wore ever thinner. 

“I think- I think he knew…”

“Knew what?”

You answered for him. 

“Derek knew he’d be caught.”

“By the Argents.”

“Yeah.” You looked back to your brother. “Derek took Scott’s phone, didn’t he?”

“Why?”

“They all have GPS now.” You got to your feet as you realized it. “If the phone is still on and it’s with Derek, then you can find him.”

Peter got to his feet as well, leaving Stiles on the grass next to Lydia. He wiped the blood from his mouth and watched you try to still your shaking hands. 

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“You’re coming with me, Stiles. You don’t get a choice.” Peter waved a hand at you. “Your sister can look after her.”

“You aren’t taking one step out of my sight as long as my little brother is with you.”

Peter gave you a look of mock offense.

“You don’t trust me with his safety? I thought we were friends, Y/N.”

“That was before you were a psychotic murderer. Wherever you take him, I’m coming too. Stiles, call Jackson. Tell him where she is.”

You knew you should prioritise the injured girl, but you couldn’t leave Peter alone with him. You would do anything to keep Stiles safe, no matter the cost. Stiles pulled out his phone as Peter started walking away. You followed after him. 

“If you hurt my brother-”

“What? You’ll kill me? You don’t even know how.”

“I’ll figure something out.” You grabbed his arm and made sure he was looking at you before continuing. “Nothing is more important to me than my family and if you’re responsible for them getting hurt I can promise you this; the fire will seem like a fond memory compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Peter didn’t laugh. The look in your eyes told him you weren’t making an empty threat. No matter how powerful he was, nothing could beat the proper motivation. Your motivation, should Stiles not come out of this unscathed, would bring Peter’s world crashing down beyond the point of salvation. 

“I just need him to get to Derek. He’ll be free to go after that.”

You tilted your head slightly and he sighed. 

“You have my word, for whatever it’s worth.”

You let go then and climbed into the Jeep. Peter sat in the front seat and Stiles settled in the driver’s seat once he caught up. There was very little conversation during the drive. You were glaring at Peter the whole time and Stiles was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. You knew he was worried about Lydia. Peter knew it too. 

“Don’t worry. If she survives, she’ll be a werewolf. She’ll be incredibly powerful.”

“Yeah, and once a month, she’ll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear me apart.”

“Well, actually, considering she’s a woman-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence or I’m gonna punch you in the head.”

“I thought I was your friend.”

“Shut up.”

When you reached a parking garage, the three of you piled out and Peter led the way to another car. 

“Whose is this?”

“It belonged to my nurse.”

You were about to ask what happened to her when he opened the trunk, revealing her cold, pale body. Stiles grabbed your arm and flinched back at the sight. Peter simply grabbed the laptop case from her arms and looked at you blankly. 

“I got better.”

You lost focus on what was happening for a second when your phone buzzed. Your dad was texting, asking if you’d seen Stiles. 

Where’s your brother?

Why would I know where he is?

Because you always do. Have you seen him anywhere?

You looked up as Stiles tried to deny knowing Scott’s login. 

Can’t say I have.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don’t make me persuade you.”

“Peter.”

He took his hand off Stiles’s neck and stepped back a bit. 

“Just type, Stiles. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave.”

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at you. He could see the worry in your eyes, how desperate you were to keep him safe. 

“What happens once you find Derek? You’re gonna kill people, aren’t you?”

“Only the responsible ones.”

“Look, if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott out of it.”

“Do you know why wolves hunt in packs?”

“Because their favored prey are too large to be brought down by a single wolf alone.”

“I need Scott and Derek. Both of them.”

Stiles watched you go back and forth. 

“I know Scott. He won’t help you.”

“He will to save Allison. And you’ll help, because it will save Scott.”

Stiles started typing and you watched Peter stare at the screen in disbelief. 

“His username is ‘Allison’?”

You almost snickered when Stiles continued typing.

“His password is also ‘Allison’?”

You and Stiles answered at the same time. “Still want him in your pack?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Teenagers. 

You all looked back at the computer and stared at the map. 

“They’re keeping him at his own house?”

“Not at it-”

“Under it.”

Peter glanced back at you. 

“I know exactly where that is-” He tilted his head as if he’d heard something, but you couldn’t catch anything. “And I’m not the only one.”

You had the oddest feeling, like you should go along with him. But Stiles was your first priority. 

“Give me your keys.”

Stiles groaned, but handed them over to Peter.

“Careful, she grinds in second.”

Instead of getting in the Jeep, Peter simply bent the keys in his fist and dropped them back into Stiles’s hand. 

“So, you’re not gonna kill us?”

“Stiles, I’m not the bad guy here.”

You got another text from your dad and missed Peter leaving. You had no faster way of getting to the hospital than running, so that’s what you and Stiles did. You promised to take him to replace his keys later, but said you could only do so much to cover for him with your dad. 

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, you collapsed into an open chair in the waiting room. Stiles had to talk to your dad, but you were in serious need of a moment to breathe. All your sleepless nights caught up to you and within a minute, you were out cold. Stiles went to get you, but turned back when he saw your closed eyes and steady breathing. He didn’t want to disturb your sleep, especially to drag you along to another dangerous encounter. 

You didn’t wake up until late morning. Stiles filled you in on everything you’d missed. Kate killed the Hales, Peter killed Kate, Derek killed Peter, and the Argents knew about Scott. Your dad had found Kate’s body, with the Argent pendant, in the burned husk of the Hale house and the case was closed. Lydia seemed to be healing at the rate of a normal person, which both confused and relieved you. A part of you mourned Peter’s death, but you were more focused on the peace of mind that came with knowing he was no longer a threat. It was the best you could do, really. 

Season Two

[spiritofchaoticdreams]

A Lantern’s Rage PART 3

Prev Beginning  Next

Based on @cornholio4 ‘s Red Lantern Prompt

______________________________________________________________

The view of the Earth from the watchtower was always a sight to see. Hal sighed as he looked down on the big blue planet. “You were right when you said your home planet was beautiful.”

Hal looked over at his shoulder to see his friend, Blue Lantern Razer slowly walking toward him , he chuckled, “Do I ever lie?” He turned his head to look back at Earth. “Sometimes when I’m here, I take a moment to just take it all in. To remind myself what I'm fighting for.” 

“I understand.”, Razer said coolly, as he walked over and stood next to Hal. “It’s difficult to believe you came from such a planet.” Hal snorted, and lightly punched Razer’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I guess it is hard to believe such a handsome specimen like myself came from little old Earth.”, Hal joked.

Suddenly, the sound of an alarm filled Hal’s ears, recognizing it as the alarm for the Situation Room he looked at Razer. “Follow me!”, he shouted, Razer nodded and together they flew to the Situation Room in the center of the Watchtower.  The Situation room was where the core members of the Justice League discussed threats and held meetings about plans to further ensure the safety of Earth and its citizens. 

Once the doors opened, Hal immediately got to work, “What’s going on!”he asked, plopping down into his designated seat. Razer stood behind him, silent and listening. He saw Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman sitting at the table in the middle of the room. “The scanners picked up red lantern energy on Earth.”, Bruce explained as he pressed a few buttons and a hologram appeared.  It was Earth, with a little blinking red dot covering Europe, “Computer, pinpoint location of the red lantern energy.”, The Batman said.

The hologram shifted and turned into a 3-D model of a city, the word “Paris” underneath it. “There is a red lantern in Par-isss”?, Razer asked, Diana nodded her head. “Hal, will you and your companion be able to detain the threat? Or will you need assistance?”, she asked.  

Hal waved his hand dismissively, “It won't be necessary. Razer’s blue lantern energy not only boosts mine, it neutralizes Red Lantern energy. As soon as Razer gets close enough that Red Lantern will be powerless.” He grinned at the Amazonian warrior, and looked at Razer, “Ready?”

“Ready.”, Razer replied. Together they left the situation room, to fly to Paris.

When they arrived in Paris, they were greeted by the sight of a giant cloud of smoke, he and Razer shared a look. That’s where they’ll find the red lantern, they flew closer and ended up above what may have been a school. Parts of the building were on fire, there were destroyed parts that encased a big courtyard full of trembling teens. That’s most likely where they’ll find the red lantern. They flew closer and hid behind some debris waiting for something to prove their suspicions correct. 

Hal looked over the students, all of them were terrified and there were a handful of adults trying to keep them calm. But there was a small group in the middle of the courtyard that was separated from the rest of the students with no adults watching over them. Why wasn’t anyone checking  on them, wait was that an unconscious adult in one kid's arms? A red haired woman in a white suit was asleep in a tall asian boy’s arms. He noticed that almost everyone kept away from that one group in the middle, just what was going on? In fact, it looked like everyone was scared to just look at them.

Suddenly, there was a giant gust of wind and there was a glowing red figure hovering above the middle group. There’s their red lantern. Hal gasped, it was just a kid, a teenage girl. Her most notable feature was the set of red devil horns resting on her head.  They flew closer and saw that the group  huddled together behind a girl with glasses and ombre hair and a boy with glasses and a red cap. “Marinette! Please you have to fight him.”, the girl begged. 

The red lantern, or rather Marinette laughed, not a light hearted giggle, it was a hearty laugh. Like she heard someone tell her a really funny joke. “Fight who exactly? Hawkmoth?”, she cackled, “Hawkmoth would kill for the power I have.” Her ring glowed brighter. “And I’d kill him to keep this power to myself.” A wicked smirk came over the girl’s face. 

“Is this Hawkmoth one of Earth’s villains?”, Razer asked, Hal didn’t know how to answer. This is the first time he’s even heard of Paris having a supervillain, he and the other league members prided themselves on knowing almost every bad guy, every hero, and every vigilante. How was he supposed to say, that there was something like this going on in a city on Earth that he and he’s guessing the other league members don’t know about? 

Then a giant red arm stretched out and wrapped around a girl with long brunette hair. The girl then started screaming as she was brought closer to the red lantern girl. “Well Lila, looks like you’re in trouble...Maybe you should call your best friend to come help you...Go on Lila, call Ladybug.I’ll wait.”, Marinette said in a cold menacing voice. 

‘Ladybug?’, Hal thought, ‘She’s gotta be their hero. Why did she never reach out to the League?’ He observed everyone of the kids, all of them were terrified, but they seemed almost used to it. If something like this was a regular occurrence, then he’s been doing his job wrong. He looked back at the brunette girl being held hostage, she looked annoyed?

Then she said, “Ladybug will come and save me, just wait.” Marinette laughed and flew closer to the girl, their faces centimeters apart. “Oh Lila, it’s pathetic that you think that. Because I know for a fact, Ladybug isn’t coming.” She then dropped Lila, only to catch her by the arm with her construct. Marinette’s grin turned bloodthirsty and there was a sickening snap. Lila landed on the ground, clutching her arm and sobbing. He saw at least two bends in her arm, one was definitely her elbow, the other was in her forearm. She was then pulled into the center of the group of teens, forming a shield to protect her from the red lantern. 

“What makes you so sure that Ladybug’s not coming?”, a femine voice yelled, all eyes turned to a red haired girl with big glasses. “Ladybug always comes to save us! She’ll stop you, you big bully!”, the girl shouted. Some of the teens looked emboldened by her words, others looked like they wanted her to shut her mouth. Hal watched as this red lantern girl began laughing, a long and hearty laugh. 

“Oh wow Sabrina!”, Marinette laughed. “ You’re speaking up to me! But not to Chloe? Why?” The laughter stopped. “Because you think Ladybug’s coming? Big, strong Ladybug’s coming to save the day? Newsflash! The only thing that’s being saved is me savoring the sounds of your suffering. As I get my revenge for all the suffering you and everyone else has put me through for the past few years of my life!” Marinette began to glow bright red.

“Marinette!”, a male voice yelled out, all eyes turned to see a teenage boy in a catsuit standing on the roof of the school. All the students began cheering and there were multiple yells of “It’s Chat Noir!” “Chat Noir’s come to save us!” “Go Chat Noir!” 

This Chat Noir pulled a staff from his belt and then used it to jump down to get on the ground level with the rest of the teens.

“W-what happened?”, he asked, he looked at the middle group of teens, “Why is she an akuma?” None of them looked like they could answer, most of them looked ashamed, Alya and a boy in a red cap looked angry, while the brunette just had an annoyed look in her eyes as she cried about her arm. 

“You really want to know?”, Marinette growled, she pointed a finger at the teens, “My so called friends decided that I needed to be punished!” she made air quotes, “ After I punched Lila for making fun of my parents death! Not only that she basically told me to kill myself so I could see them again!” Hal tossed a disgusted look at the brunette girl, then Marinette started to laugh, “After I gave that bitch what she deserved, my classmates threw me into a janitor’s closet and locked me in there!” Her laughter turned into cackles and Hal felt an uneasy feeling in his gut.

“Then this glorious power came to me in a blazing red ball of light”, she smiled so sweetly, as if she was talking about a happy memory. She clenched her fist and brought it close to her heart, “The power to get my revenge on everyone who’s ever wronged me.” She stopped laughing and stared into Chat Noir’s eyes, “like you.”

Hal heard a couple of gasps, the blonde boy took a step back, “Me? How have I ever wronged you?”, he yelled. Marinette scoffed, her ring began glowing and she glared at him, “How you ask? Every time you goof off on the job. Everytime you flirt with Ladybug, instead of focusing on the battle. Everytime you do anything else other than your fucking job!” 

She flew closer and closer to him, then started poking him in the chest, “because of you, I’ve had to watch my family and friends die over and over again! And now, my parents are dead and they’re never coming back! And you weren’t there! You want to say you’re a hero but you’re never there!”, she was yelling in his face now. 

“You want the fame and glory that comes with being a hero without doing any of the damn work! People die, and you don’t even care!”,she pulled her fist back and Chat Noir couldn’t block her punch in time. He was sent flying backwards, then he flipped his body around and landed on his feet. 

“You can’t blame me for your parents death! If I was there I would’ve helped save them!”, he ran over to where some rubble was, grabbing a few decent sized pieces he threw them up in the air and hit them with his staff like a baseball. The pieces flew at her, she crossed her arms over her chest and made a shield. 

Behind her shield she yelled back, “You’re not listening to me!” He kept hitting pieces of rubble and launching them at her, not leaving her a chance to attack. Hal then noticed that he was using the rubble as a distraction, she was too busy using her shield to protect herself to realize that Chat was getting closer.

By the time she noticed, Chat Noir was right in front of her with his staff, he jumped into the air, staff raised and slammed it down on her head. Her shield broke and she fell to the ground clenching her head with both hands. She yelled in pain and took in a deep breath of air, she let her head go and cracked her neck. She smirked at Chat Noir, “Is that all you got?” 

Chat Noir glared and then charged at her with his staff, “Hal, shouldn’t we be doing something?”, Razer’s voice snapped Hal back to reality. “You’re right.” Hal looked at the numerous teenagers watching the fight, “We have to get the kids out of there, we’ll have to get the middle group after everyone else, it’s too risky to the rest of the kids.” He said, Razer nodded his head, “You’re right. You get one group while I get another?” The green lantern gave his friend a thumbs up and then they split up.

Hal flew close to a small group of kids, a blonde pigtailed girl noticed them, and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, the Justice League is here.”, she whispered loud enough for Hal and her friends to hear. Hal nodded at them and put a finger to his lips, they got the memo and were silent. “I’m going to get you all out of here while she’s distracted, in order for me to do that I need you all to be very quiet. Give me a thumbs up if you understand.”, he said. They all gave him a thumbs up. He looked back over at the red lantern, she was still fighting Chat Noir, looks like he was trying to lure her out of the school, but she wasn’t taking the bait.

Looking back at the teens, he gave them the follow me gesture and led them to the entrance he came through. “Ok, all of you are going to run home to safety.”, he said, they all nodded and began rushing through the entrance, Hal turned around and was about to go back into the school when he felt a hand grab his wrist. He looked over his shoulder and saw the blonde girl was grabbing him, “Please...Please help Marinette! I think her akuma is in her ring, or her earrings! She never takes those off!, she pleaded. 

“I-I will do my best to help your friend.”, he said. ‘What’s an akuma?’, he thought. She nodded and walked out the school, giving him one last look before she was gone. Hal turned around, “Razer, if we’re gonna take her down we gotta do it now.”, he said into his ring. 

Razer’s voice came through, “I agree, I managed to sneak a lot of the children to safety.” Hal looked up, he was right, it looked like there were only a handful of students that weren’t in the middle group left. “Ok, what do we do when we get all of them out? Like how do we take her out?”, Hal said aloud, he thought back to his adventures when he first met Razer.

Razer had been a formidable opponent, strong, cunning, and he had been able to break through his constructs easily. But he was still vulnerable to physical attacks! But it still took him a while to get the best of the then red lantern. Hal groaned, he really didn’t want to fight a little girl. “Ok, we’ll focus on the rest of the kids, then we get the middle group of kids. After that...I’ll draw her fire and serve as a distraction helping Chat Noir, then you get her in a bubble!” 

Razer nodded his head and was about to say something, when Hal felt two hands push him away from where he was hidden. After landing on his behind, he looked up to see a bright red car where he once was. The car disappeared into thin air and he heard a demented laugh. He looked over at the red lantern, her eyes glowing bright red as she smirked and constructed a crown of crimson light, hovering above her head. 

“Well looky here.”, she grinned, “another fake hero’s come to play!” Her crown dissipated, a manic gleam shown in her eyes. “I’ll play with you later, right now I have a cat to skin.” 

She looked over her shoulder, Hal followed her gaze. Cat boy wasn’t doing so well, he was heaving and looked like he was going to fall over at any minute. Using his baton to support him, a brave look on his face, he stared his opponent down. “Come and get me….Purrincess.”, he breathed out. 

“Aww, look at that! Kitty thinks he has claws!”, Marinette cooed. She summoned a morning star with a giant head of spikes. Then she said with an expressionless look on her face. “How cute.” Her entire body started to glow like a light bulb. 

“Marinette! What the class did was horrible, but this isn’t you ”, The ombre haired girl with glasses spoke up. Marinette’s glow seemed to flicker, but only slightly. This time coming back brighter. “Alya, you and Nino are free to leave and I won’t hunt you down. But if you try and stop me, you’ll burn where you stand.” 

The girl, Alya, didn’t move, she stood her ground and stared Marinette down. “Fine then.”, Marinette growled. Her eyes glow so bright that Hal could barely make out her face, he narrowed his eyes and formed a barrier around the teens. 

Hal looked at Razer, “New plan, I’ll get her attention and you rescue the kids.  Razer nodded, and flew away from Hal. The green lantern turned his head to look back at the teens, Marinette was still glowing red and was now swinging the Morningstar up and around her head. He flew over immediately, yelling “Hey little red!” 

Marinette whipped her head around and Hal was stunned. Her eyes...they were pitch black with glowing red irises. He’s only seen that look on a red lantern once before. Back when Aya had been attacked by a manhunter. Razer’s rage had become so strong that he was able to use his powers in front of two blue lanterns and then went on to destroy the manhunter. Almost nothing had been left of that robot. Hal made a shield and whispered into his ring.  “Razer, you ready?”

“I am ready, just tell me when.”, Razer’s voice said coolly. Then Marinette stopped moving, her morning star vanished, her ring began to glow ominously. The glow engulfed her hand and she made another  a construct. 

“Wait, what is th-”, Hal’s question was cut off by a yo-yo construct hitting him in his face. He groaned and held his poor aching forehead, then shouted, “Who uses a yo-yo in a fight!” 

His only response was a death glare from the little lantern, ‘Why does it feel like Diana is glaring at me.’, was all he had time to think before Marinette began spinning the yo-yo until it became nothing but a whirring blur at her side. Hal turned his shield into a bubble surrounding himself in the green construct. Marinette then threw the yo-yo at him and it immediately wrapped itself around the bubble. The bubble started to crack only to disappear and the yo-yo had him. He winced as his arms were tucked tightly against his sides. “Aw come on!”, he groaned. Then she smirked at him, a sinister evil smirk...Who taught this kid how to be scary?!

 She then pulled the yo-yo’s string, pulling him along with it. Then she began spinning as she pulled him. Suddenly he was being spun around like a toy, then she finally let the yo-yo go. Why was he still tied up and flying through the air? How did she have this much control over her constructs? And why did he feel proud? Oh god was he turning into Batman? 

He struggled to free himself from the yo-yo, but it wouldn’t budge. Then he landed in a building. He felt his body crash through a window and heard screams, after a rough landing into an office cubicle  he felt the tightness of his binding disappear. He was free. He sat up and groaned, “That’s going to leave a mark.”

He felt a giant tremor rip through the building he was in and instinctively made a bubble to surround him. Just in time to see Marinette glaring at him, a big red automatic gun resting on her shoulder. She had a wicked look on her face as she aimed the gun at him and began letting out a barrage of red bullets.

“Look, you’re hurting I get it, but this is not the way to deal with that pain.”, Hal said calmly, staring at the small lantern girl in the eye. He saw the pure rage falter and a scared child was looking at him.  

“Princess please listen to him!”, Cat Boy pleaded as he limped over to them, the scared child looked so horrified at the sight of the boy...she was going to run. Hal immediately dropped his bubble and summoned a lasso, he threw it and caught her. She yelled and began thrashing around, trying to get the rope off of her. Then she broke free in a bright flash of crimson light. Only for her red glow to disappear completely and she began to fall to the ground.

Hal immediately summoned a platform to try and catch her, but he was too late. A blue bubble surrounded her and stopped her from falling.

Hal’s eyes trailed upward, an apologetic Razer was descending down to the floor he was on. “Took you long enough.”, Hal laughed, only to wince as his lungs stretched against his ribs. Razer landed on the ground next to him and helped him up.

“My apologies, there were innocents in need.” Razer wrapped Hal’s arm around his shoulder and the green lantern winced. Hal looked to a few feet in front of him and saw the tiny red lantern kicking and pounding against the sides of the blue bubble holding her. “Let me out!”, she screamed. “Let me out!” She slumped down to her knees and leaned against the bubble, she  punched it once more. Her shoulders started to shake and he heard soft sniffles and whimpers. “Let me out.”, she cried softly as  she banged on the bubble. 

______________________________________________________________

(Author’s note) Hey guys, Spirit here! Thanks for reading part 3 of A Lantern’s Rage. I hope you all enjoyed it! If you have questions feel free to ask in my ask box!

TAGLIST: @our-preciousss @ @misslenamooney @maskedpainter @silversaphire12 @lassiedanter @vinces-cove @vixen-uchiha

[catxsnow]

TAKE THE BULLET B.W.

Request:  I saw your post about requests! Can you do a Batman x reader (from the animated movies if you do him) where the reader is apart of the JL and almost dies by jumping in front of a bullet during a mission with the team to save Bruce? Fluffy/angsty stuff. 

Warning: injury, angst, fluff

A/N: I’m so sorry it took this long! It’s been sitting in my WIP for ages and I just never got around to doing it until now 

Gif not mine

Word count: 2.3k 

You knew the risks of being in the Justice League.

A constant target on your back, the willingness to lay down your life to protect the people of your world, even the on demand requirement of your presence when someone was endangering the world. The second that you joined the team, you lost your freedom to have a normal life.

When it came down to it, it was all worth it. Knowing that you saved hundreds, thousands, even millions of lives because you stood up against an evil greater than yourself. The nightmares that haunted your sleep because of the horrors that you saw. The pain you endured because you refused to give up. Everything was worth it.

Your whole life you had been the one to willingly put yourself through all this torture to save lives. It was engraved in you to make the world a better place, no one expected you to make a difference like this one. No one expected you to be a hero, one of the best at that.

For so long you were on your own. You had your friends in your civilian life but no one truly to understand what you had to endure as a superhero. That was until the Justice League formed. It was a rocky start - a bunch of people who didn't believe that they needed to be a part of something bigger.

While many of the heroes found it a burden to have people that relied on you, you found it a blessing. People to finally understand who you were, that accepted you for the person that you were, not some freak. This team meant everything to you, enough that you would give up your life for your teammates.

And that was exactly what you had done. It was a dangerous mission, everyone knew that. As prepared as everyone was, they weren't expecting you to take the bullet for Batman. You saw the blast coming while he was fighting off another monster. There wasn't enough time to get him out of the way and he had no idea that it was coming for him.

So, in a moments haste, you had put yourself between the blast and him. Batman might have driven you crazy half the time, but he was only human under that suit. He would have never survived the blast. You barely did and your suit was impenetrable.

Batman didn't make friends. He didn't stick around to get to know his teammates and he certainly wasn't chatty with anyone. You found him insufferable most of the time but that small part of you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Batman acted as if he were Superman even though a bullet would stop him just as it would anyone else.

He was meticulous with everything he did. No matter the situation, he knew every detail about everything. Batman was cold hearted, except for the split second time that you got to see him smile.

The team watched in horror as you fell to the cement. Your suit was half disintegrated and your breathing shallow. The blast had almost killed you. Almost.

It was Hal that got you out of there, bringing you to safety and away from the fight that you could no longer be a part of. Everyone had seen you go down. As devastation filled them, so did determination. They couldn't lose this fight, not after what you had done for them all. Batman most of all.

Only when you were safe in the infamous Batcave did Hal leave your side again. At the moment, there was no better place for you. He knew the secret identity of Batman, he also knew that Bruce was going to want to be the one to help you. After that night, he owed you a life debt.

As much as Batman liked to make everyone think he was invincible, he was only human. Humans had a heart, and with that little move that you did, you had gotten right into his.

><

You woke up cold. The air was still and held a frosty bite to it. Your whole body ached and as you tried to move it flared even more though your nerves. An IV was stuck in your arm and you were no longer in your suit. It wasn't the new clothes or the medical supplies that got you curious, it was the location.

No one in the Justice League had been lucky enough to step foot in the Batcave. It always seemed like some sacred place that all your other teammates were afraid to step foot in. Their bad mojo rubbed off on you for the longest time as well. Batman's secret lair always seemed to spook you.

Sitting in there now, you didn't feel the same way. Aside from the cold and darkness, the place wasn't nearly as dramatic as you thought it was going to be. Large super computer, training area, the med bay that you were in, and a collection of memorabilia. Nothing like you expected it to look like.

"You're awake."

You nearly jumped at the voice. Batman stood to the side of you, his cowl off so you could see his face. It was the first time that he ever trusted you with his identity and least to say, you were shocked. Bruce Wayne hid under that cowl. Billionaire playboy by day, Gotham's hero at night.

Without the cowl on, he looked far less intimidating. Whether it was his piercing blue eyes or the fact that he was really just some human. You felt less of a need to cower away from him and more of a pull of attraction. He was handsome, extremely.

"How long was I out?" You asked. Your voice was hoarse and the cough that erupted in your chest only put you through more pain. It was going to take far longer for you to heal than you wished. However, seeing Bruce alive because of you was well worth the pain. You couldn't imagine Gotham without it's Dark Knight.

"Three days."

"Fuck," you muttered, laying back down to the pillow. Your eyes sealed shut in frustration at the lost time. "I take it the rest of the mission went well then."

"Minimal civilian causalities," Bruce told you. He took a step closer to you and reached for the bandages that crossed your stomach. Faint burn marks that would never fully heal laced your skin. They did as much as they could, but you would be left scarred forever. Just a reminder for Bruce that you nearly died for him.

Before he could touch the material, you had snatched his wrist. Your eyes were still shut when you did the action, but they popped open when you grabbed him. Bruce retracted without saying anything. He nearly complained as you pulled the IV out of your arm and swung your legs off the side of the hospital bed, but remained silent. You were a grown woman, you could decide if you felt healthy or not.  

"Thank you," Bruce found the only way to stop you in your tracks. Your hands gripped the side of the bed and he couldn't tell if it was because you were suddenly dizzy, or shocked by his words. It was both. Your head hung low and you didn't wish to gaze up at him. Memories of the searing pain you felt flooded you and seeing his face was only a reminder of it all.

You knew that taking that blast might of killed you. You knew that the second it hit you that you might not be waking up the next morning. Was it worth it? Saving someone as heartless as Batman? You weren't sure yet. You were alive and breathing, that was going to have to be good enough for now.

"I would be dead without you," he continued. You still didn't move. Bruce went down to his knee. One hand gently on you leg and the other balancing on his own. His touch caused you to flinch, catching him off guard. He felt the need to step away from you, to give you the space that you desired. "I'm sorry."

"I saved a teammate, Bruce," you used his real name. His narrowed slightly; he didn't think you recognized him. You showed no reaction as you saw who he really was, he just assumed you were as oblivious as Hal. "I'd like to think you would do the same but who fucking knows."

"I've dedicated my life to saving people do you really think that I wouldn't do the same for anyone else on the Justice League? For you?" Bruce grit his teeth. He stood up from his spot on the ground and towered above you once more. This sudden coldness that you were giving him was nothing that he expected when you woke up.

You were always so kind to everyone on the team - even him when he pushed you away so many times. After taking the risk of dying for him, he thought that you would be willing to show more kindness. Someone willing to die for another obviously enjoyed their presence . At least he thought so.

"I think that it's been months that we've been working together and it's only when I nearly die for you that you decide to show your face," you scoffed. "Then again why does it matter who's under the mask, you're still the same asshole either way." This time, you jumped off the bed and tried to walk past Bruce.

You never even made it two steps past him before he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. You tried to pull out of his grasp but it was no use, he was far too strong for you. Bruce tugged you back, nearly causing you to trip over your own feet as you did.

"I kept you alive, the least I deserve is a thank you," Bruce's voice lowered. If you were going to be cold to him, then he was going to be the same right back. "But then again, why does it matter? I'm still the same asshole anyways that could have let you die." He let go of your wrist, but his words only frustrated you more.

After taking the bullet for him, you thought he would be more willing to open up to you. To be himself while there was no one else around. It didn't take long to realize that he would never do that, or maybe this was him being himself. You would never know the truth. That was what angered you.

You wanted to argue with him, to yell at him for being such a soulless dick. However, Pain erupted though your entire body. Your knees buckled from below you as you held onto your wound. Bruce had caught you just before you hit the ground. He easily swooped you up and set you back down on the bed.

This time, you didn't argue as he lifted the bandage to see what kind of hell your skin was in underneath. Bruce worked in silence. He dabbed a clean cloth around the wound and sterilized it. The sting of alcohol made you bite your lip to hold back the hiss of pain. With more grace than you ever thought he had, he wrapped you with a new bandage.

As he tried to walk away, you were the one to stop him. You grasped his hand, far more delicately than he had grabbed you. He could easily snap out of your hold if he wanted to, yet he found himself stopping to turn back.

"I'm sorry," you apologized. He was right, Bruce did save your life. "I guess I just expected you to be... different without the mask on. I assumed we all were. Maybe in this life we're always hiding behind some sort of mask, even without realizing it."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Bruce," you stopped him from walking away once more. "I just meant that I'm grateful for you to trust me with your identity. And that you saved me, you understand what it's like to be human under the suit. I know that trust doesn't come easy to you."

A silence fell between you. The intensity of his stare made you feel vulnerable. Cowl on or off, he was still the great Batman. A deadly weapon and a savior to Gotham. You hadn't meant to get upset. He was the last person on the team that you wanted to make angry - even more than Superman.

"Do you wanna get a drink?" Bruce suddenly asked. The corner of his lips tugged up and it was the most that you had seen him smile since that brief first time. You looked down at the over-sized clothes that you wore and then over to his Batsuit. Together, you looked to be quite the pair.

"I hope being a billionaire means you buy good whiskey," you agreed to his offer. Bruce pulled you up off the bed with the hand that had been resting in yours the whole time. You were thankful for his help. The wound you had surely would have taken you down once more if it wasn't for his support.

You stopped several steps in. Bruce looked down at you, worried about your wound. With a second of hesitation, you stood on your toes to kiss the corner of his lips. Your hand rest on his chest as your lips lingered on his skin. Your hand felt as if it was burning a whole through his chest.

He didn't expect this sudden act of affection, but he appreciated it nonetheless.  "If you'd let me, I'd like to get to know the real you - whatever version that may be," you offered. Bruce had trouble opening up to people, but maybe it would be easier with you.

"I'd like that."

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles) Istina/Deepcolor

As Istina walked along the halls of Rhodes Island, pondering what to do with her day since the Doctor was busy in their office with meetings, she passed something...something that defied description. On the surface, it was a painting, a swirl of indescribable colors in patterns that resembled things but were clearly nothing. Below the surface, though, there was an intent, a ‘method to the madness’ so to speak, and that energy unsettled the Ursus. Who made this? Why did they make it? And how did they get permission to hang it in a main hal- wait what hallway was she going down again?

“Good morning, Istina.” Deepcolor’s voice caused the advisor to jump. “Heheh. Hope I didn’t scare you.”

“Did you make this?” She pointed at the acrylic abomination in front of her.

The Aegir wasn’t a Feline, so she factually could not purr, but there was a tone to her voice that reminded Anna of how Swire sounded when she was trying to sweet-talk someone at the bar. “I did. Not my finest work, but sometimes inspiration strikes you when your hand’s broken and you have to make due. Figuratively speaking.”

“Figuratively?” Istina’s brow furrowed. “As in it wasn't broken, or you don’t use your hands to paint?”

“Both.”

...Okay, then. Honestly, she should’ve expected that. “Were you trying to convey something specific with this piece?”

“That depends on what you think.” The advisor smelled bullshit, but the painter carried on all the same. “Obviously every piece of art is made for a reason - usually because it’s midnight, I’ve stayed up too late again, and suddenly there’s an idea and it’s there and it demands my brush express it. Do I remember what that idea was? No, not usually. Could I tell you what it meant at the time now? Personally, I can’t...That’s the painting’s purpose.”

“Are you always this full of crap?” Anna asked her.

Deepcolor blinked. “Eh?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit irritable today.” Thanks to the Doctor’s office being occupied for the Entire. Day. Seriously, isn’t that what conference rooms are for? “Do you expect the viewer to completely fill the gap for you as far as what the meaning of this composition is, or is it a vapid scribbling of color and shading in the same way those abstract installations in Victoria are, where some vandal stapled a fruit to a wall and it became enshrined as some expression of ‘the passing of time’ or some other nonsense?”

“...” The Aegir stared at her for a while, long enough to catch a glimpse of the color of her soul. Not her eyes, she’d memorized that some time ago. “Fascinating.”

Could she have sounded creepier in that moment? Unlikely. “What’s fascinating?”

“You, frankly. What do you feel when you look at it?” The painter stepped forward to look at her work more closely and to be closer to the Ursus.

“What do I feel about it, or what emotion does it reflect onto me?” Nonetheless, the advisor gave it the greater part of her attention. “I feel as though it’s incomplete, but not because you didn’t have the time to finish it, but because the idea behind it wasn’t fully formed. There’s the start of figures there, there, and there, but they aren’t fully developed, and the background reminds me of water, which would make sense, but...there’s not that much water in a single place anywhere that I’ve seen.”

Deepcolor chuckled. “You’ve never been to the coast, then.”

“No, I didn’t go to Siesta with the rest of the Group. The thought of sand getting in my hair, or worse, my new novels, didn’t sit right with me. Well, the Doctor’s, but...never mind. As I said already, I don’t feel any intentional emotion from it. It’s confusing, it’s unfinished, it’s raw, and it’s message-less. Empty.”

“You might say it’s a floating body,” the Aegir observed.

Anna nodded. “I suppose you cou-” But the rest of the sentence collapsed against her tongue as her mind’s eye overrode her physical eyes.

“You say you’ve never been to the coast to see the ocean?” The painter turned to her with a smirk on her face. “Technically true, but you have seen me, and seeing me and seeing the ocean aren’t that different. Each of us is a corpse drifting in the wave-tossed flow of time, after all, eternally drawn forward and backward, ebbing and flowing with tides unfathomable to the armored conscious. Let yourself sink beneath those tides, to the bubbling and frothing whirlpool of reality beneath the smears of blood and oil, and you’ll see what it means. Do you see it? Hmm?”

“Anna isn’t in at the moment. Please leave a message.” Istina said the words on Anna’s behalf as the inescapable tragedies of Chernobog flooded her vision.

The artist realized, at that moment, that it wasn’t entirely her painting’s influence affecting this fragile-minded viewer. “Oh. Oh, dear. This is- Anna, why is there so much blood in your heart?”

“Her blood. Their blood. Our blood. Sprinkled in snow, pooled on linoleum, boiled in a stew pot with far too familiar a taste.” It was as if Peterheim itself was speaking through her. “Bonds of friendship turned to ash as fire scorched, choices made with far too little information at far too great a cost, heroes and villains forged in the fires of a war they never wanted, couldn’t want, but fought all the same...Deepcolor? Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” And very aware of who she’d come across by chance on her way back to her room from the cafeteria.

Istina shook the visions off, shackles broken by a valiant warrior and a watchtower named RI. “Sorry about that. I didn’t say anything strange, did I?”

“Not at all.” What the fuck had this girl been through? “Well, you said a lot, but I wouldn’t call it strange.”

“Oh.”

Deepcolor had seen her colors, but she hadn’t dipped her brush into them yet. This was her chance. “Are you busy right now?”

“No, not today.” Stupid, stupid Doctor. “Why do you ask?”

“I um...Whatever just happened, I need to paint it.” The urge was rising, but it was tempered by other feelings. More mortal feelings. Feelings she’d never experienced up to this point but could still perfectly name.

The advisor blinked. “What did I say?”

“Honestly I’m not entirely sure.” The Aegir’s hair-tentacles were slowly changing color. “I heard the words, and I saw the imagery in them, but I don’t have a full picture yet. What happened to you?”

“Oh...Oh, I understand what happened now. Did you go to...no, I still can’t say it aloud.” No number of months was going to change that.

The artist thought a little harder, thinking about some of the trainings that’d been mandated around the time the Doctor came back. Chernobog, was it? “You’re one of the schoolkids?”

“Is that what you heard?” Anna could assume what that meant. “If it’s the school I’m thinking of, um...yes.”

“Now it makes sense. More sense, at least. What do you drink? Vodka?”

Not this early in the day. Unless there was food on the table, at least. “With lunch, sure.”

“I’ll buy us lunch, then.” Deepcolor’s fingers spasmed at her side. “You can eat, and drink, and talk, while I work.”

“I suppose I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Why did Istina have an urge to-

The Aegir blushed as her hand was grabbed out of nowhere. “...Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” Where was this coming from? Was it the painting, or something else? “Was that the incompleteness?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected.

The Ursus dug in. “The life of an artist like you is a lonely one, isn’t it? Surrounded by people who don’t understand you, trying to convey it obscured through chromatics and abstractions, unable to say what you want to say it because of the self-censorship of the human experience?”

“What are you...” Maybe? “Do you always talk like this?”

“No, because I don’t speak my mind this often. Something about you-” Now Istina was blushing as the realization hit her.

Because what she’d almost said aloud was, ‘Something about you makes me feel free.’

[basicjetsetter]

Part V

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Fluffy scenes, anxious moments, cliff-hanger

▹ Words: 3.3k

▹ A/N: We are reaching the eye of the storm. Happy reading!

“ ‘Kay, so there’s no way they’re gonna win this game without him turning into the Wolf, right?”

“Finish watching it, Peter.”

Peter musingly shakes his head, mouthful of his fourth slice of pizza. “There’s no way.”

You level a patient smirk at him and point to the television, wordlessly telling him to see for himself.

The screen’s brightness fills your otherwise dark living room, casting shadows along the angles of Peter’s concentrated face. His body is sloped forward, and if he didn’t possess the body control of an enhanced being, he’d fall face-first into your carpet.

Tonight’s movie selection was your choice, and you didn’t want to disappoint. So when Peter said he’d never seen Teen Wolf, you were over the moon. Usually, you’d watch every single second of the classic film, but with Peter sitting cross-legged next to you, his hip pressed against yours as your crossed leg rests on top of his, you spent the entire time covertly peeking at his fascinated expressions.

Well into the third month of your friendship, Peter’s presence in your apartment remains to be an odd sight in a good way. Out of your ordinary. His first time in your apartment came on a day you both chose to escape the sun’s sweltering heat with A/C and ice cream, and like your first conversation in Hal’s, he never made it weird.

It was effortless. Every moment with Peter was like breathing.

If anyone else suggested Friday-night movie nights, you’d have spared no time shutting them down. But your yes to Peter harbored no resistance.

“No way!” An excited smile spreads across Peter’s face as Scott steps to the baseline to take the game-winning free throw shots. “Is he seriously gonna make these?”

You seal your lips, choosing not to spoil the moment, but Peter doesn’t see. His eyes never stray from the screen, and his lips slightly part from the nail-biting suspense. As the last shot falls through the hoop, Peter’s whole jaw drops.

When the end credits roll, he slowly claps. “That was awesome. Like I’ve got some serious chills. How am I going to top that?”

“Eh, you probably won’t,” you reply with a boastful grin. Hidden joy thrums through your body from his excitement. “Might as well call a wrap on movie nights.”

Peter playfully nudges you with his elbow, then checks his watch. “Ah, man, it’s late. I needed to be on patrol half an hour ago.” He’s up in a flash, slipping his shoes on and chewing up the rest of his pizza.

“Do you have to go?” A hint of sadness tinges your words. 

“Yeah, the city would be a mess without me,” he jokes, but you weren’t remiss of his undertone sincerity. “Oh! That reminds me. Some bad guys are out on a robbing spree lately, tailing people at night, so if you work late, can you ask Chris to walk you home? Y’know, just in case I’m not there.”

He does this every time he’s over. Each week, there’s a new thing or group to be leery of, and each time he asks, you immediately nod to erase the gut-sinking concern in his brown eyes.

You rise from the couch and follow Peter to the door. He turns just as he’s about to twist the handle, stalls for a second, then envelopes you into a small, reluctant hug, leaving his arms lax just in case you wanted to pull away. 

Hugging is new, something you’ve only done about five times. The first was an unplanned disaster featuring a hard shove, repeated apologies, and a long, awkward moment of silence. 

You didn’t mean to push him away. It was one of those moments where, even though the urge to reciprocate was there, you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in such an innocent gesture. You weren’t ready. He respected that.

You knew your rash reaction bruised Peter more than he let on, but he learned to ease his way into your comfort zone with small touches. An intentional brush of his hand against yours, scooching closer to you on the couch, hi-fives with minimally laced fingers.

It took a while for the second hug-attempt, but you were cautiously prepared when it happened.

This time around, you return the gesture, winding your arms around his middle and setting your chin on his shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle your nose against his warm neck. His closeness frazzles you, even more so when he diminishes the gap between you, holding you tighter to his chest before releasing you and clearing his throat.

“Be safe,” you warn softly.

He puffs out his chest. “I have nothing to fear except fear itself.”

“That confident, huh?”

“Comes with the job. You get knocked down enough times, you get pretty confident once you realize you can always get back up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And yet you still have a fear of heights.”

“Never said I wasn’t afraid of falling. Just that it gets easier getting back up. ‘Sides, most of those petty offenders scare easy. All I gotta do is say I can plant eggs in ‘em.” He shudders at the idea himself.

“Please, Peter,” you implore, a smile sullying your stern frown.

Peter’s grin, always so wholesome and calming, blankets over your nerves. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I think Spider-Man needs someone to worry about him, sometimes. Even if he can get back up. Just… let caution work alongside confidence.”

He heeds your words with a more allayed smile, curtly nodding. “Vigilance. I can do that.”

You’re tempted to wrap him back into your arms to protect him from whatever dangers lie outside of your apartment. Instead, you exchange simple goodnights and shut the door once he reaches the stairwell.

The room and your shirt preserve his crisp evergreen scent long after he’s gone. It lingers as you crawl into bed. An aromatic reminder of his caress and warm skin.

As far as friendships go, you’ve never had one quite like this. The line you drew in the sand moves. Accommodates. Shrinks. Whether he’s aware of it or not, the time you spend cracking jokes with Peter at Hal’s, listening to his adventurous feats, becoming comfortable with his physical proximity, seeing his smile and the way his eyes light up when you smile at something funny or interesting he’s said, you fall just an inch.

He's growing on you. His presence. His laughter. His beaconing smile. His tentative touch. His uncanny ability to endear himself to your foreclosed heart.

It was easier to deny the connection when you didn’t know Peter. But now that you do, every moment you’re with him intensifies what you’ve painstakingly tried to avoid.

You’re falling in love with your Soulmate.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

Once again, it’s the Saturday brunch rush, and once again, Hal’s is up to its neck in bloodthirsty customers. All the booths are packed, as well as the stools. Some of the parties compact a seat meant for two with four people, and the aisle clogs with those who just came to grab a cup of coffee and conversation.

Chris is in his element, swinging from one booth to the next like a controlled tornado collecting orders, while you and Wendy are the unfortunate bunch who have to clean up desecrated tables and feed the greedy.

“If someone asks me what the specials are one more time, I’m going to rip my hair out,” Wendy grouses behind the counter as she puts away five menus.

You grumble back the same sentiments. Menus exist for a reason. And most of these people aren’t new to Hal’s, so the fact that they always have to ask grinds your gears.

11:30 a.m. is your saving grace. If you can hold on until Peter gets here, you’ll be fine.

Chris stops by the bar, pocketing what appears to be a twenty-dollar bill. “Lighten up, ladies. At least you’re off tomorrow.”

Wendy, in her 5’3’’ stature, looks feral. “I want to be off now.”

A rowdy group of high-schoolers sitting in the farthest booth is holding a contest to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest, and the two unlucky contestants shriek like banshees from self-inflicted brain-freeze. All three of you wince.

“We don’t get paid enough for this.”

Hal shouts from the back. “Order up! And stop slackin’ off out there!”

Wendy’s eye twitches as she marches to the back to pick up the orders. You’d have acted the same way if you didn’t have something to look forward to.

“They’re not going to tip me. I just know it,” Chris says to you, despondently looking over at the teens’ table again.

“They’ll come around. No one can resist this moneymaker.” You lightly bump him on the chin to indicate his smile. Heck, his whole chiseled face is a moneymaker, but that exuberant smile sells it all.

Over the last three months, just like your friendship with Peter, your friendship with Chris has improved. Even with Wendy. You aren’t at each other’s throats nearly as much as you used to be. Last week, she complimented your hairstyle, though it was immediately followed up with a snide comment: progress, either way.

Chris laughs. “And here I thought my friendly personality racked up all the tips.”

“It’s a bonus.”

He chuckles again, then blows out a hesitant breath. “So, Y/N…”

“So, Chris…”

“There’s, um, there’s gonna be another music festival in Cunningham Park tonight, and I was wondering if, y’know, you and Peter might want to come and hang?”

You and Peter… As if you were a pair. An item. A couple. To unsuspecting eyes, you knew you and Peter seemed to be just really good friends. Not even Hal questioned why you spent half an hour talking to him every weekday. If he had an inkling of who Peter actually was to you, he’d have confronted you by now.

Chris, on the other hand, kept a sharp eye on you when Peter was around. As meticulous as you were about keeping up pretenses in public, sometimes you’d slip. Your smile would be a tad too bright when Peter walked through the door and took his usual seat. You’d giggle at his jokes too loud. You’d stare into his eyes too long. Signs too blatant for Chris to miss.

You’re just waiting for him to put the last piece in the puzzle.

“I’d… I’d have to ask Peter.” You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But, yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Sure. Sounds like it’ll be fun. What time is it?”

Chris lays a hand on your forehead. “Temp seems fine. Pupils aren’t dilated. How many fingers am I holding up?”

You swat his hand down with a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Look, I know you probably don’t want me saying this out loud, but I’m glad you met Peter. We all are.”

“Why?” Evidently, you’re not that great at hiding your feelings as you thought.

Chris leans against the bar top, keeping an eye on the door just in case customers walked in. “Well, for starters, you literally just agreed to hang out with me for the first time since you started working here, which was—what—two years ago. And… you… I don’t know. You’re more open, y’know? Smiling and such.”

“I smiled before,” you say, a little defensive.

“Not like you do now. Before, it was all—,” Chris screws his mouth up. It’s strange. Alienated and wire-tight. The corners of his lips don’t fully come up, and it barely reaches his eyes. You instantly recognize it—the smile you hid behind.

Did you really smile like that? How is it that you never noticed how off-putting it was? If a server ever smiled at you like that, you’d assume they wished you disappeared off the face of the earth. Is that the smile people saw? More importantly, when did you stop putting it on?

“Two more strawberry milkshakes over here!” shouted one of the brain-freeze victims.

Chris hops to it. Always the perfect server. On his way to make the shakes, he says, “7 p.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

You weren’t going to confirm for Peter until he was there to answer for himself, but he doesn’t show. 11:30 a.m. and the rest of your shift flies by without a sight of him, which is strange, but not uncommon. Homework might have him tied up. September is a pretty busy month for schoolwork, and mid-terms are approaching, so he might be buried in assignments.

Worry doesn’t settle in until you’re getting ready for the music festival at 6:30 p.m., and Peter still hasn’t sent so much as a voicemail.

Evening summer sunlight filters in through your open window, the active sounds of Queens’ busy streets and subway station not allowing your room to fall quiet. Nights like this are perfect for outdoor festivals because it’s warm enough to sit in the grass and not bring a jacket.

Rather than enjoy the idea of getting out for the first time in years, your mind remains hooked on Peter.

It’s not like him not to leave a text if he’s caught up in other things. He’d make sure to tell you where he is, how far away. Since the beginning of this friendship, starting with his little notes, Peter’s constant communication wasn’t something you expected. But now that you do, this behavior just doesn’t match what you’re used to.

You pace the floor of your small bedroom, back and forth, wall to wall, abusively chewing your lower lip and turning your phone around in your hand, working up the nerve to call him, summoning up the will to voice your concern if he did answer.

When you do call, you get his voicemail. Trying again, you end up with the same result. Okay. He’s not picking up his phone.

Fear foregrounds your frustration. It bleeds into your words as you leave your fifth message. One after the other, they morph from mild concern to despairing panic. As the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon and the orange sunlight dwindles, so does your desire to go out.

Because… maybe you shouldn’t go. Maybe you should search for Peter. Finding any trace of him at all would be a stretch, and Chris might be upset about you ditching your plans the next time you see him, but you can’t possibly go out knowing something may be horribly wrong with Peter.

No. No, you won’t cancel plans like that. Peter is fine. Of course, he’s fine. He’s Spider-Man. His duties as a hero come first, no matter what. And he wouldn’t want you to stress so much about him.

Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he is okay. He’s alive. You feel it.

Somehow, you break the trance of your pacing and convince yourself to grab a cab ride to the park. When you arrive, the festival appears to be at a content standstill. It’s not as crowded as you assumed it would be for a Saturday night. Many of the attendants, ranging from all ages, are sitting on the grass, soaking up the fading rays of the sun while the bands finish up prepping. You’re greeted by the distinctive smell of hotdog vendors intermingled with ripening leaves.

There is nothing truly scenic about Cunningham Park, aside from the interspersed trees and trails. You’d been here a handful of times when you were younger, hanging out with friends during summer break, and one thing you loved about the park back then is how the sun shone through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow on nature.

You’re more appreciative of its beauty without the sun’s effect.

It wasn’t that hard finding Chris. All you had to do was look for the person most likely garnering friends from other groups. He’s on a blanket, seated in the center of the crowd and chatting with a group of three people.

When you’re close enough to be spotted, Chris’s face mouth out into a wide smile.

“You came!” Then his eyes roamed around. “Where’s Peter?”

You try for a carefree grin but let it fall when the effort became too much. “He couldn’t make it. School stuff.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine.” His smile drops fractionally, less joyful and more sympathetic. “I’m really glad you made it. Hey, guys. This is Y/N, my friend from work.”

You wave a little and hope for a genuine smile to grace your lips as they all scoot to make room for you on the blanket.

Chris introduces them all. He points to a buff, curly-haired guy named Dez, who you wouldn’t have guessed would be the type of guy to enjoy small park festivals. He looks like the kind of person who regularly crowd-surfs at huge concerts and somehow always winds up with a VIP pass. The next person is a slender girl named Asha, who has thick black hair knotted into a messy soccer bun and a glowing smile. 

The last person Chris introduces you to is his Soulmate. You knew just by the way he said his name. Resounding. Reverent. Borderline fanatic. His name is Quint, and unlike the others, he wraps you up in a surprising hug. What’s even more surprising is you hugging back.

“Nice to finally meet you.” His voice is richly robust, exactly how you would expect someone with his Adonis-like face to sound. Two gorgeous, outgoing Soulmates just seems unfair.

“Nice to meet you, too.” You can’t help looking from Quint’s face to Chris’s, then back again, and wondering if this is what people see when they see you and Peter—a perfect match. “Chris has told me a lot about you. All great things.”

“He better,” Quint says, jokingly gazing at Chris as a blush flared across Chris’s cheeks. “And he’s told me a lot about you and Peter.”

There it goes again: people pairing you two. It’s hard not to notice how natural that sounds, as though you two were meant to be spoken about as an inseparable whole.

You brush off your startled expression as best you can and ask, “Good things, right?”

He nods, then shares a smile with Chris. “I would’ve liked to meet him.” You roughly translate that to mean, ‘I would’ve liked to meet you both.’ The blush on Chris’s face deepens into an embarrassingly bright shade of red when he catches your eye.

A plucked, low-pitched guitar string echoes out to the crowd and effectively commences the start of the music festival. You must’ve missed the band's introduction because they got right into their music, playing a melancholic pop song that sounded pretty good. You were more interested in the guitar riffs and melodic piano notes than the lyrics, but they’re no doubt about love.

Halfway into their set, your stomach growls, and you remember that you didn’t have anything to eat since you got off work. The whole thing with Peter staved off your hunger. He’s still in the front of your mind, but you’re doing your best to enjoy the night with Chris and his friends.

Standing up, you tell Chris, “I’m gonna get a hotdog.”

He tilts his chin up in acknowledgment, then goes back to swaying his head to the music.

You got up just in time to beat the line. There are only two vendors in the park, and they’d be slammed once the music hits its intermission. The one you’re at resides near the outskirts of the crowd, closest to where you left the group, and two people are in front of you.

You wish Peter were here.

Your hand touches the outline of your phone in your back pocket while you wrestle with the idea of calling him again. Maybe he’ll pick up this time.

You’re just about to unlock your phone when you hear someone calling your name—a girl.

The voice gets closer and more breathless, like they’re running at you full speed ahead and couldn’t reach you fast enough. You turn to the sound just as the body slams into you, yanking you out of line and clutching you to their frame.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You pull away and stare straight into her face, not trusting your own eyes. “Manda?"

...

Taglist: @alexandria-euphoria​

[andrewologist]

Can’t Get Control of the World

first full length fic I’ve posted in over a year and it’s batlantern. I’m not sorry.

thank you @emmajeancoco-deactivated20001027 for editing this for me even though you had no clue what the fuck was happening <3

tw: blood, mild gore, panic attack

also on ao3

--------

The mission went bad.

Spectacularly, woefully, bad.

There were a lot of casualties. The intel the Oa received was outdated. The Lanterns were outmatched. The planet they were supposed to be protecting was in ruins.

1,009,953,907 casualties. Too many of them children. Hal had done the math in his head over and over. and over. and over. and over. From the end of the battle to the debrief on Oa to the flight home. There was nothing that Hal could have done to stop it, to change it.

It wasn’t his fault.

And yet.

He could still smell the awful stench of burnt flesh.

He could still see the terrified face of the child, who looked uncomfortably human.

He could still hear the screaming and, god, the pleading.

The Watchtower was the furthest he could make it without collapsing.

He doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or disappointed that the halls are empty when he arrives. He makes a bee-line for the locker room, thankful that no one was there to talk to him but still hoping that one man, in particular, would stop him.

His hair is covered in dust, and his face is speckled red from the minor scrapes he gained from falling debris, but the rest of his body is relatively clean.

Except for his arms.

Despite their purple skin, the Vraissol still have red blood. It’s thicker than human blood, but it looks damn near the same.

And Hal’s arms were covered in it, from his fingers to his elbows.

The dust washes away, the scrapes sting under the hot water, but they had stopped bleeding hours ago.

But the blood wouldn’t get off his hands.

Between the debrief and the trip home, it had dried and hardened into itchy, red cement.

No matter how hot Hal makes the water, no matter how hard he scrubs with the stupid high-tech expensive decontamination soap, it refuses to come off in more than tiny flakes.

The longer it stays there, the longer Hal has to look at the almost-black blood, the sicker he feels.

The harder he scrubs, the more he remembers.

All he can see is the family of Vraissols trapped under the ruins of their home, the child cowering in fear from him because it didn’t matter that he was trying to help; he had brought destruction with him. He can still see the blood seeping through his fingers as he tries desperately to stop the bleeding; he can still hear the explosion nearby. His brain had telegraphed every moment of the rubble crashing down next to him right where the family had-

The door to the locker room slams open as Hal’s knees give out from under him, and it’s the thunder of the battle raging overhead, reinforcements exploding-

“Hal!”

Someone is calling his name; he can hear it, but it’s miles away, and he’s not there. How could he be here?

Footsteps pound toward him, and it’s bullets raining down-

“Hal, it’s Bruce. Breathe with me.”

The room goes quiet - someone turned the shower off - and all there is the sound of exaggerated breathing in front of him as he desperately tries to get control of the air around him.

“That’s good, Hal. Can you look at me?”

Hal wants to snap back and tell Bruce to stop treating him like a child, but he opens his eyes to see Bruce crouched down in front of him, dress pants soaked and shirt sleeves rolled up, towel in hand and fear flashing in his eyes for a split second before he gets control of it.

Hal is hit with just how much he missed Bruce. One kiss before an emergency Lantern call, and he missed him like a limb.

“Hal, what happened to your hands?”

Hal swallows and gets a grip on his breathing before responding.

“Not my blood,” he says, startled by how even and hollow his voice sounds. Bruce sucks in a breath and motions him forward as he unfolds the towel.

If it were any other day, Hal would’ve laughed in Bruce’s face. If it were anyone else, Hal would’ve been angry.

But he’s too tired and hollowed out to protest.

So he lets Bruce wrap him in a towel. Lets him search through his locker for an extra pair of sweatpants. Lets him hold Hal steady as he steps into the legs of the sweatpants one by one. He lets Bruce guide him to the bench. Watches as Bruce putters around the locker room in silence, opening and closing a few cabinets. Pretends not to notice Bruce glancing over at him every three seconds.

He stays silent as Bruce sits next to him and takes Hal’s left hand in his own, so gently that Hal momentarily forgets that those same hands could tear down all of Gotham. So gently that Hal is reminded that Bruce is a father before anything else, despite what he tells himself and everyone else.

Hal looks away from his hands. Stares anywhere but down.

“I didn’t think anyone was here,” Hal says, just barely above a whisper.

I didn’t think anyone would see me like this.

“I got an alert as soon as you returned,” Bruce responds, just barely below a whisper.

You don’t have to hide from me.

Hal turns to look at Bruce. His gaze is focused as he works at the blood on Hal’s hands. Whatever he’s doing is working. Hal is starting to feel the air on his skin again, but it still feels like lead.

Bruce’s features are pulled tight in an expression that Hal would have once read as anger and frustration. Now Hal knows that it means that Bruce is throwing himself into a task to try and forget the worry and fear at war in his head.

“We were outnumbered,” Hal says, still not daring to break the quiet of the air. Bruce pauses, and his eyes flicker across Hal’s face, calculating. Always calculating.

Hal looks away. Bruce continues.

“The intel was wrong. Somehow. They had more firepower.”

Hal is silent as Bruce finishes his left hand. He switches to his right hand, carefully removing the ring and setting it aside.

“Even with ten of us defending that planet, we weren’t enough.”

Bruce works at his right arm steadily.

Hal doesn’t look down until he pulls away. 

His hands are raw and numb. There’s a section of his left arm that is significantly worse than the rest. He realizes it’s because he had scrubbed at it until he broke the skin.

Bruce holds out his ring, and Hal takes it. Holds it in his hand.

“1,009,953,907 Vraissol. And they were all terrified.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hal. You did what you could.”

Hal’s head whips around to look at Bruce, his eyes meeting Bruce’s for the first time in too long. It’s not pity he sees in the other man’s eyes. It’s understanding. Concern. Pain. It makes Hal feel incredibly small and infinitely old.

“But that’s the worst part, isn’t it? There was nothing I could do. Not a goddamn thing.”

Bruce takes Hal’s hand again, takes the ring from his palm, and slides it back onto his finger. Hal doesn’t take his eyes off of Bruce for a single moment.

Bruce meets Hal’s gaze, places his hand on Hal’s face.

“Sometimes our best isn’t enough. But you tried. You can’t save everyone, but that doesn’t make you any less good. There is good left in this world, Hal Jordan. You are proof of that.”

Hal is silent, but his eyes are searching Bruce’s face, his hands trembling, his whole world unsteady.

He can see the weight that Bruce puts on his own shoulders; can feel the weight on his own.

The weight of a thousand worlds on their shoulders and Bruce washed the blood off of Hal’s hands.

[visceryl]

Forget Me Not

@hogwartsmystory and I co-wrote a short story involving Jaxson (Ethren’s brother) and Konnor a few years after the Order. Hal Greywind belongs to @one-very-angry-hufflepunk and Idmon Malin belongs to @zuulosdovah ------

The pitter of rain bounced off the roof of the colonial farmhouse and dripped down every window. It had rained from first daylight to evening, turning the grounds outside to muddy puddles, while animals sought shelter in barns and enclosures sparsely populated throughout the owned land. 

Inside, the dim glow of a single living room lamp and the hearth of a fire lit up the room where Konnor lounged tiredly in a reclining armchair. His feet propped up atop a fluffy mass of white fur as a large dog chewed idly at a cow ankle bone that crunched beneath its jaws. A book’s spine was broken across the arm of his seat, untouched for hours unlike the glass of red wine he turned in his grasp.

Somehow the day off work had been longer and more exhausting than if he’d gone. With no papers to keep up with or assignments to see to, Konnor was left to his thoughts alone in the empty house he called home. Hal and Charlie had invited him over to stave away the blues of the day, but as he denied every year, he’d insisted anniversaries shouldn’t be skipped.

Even the bad ones.

The glass lifted to the edge of his lips as he took down a long sip and set it on the nearby side table. In his other hand, he gripped tightly to the crumpled and dirted remains of a photograph. Taken several years back in shoddy quality and with minimal color, a light leak consumed the entire lower half of it. But the importance of it remained. Grouped all together, Konnor could still make out the faces of those he’d joined the Order with. Talbott, Chiara, himself, Hal, Tonks, Ben, Eileen, Ethren. 

He sucked up a breath and his gaze tore from the photograph. His head knocked to the cushioned back of his chair. Like flashes of moments from harder times, they lingered in his mind. The day of the final battle nearly broke him. He ended it with several broken ribs and a scar that ran from his hip down to his thigh, but the worst injury had been the heartbreak after, when bodies were fished from where they laid. 

A crack of lightning flashed outside the window, followed by the rolling boom of thunder that shook the shudders. Konnor parted from his thoughts to rub a hand over his face, massaging tiredly at a temple. Beneath him, the Great Pyreneese stirred and gathered to her feet before making off for the kitchen.

“Yeah, I get it. Bit too miserable in here, huh?” he called after the dog. The picture was set aside his wine glass with another fleeting glance before he drew the book in hand again. It was some shitty mystery novel to pass the time. 

Konnor read for another half hour until he came to a stop at the end of a page, hardly remembering a single word from the entire chapter. Too distracted. Another gulp of wine disappeared behind his lips. Mourning the dead was like getting your soul devoured by dementors. 

He lost himself to thought again, droning out to the crackle of the fire as the rain relentlessly poured outside. Then a knock came. Several harsh repetitive raps that sent Iris into a loud barking frenzy from the other room. “Quiet, quiet!” Konnor yelled out, pushing up onto his feet. He crosses the room, quietly muttering to himself about how Hal couldn’t leave well enough alone. But that wasn’t who he found.

As the door swung open, Konn straightened in surprise, half shielded from the gust of wind and rain. 

A cold, unforgiving rain poured down from the angry grey clouds above. It pelted the tattered, brown leather duster of the man who stood beneath its rage, auburn hair plastered against his face. 

Konnor's eyes widened. "Jax?" 

"Konnor." Tired bags hung under his eyes and rain dripped off the end of his nose. "Mind if I come in?" 

Konnor shielded himself half behind the door from the blustering wind. "It's late. Why are you all the way out here?" 

"Maybe I just needed to drink with someone other than a little kid." Jaxson caught on to the look of disapproval on the man's face in seconds. "Don't worry," he mumbered, long fingers fishing through his hair. "I didn't just leave him alone. Summer has him for the night."

Konnor sighed. "Come on in," he murmured as Jax stomped into the house, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. "You really need to stop bouncing him around so much. It's probably confusing. And uh... pick your poison." He motioned to a liquor cabinet near where the TV rested. 

"It's better than being stuck with me. Believe me." 

“Maybe when you get like this, yeah.”

Jaxson made a beeline for the whiskey. He swiped up a bottle and heaved down into one of the chairs. The neon glow of the screen reflected in dull eyes, and wordlessly the man tipped the bottle back. 

Konnor eased down next to him, eyes searching the man. "If you're going to drink me dry, you can at least tell me what's going on." 

"What. Can't just come over and visit my brother's best friend?" 

"Then you should know better. I'm practically a professional at dealing with you emotionally constipated Whitecross boys. And you don't make a habit of visiting. I'm always hunting you." 

"The kid keeps me busy. Sorry." Jaxson took another long gulp. Red had flushed onto his cheeks. 

His eyes caught the photograph that Konnor had left on the table. The Order always made sure to photograph its members... to remember those gone, or killed during the war effort. That particular one... had been the recruits of 1995.

Ethren. 

Jaxson dragged his gaze away, heart twisting into painful knots. “...Ethren and Tonks?”

Konnor grimaced. “...I always pull that dusty old thing out on the battle’s anniversary.” He retrieved his own wine glass, polishing the dwindling remainds and held out the glass. "Don't leave me out. How is Alaire doing? Feels like time has flown." 

Jaxson sighed. "Perfect," he murmured as he poured the man a glass. "Somehow, he's managed to dodge a bullet. He doesn't have his dad's cynicism, or his mother's cruelty. He's... growing up to be a very kind and thoughtful boy."

"..he's three now, right? Think you'll consider preschool for him? He'll just end up going to Hogwarts or Ilvermorny, but muggle schools before then aren't so bad." 

Jaxson's jaw tightened. "I... I was thinking of just schooling him myself. At first." 

Konnor arched a brow. "Yourself? No offense, Jax, but what do you know about current day curriculum? You're already here looking like death just getting by as is." 

Jaxson's teal gaze flashed with a sudden rush of anger. "I'll manage!" He shouted, cracks tearing down the cup. A deep breath followed, as fingers massaged his face. "...it'll be fine." 

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. 

"You're not alone, you know," Konnor said, his voice gentle. "In any of it." He stared down into his own glass. "I know you think you have to do it all yourself... but it's not healthy for you. Or the kid. Ethren wouldn't want this for you."

"Ethren's dead. Doesn't matter what he wants." 

"That's horseshit. Don't make him come haunt your ass." "Horseshit?" 

The edge of Jaxson's lip lifted. “...he's gone. Enjoying whatever paradise he's found, or maybe just...nothing. It's us, the ones who survived who are fucked over." 

"Well, I'm sure as hell am not going to sit here and wallow because he made a dumb decision." Konnor's eyes searched Jaxson's face. "There's still stuff we can do. We can live our lives now. I put everything I had on the line to make sure of it just like he did, and now his kid can have a good life and a family if you'd just let him have that. You can't push all your shit onto that little boy."

Jaxson's eyes were tinted with red as he stared down at his hands. Calloused, and decorated with the scars of nails digging into his palms. With a breath, they curled into fists. "I know. Alaire... he doesn't deserve that. I need to get over it. That's why I'm here. I need your help.”

Konnor grabbed Jaxson's shoulder. "Ethren was my best friend. Anything, Jax." 

"It's come to my attention that you're proficient in a rare caliber of magic." Jaxson glanced over. "You know how to obliviate."  

Konnor's hand lifted up from his shoulder and hovered. "...I learned it in the order." His eyes narrowed. What does that have to do with you?" 

"Take him away." Jaxson's voice unraveled into a whispered beg, and he snatched Konnor's hand in a desperate grasp. "Ethren. Please. I... I can't do it anymore."

Silence lifted from Konn as a wave of sadness twisted his features into something soft and knowing. He sighed, letting his shoulders fall. “You can’t seriously be asking me that, Jax. I can’t do that… It’s not right. I know it hurts but that pain is something you have to push through.”

“What’s the point!?” Jaxson snapped. “It’ll never go away! It… it fucking hurts. And it's hurting the kid too. I can’t be this broken husk taking care of Alaire, he deserves better!”

“Obliviating those memories won’t help you any. It's dangerous. It creates holes. Empty spaces... If you completely cut ties with everything that could remind you of him, maybe it could work but that's not the case. Which is why I'm saying you can lean on all of us. We can help you get back on your feet and manage that pain. To give the kid a good life.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It has to be, Jaxson. It’s all we’ve got.”

Jaxson tore up to his feet, knocking the bottle of whiskey aside and it teetered on the end table. Konnor quickly leaned to catch it from spilling as the older man tangled his fingers up through his hair. “You know…” he finally growled. Jax locked his gaze on Konnor. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

Shock rippled over and Konnor pushed up after him. “I do understand. I know where this is coming from, but it’s not the answer.”

“You took Allston’s memories!” His eyes clouded with a lingering wetness. “He was your own brother. How dare you deny me what you did for yourself!”

“Don’t,” Konnor snapped sharply. In a few short steps he got right up into Jaxson’s face, the roots of his hair beginning to bleed from pink to a darker red. The two were level with another, tension crawling between them. “I have to live with what I did every damn day! I have to miss him like he's as good as dead! I took his memories so he would live, Jaxson. You know how easily I could have forgotten him too?! But that's not the point. The point is we have to remember for them. To protect what is left."

“And what about what I want?! Allston didn’t even ask for you to take his memories, you forced it on him. This is… This is something I want! If you were able to take the coward’s way out then I have every right to do the same.”

Crack.

It happened in a flash. A cold anger burned and strangled in Konnor’s throat as the rest of his hair bled with crimson rage and his fist snapped against Jaxson’s jaw. Then he shoved him. With fingers wrenched up in his jacket, Konnor sent Jaxson to the ground. “Don’t you dare call me a coward! What I did saved my brother’s life, I’m not running from what I did. You… you don’t get to come here and do this to me, Jaxson!” He grasped at his throbbing knuckles, turning away as the sting of tears met his eyes. “Especially not today. I lost my best friends. My brother. And you want to call me the coward?”

Jaxson caught himself on an arm as he hit the ground. Stunned. Fingers drifted to the dull ache of his jaw before his teeth ground together, ignoring the slightest twinge of metal on his tastebuds. For a long while he didn’t meet Konnor’s gaze and when he did, a faint sheen of wetness marred his cheeks. “I can’t make it like this,” he whispered. “I’m trying to save my life. I…” His voice cut off in a choke and he bowed over to hide his face. “Everything I did. Everything I was, it was to keep him safe. Now...now.. What am I supposed to do!?”

The hurt strangled in Konnor’s chest. “Find something,” he hissed bitterly. His hands shook and he fell back onto the couch, collapsing to sink his face into his palms. “Find even the tiniest shred of happiness and live. We don't get fairytale endings, Jax, we just have to make the most of what's left and you've got a whole lot waiting for you with Alaire." He dared glance up, wiping a sleeve across his own face. “I’ll be damned if I lose another one of you because you couldn’t stop dwelling on one single thing.”

“An arrow killed Ethren.”

“An arrow didn’t god damn kill him, Jax!” Konnor lashed. He retrieved the bottle up from the table and knocked it back for a long swig to ease the matching ache of his fist and heart. “He couldn’t move on. He couldn’t let go of the poison that is Merula fucking Snyde. She was never going to be good for him.”

Jaxson hadn’t moved from his place on the floor, staring down absently at his own hands. “You mean his obsession.”

“What else?! You’re all selfish bastards. Chasing after your obsessions like starving dogs with little regard for who it ends up hurting.”

“Is that why you did it, then? Allston couldn’t move on?”

Konnor let a sad chuckle rattle from his chest. Angry locks of fiery red had returned to their soft, white shade. "Towards the end.. my cover got blown with some death eaters. I hadn't seen Allston in a while and it seemed like I never would. I was hunted and somehow.. somehow the second I was cornered he was there. He got himself captured and tortured and I know the only reason he knew was because he was doing things illegally. When I found him I got him out, Jax. Before he could kill himself."

“...Sounds like your brother and I have a lot in common then.” Jaxson drew a sharp breath as a tear dripped down from the tip of his nose. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of falling into the same things he did. Falling until it… I just want to stop feeling like this. How am I supposed to move on?”

"...do what Ethren couldn't. What Allston couldn't. Let go. Be what they couldn't be. Be someone who cares for who they have left, even on bad days." 

"That feels impossible," Jaxson muttered. Still on his hands and knees, his fingers gripped his soaking wet shirt, like he was trying to grab at his heart. "I feel like my soul died with him. I wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't have Alaire."

"Maybe you two should go on a vacation. Go somewhere new for a couple weeks... find your soul again, being his guardian the right way. You cut away from your family wealth, right? Look, I'd cover it for you." 

"..yeah. Sounds great." Jaxson's voice was numb. Cold. Slowly, he pushed to his feet. "Thanks, Kon. Sorry for... this." 

Jaxson went for the door. Konnor chewed on his lip and exhaled in an exasperated breath. "Stop." He motioned to the cushion beside him. "Stay the night, Jax. I think... we can afford a night of booze and talking about him. A night to break." 

Jaxson didn't turn. "I thought the point was to not break." 

"The point is to not let it consume you." Konnor's let his gaze travel to the picture on the mantle. His smile was sad. "We're just people,” he murmured as he pushed up to take it in hand. His thumb drew over Ethren’s face, and he ignored the sharp twist of his heart. “We hurt. We ache. Sometimes, things feel like it's too much. So a night of drinking and accepting that is good, every once in a while. Otherwise, we just burn out."

Jaxson's head turned. Rather than anger... appreciation glittered in his eyes and he sighed. "Guess that's true," Jaxson said. "Won't do Alaire any good to pick him up and still be wallowing," he muttered as he eased down into the seat. 

Konnor followed close after, tipping the bottle his way. "Did Ethren ever tell you about our trip to Paris?" 

"You two went to Paris?" 

"Oooh yeah. He put me on his damn death trap of a bike." Konnor shook his head with a snort. "Your dad was screwing my mom, so we decided to pay a visit and have a luxury dinner on them after." 

Jaxson stared at Konnor for a long while before laughter bubbled from him. The first semblance of a real smile. "That... really doesn't surprise me. Our dad... he was always with other women until..." Jaxson's eyes darkened. His jaw tightened and he downed another gulp. 

"...I know. My dad's dead and my mom is basically dead to me. Aren't we just pathetic?" 

"Ethren wasn't," Jaxson muttered. "When mom was in danger... he dropped everything to find her. Even used all the unforgivable curses. He would have torn down the world to get to her." He leaned back. His wet hair flattened against the back of the sofa, and the neon light of the television reflected in his eyes. "That was just the kind of person he was. Friend, family... lover. When he bonded with someone, he would never give up on them." 

"You really idolized him, didn't you...?" 

"Idolize him?" Jaxson considered that. "Guess it's only natural to talk about... the good things when someone isn't here anymore. But no... I didn't idolize him." Jaxson snorted and leaned forward, auburn bangs falling with him. "Ethren was selfish. Selfish and obsessive and downright cowardly , at times. He didn't want to live for himself, so he lived on the whims and needs of others. And when he did want to live for himself, he threw it away, for a war he should have never been a part of and a girl that never deserved him."

"Good. I'd have to hit you again." Konnor stared at his knuckles, already beginning to bruise. Likewise, Jax's jaw was swelling in a rush of blue and black. "We had a no bullshit policy. Sometimes, while we were in the Order, I'd make a phone call to him or he'd make one to me. Like we weren't at war, and no time had passed... we'd laugh or talk or cry or curse until we lost our voices. Something like that would completely undo the stress of having to get up the next day and go right back into a room full of enemies." He grimaced. His hair had dulled to a bluish grey tint. "We had a deal that after everything was over, a few of us would high tail it to some remote island and piss away a few weeks." 

"Yeah?" Jaxson said quietly. "Probably Tredyffrin Island... the one  our family owns... no one ever goes there anymore. It would have been perfect." The elder brother sighed and poured himself another glass. He stared at the downpour of red pooling at the bottom of the crystal goblet while thunder roared outside the glass window. "He made me a lot of promises, too. Like when he was an uncle, he was going to spoil the shit out of whatever kid Idmon and I adopted. He insisted he'd never have a kid of his own." Jaxson dragged a sharp breath. "...fuck."

"Everything changed... you ever still think about giving Alaire someone to grow up with?" 

"...no. Between Idmon and I... we probably only have enough sanity between us for one brat. And that's with the girls' help. Aisling and Summer... they’re absolute life savers."

 "Well, I can't blame you for that," Konnor said with a tired smile. "Shit, I always imagined a family and kids one day, but... I think after everything, I've only got it left in me to help all of you guys manage your own rascals. Hal and Charlie have two right next door. And ever since Barnaby found out I've got my own little menagerie, he drags Aisling and their kids over all the time. And Alaire is always welcome." 

"He's been so excited to come back and see Uncle Kon." Jaxson's smile was short-lived. "...how do you manage it all?" 

"Depends on what you mean by 'all.'" 

"Losing Allston. You'll never be able to talk to him again. Losing Ethren... Tonks... Your dad...everything." 

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I have a healthy supply of alcohol. But I don't make a habit out of that, my position requires me sober, obviously." He swished his drink thoughtfully. "What really drives me is knowing what all I've still got. Lots of people still want and need me around." 

"I don't actually want to forget him," Jaxson whispered. "Remembering the good times...it's part of what pushes me forward. And Alaire deserves to know those stories. It just seems so much... harder this way." 

"I know." Konnor leaned over, and his fragile fist punched Jaxson's shoulder lightly. "Don't ever ask me to take away your memories again. That magic can go right to hell." 

Jaxson smirked. "...Ethren always hated that spell. He said to be obliviated... it was the deepest violation a person could endure. Those memories are precious." He gave a deep breath and lifted his goblet. "...to remembering the fallen. And living in their honor." 

Konnor lifted his glass in turn. "Help me finish this bottle, and the guest room will have your name written all over it."

-------

Morning came with the promise of clear skies. As the sun painted the sky a beautiful array of pinks and purples that began to open up to the blue of day, Konnor rolled to the other side of the bed with a tangle of sheets around his legs. At the end of his bed, Iris snoozed with soft snores. 

From downstairs he could hear the rustle of footsteps cascading against the hardwood floors and with a tired rub of his head, Konnor swung himself to stand from the bed. His hair poked out in all directions as his hands raised up in the air and a series of pops crawled up his spine. “Jax?” he called out through the house.

No answer.

Konnor sighed and crossed the room with last feeble attempts to pat his platinum hair down into something presentable. The stairs winding down from the hallway just outside his room creaked with each step. He passed several pictures of Hal, Charlie, and the twins on the way down until his feet stalled on the bottom step. 

Jaxson stood at the doorway in the living room, dragging his jacket over his shoulders.

“You’re leaving?”

Jax’s gaze darted up. He looked rough. From the clear as day hangover to the black and blue bruise in the size of a small fist surrounding the right side of his jaw. “...Yeah. I figured I’d leave you to your day.”

“You could always stay for breakfast, you know. Bet you could use it.”

“Nah, I should probably go pick Alaire up. But uh… Konnor?”

Konnor finally touched down into the living room, flicking on the light to join the flecks of light illuminating from the window. “What’s up?”

“Sorry for last night, and thanks. I needed that.”

“Yeah I’ll bet you needed that knuckle sandwich. Just don’t be so much of a stranger. You better haul yourself and Alaire back over here soon or I’m going to lob you another one.”

Jaxson hid the beginnings of a smirk. “Do that and I’ll have to get you back. Don’t worry, we’ll visit soon. I think I just need some time to clear my head first.”

“Then do that. You can always call too, and tell Alaire I say hi.”

Fingers curled around the doorknob, opening it ever so slightly. “I will.” He opened the door, and all but fell backwards as a small toddler came barreling into the house to cling to his legs. 

“Found you!” Alaire giggled as he buried his face into his Uncle’s leg and Jaxson blinked. 

“Alaire?! How did you-”

“Summer mentioned that you’d gone for the night... and that you might need me.” That voice. He’d know that voice even in a symphony of voices. Idmon Malin came from around the corner, blue eyes soft, his smile kind as he lifted Alaire up into his arms. Blonde hair fell down his back. “I thought I might drop- Merlin’s beard, Jaxson, are you all right?” 

Jaxson, still stunned at his boyfriend having shown up out of the blue, blinked. “W-wha?”

“Your face. Bloody- did you get hit with a bludger last night?”

“A...oh.” Red bled onto his cheeks as Idmon’s long, delicate fingers gently brushed his bruise. “No, there was an uh... accident last night involving an erumpent and a... uh-”

“I slugged him,” Konnor purred as he leaned against the doorframe.

Idmon snorted. “Well, I imagine he deserved it,” he said. As Alaire began to fuss, he put the child down and he rushed over to jump into Uncle Konnor’s arms and his gaze searched his lover. “...are you alright. You look... like a mess.”

Two short steps brought Jaxson to his boyfriend. His arms hooked tight around his shoulders and he rested his head against Idmon’s, a ragged breath drawing from his lungs. “...it was a long night.”

“..the anniversary,” Idmon whispered. His palm found Jaxson’s cheek. “You should have stayed with me..”

“Shouldn’t have run,” Jaxson agreed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize... did you find what you were looking for..?”

“Uncle Konnor!” Alaire tugged on Konnor’s shirt. “Aunt Summer gave me a toy snitch!” 

“Did she?” Konnor lifted the boy up into his arms. “That was very sweet of her. And speaking of sweet... I think I have some biscuits in the cabinet. Want some?” 

Alaire giggled. “They’re cookies, biscuits are... biscuits!”

“Oh, no,” Konnor grinned as he tickled the squealing boy.  “Do not start that, your dad and I got into so many fights about cookies and biscuits!”

Jaxson’s eyes softened as he watched Alaire smile and hug Konnor around the neck. His hand found Idmon’s, squeezed, and gave a breath. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think I did... let’s stay for a bit, then go home.”