#he went from someone who worked an office job to a hardened soldier

[nade2308]

"The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling."

— Lucretius

@thethistlegirl @malewifebillcage

[ajbwasntwriting]

To Serve and Protect (Bucky Barnes x Police!Fem!Reader)

the twd obsession has been interrupted since I’ve started watch TFATWS and have binged bucky fics like I was 15.

Summery: - Reader is an accomplished New York officer but an old case comes back in the shape of a super soldier in need of aid.

Warnings: - Light Spoilers for TFATWS, Cursing, mentions of Human Trafficking, flirty Bucky(kind of I tried)

You had just received your second medal of honor before the blip had occurred. When you came back, you were nearly arrested for breaking into what you had known as your apartment. Luckily, the situation was under control quickly. You had family just outside the city who were willing to support you until you got back on your feet but it still felt like a kick in the gut that your home was gone and you now had to learn a bunch of new skills to do with being a cop. Most of your friends had either died during the five years or had to move out of New York, and those who remained had moved on and didn’t seem to have time for you in their lives.

At least a few of your favourite places had stayed open, including what you thought was the best pizza joint in the state. You got dinner here most nights because it hadn’t changed. The tables still wobbled, the neon sign still buzzed from overuse, and Louis the owner still kept a couple slices of your favorite pie in the back for you.

“Please tell me the back booth is free” you sighed, taking the food from Louis.

“Long day, Detective?” Louis replied.

“New partner thinks I’m an idiot.” You mumble, taking a bite from the pie and burning your tongue.

“It’s clear,” Louis said sympathetically, nodding to the far side of the restaurant.

You slid into the small booth tucked out of the way, tucking into your pizza and soda. After your first slice you noticed a carving on the table. It was your initials plus A.S. equals epic. You smiled as you remembered your previous partner Aarush Sharma. You two had been friends since you joined the force and had come to this booth almost every break hour to fill up on pizza and terrible coffee.

“Detective L/N.” A gruff voice spoke to you. Judging by the shadow he casted over you, he was a big man.

“Look if your here to buy me off or intimidate me,” you snapped, “then you can fu-” you stopped short when you looked up. You recognised the man as James Buchanen Barnes instantly. “Oh,” you sighed with relief.

“You know me?” he asked you.

“Followed the Zemo case.” you explained. He visibly tensed at the mention of Zemo. You held up your hand to calm him. “I know you’ve been pardoned.” You suddenly remembered how your conversation with the Winter Soldier had begun “wait, how do you know me?”

“I need your help,” He spoke low, just so the two of you could hear. He slid opposite you in the booth, leaning forward on the table. “Two-thousand-fifteen, August seventh you filed a report on a human trafficking ring operating out of staten island.” You began eating your second slice of pizza as he talked. “You arrested the main perpetrators, with the exception of Donnie Morris and Frank Abara. You opened an investigation on them but it went cold two months later.” You nodded along to the story. “That’s because-”

“They’re Hydra? Real names Robert Bern and Josh Smith? And the trafficking was for human experimentation?” you interrupted him. He stared at you, just about concealing his surprise. “I was a good cop.” you finished off your pizza, wiping your mouth and looking away in shame. “Was.”

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They threatened me.” You patted the flour off your hands and picked up your soda. “And when that didn’t work, they told my friends to stop me else their family would be hurt, so.” you slurped on your soda and stared back at him.

His piercing blue eyes were reading you like a book, pulling apart your disgust at never catching them, and trying to figure out how to use it to his advantage. He had to admit it was impressive that a normal police officer was able to get farther than he was, but you were still a normal person.

“I need to find them,” he spoke up.

“Why?” you cocked your eyebrow, soda straw still in your mouth. You had been studying his face to find any tell of malintent but the only conclusion you were drawing was that he was handsome as hell, and really good at hiding his tells.

“You don’t need to know.” he retorted. You hummed with discontent.

“See, Mr. Barnes. My job is to protect and serve. Sadly, that includes assholes.” You put down the now empty soda cup and leaned forward to match his position. “And you’ve said enough for me to arrest you under suspicion of planning to commit a crime against said assholes.” His glare hardened and his jaw tightened as he stared you down. “So please answer the question, ideally in a non-incriminating way.”

He looked and huffed, sliding back a little before fixing you with his stare again, but it wasn’t long until he was looking from his hands to the window, seemingly in defeat. “Their boss is dangerous. And I’m the one that made it so.” He forced a bitter smile finally looking back at you. “I’m trying to right as many wrongs as I can but I can’t find this guy but you.” he punctuated by pointing at you with his joined hands. You caught a glint of something metal up his sleeve that you suspect was his arm. “You came very, very close. Apparently, Closer than I thought you did.”

You mulled it over in your head for a moment before reaching into your breast pocket and pulling out your notepad. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Barnes” You looked over the restaurant between bouts of writing, talking all the while in case people were listening. “The case is closed and the records are public so everything you know is everything I know.” You quietly ripped off the piece of paper and pocketed the notebook, picking up your trash to disguise it. He took the hint and hid the paper by putting his hands down and sliding back in the booth, seemingly in defeat. “Good night, Mr. Barnes.” you said, and walked away, depositing your trash on your way out.

Bucky sat their a moment to give you a head start before stepping out himself, piece of paper in hand. As he walked home he opened the paper.

Tomorrow Seneca Village 23:35

Bucky stood in front of the plaque, mind too busy working through every horrible thing that could happen from this little stunt. He was about to run when he heard your voice. “Hey there.”

You walked over and stood next to him, stoically in your repose. You were wearing a pair of jeans and heeled boots with a fashionable jacket and a suitcase in hand. “I don't know which of us is stupider right now.”

“You could have picked a better meeting spot.” Bucky retorted, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s horrifying,” you commented, putting the case down, Reading over the plaque. “Over two hundred lives ruined by a couple of assholes who wanted a park. Reminds me of another couple of assholes.”

“Yeah?” Bucky replied. You stood there a moment longer, thinking if you could still go back. You bit your tongue and decided having faith was the better bet.

“Burn it when you’re done.” you shot back and walked past him.

Bucky noticed the case just outside his line of vision. He picked it up and walked away from the plaque, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible despite the case not really matching his attire.

You didn’t hear anything for a couple weeks after the impromptu meeting, having handed over every piece of evidence that had been sitting in your self storage since 2015. Each minute was spent biting your nails with stress, hoping your actions didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Then the news came on, publicizing that Robert Bern and Josh Smith had been arrested ‘after it was discovered they were connected to a human trafficking ring in New Jersey and a former operation in Staten Island.’

“Looks like somebody did your job for you.”

“Shut up, Louis.” you quip back at him, nursing a terrible cup of coffee. The restaurant was near empty aside from yourself, Louis, a trio of loud drunk women in the corner and a homeless man who had scraped cents together to buy a slice of pizza. The TV above the kitchen archway providing most of the ambiance.

“What’s got you in a mood?” he asked as he cleaned.

“Ever been ditched on a blind date? I get all dolled up,” you opened your coat to show a figure hugging dress with a low neckline, coupled with an elegant necklace. “And the asshole texts me when I’m already at the lounge saying he needs a fucking rain check.”

“Okay, well he’s an ass-”

“Right!” you exclaim.

“But you need to stop scowling before you scare off my customers.” Louis playfully chided.

“Oh, cause there’s so many of them.” you waved a hand out at the restaurant to emphasize your point. Still you leaned over your coffee to stew in your own misery. You couldn’t hear the door open over the women’s third rendition of ‘I’m every woman’ but you noticed someone slide onto the bar stool next to you. You turned your head to see Bucky looking back.

“Have I seen you here before?” Bucky said playfully.

You chuckled involuntarily and sat up on your stool. “You must be mistaking me with someone else.”

He swiveled on the stool to face you fully, leaning on the counter comfortably. “You sure?” he seemed to be playing with you, a sly smirk on his face. “Could’ve sworn I met this detective lady here who looked a lot like you.”

“Was she pretty?” You pressed, a smile now sneaking it’s way onto your face without you knowing.

Bucky looked in your eyes with a soft sincerity. “Incredibly,”

You laughed nervously as you looked away and into the pool of your coffee. “Was that before or after she helped you with your job.” You deflected.

“About that,” Bucky leaned onto the counter. He was still quiet good at hiding his tells but you got the impression he was nervous by the pause. “You gave me more than I needed so I was able to do better than I planned. I know how hard it can be to trust someone. I'm not sure how to thank you for that.”

“Take her on a date!” Louis yelled from the kitchen, looking at you two through the serving window. “She’s already all ‘dolled up’” Louis mocked you.

“Keep cleaning!” you shot back. “Ignore him. He’s just dripping with sympathy since I got ditched.”

“I mean,” Bucky started, you looked over and saw him staring at his hands with nerves as his thumbs tapped against each other. “I just wouldn’t know where to take you.” he admitted under his breath.

A question instantly plagued your mind and it demanded to be asked. “Have you not...since nineteen-fifty?”

Bucky nodded with pursed lips. “You can laugh.”

You smiled at the super soldier. “Right,” you announced, pushing yourself off the stool. “Come on, I know a great dive three down.”

“A dive?” Bucky asked in disbelief, but he was still smiling.

“Yep. Where they don’t give a shit who you are as long as you're buying.” You fixed your jacket with new found enthusiasm. “You are buying, right?”

“For a doll like you,” He stood up from the stool. “I’ll buy the bar.” he held the door as you both left the little pizzeria

“Oh honey, there’s nothing like me.” you said playfully as you stepped out the door.

“Then I must be the luckiest man in the world,” he flirted, offering you his arm. You slide your hand in, curling your wrist around his bicep and off you both went.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Leap Day

Summary:  Leap Day is approaching and you have your eye on a guy from accounting. You work in a research capacity with the Avengers, scouring intelligence reports and doing research on localities where missions pop up, which means working closely with Captain America. When you’re overheard talking to Natasha about asking out the guy from accounting on Leap Day, Steve and Bucky go to great lengths to ensure that doesn’t happen.  

Features/Warnings: Dark!/Grey!Stucky. Elements of manipulation, potential dubcon (not so much in this part but in part two if I write a part two)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: This fic has elements of manipulation. Steve and Bucky are underhanded and manipulative in getting what they want and if I write a part two that incorporates smut it will be dubcon. While I read dark!fic I don’t typically write it. This is me dipping my toes in that particular pool. Please let me know if you’d like to see a part two. 

Word Count: 2896

You sat in the kitchen of the Avengers living quarters at the compound. You were the resident researcher, the one who went through intelligence reports to compile details for briefings, the one who did research on the places the team would be going on everything from the government to local customs and the general lay of the terrain. Your job meant you worked closely with Captain America--sorry Steve, as he insisted you call him. Two years into your job and you still had a hard time with that one, even if you did consider him a friend. It had been at his insistence that you had moved into their section of the compound six months into your job there. 

Natasha was sat across from you, the two of you locked in a discussion on your love life, or rather the lack thereof. It was a Sunday and most of the team was scattered. It was a day off, except for light training, no mission on the horizon.

“So just ask him out. Leap Day is Saturday. You know there’s that whole tradition where women ask out guys on Leap Day,” she said. You laughed.

“He doesn’t work on Saturdays…besides I thought that was proposals,” you said. She smirked.

“You can still ask him out. Worst case, he says no, you move on with your life,” she said. You sighed. Rick worked in the accounting department. You crossed paths once in a while and you were smitten. You knew he had been flirting with you. There was no misinterpreting it. But neither one of you had made a move yet.

“Easier said than done. Rick’s just so...he’s the guy who all the girls would swoon for if this was high school. I don’t know that I can just ask him out,” you said. 

“Just do it. One of you has to,” she said. In the living area, Steve and Bucky both tensed as they listened to your conversation with Natasha. It wouldn’t do to have their girl going out with someone else, especially someone from accounting who could never protect her the way they could. 

“I think we need to pay the accounting office a visit tomorrow,” Steve said, his voice low. Bucky nodded in agreement.

“I think we do,” he said. The two sat in silence for a while longer, listening to what you and Natasha were saying. You’d see how wrong Rick was for you, and how right the two soldiers were. They just had to show you first. 

Monday morning you headed to the accounting office, two cups of coffee in hand. You handed one to Rick as you found your way to his desk, a smile on your face. 

“So, I was thinking. Maybe we could go out tomorrow?” you asked him. His smile fell. You could already feel the sting of rejection settling in.

“You’re a great person, a good friend, but...I don’t see you that way. I’m sorry,” he told you. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes. How had you misread the situation so poorly? You were sure he’d been flirting with you, sure that he was into you. 

“Oh...I...okay, yeah. Um, have a good day?” you replied, unsure of what else to say before turning on your heel and heading for your office. You shut the door as soon as you were safely inside, letting the tears fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You chastised yourself. It was high school all over again. Of course someone like him wasn’t into you. You had been foolish to think otherwise. You were pulled from your thoughts by someone clearing their throat. You let out a startled yelp, seeing Steve and Bucky sitting in the two chairs across from your desk.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked you. You shook your head.

“Nothing you need to worry about Captain Rogers,” you said. You saw the look of concern on his face as he stood and strode over to you. You were surprised when he brought a hand to your face, wiping away the tears that were still falling. Bucky was quick to join him. 

“You’re our friend, doll. We’re going to worry when you come in looking like someone just broke your heart. Who do we gotta go have a chat with?” Bucky asked.

“No one. It’s nothing. I was foolish for thinking someone like him could like me. That’s all,” you told them, pulling away and heading for your desk. You had had a crush on both soldiers once upon a time when you started. But once you settled and got to know them, it passed. They had become good friends, after some insistence on their part. 

“Someone like who, sweetheart?” Steve asked. You shook your head.

“You two aren’t here to talk about my relationship woes. What did you need?” you asked, your tone slightly clipped. The sooner you got them out of your office the sooner you could have your breakdown in relative peace.

“We wanted to go over the latest intel report with you, about the situation in Ottawa. But that can wait. Why don’t you take the day off?” Steve asked. You shook your head.

“I have far too much to get done today to do that,” you replied. The soft expression on his face hardened. You had never seen that look directed toward you.

“You’re taking the rest of the day off. No arguing. You report to me. And I’m telling you, it can wait until tomorrow,” he said, leaving no room for you to argue. Bucky gave you a small smile.

“Besides, we’re done with our work for the day. This was the only thing we needed to do today. We can go out and you can tell us what’s bothering you, doll,” Bucky said. You sighed. You missed the look the two shared as your shoulders sagged in defeat. There was no getting out of doing what Steve wanted, not when you knew he had no issue picking you up and forcing you out of your office. You stood and gathered your things, still missing the silent exchange between the two men.

“Good girl. Now, why don’t you go change into something more comfortable? We’ll go to that Italian place you like in town, hm?” Steve asked. You bristled at the first part of his comment. You took a moment before answering him.

“I think I’d rather just stay in. Have some time to myself tonight,” you said. His expression changed to something you couldn’t quite read. 

“If you’re sure...you know where you can find us if you change your mind. We’ll always make time for you, doll,,” Bucky said as the three of you exited your office. The door locked automatically behind you, thanks to FRIDAY. You just nodded at him, before heading for the residential building that housed the team. The duo headed in the opposite direction, toward Steve’s office. Once the door was closed, Steve gave him a look of annoyance.

“You should’ve insisted she go out to dinner with us,” he snapped. Bucky shook his head.

“Too much, too soon. If we want her to want us, we need to do this right. Push just enough. You almost had her running like a scared rabbit with your good girl comment. What happened to “let’s ease her into this”, or was that never your plan?” Bucky asked. Steve ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re right. I got ahead of myself. She makes it so easy to want her,” Steve replied. 

“We just have to be patient. We handled the Rick problem. Now we just have to wait for her to seek us out,” Bucky said. 

By five in the afternoon, you found yourself looking for the two. You found them lounging in the living area, Steve reading over a mission report and Bucky reading a book. You leaned against the wall, not wanting to interrupt the two. Steve glanced up and smiled when he saw you.

“Change your mind?” he asked, causing Bucky to look up as well. You nodded.

“Yeah...I was thinking I could go for some Italian,” you said. They both stood up and walked toward you. 

“How about you go shower and change into something nice. We’ll make a night of it,” Steve said. While it was phrased like a suggestion, his tone was commanding. You felt your face warm and a fluttering in your stomach. You nodded at the two before heading to your room to take a quick shower. You chose a simple dress, one of your favorites for the time of year, slipping on a pair of flats. You opted against putting on makeup. It was a dinner with friends, you didn’t need to go to that much effort. You headed to the common area, to find they were already there waiting, both men wearing dress pants and button downs. You shook your head, reminding yourself to get a grip. 

“Ready, doll?” Bucky asked offering his arm for you to link yours with. You smiled.

“Yeah,” you said, linking your arm with his. Steve came up along your other side, wrapping an arm around your waist. You could only assume what others who saw you would think. 

Dinner was nice. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a date. As far as you were concerned, it was two friends taking you out to cheer you up to take the sting out of the rejection you had faced. 

They walked you to your door at the compound when you returned. You stood outside your door and turned toward the two men.

“Thank you. I was feeling pretty low. I thought...I really thought he liked me. I don’t understand where I misinterpreted things,” you said. Steve brought a hand up to your cheek, tilting your head so you were looking at him. 

“His loss. A guy like that? He doesn’t know how to treat a woman like you,” Steve said. You weren’t sure who made the first move, but his lips met yours in a gentle but demanding kiss. You were breathless when he pulled away, acutely aware of Bucky’s presence beside you. You were turned around suddenly to face him. Unlike Steve, his kiss wasn’t gentle. When he pulled away, you looked between the two men.

“I don’t...I don’t understand I thought,” you said trailing off. Everyone had their suspicions about the two. 

“Doll, we’ve liked you for a while. And if you’re willing...we’d both like to take you on another date, see where this thing goes,” Bucky said, ducking his head a little. His eyes met Steve’s. Things were clicking into place. 

“I...people will talk,” you protested. You felt the fire ignite inside you at the thought of being with them both, but you knew what people would say. 

“Forget what others will say, doll. We can make you happier than some accountant,” Bucky all but growled. You paused. You had never mentioned that the guy you had asked out worked in accounting.

“How did you--,” Steve cut you off with another kiss. You tried shoving him away but you knew it was no use. You were confused. 

“Don’t you worry about how we know doll. He wasn’t right for you,” Bucky said. Steve pulled away from you.

“Now, sweetheart, why don’t you go on, get ready for bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” Steve said. You nodded, still a bit dazed from the kiss. You missed the door handle at first, drawing chuckles from the two supersoldiers. Once you were inside and the door was shut, you let the events of the day play out. Maybe they had overheard you and Nat at some point. It was the only explanation that made sense. 

In the apartment they shared, Steve and Bucky sat down on the couch. They were quiet, both relishing in the fact that they had gotten to kiss you.

“We could’ve had her tonight,” Bucky grumbled.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to be patient earlier?” Steve asked with a grin. Bucky groaned. 

“I take it back. She’s so...she’s perfect,” Bucky said. 

“Soon. Like you said, Buck, we need to take this slow.

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The next morning you were up early. You were briefing the team that morning on the mission they’d be leaving for that afternoon, Steve and Bucky included. You had given thought to the previous night, deciding that while you liked both men, right now you couldn’t put yourself in that position. You slipped into the conference room, coffee in hand. You were startled to find  Steve and Bucky already there. 

“Careful doll,” Bucky said, plucking the coffee from your hands and setting it down. You set the folders down beside it, each one marked with a name. You pulled away when Steve moved to hug you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a frown on his face. You sighed.

“I thought about it. You guys are great but...I don’t think I’m in a position to well, put myself in that position,” you said. 

“Was it something we said?” Bucky asked, concern laced in his tone. He tried to think about anything that could have put you off. He and Steve didn’t account for this. 

“No, no. It’s...you guys are well, you. I’m me. You might not care what people think or say but...I’m not in a position where I can’t care. I don’t want people to think I have this position because of who I’m with. I don’t want to ruin our friendship either,” you said. Steve moved to say something, to argue, but stopped when he saw the subtle shake of Bucky’s head.

“If that’s what you want, doll. It doesn’t change how we feel. You know where to find us if you change your mind,” Bucky said as the door opened, Natasha shuffling in with Sam and Wanda. 

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You found yourself on Tinder in the absence of the team. Your only company was FRIDAY. Three days into the mission, you found yourself on a date with a guy named Wes. He was charming and funny. He was a school teacher, you had learned, teaching US history at a local high school. The team was due to be gone for the month, if not a little longer. The mission had taken a turn and you were working through the intel. In that time, one date turned to three turned into the two of you putting a label on things. 

You weren’t at the compound when the quinjet landed. Steve and Bucky shared a look of concern while Wanda handed Natasha several bills. Natasha smirked.

“How did you know she wouldn’t be here?” Wanda grumbled.

“I checked her Instagram. She’s out with the guy she’s seeing. Spending the night from the looks of it,” Natasha said. Steve’s shield clattered to the ground, drawing the attention of the team. 

“Must be more tired than I thought,” Steve said, picking up the shield. He wasn’t happy with this development and he could practically feel the tension radiating off of Bucky. They headed to their apartment in silence. Once inside, Bucky went to shower without saying a word as Steve pulled out his laptop. He found your Instagram with ease. For someone who worked in intelligence, you left your social media wide open. 

He was quick to find out all he needed to about this Wes Everett you were seeing. A background check came up clean. Parents still alive, three older brothers and a sister. Youngest of five. And decidedly not good enough for you. No one was. Only he and Bucky could give you what you needed. Bucky entered the room, sweatpants slung low around his waist. He seemed calmer, but still on edge.

“Wes Everett, thirty years old, school teacher and the youngest of five kids. Not a single thing wrong with him on paper,” Steve grumbled.

“When are we going to pay him a visit?” Bucky asked.

“Tomorrow, once she’s home,” Steve said. Bucky nodded. It was in your best interest that things with Wes end before you got hurt. Because he’d hurt you in the end, they were convinced. 

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Like clockwork, you were in the communal living room, crying. You had a movie on that you weren’t paying attention to. Bucky sat down beside you.

“What’s wrong doll?” he asked, concern on his face. You let out a sob.

“I really thought it would last. He was a good guy,” you cried.

“Whoa, whoa, let’s back up, who?” he asked.

“I’ve been seeing this guy, Wes. He was so good, so sweet. He broke up with me. Things seemed fine when I left his place this morning. He didn’t have the balls to break up with me to my face. I was really starting to fall for this guy,” you said. 

“Come here, doll,” he said, opening his arms. You had no qualms about sitting on his lap and crying into his shoulder. He was Bucky, one of your closest friends there. He ran a hand up and down your back in comfort. Steve entered the room and a small smile emerged on his face as he took in the scene. Your crying had reduced to small whimpers here and there as Bucky whispered words of comfort in your ear. 

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Gold Beneath His Threshold

For @facialteeth​ Summary: Although Clary goes to Idris with her mother and it looks as though the only one with a promising love life is Alec, a certain demon decides th dip his finger into the parabatai pie and stir things up. Results do not disappoint.

Pairing: Jace Herondale / Alec Lightwood

A/N:  I hope you like your gift 💙💙💙

Read it on ao3: HERE

It started in his childhood and it carried through into his young adult years. Alec became convinced he was a favourite of the angels, even though sometimes they had an odd way of showing it. One day when he was twelve, he found himself alone again, waiting for his mother in her office, having to receive punishment for his latest mess-up. He had gotten into a fight with an older boy who had been bullying him for months…. And he had won! He was shorter, smaller and younger, but he could take way more pain than the other boy. His bullying problem was now a thing of the past; the other kids kept their distance, knowing Lightwood was weird, but also willing and able to kick their asses. But for Maryse, that hadn’t been good enough. “We are Lightwoods, we don’t go around beating people up. There are other ways to solve conflicts! You are not thinking like a future leader, Alec!”

Later, it had been his father, calling him to his office to administer the punishment, and Alec had caught himself thinking, while he lay on his bed on his belly, because his butt and thighs were covered in red welts, that there would have to be one thing, one thing only, that made sense in his life. That made it all worth it - the humiliation, the being forgotten only to be remembered when he messed up even when he thought he did well, the hostility with which his own mother treated him, the feeling he was a mistake that should have never existed.

And the angels had replied right away. The next day, they sent him a ten year old boy - whom his parents decided to take in because he was Michael Wayland’s son, and Robert still felt guilty about his parabatai’s fate. From the moment Jace walked into the room where Alec trained, roasting his technique, Alec felt like he’d been given sunshine to carry in his pocket at all times. The boys became inseparable and soon Izzy was old enough to join them and keep up with Jace’s antics. Jace was beautiful and smart and loyal, and he made Alec laugh and smile so much his cheeks hurt every day, which was a blessing after the increasing number of punishments he had to endure, both for his perceived shortcomings and for being the eldest and letting Jace get the three of them in trouble. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Jace. He took pride in it. He would stand in his mother’s office, thinking “you can’t punish me as much as I can take, just watch.” But as time went by and they grew up, Jace also grew a spine for the three of them. He found it natural to talk back at Robert and Maryse, to question their orders and to tell them to back off when they picked either Izzy or Alec as an easier target for their brand of retaliatory discipline. It was getting ridiculous, he said. You can’t send soldiers out in the field and expect them to do a good job if they are still wincing from their butts being full of welts. Also, there was a certain age after which it was odd to want your teenage child to bare themselves for you to beat them.

And it worked, because Jace was also fluent in the language that abusive leaders used, violence, coercion, veiled or overt threats and blackmail. He had been raised by a far bigger monster than Maryse could ever aspire to be and although his father had tried to shape him into the perfect, unfeeling killing machine, Jace had always had an unbreakable compass which was impervious to bullshit, but still allowed him to play along and make his abusers wallow in a sense of control until it was time to strike. Alec felt overcome with a feeling he couldn’t quite identify whenever he looked at Jace. It was more than loyalty, maybe even more than devotion. He decided love covered it pretty well, but it was a big concept which contained all the facets of the feeling. Alec compared it to getting a really big box and going to the store, asking for a scoop of every flavour of ice cream. This was why it didn’t come as a surprise to him when, one day as he was sparring with Jace and the younger boy had gained the upper hand, sending Alec to the floor and straddling him to pin his arms to the floor above his head, a wave of desire crashed into him. Jace was above him, glistening with a sheen of sweat and panting, his golden hair sticking together in thick strands, damp with sweat. Jace looked feral for a moment, in prey to the adrenaline of the fight, but his eyes quickly shifted to reflect the warm affection he held only for Alec. For the older boy, it was as though someone had sucked all the air in the room out. Everything was amplified and his senses seemed sharper, he could hear Jace’s heartbeat and couldn’t look away from his bare chest, rising and falling with the staccato pace of his breathing; he became painfully aware of Jace’s now hard peak nipples and his eyes traced a droplet of sweat making its way down Jace’s chest until gravity forced it to fall onto his own chest. Also, their current position made it so that their cocks were crushed together in a distracting way. Alec closed his eyes briefly, letting the feeling wash over him. It made him buck beneath Jace and he made a pitiful sound, somewhere between surrender and panic. “Is this you tapping out?” Jace asked, adjusting his position, pressing his weight even harder into Alec. This did not help their dick situation and Alec felt himself harden. He nodded, unsure why he worried so much. This was Jace and Jace handed his ass to him all the time. Nothing special about the occasion. Jace freed his hands and got up, releasing Alec from his hold altogether. Alec stayed on the floor, sitting for a bit longer, wondering why being bested in combat put him into such a state this time around. But then Jace used the towel he had brought to wipe off his sweat, then threw it at Alec, expecting him to catch it and use it too. The towel hit Alec across the face. Instead of smelling like horse or old socks, like sweat usually did, Jace smelled like freshly baked bread, sunny summer days and everything that Alec associated with the feeling of joy. He barely caught himself and held back from burying his face into the towel and sniffing it like a cat with a valerian pillow. Not long after that, Jace asked Alec to be his parabatai and obviously, Alec said yes. Obviously, because he could not picture his life without Jace in it anymore and they were better together in every way. Jace had the courage and confidence when Alec struggled with them, and Alec had the strategic thinking and the protective nature where Jace was reckless and impulsive. *** They were considered grown men by Nephilim standards, but to mundanes and Downworlders, they were still young and inexperienced in many ways except killing and fighting. This was why so many mistakes were made when Clary and the tornado of events she brought crashed into their lives. For one reason or the other, Jace seemed to lose all touch with reality and support Clary on her wild chases, risking their lives, their standing with the Clave and pretty much everything else. Alec felt abandoned and forgotten again. He reminded himself that good things never last and allowed himself to go through a grieving process on fast forward, where at first he was angry at Jace and ended up resigning himself to having nothing and no one who cared about him in the way he needed. But he could not order his body or his emotions to fall in line with his new approach and that was the source of his constant pain. Pain which gave him the worst, darkest goggles to see life through. He didn’t see that Jace panicked and saw the whole Shadow World burn in front of his mind’s eye when it became clear that Valentine had the means and the opportunity to wipe out every Downworlder in existence with one wish. It was this desolate state Alec found himself in when he met Magnus Bane, the charming High Warlock of Brooklyn. Magnus did not have to give him attention, but he did. And he did not have to single him out and place him above everyone else, but he did that too. It felt good - of course it did - and Alec dared to smile again.

But Clary again muddied the waters. The way she was treating Jace was so entitled and impatient, bulldozing his needs and his past wounds just because she hadn’t been there to see him get them, so to her they did not matter that much. Soon, Jace was hurting again, and since no one had taught him how to deal with that, he put the entire blame onto himself. He and Clary were no longer a thing soon and Alec watched his carefully constructed routine crumble again. Izzy had broken up with Meliorn and was trying to mutilate her personality into becoming Maryse 2.0. Jace hadn’t slept a full night in weeks and cried himself to sleep at night, only to be woken by nightmares and his own screams.

Clary soon chose to move to Idris to be with her mother. Jocelyn thought they would be safer from Valentine there and, for once thinking like a true Shadowhunter, she wanted to take the heat off the New York Institute and make it obvious to the Clave that the Valentine problem was not some fiction made up by teens playing around with runes and angelic relics, but a very real and immediate threat.

Before Clary left, Izzy planned a small goodbye party in the Institute events hall. Clary gave each of them a present, to thank them for their help and friendship. To Jace, she gave two open-date tickets to the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan, winking as she told him he would know when to use them. Jace hugged her and kissed her hair, the gesture looking more like what a big brother would do, rather than a lover. Clearly, that short chapter in their lives had not made the first edit. To Izzy, she gave a letter from the Iron Sisters. Jocelyn had used some of her old connections and had gotten Izzy an invitation to visit the place where all Shadowhunter weapons were made. Izzy started crying and hugged Clary, making her promise to visit and send a lot of fire messages. She even promised Clary to finally look into installing Discord on her phone so they could keep in touch more easily. Finally, to Alec, she gave a book, telling him it would answer his most pressing question for him when he got to the end. Alec looked at the book. It was “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho and he seethed inwardly. It was “Eat Pray Love” for people who had gone to college and Alec had heard about the book and its subject matter. He considered it a total wank, from what he’d heard. But Clary was leaving, so maybe, as a way of celebrating, he would ask Jace to let him use his tub and read the book front to back as a way to close the Clary chapter in their lives.

Life went back to normal after Clary and Jocelyn’s departure. Well. The new normal, where Alec was the only one of the three whose life and mental health were not falling apart. He found time to go on that date he and Magnus had kept postponing. It was not… unpleasant, and Alec learned several things about himself. One, he really didn’t do well with alcohol. And he didn’t care how childish it made him seem. Jace was the only person who didn’t constantly mock him for not liking to drink. Beer really tasted like ass. And so did tequila shots. Two, yep, he was gay. Magnus was super pretty. But, for whatever reason, he couldn’t picture himself doing anything more than hugging and holding hands with Magnus. He had already planted a smooch on the warlock, as an act of rebellion against his parents and the Clave at his almost-wedding to Lydia… but he hoped being in love didn’t involve bricking it before every time a show of physical affection happened. Although, in fairness, not all intimate acts had the entire Clave watching closely. Three, things were definitely going too fast and he had long lost control of the wheel. There was a madman intent on ending their entire world out there, Edom was gaining power, Seelies, Vampires and Werewolves were treating the Accords like a pamphlet and Warlocks were disappearing off to realms known only to them in preparation for the upcoming war. And there he was, Lieutenant Head of the New York Institute, getting his panties in a twist over the fact that a hot warlock wanted to take him home and fuck the living daylights out of him. Which, in any other circumstance, would have been perfection. But although his mind tried hard to reason with Alec, pointing out that “hey, someone wants to bang you. No one ever wants to bang you. Do you really want to die a virgin? Because you will die sooner than you will find someone again”, his body put the brakes on the whole thing. So, after their date, instead of going to the loft with Magnus, Alec told him he had an early morning meeting he had to prepare for. Upset by the perceived rejection, Magnus left, but not without making a polite exit. After all, he could understand cold feet. The reason he was so attracted to Alec was how special and rare of a creature he was. But he still left Alec with the tab. The cute bartender who had seen the whole exchange pointed to the tap and asked Alec, “looks like it’s not your night. Want another one, on the house?” Alec shook his head. “Can I have a peach Capri Sun instead?” He asked. Someone else took the seat Magnus had vacated next to him at the bar and pushed a hundred dollar bill across the counter to the girl. “Actually, I’ll have the alcohol once you give the child his sippy cup. Make it a Devil’s Margin, please.” Alec turned to look at the owner of that silky, dark voice. A tall man, dressed in black, everything designer and very expensive-looking, with an exceedingly attractive face and the tell-tale red glow in his eyes. A greater demon, Alec thought, freezing in his spot. He didn’t have any weapons with him, he had left them all at the wardrobe, glamoured, after Magnus had convinced him demons would not come crash their date. “Did your date not go your way?” the higher demon asked, smiling in a way Alec would have read as… friendly, If it had been anyone else. “What’s it to you? Since when do demons care what we do in our time off?” “Since I’m the demon of desire and everyone’s desires are my job.” The demon said. The bartender slid the Devil’s Margin in front of the stranger and smiled. The demon took a sip from the drink and smiled. “Excellent. Heavy on the alcohol, easy on the ginger ale. Just how I like it.” He said, producing another hundred dollar bill and handing it to the girl. “That’s all yours, baby girl.” Alec watched the young woman fluster and blush, stammering a thank you and going away. He always found it so miraculous when other men were able to charm their way through life’s little exchanges and situations. Jace would have done it even without the money, he thought, sizing up the man (demon) next to him. “Look. I’m not digging for trouble… for now. I’m just curious. Do you think the warlock you were seeing is hot, Alec Lightwood?” The demon asked, revealing to Alec he had done his homework before he’d popped up. “I will gladly answer all your nosy questions, demon, as soon as you tell me your name. Since you already know mine.” “All in due time. Is it that hard to admit, is he hot or not?” “Yes, he is, damn it. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone on a date with him, he’s been working so super hard to get me to go out with him. I never go out.” “Mmm, interesting.” “And again, what’s it to you?” Alec grumpily asked. If he was going to fry, he might as well get some answers first. “Well, my volatile little Nephilim, my name is Asmodeus, prince of hell, demon of desire and Magnus’ dad.” Alec gasped. Rationally, he knew warlocks were half demon, but he had always pictured the demon half involved one of those hideous creatures they slaughtered in dark alleys while on night missions. He had never considered the higher demons would wish to sire children with mortal women as well. And, looking at Asmodeus, it was easy to see where Magnus got his good looks and charm from.

“Are you here to tell me not to date your son?” Alec said. “Or to make sure that my Nephilim nature kicks in and does exactly that, to spite you?”

“No, not at all. I’m here to save everyone some heartache and to speed up some of my goals becoming reality.” Asmodeus said. “Do you want to date my son?” “Honestly? I don’t know. I… I might not get anyone else. And he is a good man, who’s showing me attention where everyone else is not. He would love me.” “He would watch you die after your short, violent little life. And then he’d mourn and move on. He’s immortal, Alec. You’re not.” “Yeah, there’s that. But isn’t every lasting relationship like that? Even in mundane marriages, someone dies first and is survived by their grieving partner.” “Mundanes have the comfort of thinking they get to meet each other soon.” Alec stared at his Capri Sun. “But that’s not all there is to it, is there?” Asmodeus pressed. “There’s something else holding you back.” “Yes…” Alec said, sighing. “Something stupid.” “Like the hmmm… allegedly unrequited love for your parabatai?” “Why are you even asking me, if you know everything?” Alec covered his face with his palm briefly. “This is embarrassing. I can’t… I can’t do this.” He added and made to get off the bar stool to leave. “No it’s not, and you can. Sit back down. I take desires really seriously. And I’m here to tell you it’s alright to be in love with your parabatai. You two do share a soul and I would be more surprised and disappointed if you two weren’t in love.” “But… why are you so intent on my not dating Magnus? Because that is your agenda, I can tell.”

“It’s because of how difficult it is to see things from an eternal perspective. No matter how much Magnus and you pretend it’s not an obstacle, it is. And I am trying to get Magnus to stop seeking for fleeting connection in various mortals and to finally turn his face back to me, his father. I cannot wait to give him my wisdom, my experience… my power. But I can’t do that if he is always running around trying to please this and that mortal.” “And you want me to turn Magnus down so you can show up for him? Why didn’t you do so before? Why didn’t you protect him and treat him well as a child?” “I was misguided and hurt. I wrongfully took out my anger and my pain on a child who didn’t ask to be here. And since then, Magnus has been running from me.” “Look. I don’t have the power to oppose you. But for some reason you seem to want to do it right this time. Listen to his wishes. He will come to you if he feels respected. It’s not that deep. I know one or two things about abusive parents. Once the trust is broken, and usually it’s broken over and over… it can’t be won back with a simple talk and a hug. It takes time to mend wounds that scarred over but never healed.” Asmodeus smiled at Alec and put his hand over Alec’s nearest one. “I knew you’d understand. As far as Nephilim go, you’re one of the wisest, even for your young years.” Alec looked at the demon’s manicured hand on top of his and for a second, his mind flashed him an image of Asmodeus draped over him in a bed with cool sheets, buried to the hilt inside him, holding his literal life in his hands, their fingers interlaced as they gripped the sheets and moved together… He shook his head. Asmodeus wasn’t playing. He really was the demon of desire.

“Don’t you just wish that was the Herondale boy?” Asmodeus laughed knowingly.

“Wayland, but go off.” “Oops. I guess I shouldn’t have said that.” Asmodeus said with a wink. “But anyway. I wanted to talk to you not to dissuade you from dating my son, but to tell you that you’re bullshitting yourself. Sure, Magnus is wonderful and he would love you and everything. But you’re not in love with him. And I thought I’d spare you and Magnus a few years of heartache and suffering alone and in secret because you let things heat up too fast and then it was too late to say anything. You would so do that. Admit it - if not to me, then to yourself.”

“I… you’re right.” Alec said, taking a sip of his juice. “Too bad Jace doesn’t love me back.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “He does. And I know you won’t believe what the old demon said, but just… ask him. Ask him what is in those nightmares that keep him up at night. Oh, and… ask for one kiss. It will tell you all you need to know.” Alec looked away. He had come a long way, he could pass for a great leader on many days, but asking for a kiss? From Jace? That needed working up to. “You have to risk it for the biscuit.” Asmodeus said, shrugging. “Or, in terms you Nephilim folk prefer, no pain, no gain.” Alec winced. He was trying to change that. Everyone outside the Nephilim society laughed at them and called them primitive for abusing their children to turn them into soldiers and for burning their own people for even the slightest mistake, until their numbers were dwindling. It felt like an uphill battle, but he knew it could be done. Unless the Clave really wanted to drive their race to extinction. “Thanks for the insight… I guess?” Alec said and took a sip of his drink. When he looked to his side, Asmodeus had vanished, leaving behind only a veil of very high end Moroccan blend perfume, something with sandalwood, crushed rose petals and ylang-ylang.

Alec shivered. He’d survived meeting Asmodeus. And in theory it wasn’t a big deal, he’d killed greater demons before without thinking much of it, but Asmodeus was different. He was Magnus’ dad. He could have been his father-in-law, which would have made Easter lunches very awkward, for starters.

He paid what he owed to the bartender and she smiled as she cashed him in. “Straighten your crown and go get’em. You’re a cutie, it’ll all work out for you.” She said. Alec sighed. “Thanks. There’s nothing about me that can be straight… but I appreciate the sentiment.” He got his weapons and coat from the wardrobe and went back to the Institute. On the way back, he was stopped by some unsavoury mundanes who wanted to mug him. Alec asked himself what Jace would do, and what would make Magnus cringe the least. He ended up breaking all those men’s arms and legs and walking away while feeling a huge sulk taking him over. To top it all off, it started to rain.

Soaked to his skin, now he really wanted that hot bath with a book. When he went up to Jace’s room, it was empty and Alec decided it would hurt no one if he did run himself that hot bath and read the book from Clary. As he gingerly lowered himself into the tub, the exhaustion and the stress of the past month hit him at full force. He closed his eyes and let the heat and the pine scent of the water seep into his bones and mind, relaxing him. Now he was starting to see why Jace loved to take baths so often. He opened “The Alchemist” and started reading. He found the book easy to read through, since he was used to far longer and bigger volumes. The start didn’t impress him much, but by the time he got through the first twenty pages, he was hooked. The ending moved him to tears and it made him think of his own situation. He was also sitting on a treasure, ignoring it because of preconceived ideas on how treasures had to appear and be revealed. It was how Jace found him, crying in the bath, the foam having dissolved almost completely. Jace ran over to him and knelt next to the tub, hugging Alec at once and kissing his forehead worriedly. “What’s wrong, parabatai? What happened?” Jace asked, running his hands through Alec’s wet hair and smoothing it back. Alec looked at Jace through his tears and he sighed. The surge of love and awe he felt just from seeing Jace again (and it had only been a few hours since he’d last seen him, at breakfast) was enough to tell him that Asmodeus had been a hundred percent right. He was so deeply, desperately and irreversibly in love with Jace, there was no use lying to himself and thinking it was wiser to stay away. Sure, giving in and admitting his love to Jace might bring some heartache, maybe some punishment too if they were found out, but at least they’d have each other. And he would have the one person he had loved from the day they’d met.

Alec took in Jace’s appearance. While he had been caught in the rain, Jace had been lucky and his clothes and hair were dry. He had gone and gotten his haircut refreshed, and it looked so incredibly good on him. Jace also wore a white shirt that subtly outlined his pecs and abs and tight jeans with his designer boots.

“The book was sad.” Alec said, feeling silly for saying the first thing that popped into his mind. It was a childish reason to give; they were Shadowhunters, they witnessed tragedy on an individual and global scale regularly. Jace smiled and ran his fingers through Alec’s hair again, leaning close and kissing his temple. He also looked down at the discarded book. He knew it was the book Clary had given Alec and he also knew the plot. He had read it a while ago while waiting to meet a cute Seelie in a bookstore. “Did your date with Magnus not go so well?” He asked, even though it pained him. Jace knew it wasn’t classy to be this petty, but Magnus having come onto the scene had changed his life for the worse by introducing the idea of competition for Alec’s love and attention… and the prospect of him losing. Until recently, no matter how shitty the rest of his life was, he always knew he had Alec’s full attention, devotion and affection. Jace had been in love with Alec for a while now, and he had woken up one day overwhelmed with love for his shy and reserved parabatai after thinking for a long time that he was the straightest person in the entire Shadow World. Loving Alec was easy, because Jace wore a mask for everyone else and with Alec he didn’t need to. And even though Alec was very withdrawn and private, he reserved the best parts of himself for Jace, who had always needed to be seen and prioritised by someone. Now, with Magnus in the picture, he could see himself losing all of that and being demoted to “one of the others’’ in favour of the boyfriend. He had already begun to resign himself to having lost the best and brightest part of his life. He had made it a part of his outward performance to be seen with many women and girls of all races, mundanes and Downworlders alike, but he could not bring himself to like or even open himself up at least a bit to anyone, in an unspoken (even to himself) hope of one day gathering his guts and telling Alec how he felt. But his father’s words rang in his mind. The way he saw it, “to love is to destroy” only worked if the love was expressed, fulfilled and returned. If it was just things one felt in secret and suffered from, it was fine. Only now it was all lost. Alec was in love - with Magnus. And Jace didn’t blame him. Magnus had the balls to announce his feelings directly. Normally, he would have been this confident too. But he didn’t think he was worthy of Alec’s love. He felt that Alec would be getting a bad deal with him as a boyfriend. He was neither rich, nor powerful or famous. And Alec deserved to be treated like a king, not late night dates at Mickey D’s, eating McRibs with ichor-stained hands.

Lost in his little cinematic sad story inside his head, Jace didn’t notice Alec watching him and smiling. “Actually the date with Magnus was great. I came back here after because it didn’t feel right to go to his place after.” “Why not?” Jace pushed, feeling a masochistic need to hear more about the ways in which Alec was slipping away from him. “You like the guy.” Alec looked at him pointedly and raised an eyebrow. “Jace. You know very well I don’t like anyone. And I only love you.”  He said, his voice becoming tinier as he got to the word “love”.

Jace’s eyes shot up to look at his parabatai. “It’s always been you, Jace.” Alec said, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “In another world, if I were any bit more different, I’d be strong enough to let the outside pressure get to me  and move on, but I just don’t know how to be without you and I don’t want to either. I’ve been in love with you, in many ways that grew along the way, since the moment you walked into that training room and roasted my archery skills. I know to others I am weak for being so attached and needy, but… I don’t know how not to be, when it comes to you.”

Jace’s eyes were swimming in tears by the time Alec paused. He was still kneeling near the tub, one hand buried in Alec’s wet curly hair, the other holding one of Alec’s hands. He kissed the back of the hand he was holding, then lightly kissed each finger. “I feel the same. I was so torn, Alec. You deserve the best things ever and I’m not that. I’m broken. I thought you’d be happy with Magnus, but selfishly, I hated the thought of losing you.” It was Alec’s turn to caress stray strands behind a delicate ear. “We’re broken along the same lines. Like shards of a mirror that show the same image when you put them together.” Alec said. “The reason I was crying is because Clary knew exactly what I needed to hear. Like the guy in this book, I don’t need exotic travels and treasures beyond imagining. All I need is right here with me.”

When their lips finally met, it was with no hesitation and no fumbling. Once they had made up their respective minds, there was no holding back for either of them. “I want everything, Jace. And I want it with you.” Alec said in a heated voice, sounding breathless and overcome with excitement. “Then come, let me show you,” Jace said, feeling a lump of emotion form in his throat, making it hard to speak. Seeing Alec’s courage to say how he felt had made him go all in as well. In just a second, his indecision and his fears and worries had vanished like fog under the sun. But even though the emotions were positive and bursting forth from his soul like sunbeams, he still felt tears well up and spill down his cheeks. One word, one sign of reassurance had been enough. They were both getting what they wanted but had not dared to ask for. Alec briefly thought of Asmodeus and his knowing smirk, but then he felt Jace lift him easily from the tub and wrap him in a big towel, not doing too good a job drying him before he carried him, bridal-style, to the adjacent bedroom. He squeaked at being carried, but he still clung to Jace and rested his head on Jace’s shoulder, enjoying the attention from his parabatai. Jace hadn’t considered sleeping with a man, whether mundane or otherwise, but he found that Alec felt as familiar as he did to himself, and everything came naturally to him, especially since he was focusing on making sure Alec had a pleasurable first time. In fact, it was their first time and it could only be amazing, like everything they did as a pair.

He undressed hurriedly and unselfconsciously, feeling himself harden when Alec watched him greedily, his desire increasing with each item that came off.

Alec looked like sin made flesh on Jace’s bed, naked and hard, panting and watching Jace, biting his lower lip and reaching for his parabatai.

“You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jace decreed, giving his cock a loose stroke, his eyes raking over Alec’s bared form before he got onto the bed and scooted next to Alec, flinging a leg over him and straddling him. “And you’re mine. I’m going to make you forget other men exist.” He reached over to Alec with two fingers, running them down the middle of his forehead, over his nose and further down to his lips.

Alec gasped and opened his mouth, his plush lips wrapping themselves around the roving fingers and dragging along the soft skin. Jace felt himself leak a sticky trail onto Alec’s cock beneath him from how enticing Alec looked, sucking his fingers unabashedly, rolling his hips up to rub against Jace and wanting to wring every drop of pleasure from the moment. Jace found he could no longer hold back and he leaned forward, his lips finding Alec’s. They again fused into one, their souls merging and flowing from one into the other and then back, in a loop. “Shit, if kissing is this intense, I won’t survive being inside you.” Jace said, nipping on Alec’s chin, on the spot he had the scar in. “Worth it. Can’t think of a better way to go.” Alec gave back, bringing his arms up so he could indulge in something he’d wanted to do since forever - running his hands greedily all over Jace, fingers carding through his hair, tracing his vertebrae as they descended, straying to his sides, his pecs, then his hips and then his ass. Alec felt ravenous - as though he couldn’t get Jace close enough, soon enough. He arched into Jace’s mouth and wailed at the sensation as his parabatai bit, then sucked a massive bruise into his deflect rune. “Jace, I can’t… I’ll go fucking insane if you’re not inside me soon. We can explore later.” Alec demanded. Jace looked down at their engorged and leaking cocks, rubbing against each other. “Um… normally I should open you up slowly. It’s a really small hole. Can you wait?” “I’ve been waiting since I was fucking fifteen. Get thee in me - preferably today.” “Look, if I use runes, it might still sting.” “I’m a Shadowhunter. Let’s see those runes.” “Alec, are you sure? It’s your first time… it might hurt.” “Do I look like I care? I get to have you for the rest of my life. Every time will be as special as a first time.” Jace smiled, relenting at the passionate words. This was 100% his Alec. Hesitant and overthinking while weighing his choices, all in once he made up his mind. He allowed himself to fantasize about a life of belonging to Alec and to Alec only, and of Alec being his in the same way. He felt his heart fill up to the point of overflowing with love and he knew he wanted nothing else. Even if it was a short and perilous life, even if their destiny as soldiers against the realms of hell cleaved their trajectory through the world before it had reached its end point, it would be a life lived in the completeness of their bond, made stronger by their love. He felt Alec’s burning gaze on him when he got out of bed to get his stele. While he retrieved it from his trousers, he wondered if, once Alec and him became one in every sense of the word, he would be able to activate Alec’s runes too with only his intention. Only one way to find out. Using the combination of runes he knew from Isabelle on her brother felt like the naughtiest and at the same time most rewarding sex thing he’d ever done thus far, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It was so hot, watching and feeling his soon-to-be lover’s body become accommodating for him. Even the slight pain, which he could feel in the bond, was amplifying his aroused anticipation, as he watched Alec squirm and arch under the burn of the runes - which soon turned pleasurable, wringing a debauched moan from Alec.

“Please, Jace. I’m ready.” Alec said, sucking his reddened and glistening lower lip into his mouth briefly, looking up at Jace with feverish eyes.

Jace couldn’t have resisted if he tried. He knelt between Alec’s eagerly parting legs, taking the time to check if the runes had taken and if his parabatai was relaxed enough. He stroked two fingers over Alec’s opening and found it warm and pleasantly slick, which reassured him enough to delve inside. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of Alec’s tight walls squeezing down on his fingers, picturing what that would feel like around his cock. With his other hand, he gave his cock a few strokes, spreading the droplets of precome drooling from the tip and bringing it up against Alec’s entrance, pressing in while removing his fingers. Alec closed his eyes and arched off the sheets as the head of Jace’s cock stretched him further than he had thought possible. Jace took one of his hands and squeezed it, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “Breathe - deep and slow. It’ll help.” He whispered, before leaning down to kiss Alec while still pushing in. He could feel the same burn his parabatai felt in his body and he wondered at the force of Alec’s need for him. There would be so many other times when they could live out all their desires and fantasies, but for now it was about Alec and what he wanted. “Fuck, Alec. You are so tight it’s unreal.” Jace said when he bottomed out. He was now buried to the hilt inside his parabatai and the bond flared between them, its flame switching from pale blue to bright gold. Both boys got hit by the intensity of the transmutation. Their bond was now something different, stronger and new in a way they couldn’t have anticipated. They had both been warned by the Silent Brothers at their ceremony not to fall and commit Eros, lest they draw the angels’ wrath and the parabatai curse onto them. But, as time passed and they grew up, they had both learned the curse was a scaretale used to enforce the Clave’s disapproval of same sex relationships and to secure Clave control over parabatai pairs and their abilities as warriors. He Clave wanted them good, but not too good.

“Do you feel… that… too?” Jace asked in awe.

“Yes, I do. I feel you, as a part of me.” Alec said breathlessly. “Please, move. I want it all.” Jace propped himself up on his hands on Alec’s chest and started to move, picking up pace quickly. “Angels, Alec.You feel divine.” Jace whispered. His entire world had narrowed down to Alec beneath him. But even that wasn’t enough and he sat back on his heels, pulling Alec up in his lap until they were wrapped around each other, their limbs woven together like the petals of a lotus. Jace had never really enjoyed a connection with someone before here and now, with Alec. Sex had always been yet another performance to persuade the world that the great Jace Wayland was as perfect and as unattainable as they wanted him to be, the fantasy superhero all of Idris wanted to believe in and parade as an example. If he could have had his choice, he would have not shared his body with anyone unless he felt drawn to do so. But as it were, everyone else had always seen him as a shiny trinket to collect, a fetish to experiment with, a fantasy to conquer. All but Alec. “Jace! I’m c-close.” Alec pressed out while the force of Jace’s upward thrusts into him bounced him on Jace’s lap. “Come with me!”

Jace nodded with a growl and changed their position again, having them lie down face to face, up close and still entwined as they’d been just moments before, with Alec’s legs encircling his hips. It wasn’t a comfortable position they could hold for long, but it brought them close together and Jace loved that he could rest a hand on Alec’s neck and pull him close for a possessive kiss. A silent understanding passed between them, the same intent reflected in both sets of eyes. They came at the same time, each letting go easily while knowing the other would be right there too. After that night, Alec discovered that Jace could practically go on forever, but, considerate as he was, he did stop when Alec became physically unable to keep up. And Jace was also an attentive lover, apparently, either as a rule or just for him, Alec didn’t care, since he currently couldn’t feel his body beyond the burn in his ass and the deep fatigue, neighbouring numbness, that had taken over his limbs. But Jace fed him pineapple gummibears from his secret stash (if that wasn’t love, nothing was, Alec thought, knowing how territorial Jace was of those gummibears). Jace discovered that he could, in fact, activate Alec’s runes with his intention, something which turned Alec on like mad and which made their night’s activities stretch until late in the morning. Once they finally dragged themselves under the shower, Jace remembered his gift from Clary. “I need to take you on a proper date, to make this official. Museum of Modern Art sound good to you? The Dicks in Design exhibit is in town.” “If I want to see a big dick for free, all I need to do is look your way. Let’s just go and stare at the art.” Jace opened his mouth to clap back, but he couldn’t think of anything. Couldn’t object against facts, although what kept him from feeling smug was the ambiguous phrasing. Had Alec meant he had a big dick? Or that he was a big dick?

*** The evening had just begun and Pandemonium was buzzing with excitement. This date marked the return of Magnus Bane to the club scene. The moment he had seen Alec again after their one date, Magnus had known Alec would never be his. And then he had seen Jace and the massive change in him, in the way the two parabatai looked at each other, in the way the energy in the room changed and thrummed around them. He could not begrudge the two Shadowhunters the refuge they had found in each other. Being parabatai in their time was difficult and it was a small blessing they could be everything for each other like that. He couldn’t say he was mourning that which had never been. He had a new girlfriend now and his father was making an effort to be a slightly more tolerable demon and an actual parent to his only son. Magnus had a family now and it made him feel like he finally belonged. Now he was observing Alec and Jace on the dance floor below. Alec had never struck him as a big lover of fun, partying and much less dancing. But what he was currently doing was hardly a dance. He and Jace were just grinding against each other to the beat of the music, lost in each other like they were the only people in the club. They were both dressed in white and the hostesses at the club entrance had dabbed glitter on them, like they did with all the guests that night, only Jace and Alec looked  downright heavenly, sparkling in the bluish-white light.

Then, Magnus’ eye was drawn to the VIP booth, where his father stood at the window, watching the couple below with the tiniest smile fluttering on his lips. Magnus shuddered, remembering Asmodeus was the demon of desire and his powers grew off of people giving into their secret and forbidden passions. He didn’t put it past his father to have stuck his finger in the parabatai pie. His concerns only intensified when Alec suddenly looked up, saw Asmodeus, waved and smiled. (the end)

[devintrinidad]

I haven't watched it Akadama Drive the way through. But I have seen a lot of it. It's almost too gorey for me. But the visuals are a real treat and it definitely has the cyberpunk cool factor down. Swindler was a great main character! (I never shipped her with Cutthroat. I knew the psychopath was that. A psychopath and I bet he was going to turn on them at anytime. And he did! Never be distracted by the childish antics pretty boy serial killers!). 

I'm interested in the future of AD. I heard the last episode was getting a special Directors cut including a alternative ending. I also heard the AD creators were happy to hear AD is doing well in the west so fans are wondering if that means their hoping to make a S2? I don't keep up with AD news so I'm not sure if that's their intention or not. But I did hear a fan theory that S2 could be about the bad guys using technology to bring at least of the main characters back to life (considering Swindler had a religious themed death and both her and Courier's bodies could easily be recovered. Plus revival through tech is such a Cyberpunk staple) because Brother and Sister are still targets and they were would where to look for them. 

So maybe AD still has a bright future ahead with more content to explore the world (I honestly think Hacker could easily be a main character in any sequal). 

Onto the CAW/AD verse.

I could totally see 3803 being this epic biker chick.... Who gets lost easily. But because she does all these crazy stunts, her enemies (who don't know her yet) think she's planning everything to confuse them. X D 

I could see 1146's akudama name being Bodyguard. Because when he's not acting like one for 3803 and Platelet. He's taking up bodyguard jobs for anyone who needs them. For the right price and reason. If you're a scumbag who hurts innocent people, he'll kill you on the spot. But be nice enough to return the moneyto your corpse. Unless 3803 or Platelet needs something, then he'll strip you of all your dough and leave you penniless. He has a very ruthless rep. But he's so good at what he does, his help is in high demand. Ecspecially for someone who needs a bodyguard they can trust (and they know they aren't or won't act like scum around him to earn his wrath). He's fine with helping criminals. Just not ones who do a lot of harm to innocents or are involved in nasty business like trafficking or something.

Story wise things change up.

The way I see things here is that Cancer is the one secretly in charge and why things are so wrong. He's this absolute monster of a human being who gained immortality hundreds of years ago. He went nuts and caused wars and blew up the moon. He wants all the power and has created societies in his own twisted corrupted image (basically his dream in canon coming true here). But he's noticed after awhile things always go bad under his leadership and nearly everything dies. Instead of starting over again and again. He's decides to find a way to force everyone to become immortal like him so that even if they're killed. They'll have no choice but to come back to life like he does. If he has to suffer this, then so does everyone else. 

That's where 3803 and Platelet come in. For decades, Cancer has been collecting and experimenting on people in secret in order to figure out how to gift them with his immortality. 3803 and Platelet are surviving lab rats who managed to escape during a explosion happening in the building. 3803 is the closest he's come to achieving his goal. 3803 would later tell 1146 she has no idea how immortal she is and it scares her to death that she might be unable to die like Cancer. All she knows is that she can take a lot of damage and recover in time. She's been able to age a little. But she hopes she's not being paranoid about looking younger and smaller for her age (Macrophage, another Akudama who knows her secret, tells her it's common for girls like her to look younger then they are and that she has gotten bigger since they first met. But 3803 is still a little concerned). 3803 also has no idea about Platelets status in all this since she's never been badly hurt and she's aged normally. But she's also never gotten sick a day in her life and she was put in the same cell as her. The scientists saying all she needed was a little tweaking and they'd both be closer to becoming their goal. 

Ohhh, I didn't even think about 4989 and the others being 1146's enemies. I assumed they'd follow his lead eventually. Say they're dissapointed in him. Because yeah things are corrupt. But that's no reason to become a criminal and abandon their dreams of making the city a better place. They weren't there when he turned traitor so all they've been told is he got beguiled by some witch (3803 gets a very exaggerated and unpleasent rep along the Executioners for turning their top soldier against them. 1146 was already having serious doubts on his own but the organization puts the blame on her regardless). Eventually they get told by a superior officer if they can capture both 1146 and 3803 alive, they'll take 1146 back instead of executing or throwing him in jail. They'll strip him of his Akudama name and only punish him by putting a bomb collar on him until he redeems himself to them. It's not ideal. But for their friend they'll take it. They do eventually find and fight 1146 and even manage to knock him out and tie him up. They're prepared to fight 3803... Until they meet her face to face. From the rumours, they were expecting this buff scary woman who could rip their faces off. Instead they meet this determined but petite girl who looks like she'd hurt herself trying punch them. Even worse she's holding this little scared crying girl calling her big sis in her arms. They're the picture of defenselessness and it's suddenly making them not comfortable with this. This goes two ways: either they decide to cool down for a sec and let 3803 and 1146 explain themselves and then make the choice to leave and become akudamass too. Or, they harden themselves and take her anyway. 3803 promises to come quietly if they let her little sister go (they don't suspect Platelet is the Akadama Bomber). 3803 is hoping if she goes alone, She can at least convince Cancer Platelet died years ago and was a failed test subject. They agree and 3803 has to push Platelet away and yell at her to go (she knows she'll go to Macrophage so she'll be fine) because Platelet knows what's happening and is desperate enough to almost throws a small bomb at them (but 1146 would get caught up in the blast and 3803 glares at her to obey so she doesn't). The WBC squad does feel bad since they're not used to dealing with vulnerable women and children who can't fight back. 

When 1146 wakes up in a room with his superior officer telling him he's back and not getting a bomb collar. He's getting brain surgery and it's a surprise what that's going to be. Needless to say, 1146 is pissed beyond words. He's going to be forced to be their top dog somehow again. Platelet is alone and scared. 3803 is going to be carted off to Cancer so Cancer can make things even worse. Needless to say he manages to make his case to his friends who see definitely now know being a Akadama is better then this. Half of them go to rescue 1146 before he gets brain surgery and the others go get 3803 before Cancer can.

That's my idea of it anyway. Cause the WBC squad would actually be really good akadamas.

Now when it comes to 1146 fighting allies a lot. My initial idea was before he left, 1146 was the best of the best alongside NK and Killer T. They were the power trio that stood above the rest with a 100% success rate in missions once all three worked together. But unlike the WBS squad. They stick to their Executioner roles. I see this because in CAW canon, despite being softies inside, both Killer T and NK have this 'don't get chummy with civilians' mentality. Killer T ecspecially getting on 1146 for wanting to interact and go soft with them. In AD verse, NK and Killer T ultimately believe the Executioners are a nessecary evil at worst because the world needs them to be (Idk, you can keep the germs and make them monsters that Executioners have to fight to keep the city save too. Of course all of them are secretly made by Cancer to convince the most 'noble' of Executioners to keep the corrupted status quo).  When 1146 left, they took it personally. Particularly Killer T. NK keeps things more professional, but both want Roto resolve things with 1146 and see it as their duty to take him down. They don't believe 1146 about the whole conspiracy of a immortal Cancer ruling the world and doing all this other unbelievable stuff. Even when they see 3803 surviving a lot of damage, they chalk it up to her having access to some high tech she stole. Either way I'm conflicted on them being tragic villains who refuse to stop fighting 1146 and capture 3803 under orders or villains who get redeemed at the end. 

But Akadama Killer T. Tell me more? What's he like?

Other stuff-

Macrophage is called Hacker. Both because she can hack her targets into pieces with her axe and because she's a famous computer hacker. She found 3803 and Platelet years ago after they had escaped from the underground lab. She was reasearching for fun what the base was and discovered its use for making immortality. She took the two girls in to raise as if they were her own and trained them how to survive as Akadama (more so 3803 since she's older). When Macrophage isn't a assassin for hire, she's using her hacking abilities as mission control for 3803 when she's on the job. She helps her not get too lost and handles money transactions. They see her as the mom they never had despite that she's really only around 14 years older then them. 

Platelet loves blowing things up. She likes building things too. But bombing things helps her little family out more. She'll often plant tiny bombs all over the city and has Macrophage use her computer to keep track of them so she can detonate them when she sees a use to (like blowing up anyone chasing 383 while she's on her motorcycle). She adores 1146 and loves having him be part of her family. Partly because he's so strong and protective she doesn't have to worry as much about 3803 as much with him around. It's unknown just how much the experiments affected her too. All that's known is she's never been sick and barely needs any sleep to operate and always has nothing but energy to spare. She gets scared easily when 3803 might get taken away because her big sis has always been there for her and she's terrified of Cancer destroying her life and family again. If she lost 3803 she doesn't think she'd known how to live ob without her.

Cancer refers to all his experiments as his children. He calls 3803 and Platelet his daughters in particular and plans on having them back and fully like him so they can be his perfect family. He's actually known them since they were babies since, before they escaped, they've spent most, if not, all their lives in his care at the lab.

In this verse, 1146 is a much more aggressive pursurer of 3803's affections. He's still shy about making moves and acts stoic. But it's apparent he's interested in her early on and after awhile he makes no secret he wants to marry her. It always surprises her when he talks about wanting to marry her because he's too shy to flirt with her or even ask her on a date. He's both unable to make the first move, yet is very blunt about his desired intentions. She on the other hand is more hesitant. With her unknown immortality status, she's afraid she can't grow old with him and would deny him a normal wife. He simply says he wants her and no one else will ever do. 

3803 feels bad about him becoming a criminal. He's fighting his friends and comrades and has a huge life sentence on him all because he protected he. He tells her even if he has never met her. He knows sooner or later he would have left on his own and been branded a Akadama. Meeting her just have him another reason to believe in protecting others. Plus she does let him live with her and her for free. She still tries to pay him for his services when he protects her on the job. Initially he takes the money. But after too long she finds out all he does with the money is buy her things she was planning on getting later anyway. He basically was doing her errands for her. She gave up after that. 

 1146 is very protective of 3803's secret and has killed people over it to protect her. Those people being top high level Executioners who are in on Cancer's existence and his plans. 1146 knows the moment Cancer can get 3803 and confirm her ID. There's going to be a lot of trouble. He's made it a goal to either turn those people to his side or kill them all until there's no one left. When Cancer hears of this, he calls him a kind killer. 

Macrophage once jokes 1146 should be called Husband instead of Bodyguard because that's what he acts like with 3803. All overprotective and lovey dovey. He hates it when other men flirt with him and scared them off. 

Cancer is actually more aware of 3803 and Platelets activity then anyone thinks. It's just that he's immortal so time is a little for him. He kind of enjoys watching them hide and run and wondering how far he can push 1146 in his efforts to protect them. 

That's all I got I think. Putting in Cancer kind of changes things up but I also think he strangely fits in there very well. 

Any other ideas you have?

~~~

Oh my! It’s been a while since you’ve made such a long and lovely submission! First things first, yes, Swindler is best girl!!!

Heheh, I found Cutthroat/Swindler to be somewhat cute, but I had a feeling things would turn out for the worst when the team ultimately separated after Doctor’s betrayal and the fight with the Executioners. It was a pretty cool dynamic and I love how Swindler ultimately turned the tables on him.

(I’m a bit leery as to why he could see her “red halo” from so far away, but I suppose it was due to insanity/supernatural influences).

And yup! There was going to be a director’s cut. A Youtuber actually translated the tweets that directors had regarding the director’s cut and discovered that it was going to be an extra seven minutes of footage and would feature scenes that would help flesh out the last episode more.

It’s super interesting.

LINK HERE

Ooohhhh, a season 2 where we can see best girl and Courier to come back??? To be honest, I like the series where it stands. It had a message, stuck with it, but managed to punch it all in with masterful animation techniques and storytelling. One of the characters that I think would definitely come back, should probably be Hacker. He was a god of cyberspace and savvy with technology.

Someone once speculated that he’s smart: he would definitely upload a backup of himself somewhere.

(Another person thought that Hacker must have saved himself on Swindler’s phone because his drone icon was there after his final parting gift).

I think the best way to add onto the series would be to revisit their backgrounds? Then again, I checked out the available manga chapters that have been translated thus far, and it seems they might delve a little into that territory.

Maybe a one shot episode where we get to see all the Akudama go about their daily lives where they sometimes interact (unknowingly) Durarara style (another great anime you should watch if you have the time).

Hacker as main character??? Yes please???

3803 would definitely do crazy tricks, hahah. She’s simultaneously skilled and unskilled with her bike. She’s like the... Captain Jack Sparrow of the series except instead of being drunk all the time, she’s somewhat clueless and innocent.

Bodyguard is such a lovely name. Like... I can picture it and it really fits. Not only does it satisfy his canon role of protecting, it actually helps him from actually killing too many people unnecessarily. He’ll do it if he has to, but his main goal is to protect his charge, not go after any assassins and whatnot.

Ooooohhhh, I love Cancer here! You make him out to be some terrible god of destruction and chaos and I absolutely adore it. And the motive for immortality makes more sense in this au then in the canon for AD, hahah. But yes, I imagine after years of destruction and infamy, he would definitely feel lonely and bitter.

So of course, why not drag the rest of humanity down with him?

3803 and Platelet both being somewhat immortal beings? Yes??? And Macrophage being one of their true confidants? Also yes??? (WHERE ARE YOU GETTING ALL THESE GOOD IDEAS???)

I know later on you’ll talk about Macrophage being a hacker (because of major hacking skills in tech and in killing), but what about this: she’s the Doctor from AD. Not a backstabber, but one who was somewhat affiliated with the idea of immortality. Maybe she was one of the scientists who helped raise 3803 and Platelet and after discovering that all the rest of the experiments died and only two remained, she decided enough was enough and got them out of Cancer’s hold.

Hmm... how about we combine Hacker and Doctor to create Scientist instead? She’s cold and ruthless underneath her ladylike vibes, but she truly does feel for the plight of 3893 and Platelet.

I don’t know, it would make for an interesting dynamic.

Oooohhh, I love the confrontation with WBC squad and 3803. They’re so geared and ready (4989 is definitely sweating bullets while the others reassure him). Also, you know how in AD canon that the Executions are always in pairs? Let’s have 2001 and 1145 the original pairing before he broke out. Then, 4989 with 2626 and 2048 and Eosinophil while 2001 gets stuck with Band Cell. Because, why not.

(Or, we go back to one of my most heinous friendships I ever created, 2001 and Dendritic Cell).

Can I also say that Bomber is such a bomb name for Platelet? (Pun completely intended).

And yeah, the WBC squad are definitely really uncomfortable when they undergo some cognitive dissonance here... perhaps it’s starting at this moment that they realize that Akudama aren’t that different from normal people... or the Executioners.

Bomb collars and surgery for 1146??? Ooohhhh, he must really be the top Executioner... I wonder if he’ll reunite with 2001 again as his partner or get someone new who can help control him. Because NK and Killer T are definitely partners.

On a side note you mentioned that they think that Executioners are a necessary evil. It’s like your acknowledging and somewhat hinting that they know this is wrong and that Akudamas aren’t inherently bad, but do so anyway because of a corrupt legal system. I love it. It really adds to the depth of the characters.

And yes, we need tragic villains with feelings.

As for Akudama Killer T... Maybe he went through some mental breakdown before realizing that the Executioners aren’t always right )if they were ever right in the first place). Perhaps he breaks like 1146 did, but instead of using his skills for constructive purposes, he goes all out and doesn’t care about the law anymore. He sort of becomes 1146’s foil. They’re both rear Executioners, both saw the errors of their ways, but while 1146 becomes a protector in his own way, maybe Killer T decides to become a mercenary.

I don’t know, I love parallels and showcasing how far characters have done.

(I REALLY WANTED PUPIL EXECUTIONER TO BECOME AN AKUDAMA OR AT LEAST HAVE A MOMENT TO HERSELF, BUT IT NEVER HAPPENED. AT LEAST THE DIRECTORS CUT IS SAID TO ADDRESS THAT).

Cancer as a father?

Cancer as a family man?

I... that’s a concept I never considered. Just, I can only imagine him playing with all of his experiments, knowing that one day, most of them will end up dying. He probably favors 3803 over Platelet because of how close they are in physical appearance/age and acts creepy about it.

(Is this my Abnormalities!verse writing urge acting up again, probably).

Hehehe, why but blunt 1146. That is so cute and adorable. He and 3803 constantly dance around the issue, especially due to the whole immortality thing, but he makes it clear that he doesn’t care. Though he doesn’t know it, he’s actually quite suave when he finally convinces her that it’s the time they spend together now that matters so they won’t regret in the future.

3803 swoons.

Husband??? Yes???

Macrophage as confirmed 3803/1146 shipper? Why not???

Ooohhh, Cancer is more aware than what was already expected... I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA!!!

So I know that I said earlier that Macrophage would be a combination of Hacker and Doctor, why not also make Cancer have Hacker elements? Think about it, he’s practically immortal and it was never truly confirmed how immortality works in AD canon. Maybe his immortality is due to a combination of high technology and organic stuff. Maybe, he can upload his consciousness at will so that he can “supervise” his children. It also adds credence to the whole “3803 had high tech to help her stave off heavy damage” that Killer T and NK think is what’s going on. I don’t know, I just think it would be cool to have Cancer be a god in the physical and technological world.

He would be so OP, but that’s what Cancer probably would want in CAW canon, so there, hahah.

Hmm, anything else? Let’s see, Killer T as an Akudama would definitely be more of a Brawler character... I don’t have anybody down for Hoodlum... But who do you think would be a best fit for Head Executioner? At first, I wanted Helper T, but I realized that he doesn’t get super utilized in canon, so why not make him Executioners alongside Regulatory T. Seriously, they don’t get enough screen time (especially Regulatory T).

As for the majority of Akudamas, most are definitely pathogens or germs, but I’m assuming some of them are actually Normal Cells... Normal Cells with benign mutations, but somehow get the attention of Executioners.

But yeah, this was an awesome little au. I’m down to read some action packed nonsense with these characters. You should definitely try your hand at writing this, hahah!

[clintashaotp]

Author’s note/summary: I have decided to do the April challenge this year! That means I’ll be posting a fic each day this month. I’ll do my best to get one for every day, and with all the extra quarantine time hopefully I’ll be able to keep it up. So without further ado, here’s the first one. I may have lost the prompt for this, but I do remember what it was! SHIELD Natasha x HYDRA Clint, and she’s trying to bring him back to her side. I loved this prompt so it’s a little long. 

2,349 Words

I Can’t Recognize You Anymore

...

It’s been months since they’ve talked, like really talked, but Natasha hasn’t been known to give up on anyone ever. She knows him better than anyone, she keeps telling herself. There’s no way he’d just abandon her like that. He wouldn’t. 

She can still remember when she saw him standing with the rest of the HYDRA soldiers, facing against her with a stone cold face and a gun pointed at her chest. It was like a sick punch to the gut, but she had kept her guard up and managed to escape with just a few cuts. But she couldn’t shake the memory of the look on his face. 

For the first few weeks, she wondered if it was possession. She had seen what he had done under Loki’s control, and she couldn’t rule out mind control or something else. But when she started looking through his travel logs, she saw with a sinking feeling that every personal trip he had taken had coincide directly with a HYDRA strike somewhere around the world. 

She then wondered if he was being blackmailed. It was possible. Maybe someone had threatened his family, or maybe he was working with them because...she couldn’t think of a good reason. Deep inside she knew it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t stop coming up with theories. It couldn't be possible that he would turn on them like that. They were his family. 

The next time she sees his face is during a mission in Italy. She hops on her motorcycle, the hard drive already stuffed deep in her pocket, and accelerates the gas so hard the front wheel pops up off the sidewalk. 

“Get out of the way!” she shouts, and people jump off the sidewalk as she plows down the street. She can hear the roar of an approaching truck behind her and knows that it has to be HYDRA, so she revs the engine again, speeding down a sidestreet, trying to stay close to the buildings. 

That’s when a second truck skids to a stop feet ahead of her, right where the sidestreet meets the main road, and Natasha instinctively steers her motorcycle sideways, skidding to a halt right before she would have bashed her brains open along the side of the black armored truck. 

She jumps off the vehicle quickly and starts to sprint towards the nearest open store along the street, but an arrow flies just past her left shoulder and buries itself in the wall in front of her. 

“Don’t move,” yells an all too familiar voice, and she freezes. 

If this were anyone else, she would pull out her guns and shoot the living hell out of them before they could blink, but she can’t do that to Clint. She could never do that to Clint. 

“Turn around,” he barks, and she raises her hands to shoulder height, turning slowly to see eight men pointing guns at her. Clint stands on the hood of the truck, an arrow already notched but not yet pulled taught. He’s defensive, but she doesn't think he’s ready to kill her just yet. 

“This doesn’t have to get messy,” she says calmly. “Just let me go. We don’t have a fight here.”

“Nice try,” Clint sneers, and Natasha’s heart pounds at his expression. It looks like someone else is smiling out of his face. “Give us the hard drive, Black Widow.”

“You know I can’t do that, Clint,” her voice is low and calm, as if she is talking to a child, but the second his name leaves her lips his expression hardens and he pulls the arrow into position, aiming it right at her heart. 

“Don’t speak to me,” he says coldly, and though he sounds calm, he looks anything but. “Search her,” he says to the men, and they start walking towards her, putting their guns back in their holsters so they can check the pockets of her suit. 

It takes her half a second to whip out her Widow’s Bytes, and she flings them at the group of men. They all go down at once, electricity coursing through their bodies, and she takes the moment of distraction to sprint as fast as she can around the corner and as far away from Clint’s arrows as she can. 

“Fury, I need extraction now,” she barks into the com. “HYDRA came, they took the hard drive and wrecked my bike, I need a ride out right now.”

“On it, Romanoff,” his voice says in her ear, and it takes ten seconds for her to see the jet appear in the sky as its mirroring is turned off. She sprints towards it, and hears the revving of the car behind her. 

“Open the hatch!” she yells, and she sees it lower. She’s getting closer, and now she just has to outrun the truck. She glances over her shoulder to see it round the bend, speeding towards her, and she speeds up as much as she can, sprinting full tilt towards the open door. 

She dives into the back of the jet, rolling when she hits the ground, and slams the button to close the hatch. 

As it raises, she catches a glimpse of Clint’s face behind the windshield of the truck. She can barely recognize him. 

.

“What the hell happened out there, Romanoff?” Fury barks, and Natasha doesn’t reply, sinking lower into her padded chair. The Director’s office is fairly intimidating, and though Natasha doesn’t get scared by practically anything, she feels a little less than at ease under Fury’s one-eyed gaze. 

“HYDRA happened,” she replies shortly. 

“You’ve taken out thirty HYDRA agents at once before! Why didn’t you just shoot?” when she doesn’t reply, he leans over the desk, both hands on its surface, staring at her. “Romanoff. Why didn’t you shoot?”

“Clint was there,” she finally says. She doesn’t meet his eyes, looking down at the desk. “Clint was heading the team and I couldn’t shoot him.”

Fury doesn’t talk for a while. He turns to face the windows, looking out across the city below them. Natasha thinks for a moment he is going to reprimand her, but when he turns back around he hardly even looks annoyed, much less angry. 

“I don’t know what happened to Barton, but we need him. We need him back, Natasha, and if you still believe in him than I do. I trust your judgement. So what, we lost the payload, but now we need to get him back.”

“I agree, sir.”

“That’s your next assignment,” Fury says stoutly. “Find Barton. Bring him back to us.”

“I’ll do my best,” she nods. She doesn’t need an exit cue. She knows when the conversation is over. 

She turns and walks out his door, leaving him staring out the glass, trying to find answers in the dotted skyline below.

.

She hacks every file she can find, searches through the SHIELD database, and tries to find a way into the HYDRA server but is blocked by several AIs. She even asks for Tony’s help decrypting a file on Barton’s travel logs from HYDRA, but after Tony is denied access she knows she has to find another way to get to him. Little did she know that she didn’t have to look for him at all. 

When he was with SHIELD, they would go to the same coffee shop every Saturday morning and get a latte and sit under the trees in the nearby Arboretum to talk about the week, and get a little time to themselves. She hadn’t gone since he left. The memories were a little too painful, and she was trying to get over her caffeine dependency, but this Saturday she’s already in the area so she decides to stop and take a walk in the Arboretum. 

Black coffee in hand, she plugs in her earbuds and starts down the calm gravel path. The scent of flowers is heavy in the air, and she can’t help but smile. It is a nice peaceful break from the stressful hunting of her partner. 

That’s when she feels something. That familiar prickle on the back of her neck. Eyes. Someone is watching her. 

Instead of whirling around to see who it is, she pauses her music, keeping her headphones in, so she can listen. Heavy footsteps, probably boots, heavy heels, probably a man, around 6 foot to 6’3, probably around 220-240 pounds. Muscular, confident, not trying to be sneaky. 

She pulls out her phone but doesn’t turn it on. When she sees the face in the reflection of the black screen she almost drops her coffee. 

She won’t confront him, not now. Unless Clint makes a move towards her, she won’t try to strike against him. While she could probably bag him now and bring him to SHIELD, if he’s following her her, he’s either going to attack her or trying to talk. If she tries to take him in now, it will make a scene, and it’s too public to start a shooting match. 

He’s a good distance away, and she can’t tell if he wants her to notice him or not. But she doesn’t turn around to look. Her hand drifts to her pocket where she keeps a throwing knife for emergencies. If he jumps her, she’ll whip around and nail him straight in the chest with it.

She walks for a few more minutes, not checking behind her, turning her music up a little so that he can choose to approach her if he wants. 

She finally sits down on a bench at the end of the path, but when she glances subtly behind her, he is already gone. 

.

Another week passes, and Natasha can’t find any information on his whereabouts. While he was nearby recently, their job requires frequent travel, so on Monday she starts a facial recognition search among security cameras. The results take almost a week, so by the next Monday, she prints out the most relevant searches and lays them out on a desk so she can look at them. 

All of them are unmistakably Clint, and she feels a creeping, paranoid sensation in her stomach when she notices where he is. 

Their coffee shop. The gym that they always went to together. Her laundromat where she used to go every week. Her favorite jewelry store.

“He’s trying to find me,” she whispers to herself. Of course. She doesn't need to look for him, he’s looking for her. 

“Damn right I am,” came a voice behind her, and Natasha draws a gun in half a second, her fingers already hot and twitching on the trigger as she whirls around to aim her gun at the man standing in her apartment doorway. “Sorry to startle you.” he dangles a key from his left hand. “You forgot to change the locks.”

“Clint, what are you doing here?” she keeps her voice even and calm, her hands still steady on the trigger. 

“I needed...closure,” he shrugs. He throws her keys down on the floor, and pulls a knife out of his boot strap, staring at her evenly. 

Natasha takes half a second to assess the situation, and it takes a split second for her to decide what to do. Thank god she left her com on her desk after the last mission, because she reaches over and grabs it, putting it into her ear. 

“Clint Barton is in my apartment. Come and get him,” she grins, and watches his face drop slightly. 

“And here I was thinking we could have a little heart to heart,” he raises an eyebrow. 

He lunges at her, knife raised, but she knocks his arm away, punching him hard on the side of the head. He grunts but swings his leg, knocking her chair over and she leaps to her feet just in time to receive a well placed kick to the ribs. She gasps as she falls back against the wall, but uses her momentum to leap onto his shoulders, tightening her thighs like a vice around his neck. 

He struggles, and grips his knife tighter, but she hits his wrist at the perfect pressure point that makes his hand open and his knife falls to the floor. 

“Tasha,” he gasps, and it is then she realizes she’s actually cutting off his oxygen. Her heartbeat seems to slow down as his words reach her. She lets go, back flipping off of him onto the floor and drawing her gun on him, keeping it trained steadily on his chest. 

“People are coming, Clint. We’re going to take you in,” she says coldly. “You’ll pay for the people you killed.”

“I know.” his voice is low, calm, and defeated. “I know, Nat, why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care,” she spits, but they both know she’s curious. 

“I can’t kill you, but I can’t stay away from you. I can’t even shoot you. How am I supposed to go against you? I can’t do it anymore, Natasha, it’s torture.”

“What are you saying?” the trembling of her voice betrays her false calm, and she takes a deep breath, steadying her hands on the trigger. 

“I need you. I need you, Nat. I can’t stay away from you anymore. Take me in, torture me, keep me in a cell for the rest of my life. I’d rather you kill me than the other way around.”

A bang of the door slamming open alerts Natasha and Clint to the presence of the SHIELD agents in her house, and she backs up as they swarm her bedroom, pulling Clint’s hands behind his head and snapping cuffs on his wrists. He doesn’t struggle, just looks at her pleadingly. 

“Wait!” Natasha says quickly, and the agents freeze, just about to drag him through the doorway. She steps forward, standing level with Clint, looking deep into his eyes. “I’ll visit you,” she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, and backs away, letting the agents wrestle him out the door. She catches his sideways smile just before the door slams behind him. 

[drabbleitout]

TLL Snippet: Zev & Hanari

Taglist: @abalonetea, @for-fuchs-sake, @idreamonpaper, @simplelinesunfashiond @starlitesymphony and @wheres-the-eszett (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

At the back of the training yard, in the shade of the fortress wall, she recognized Kuebrich. He sat at a work table, far more thin and lean than he appeared in uniform. His messy curls were tossed into a knot atop his head, goggles replaced with glasses that kept sliding down his nose while he worked.

Rune took care not to disturb him as she inched up to the table, waiting until he put down the pliers.

"Thegn Kuebrich," he jolted at her whisper, fixing his glasses to sigh in relief. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," he chuckled, setting down his work. "Good evening, Officer Vitale. How is your day so far?"

"Wonderful. It's gotten warm today."

"Not a fan of winter, I take it." Removing his gloves he turned to face her, "enjoy it while it lasts. Sadly, it won't be here long."

"Oh, I don't mean to interrupt your work."

"This? Pah, it's nothing. Just a spare that I'm in no hurry to finish." Prodding the leather shoulder piece, he waved it away. "Besides, we haven't had the chance to properly talk since you arrived, have we?"

"You're right. I have been hoping to. I know Becker mentioned he considered you an assistant." Kuebrich's face went blank, mouth slightly fallen open. "Oh! Which reminds me, Becker sent me to give this to you." She twisted the satchel about, digging into its mouth.

"Becker sent you?" Frowning, Kuebrich sat up, eager to take the envelope. Quick in opening it his face hardened in concentration. It made her wonder how someone like Kuebrich wound up in the military. He had a strange softness to him, more suited for tending than wounding. "Oh," he finally nodded, tension smoothing away, "annual housing assignments. Very good, thank you."

"Hey, Kuebrich!" Someone called.

"Yes, go cry to mommy."

"What is it now, Zev?" Kuebrich huffed, turning. A soldier trotted over, undershirt and face smeared in dirt. Vitale stared, trying to remember the last time she saw someone so young. Sun kissed skin, ruddy rowdy hair, and soft cheeks that still had their roundness. If she had to guess, he was only a teenager.

"Hanari swiving cheated me!"

"Language, Zev."

"He did! I gave good money for his dagger, and he slipped me a fake!" he turned, glaring at the man who followed at a distance.

"I said I'd sell you that knife." The man she assumed was Hanari looked bothered in the least. His hair was strange. Swept back from his face, it's color suited an old man, a dark grey with streaks of silver, but he didn't look any older than Becker. It was the same with his skin, pallid, grey. Even his teardrop eyes were an odd, silver color. And his ears, pointed.

A Shader.

"I didn't say it was my knife." Hanari's cool expression hinted at it's first sign of life, a quirk of the lips.

"I asked you if it was the one you used, and you said yes!" Zev snapped and turned to Kuebrich for help. "He lied to me. That's against code."

"Hanari, you tricked him." Kuebrich said, tired and disappointed, "I know you have to have better things to do."

"It's fun." Hanari threw his shoulders, even that graceful. He reminded Rune of a cat: indifferent, aloof, elegant.

"Zev, you should know better."

"What? That's all you're going to say?" Zev's arms flew up. "He's the crook but I get the scolding?"

"My job isn't to referee your squabbles. Work it out between yourselves or you're both getting fifty laps. Is that what you want?" Kuebrich waited, head tilted as if to dare Zev to protest.

"If I say yes, Hanari has to run them too?"

"You better not, you little Geg."

"Oh, what? Do you have a date?"

"Enough! I don't have time for this. Becker sent work." He held up the envelope, wagging it in the air. Hanari and Zev calmed, heads hanging low. "You should both know better. Your detachment brothers, you need to work together. We don't have the luxury of hating one another –the Brogalda do enough of that for you. Now, go on."

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 9/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774  

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

The telephone blared again. He was standing in front of the bay windows which, fittingly, looked out onto the San Francisco Bay. It was drowning in fog as usual, in the swirling tendrils re-emerging from the ocean. The red headed man stood frozen in place. The ringing recommenced. He didn’t make a move. It began once more. He ignored it.

Once the device on his polished desk finally shut up, Hux checked his watch briefly and retrieved a cellphone from his pocket. She responded.

“Phasma.”

“I’m listening.”

“I hear there has been a development.”

“Everything has been set in motion. The car is heading north. Ms. Skywalker has booked a flight, the Tico sisters closed up shop and are headed south.”

“Where are you?”

“Following the car. The driver is a girl I don’t recognize. She must be a new recruit. English accent, has a dog with her. Haven’t been able to ID her yet.”

“Photo?”

“I sent it to you.”

“I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

“Yes.”

Her breathing quickened as though her heart had just skipped a beat. Hux froze, not daring to breathe. She would have to spit it out sooner or later.

“Sir, I...I was caught red handed. The girl made a scene out in the middle of the street too, she’ll probably gut me alive if she sees me again.”

Hux cursed under his breath. Whoever this girl was she was a fresh recruit for Earth Soldiers. Ever since he began dealing with these eco terrorists he had noticed that their mascot of a car rarely ever appeared, and even when it did it was always in the hands of the old-timers. And no one that he knew of ever got close enough to Leia Skywalker.

The moles that he had planted with care, excellent professionals like Bazine Netal, Boba Fett,  or Lando Clarissian never approached Skywalker level. Not even after months of distributing flyers and manifestos as stand-in rebel scum. Some were even kidnapped or worse...others switched sides. Hux slid his thumb over the screen to observe the photo Phasma had sent.

His eyes widened. She was young, likely under thirty, clad in denim and boots. Her demeanor entirely jaded.

She had been observed talking discreetly to Rose Tico, then spotted again at Leia Skywalker’s hideout, and finally caught in the act of driving the Millennium Falcon.

That made no sense. The heart of their pathetic born-again organization was in Denver, centered around old woman Skywalker. Her every move was monitored. Where did this girl come from? Who had trained her? How was she able to escape all of the eyes on the field until now?

He closed his eyes as his hand tightened into a fist. He had to regain control of his breathing. He held the phone to his ear again.

“Phasma.”

She was still on the line. No one hung up on Armitage Hux.

“Sir?”

“Come back. Don’t give her a reason to sound the alarm. Who else is in play?”

“Ren. And his clique.”

“Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir.”

Hux hung up. Then he composed a series of directives to send from his smartphone. The Tico sisters had disappeared. They had to be located, never to be out of sight. Leia Skywalker was on 24/7 watch, they had to know where she was, what she was doing, what she was carrying, who she was talking to. The entirety of Earth Soldiers was moving at once, like a disoriented nest of ants. Connix, Antilles, Milham...he was had received notifications sent by his field agents from all over Colorado. But he knew it was merely a distraction. Skywalker would end up in California sooner or later. It was only a matter of time and patience.

His phone vibrated in his hand and he paled at the caller ID. Snoke.

The president of the First Order was certainly already aware of the movement of the activist group, he demanded a full debriefing.

Hux pursed his lips, placing his hands behind his back. He didn’t quite know what was going on himself, he hadn’t succeeded in figuring out the rebel strategy. But he was confident in his ability to counteract their plans, whatever they were.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t sure what to tell Snoke. It would have to be enough to let him know that the situation was being handled.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his uniform cuffs with impeccable precision and cleared the surface of his desk.

“Stop, Syed,”

Ben’s voice was frigid and it made the rocker’s eyes widen. The Kylo and the Knights crew were catching up at a bar in Pinedale, Wyoming. Kylo was there of course, along with the six other musicians.

Their guitarist, who went by Syed Ren, was grinding against Kylo’s shoulder while she traced his neck with a trail of tender kisses—which he had just rejected.

Syed was a woman of intriguing beauty, her flawless bronze complexion glowing softly under the red and blue neon lights. Her curls rose over her temples in a crowning mohawk, revealing her pierced ears and the elegant curve of her neck.

“What?” she demanded. “Are you done sulking? What’s up with you these days?”

Ben shrugged, fiddling with his phone. It hadn’t left his side in days, and she had noticed. She took it from his hands.

“You’re glued to this thing twenty four hours a day. Are you expecting a call or what?”

His eyes darkened and he held out his hand for Syed to give back the iPhone, but she kept scrolling through the contents while ignoring his glare.

She stopped at a random photo, her gaze turning ice cold. It was the picture of a young woman, definitely taken without her realizing because it was blurry and misaligned. Where had she seen her before? That freckle-faced brunette with the messy topknot and the large knapsack. Her face was oddly familiar.

It slid out of reach as Ben snatched it from her and locked it before slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he warned, and she could tell he wasn’t kidding. “Our little cover story shouldn’t make you forget why we’re here. If you can’t manage, I’ll find someone else to get the job done.”

“Okay, I get it, my bad,” she grumbled.

But she proved incapable of keeping all the venom out of her voice. “But you didn’t mention anything yesterday while you were enjoying yourself in my bed. Or any of the other times, for that matter,” she hissed.

Ben’s gaze hardened. “I thought we agreed that there were no strings attached here. No feelings between us and definitely no jealousy. Instead, I need you to be professional for once. This is the first and last time I’ll tolerate what you just pulled.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kylo fucking Ren,” Syed spat, knowing still that the conversation was over. Before he was her lover, he was her boss. And he demanded absolute discretion and loyalty. He wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her for the smallest mistake.

She raised her bottle to her lips and turned to Saul Ren. But her conversation with the drummer took a rather debauched turn.

“If you’re feeling lonely tonight Syed, I’m happy to provide my services,” he offered.

“Shut up!”

Strangely enough, this cynical exchange greatly de-escalated the situation and Syed remained silent afterwards. She approached the circle of fellow rockstars to find them playing a casual game of pool. The ladies, Kelsi, Shakti, and Tyra, were far ahead of the gents, Skylar and Saul. The score would have been more even if Kylo had decided to play. The man was talented with a cue in his hands. Looking around, Syed noticed that he was far off, leaving the bar with his phone in hand.

Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette.

Syed was right. He was waiting for a call.

But just what was he hoping would happen? He wasn’t even sure she had found his number where he had stashed it. And even if she had found it, she surely would have thrown it away, cursing the arrogant and meddlesome Ben Solo. And she would be right. He went too far when he called her ex, that Finn guy.

Ever since she was at the mercy of the wheels of his car, he had stopped thinking rationally. The minute he had looked at her, something had collapsed.

Destabilized by her red-rimmed golden eyes (had she been crying too often?) and by her English accent which had taken him by surprise, he had lost his faculties and purposely scared her off. That would put some safe distance between them. But what was he safe from? Her smile? Her tears?

When their eyes had met from across the room at Howl at the Moon, his heart had skipped a beat. He’d tried to keep a neutral expression, but it had been so obvious that even Syed has belatedly realized that something was up with him. A twitch here, a shaky exhale there—she had felt it and she had instantly hated the intruder who had come between her and Kylo.

Ben had wanted to stay on top of the situation, but he had found himself discarding Syed and walking directly towards Rey in a single motion. It was magnetic.

She was slightly drunk and their conversation was marked by a caustic sort of tension by the time he lost control. She had left and he had chased after her, as though trying to break through the surface of something after being plunged deep inside for so long.  

When she knocked herself senseless against that streetlight, all he had to do was drop her off at some motel. Or just call an ambulance and trust the authorities to take care of the rest. But his curiosity had gotten the better of him and the excuse was too good to pass up. So he dialed Jessica from his own contact history and asked his way into Rey’s life. Now he knows who she was and why she was here.

He hailed a cab to the Four Seasons and booked her a room. But a voice inside his head warned him that the situation was getting out of hand.

She wasn’t just some well-meaning tourist looking for kicks. She was definitely someone else. She had immediately contacted Rose Tico, someone he had already been following. The next day she had ended up at Leia’s and then she had taken off with BB8 and the Millenium Falcon.

Ben had reported his findings to Snoke, and he knew that Phasma was on the trail. His task was done. But he remained on the look out, ready to strike at the president’s word.

It was all too perfect to be a coincidence. She probably threw herself at his car on purpose. She was a rebel spy for Earth Soldiers and had made the whole “damsel in distress” persona up. And it had worked perfectly—hook, line, and sinker.

That was real mistake on his part, a weakness.

Rey was a weakness he could no longer permit. She was a trap and he had fallen for her.

His phone rang, snapping him back to reality.

[lilyharvord]

Song of the Phoenix Part 5

Find part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4

Tagging list next: @evangelineartemiasamos, @mareshmallow, @scarletguardsource, @war-storm, @mvaen

(Coriane) I hate this hallway, I think to myself as I move down the white marble steps into the smaller hallway that should take me to the main ballroom. I pick up my skirts, trying to adjust to the weight of them. I hate these too, I think bitterly as I try to pick up the pace. A Lady is never late, Aunt Jessabel whispers scratch at the back of my skull.

I pause in the middle of the hallway. You’re dead, I think back to those thoughts. 

So are you. 

My entire body locks up in horror as that third voice dances into my head. I go to scream, but no sound escapes. I can’t even scream this time. I couldn’t scream in my bedchambers either, not even when I wanted so desperately to scream for the Arven stationed outside my door. He was supposed to be protecting me, keeping her away. 

You’re not here, I whisper to Elara as I start moving again, my eyes dead set on the double doors on the other end of the hallway. Tibe is behind them, I’m sure. If not him, then Julian, or Sara, or the gardens, or something, something other than her.  Every step I took seemed to take me further from those doors though. I ground my jaw and pressed on, trying to walk faster.

Beads of sweat ran down my neck from my hairline, and I could feel my crown slipping, each step making it fall further to the side. With a clatter, if fell, and smashed into a rainbow of crystal. I paused and looked down at the shards of opal and diamond on the ground. 

When I looked back up, I was back in my bedchambers, watching a nurse’s back as she walked out of the room with Cal watching me over her shoulder. His eyes never leave mine. I went to take a step after her, trying to call for her to bring him back. If Cal was here, if he had just been here in the moment, everything would have been fine. 

You would have killed him too. You would have taken your precious son with you.

I shook off Elara’s voice, hissing at her to be quiet. She simply laughed though, and I felt like an animal pacing a cage as I tried to escape her. Slowly, I curled up in the corner of my room, wrapping my arms around my knees to hug them to my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed my hands to my ears and rocked back and forth. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” I screamed at her, but she laughed. She didn’t stop, not even when I stood and grabbed the biggest shard of the crown that I could find. She laughed through the first cut, and my scream.

I woke gasping for air, clutching the blankets to my chest, as I sat bolt upright, my throat hoarse. I didn’t recognize this place, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see…

The door into the room was thrown open, and I almost jumped out of the bed in surprise when it hit the wall. There was a crackling sound and all the lights in the room exploded to life. I shielded my eyes when they came on.  

When I finally managed to open my eyes, I could see Mare’s silhouette in the doorway. Her hand was filled with the soft glow of purple lightning, but as she looked around the room and noticed it was empty, the purple sparks vanished, and the lights in the room dimmed until they were gone. 

The darkness was complete in that moment, I shivered at the thought. The hallway beyond her was dark too, but I could just make out her head when she asked softly, “Nightmares?”

I shook my head softly, and looked away from her. It takes what feels like eternity, but she closes the door, the lock hitting home with a click. When I look up again, the dim light of the moon is falling into the room, barely illuminating the floorboards and the paintings on the walls. 

I sit awake, watching as the light of dawn slowly dances across the sky. I don’t dare close my eyes again.

(/////)

When I come downstairs a few hours later, I can hear the clatter of dishes and conversation from the kitchen. I can make out a new voice, another boy’s, it must be the other brother who I did not get to meet the other day. Sure enough when I step into the doorway, I see the table occupied by Mare’s two brothers, and Mare herself. She looks up when I enter, her eyes tracking me as I go to take a seat at the table. She reminds me of a cat. There used to be one that prowled in the bird atrium when someone accidentally left the door open. I feel like a bird she is watching too. 

“Is Cal here?” I ask softly, and that seems to stop the conversation around the table. Her brothers look between each other, and then go about taking a very deep interest in their breakfast. Mare simply looks down at the cup of coffee she has between her hands. When she looks back up, her expression is somewhat softer. I get the feeling she does not let people see her give this expression often. 

“He left this morning. Rori called early and said she needed him to start working with the soldiers. If he wants to get an apartment around here, he’ll need to start working now. She offered to reinstate him at a captain’s position. The last time he was in the military he left as an officer.” She states simply before lifting the mug and drinking deeply from it. I catch her eyes dancing over my shoulder, and I can almost hear her mother’s hesitation in flipping over the eggs she’s cooking. I can’t even begin to truly process that. Cal had said he was a general before, which meant he had been demoted upon abdicating. Did captains see as much action as officers? What about generals? I couldn’t remember, and I was too tired to chase down those thoughts. 

“So we are staying here permanently?” I ask, trying to make the quiver in my voice stop.  I had liked the other house much more. At least there it was only Mare and my son, here, here her whole family can hear my panicked night terrors. I don’t want to be a burden. 

Mare’s face doesn’t change a whit, not even when she says, “That depends on what Rori has planned.” 

“And what does she have planned?” 

“I don’t know,” Mare’s voice hardens. Her brothers shift away from her slightly, and it takes me a moment to understand why. The hair on their heads is starting to stand on end. The sound of silverware hitting dishes stops, and even the frying in the pan stops as well. 

It takes one exhale for Mare to sit back in the chair, and for the air around us to stop smelling like ozone. It is as if a jar has been opened slightly and the energy inside released, because the sounds of the morning return. 

The door into the house opens and closes, and Mare’s friend, Kilorn, I remember announces himself to everyone. The brothers seem to exhale in relief, and one of them leaps up from the table to wash his dish in the sink. He whistles as Kilorn walks into the kitchen, his shirt smudged with something. He walks past Mare’s mother and reaches straight into the pan for what is in there. She smacks his hand and sends him scurrying away. 

Waving his hand in embarrassment, Kilorn edges into the unoccupied seat next to Mare, and puts his boots up into her lap. Smiling at her, he says, “Saw Cal this morning, he was taking the new trainees on a run. I felt kind of bad for him though, it looked like he was about to die.” 

Mare raises a brow, her eyes finally leaving me to turn toward her friend. “Is that so?”

“I figured you two would at least still be training and running together.” 

“Well Kilorn, when people become adults, they stop having time to do things like that.” She teases as she rises from the table to wash out her mug, pushing his legs out of her lap as she does so. He sticks his tongue out at her and says, “I am an adult for your information. I have a job just like you and Cal do.” He puts his feet up onto the seat that she just stopped occupying as if to punctuate the point. 

“Right, because filing papers and stapling them is so beneficial to society.” She says with her back to him, as she turns to the sink. He laughs at her comment and puts his hands behind his head, carefree and bored with the conversation. “Well someone has to do that job. Besides, I’m moving up the chain. I’m helping with Xander’s upcoming run for Premier, I handle all sorts of important papers. I’m in on all the gossip.”  

“So you and Cameron have continued to work on your reading skills? When do you two find the time when you spend so much time rolling around in bed?” Kilorn kicks his heels down onto the floor and pointing a finger at Mare who has just turned around he says, “CarefuI, can say something… very similar.” His eyes dance to me for half a second during his pause before turning back to Mare, who narrows her eyes just slightly. He swallows deeply, and then smiles sheepishly.  

“About who?” One of the brothers pushes, his brows wiggling at the tease. Mare’s eyes flash to him, and for a moment, I fear she may blow him to pieces like an electric socket. He catches the look she throws and looks away quickly. The room goes quiet again, and I glance at the clock above the door. Eight twenty, and this day already feels like it will last for eternity.

(///)

Mare walks fast for someone with such short legs, and I have to keep up with her. More than anything I want to stop and stare at everything around us though. The people in the little cafes drinking coffee and laughing are mixed groups of reds and silvers. My heart pounds at the sight and I’m not sure if it is in surprise or discomfort. I feel like I’m looking through a blurry lens. 

Maybe this is all a fever dream, maybe the whole thing is just one crazy dream that I’m having. It seems like a very real possibility. Maybe I had gone to bed, had a nightmare about Elara, and I was still dreaming. Yes, that made a lot of sense. My son was still a baby, and I was going to wake up any minute now, and Tibe would be back from the front, and the nurse would bring Cal in and I would have the courage to tell Tibe the truth.

This was all just a dream. 

I almost slam into Mare who has stopped walking, my mind having wandered so far away that I almost walked into the middle of the street where the transports rushing by would have hit me. Would have killed me… again. The thoughts is odd, rather than uncomfortable. By my colors, I hoped I wasn’t getting used to all of this. 

I barely catch myself in time, and clear my throat at the awkwardness when she looks over her shoulder at me. Dream or not, this girl was lethal. Her gaze could level buildings, and no doubt that… lightning of hers, could do far worse. “This place is unlike anything I have ever seen,” I justify my distraction quickly, and her expression soften just the slightest bit again. She looks forward and says softly, “It was for me too.” 

I keep forgetting that she wasn’t born here, that this place is not her original home. She is Nortian, just like I am. Just like Cal, my mind whispers. The next thought follows quickly on its heels, they never told you how they met, there is more to the story than they say. You had to learn about it from the sister letting it slip. What else are they hiding?  

I watch her profile for a moment, trying to figure out the answer to that question. Mare certainly seemed like the type to keep information close if it benefited her. I had no doubt that she would keep things from me for a long time. I wanted to know about my son though, about how he had become the man I saw today. And I didn’t want to hear about the war, and all the death. I just wanted to get to know my son. I didn’t know anything about his upbringing, other than the fact that Elara had been around more than I would have liked… and Tibe had fallen apart. He had fallen apart, and disobeyed my wishes to keep our son from going head first into battle. He’ll be bigger than his father. Sara had told me that, had warned me of what would become of my son. If I had lived, he would have never seen the front. He would have never followed in Tibe’s footsteps. 

The small group of people around us starts moving again, and Mare does as well, pulling me from my thoughts so that I have to keep up again. She leads the way to a massive building that a horde of young people heads toward. She crossed the pristine lawns as if it is a day like any other, and she seems to blend into the crowd of people carrying their books and bags. 

I watch a group of girls walk by, all of them debating something heatedly as they pass us. They look at Mare for a moment as she walks by, and their conversation ends abruptly before they bow their heads and start whispering. Mare pointedly ignores them as she starts up the steps of the main building. I hurry after her, my eyes darting to everyone who looks at her twice. 

She starts into the marble halls, filled with pockets of sunlight from the windows that are everywhere to let natural light in. The hallways are less crowded, and judging by all the closed doors, people are sitting in classes. I have no idea who or what we are looking for, but Mare walks with a purpose. 

She turns right at the cross roads of sorts and walks past numerous boards that display fliers for research and travel. She rolls her eyes at them, and then pauses in front of a large door. She opens it, gesturing for me to walk in. I scurry by her and she follows, holding the door so that it doesn’t slam closed. 

The auditorium we enter is packed with students, all taking careful notes on the information being projected onto the board. Mare leans against the back wall, watching the man at the bottom who is writing feverishly on the board as well, lecturing as he goes. I try to do the same as her, pressing myself into the shadow created by the overhanging above the door, and listen carefully to see if I can actually learn something about this place. 

The far off sound of bells stops everything though, and the students hurriedly pack, their voices and bodies hiding the man at the bottom, even though I can hear his voice trying to shout at them to remember their reading, and that it’s changed to include another chapter. The students file past us, most of them looking at Mare who nods to them. Their eyes go wide and they elbow their friends before whispering excitedly as they leave the room. I can’t help but be grateful that no one recognizes me like they do with her. Whoever Mare was, she was important. The guards on the train had recognized her, and now these students were fascinated with her presence. 

When most of them have left, she starts down the stairs to the pit of the auditorium. I hurry after her, avoiding the stragglers that run up the stairs to catch up with their classmates. 

Mare smiles as she steps into the brighter lights that illuminate the ground floor, and says, “Since when do they have you teaching more modern history? I thought you were teaching Understanding the Calamites.” 

The man that turns around to smile at her words makes me freeze. I would know him anywhere, those tired eyes and sorrow filled shoulders were always buried in books and hunched over charts. I stay by the stairs hidden by shadows, my heart pounding. He looks so old now, with lines in his face and his hair speckled with grey. You should look like that, my mind hisses, and yet here you are, twenty-two years young.

“That’s my class at four, perhaps you should sit in on it.”

“I would, but you know I can hardly sit still when you and Cal are going at it.” Mare teases as Julian turns around gives her a quick one armed hug. He pulls away quickly to start gathering his books. His words are rushed as well as his movements as he says, “Sara and I just got back from Horn Mountain last night. We got your message, although I’m not entirely sure what had to wait until I returned that you couldn’t tell me over the—“

He drops his books when he sees me, his skin going pale immediately. I feel my cheeks heat as I step into the light as well. He blinks for a moment, and his eyes drag over me while his mouth works. He wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say. Julian is not one for useless conversation either, he only speaks when he knows exactly what he will say. 

I wish Mare would have told us where we were going, at least then I could have planned what I would say. Instead of that though, I smile weakly and whisper, “Hello Julian.” 

Finally, he seems to find his voice, and it’s barely a wheeze as he chokes, “Cori?”

My heart breaks as his eyes water. Whatever guilt he is feeling, I wish he wouldn’t. He must have known what was happening with me, and guaranteed he hadn’t tried to really help, but he’d had so much on his plate already… 

He shakes himself from his stupor, and with tears running down his worn cheeks, he steps over the mess of books at his feet. It takes two long strides for him to close the space between us. I had expected him to crush me to him. Instead, he hesitantly reaches out and pulls me into a tentative embrace. He still smells like dusty books and worn paper. His whole body shakes as he holds me. He barely does though, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he squeezes too tight. I wrap my arms around him in response, my eyes completely dry as I whisper, “I always told you that squinting over all those books would give you wrinkles.” 

He lets out a choked sob, before he hugs me tighter. I close my eyes as I return the action. He runs his hand over my hair, and in time with each stroke whispers, “I’m so sorry, I’m so very sorry Cori.” 

My eyes fly open, and I pull away from him sharply. He looks about as embarrassed as I feel. I shake my head quickly, dispelling anything else he has to say. “I’m not angry with you,” I whisper while he wipes his eyes with the edge of his sleeve and looks at Mare over his shoulder. She’s sitting perched on the stole near the desk, taking an incredible interest in a bunch of crushed up chalk on the table, resolved to let us have our moment. 

“How is this possible?” My brother whispers as he looks me up and down again, as if he can’t believe I’m really standing in front of him. He turns to her though, waiting for her answer. 

“Figured you would know,” Mare says with a shrug.

“Does Cal—“

“He knows, we’ve met.” I answer for her, bringing Julian’s eyes back to me. His head falls to side just slightly, as his expression becomes sorrowful once more. “He’s become a man you would be proud of,” my brother begins, but quickly loses the words.  I smile weakly, and nod. Julian’s eyes fall to the floor and his books that are everywhere. He clicks his tongue and bends down to gather them up. I bend down and pick one up as well, turning it over in my hand. It has his name on it. I raise my brow at it before handing it to him. He smiles sheepishly, and in that expression, I can see the twenty-year-old boy I remember him being. He turns to put the books in a bag, and says, “I’ve… been busy with research.” 

I edge around him and then say, “And teaching. I never would have thought you would do that.” 

“Julian is one of the only professors here that is considered well versed in old era knowledge. He teaches the advanced class.” Mare spouts off as she pulls one of the books out of the bag to flip through it. Julian gives her a simple admonishing look, but his blush is obvious as he says, “Professor Calo is just as well versed if not more than I am.” 

Mare shrugs, and I smile bitterly as I say, “Father was always so worried that he was going to lose you to the academies.” 

My brother can’t help but smile as he says, “He turns in his grave every time I walk in here.” 

We both chuckle, and for a moment I am sitting in the garden at our old estate, with Sara at the table laughing with us. His smile falls quickly though, and the moment is lost to the dust. I look down at my hands before gesturing around us. “This place… I never would have thought something like it was possible.”  

“It was alive and well when we were children.” Julian says with a smile, happy to discuss history, something he can easily fall back on when he gets nervous. I look around the room, taking in all the charts and the maps to avoid his eyes and all these thoughts dancing through my head. Even without seeing me for years, Julian can read me easily. He turns to Mare and whispers softly, “Perhaps you could give us a few minutes.” 

“Take your time.” Mare hops off the stool, and makes her way up the stairs to the top of the auditorium.  She pauses for a half second though, and looking over her shoulder says, “But not too long, I need lunch and I promised Cal that I would meet him so he can complain about everything.” She continues up the stairs then. As soon as the door closes behind her, Julian turns to me and says, “You look the same as when I last saw you.” His voice breaks on the end, and he slowly sinks into the chair. He gives me a gentle smile though, trying to hide his pain like he always has. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my coat, and walk toward the board that is covered in his swirling script. 

He waits patiently for me to speak, but I grab the chalk and turn it over in my fingers to avoid having my hands at my side. 

“Cori,” he whispers softly, drawing my eyes. His lips are pulled into a tight line, and his expression is tired as he slowly turns in the stool to face me completely. I fidget with the chalk for another moment before whispering, “Not to be rude, but you’re so much older now.” 

He smiles, those lines near his mouth pinching as he does so. He folds his hands across his stomach and then says, “I happen to be only forty-seven for your information, which I would consider fairly young.” 

I grimace, but his smile keeps me from feeling too embarrassed. Setting the chalk down again, I reach up to massage my forehead. His smile falls as he sees this, and then whispers, “Which means you are now twenty-four years younger than me, instead of only two.” 

“I can do math Julian, I’m not that dumb.” I say carefully as I squeeze my hand into a fist. His face falls for a moment, and the anger that had been bubbling inside of me over the past two days, over missing everything, over losing everything, exploded out. Grabbing the chalk, I hurl at it him and cry, “How could you have let him do that?” 

He dodges the chalk by almost falling off the stool, and then says, “Who exactly are we talking about?”

“Both of them! Tibe and my son! He was never supposed to be a soldier! He could have died, Julian!” I cry as I advance on him and grab one of the books on the table. Swinging it, I manage to connect with his arm, which makes him yelp in surprise at the ferocity of my hit. He wrestles the book out of my hands before saying, “It wasn’t up to me! Cori, I practically left the royal house after Elara stepped in, and when Maven was born I wasn’t allowed anywhere near that boy, let alone Cal at times.” 

“You should have fought harder! You should have made sure that witch never touched my son! You should have made sure she burned for what she did!” I hissed as I tried to fish another book out of his bag to hit him with. He snatches it from my grip though, and placed them behind him before I could truly grab one. I result to my fists instead, trying to hit his chest and make him hurt the way I do. I want him to feel the bone aching agony in my heart. I’m smaller than him though, I’ve always been, and he easily wrangles me onto the stool he had been occupying before. 

His face is pale with blush, and he grips my wrists tightly so that I can’t swing anymore. His hands are shaking though, and his eyes are murderous. I’d never seen Julian so furious before in my life. His voice is like a whisper too when he says, “I tried, both Sara and I tried, Cori. Do you know what she did? She had them cut Sara’s tongue out for speaking about it. And she ordered ever blood healer in Norta to never help her.” 

My blood runs cold at his words, my arms slowly falling slack. He releases my wrists, letting my hands drop into my lap. 

“She refused my requests to tutor Cal, and she pushed me and Sara so far to the outskirts that we were hardly part of anything,” he turns with a sigh, shaking his head.  “I tried with Tibe, I really did. I tried to make him keep your wishes in mind, but you know him and what he would do when he saw something he wanted. Cal was already starting to show promise with strategy at a young age, and strength, and Tibe saw a son that he thought he could mold.” 

My shoulders slowly hunch, as that ache returns to my chest. In the silence that follows, I try to fight back the numbness that is creeping into my thoughts. All hope is not lost, I’m here now. Cal isn’t a boy anymore, and he obviously survived the war, and everything that happened. At great cost, but my son had survived. The past was the past; I would have never had control over his actions anyway.

“I’m so tired,” I whisper to him softly, as I set my head in my hand. I had hoped that with my return, without Elara being here, the nightmares would stop. But they were continuing, and they were almost worse than before. 

My brother sets his hand on my shoulder, and squeezes it reassuringly. “They’re going to want to know everything. Rori and her ilk, they’ll want to know how it happened and why it happened.” 

“I don’t know anything though, I already told them! I just remember the bathroom, and then… then darkness. Next thing I know, I’m waking up, laying in the mud and looking up at some trees.” I shake my head quickly, and try to ignore the headache that is building at the base of my skull. Any time I tried to think about that night I got a splitting headache. It was worse in Rori’s office, because I was trying to think about what had happened after the blackness. All I could come up with though, was the fact that I had woken up in the middle of the storm. 

My brother grimaces, and I glare up at him for a moment. 

“You want to know too I’m sure,” I grumble as I push off the stool. He chuckles to himself, and rubbing at his neck says, “I apparently haven’t changed much.”  

Huffing, I glance him over my shoulder and murmur, “No, you haven’t.”  (///////)

I could hear the discussion in the Barrow kitchen a few seconds before I was in the doorway. My son’s voice rising and falling over the sound of a kitchen sink reaches my ears first. Like Tibe, he doesn’t realize how loud he can be. Mare’s voice follows each of his pauses, and when I halt in the doorway, carrying my plate and the one I had grabbed on my way in, I can see them standing at the sink shoulder to shoulder. He passes her dishes that she dries, the two of them smirking at each other as they talk. 

“So you went on the run with them?” She teases, as she places a dish in the cabinet above her head. He grunts an affirmative, and then replies, “Yes, and I had to literally limp into the building and find a bathroom to collapse in and catch my breath. I’m twenty-five years old, and I felt like I was fifty.” She laughs outright at him, and then takes the next dish from him to dry. In the light of the setting sun, the two of them are framed by that light. Mare turns away for a second though, to toss her wet rag away. As she goes, he watches her. 

I freeze, recognizing that look. The way those amber eyes trace the lines of her shoulders, and catch on her profile. The way his lips quirk up just slightly at one corner. I knew that look, and it is both strange and painful at the same time to see it again. I had caught that look in mirrors when I saw Tibe over my shoulder.  

He drops another plate in the water and just as she turns around to look at him again, I clear my throat. They both flip around in surprise, Barrow blushing just slightly as she flips back around to dry a dish she’s already dried. 

“Sorry to add dirt to the pile,” I try to smile as I held up the plates to show them. Cal nods and crosses the room quickly to take it off my hands. His hands which I know should be warm, are burning hot. Probably from embarrassment, I realize. He wants to know how much I saw and heard, and what I think of it. 

“It’s nothing, dish duty is normally a lot worse,” he says as he turns away and drops those dishes in the water as well. Mare reaches in to take the other one, the two of them seeming to keep a magic foot of distance between them. I watch her for a moment though, taking in the tense muscles in their shoulders. A half second later, her mother calls her from the living room. She drops the rag with an exasperate sigh and then passes by me, making sure to duck her shoulder so that we don’t touch. I watch her go over my shoulder, and hear her calling back to her mother. 

“Everything okay?” Cal asks eventually, and I flip around in surprise before offering him a tight smile and saying, “I suppose I’m just tired.” 

“Mare mentioned you woke up with nightmare’s last night.” His words are carefully selected, but they cut just the same. I shouldn’t be surprised that she told him, but I still feel like a child. Shrugging, I take up Mare’s spot drying dishes. 

“They’re just night terrors, I dealt with them when I was… alive.” I shake my head, hating that the word seems so silly. He nods though, as if in understanding. He offers a plate and when I take it, he says, “I have nightmares about dad still, about what she made me do.” 

I tense in surprise, my blood running cold. Elara had apparently found a way to hurt me from beyond the grave, by going after my son. I glance at him hesitantly and whisper, “I’m sorry, for everything.” 

“You and Mare… honestly.” He murmurs as he takes the dish from me and opens another cabinet to put it away. I frown at his words, and he sighs before saying, “It’s probably Mare’s story to tell but… she has nightmare’s too, flashbacks. We all do. Hers have to do with Shade though.”   

“Shade?” 

“Her brother, he died during the assault that we led on Corros prison.” His words are a breath of cold air. It chills my bones to hear the word Corros. I had only been there once when Tibe was king. We had gone as part of the royal parade, a means of showing strength. I had hated every second we spent in that place. It had been like the cages in my nightmares, and after going there, it had taken their place.

“You both think choices other people make are you fault.” He sighs and shakes his head. Standing with my hand on my hip I spit, “Are you any better?” 

He starts, and I throw the towel on the counter before hissing, “You just told me you have nightmares about your father, and what Elara made you do.” “My situation is a little different,” His voice bites, and he narrows his eyes, “I killed him. Mare didn’t kill Shade, try as she might to prove that she did. And you did not start the downward spiral that led to the chaos.” 

I want to believe him, I really do. But it is my fault. If I had just had a little more backbone, and stuck it out in that dinner, I would have never met a prince with fiery eyes. He would never have fallen for me. Elara would have never felt slighted, and she would have been Queen. The monarchy would have still been around, even if it shouldn’t have been. And I would have died a lonely old woman on the Jacos estate, just like I should have. Just like Jessamine, my mind hisses. 

Shaking my head and forcing the thought away, I murmur, “I don’t want to argue about this.” 

“It’s not arguing,” He points out, and turns to face me with his hands on his hips too. For looking an awful amount like Tibe, he has some of my mannerisms, and it’s almost startling. 

“Please Cal,” breaking under his gaze, I whisper his name, the taste of it odd on my tongue. The last time I had said it, he had been a baby, barely a year old. I still could remember the first time I’d said it, the first time I’d laid eyes on him. Three miscarriages, and he was here, alive and strong. Shattered inside though, and he had let me see some of the pieces by telling me about his nightmares. 

He frowns, but mercifully, drops the subject.

[n0irrrr]

Flower Curse | epilogue

[levi x male!reader x erwin] this work will have vomiting, heavy angst and death. the reader suffers from the hanakahi disease. summary: you loved him. he didn’t. everything goes downhill when suddenly, you cough a petal when you think of him.

s e v e n

"Is not your fault, you know, eyebrows?"

He lets out a bitter chuckle, not looking at him. Erwin looks at the pile of papers on his desk, lost in thought. It's been two weeks after what happened.

"I knew my luck will run out one day. Nevertheless, I thought a titan would do the job, not some fairy tale."

The room is cold. Even if it’s a sunny day and it's hot outside, this room remains cold. There's no warm in here, and he notices.

"Is Nora eating well? Oh man... I told her I was going to see her after talking to the doctor. I hope she's not angry."

Ah, your horse. Nora wasn't that energetic after not seeing you for a long time. Even now, nobody can approach the horse without her freaking out, not even for giving her food. It was a difficult task, but thanks to a cadet named Christa the horse could eat. Erwin didn't blame the poor horse wanting to see her owner.

"How is everyone doing?"

Erwin had to tell the soldiers why one of the squad leaders wasn't going to be with them no more— so everyone who was involved in your situation accepted to just tell everyone it was just an unknown illness. Obviously, they weren't happy and some didn't fully believe it, but nothing could be done.

Hange and Moblit stayed in the laboratory, trying to distract themselves with anything they could do. It wasn't a hard task— they were in a tough situation, with how the expedition went and all.

Mike and the others higher ranks just stayed silence, moving on. This wasn't any different, right? Plenty of soldiers lose their lives, and everyone was forced to move on. It's just how it is.

Levi was the one who distanced himself, making everyone go away by hiding in his office. Hange had to check on him, bringing food and receiving yells for coming in. Thankfully, the man finally left his office and returned to his duty, just like everyone else.

There were moments when the ravenette went to Erwin and talked in some nights, but the shorter man seemed out of it.

"What would have happened if I just noticed sooner?" Levi asked, looking at the horizon, deep in thought.

The blond just sighed, "I don't know. What would you have done after knowing his feelings?" Erwin too thought about what could have been if something was done sooner, but "what if" wouldn't bring you back.

Levi just stayed silent, thinking. Would the outcome have been any different? He realized about your feelings when you yelled at him, and he really thought about it all night. But a certain girl never left his side, making him feel warm. He couldn't decide his feelings for you, but he cared about you dearly. Levi even thought about there could be something if he talked to Petra about his thoughts, but what happened made everything change.

"Maybe there was a chance for him and I." He answered.

Erwin just hummed, "then he would be here with us."

The ravenette closed his eyes, frowning. "I regret what I said at that time."

"I know."

"And you? How are you doing? You look like shit, my friend, But hey— you still look good, don't get me wrong!"

Yes, him. What did he do? Clearly, he had to move on and forget his feeling for the sake of humanity. It was a harsh truth, but this curse wasn't going to kill him when he and everyone around him were in a critical moment. So he hardened his heart, not forgetting about you but his feeling for you.

"I don't blame you. I wish I could have done the same."

Nevertheless, it was hard. He realized at the moment when you were in danger, that he was in love with you. When he saw you scared on the floor, he had to protect you at all costs.

When he saw how broken you were, he tried to pick all of the pieces, but he couldn't do a thing to make you feel better. He wanted to help you, make you happy. But when the book's author told you the truth about that girl, it all went straight to hell.

He wished he could have done things quicker— look for the doctor and find out if there was a cure or not. But everything went down too quickly, leaving this outcome.

"Still, I'm rooting for you, Erwin. I know you are strong. Levi is strong too— but you know how he bottles up his feelings. Please, stay together and help each other. And don't forget my name!"

"I will never forget you, I can't." The blond said, looking in front of him. "Even now, I still can hear you." He saw a glimpse of a smile at the corner of his eyes. He tried to look behind him, looking for you.

But the door opened, making the room warm again.

“Who were you talking to? I heard your voice.” Said a certain ravenette, giving the blond a frown.

The blond sighed, rubbing his temples. “I was just mumbling to myself.” He stands up, looking at the shorter man, “we need to get going. It’s time.” And then, he leaves the room without giving it a second glance.

Levi stands there for a second, looking around the room. For just a moment, he swears he sees a glimpse of someone standing near the window, but the sun’s rays blinds him. The only thing burning his mind was a certain smile he misses, but just as he saw it, it disappeared in a blink.

The man blinks, trying to focus his vision. He desperately looks for a certain someone in the window, but there was no one in the room— Just him.

A voice behind him says, “Something wrong? We have to go.”

The black haired man just hums, taking a glance to the window, “Nothing… I thought I saw something. Nevermind.”

Turning around, he closes the door behind him. Standing beside Erwin, both of them already walking in silence.

And just like a sound from the wind, they could hear a small gentle voice say:

“See ya.”

The two didn’t say anything, and just kept walking, deep in thought.

???

[convivialcamera]

On Deadline: Stringers

Previously

“I was stringing in North Africa about a year ago. Me and Joe — have I told you about Joe? He’s my friend from college — we went over on a month-long trip, and then we got contracted by Reuters to hit up the coup in Libya.”

I was sitting upright on the bed, my back against the metal bars of the headboard, and wrapped up against the chill of the room in Jamie’s button-up shirt.

“So there were five of us in the group, me and Joe were the photogs, Sam and José were the reporters, although Sam was stringing for AP, and Firouz, our fixer and translator. We were in Ajdabiya, it’s in the northeast, almost by the Mediterranean coast, but anyways, it was a hotspot for anti-government protests and rebels. We’d been there for a few days, and we could tell the fighting was about to begin — loyalists were nearing the gate to the city, so that’s where we went.”

Jamie snorted. “I’ve noticed that when shit’s about to go down, you head straight for it.”

“It’s my job.”

Jamie was laying out on his side next to me, propped up by his elbow. He was so close that I could feel the heat of his skin and the electricity that still sparked between us, but we didn’t touch.

“I was worried the city would be surrounded and we’d be stuck. All things being equal, being trapped in a war zone is significantly more risky than not.”

“Was that why you headed for the gate?”

I shrugged noncommittally. “Before we got to the fighting, we ran into a checkpoint. We were arguing about if we should turn around, but we couldn’t decide, and, well, they were government troops.”

I heaved a sigh, remembering the fear of the moment when we realized what we had driven straight into.

“Was that bad?” Jamie asked.

“It wasn’t good,” I said sarcastically. He grimaced. “The soldiers dragged us out of the car — they used my camera bag to pull me out. We were all screaming ‘Journalists! Journalists!’ like it mattered. Then, right then, a group of rebels attacked us. There were bullets flying, and I tried to get down, but one of the soldiers made me drop all my gear and run. We made it behind this small house and the soldiers, just, like, lost it. They pointed their guns at us, and started shouting at us, accusing us of being spies, of being in with the rebels. They made all of us lie on our stomachs, and pulled the strings from my shoes and tied my feet together.

“We thought we were going to die. I was staring down one of the soldiers who was off to the side. I don’t speak much Arabic, but we all knew exactly what they were saying. Finally, one guy said, ‘Shoot them.’”

Jamie’s face went white, and he swallowed hard.

“Obviously they didn’t shoot us,” I said. “Another one of them said we were Americans and they couldn’t shoot us. So they tied up our arms and blindfolded us. I was carried to the back of a truck, and the guy punched me in the face.” I ran my fingers over my right cheekbone, remembering the impact. “But the hit dislodged the blindfold, just a little. Joe was next to me, and I could see blood running down his face. And when we were driving away, I saw a someone on the ground by the car, I think. We think it was Firouz. His body was never recovered.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes, but I shut them hard to keep them back. I felt the warmth of Jamie’s hand on my knee, safe, comforting.

“We were held for a week. It was so very very violent; I mean, beyond words. The groping started immediately — almost every soldier who put his hands on me also grabbed at my butt or my breasts. The first thing I said to Joe in the truck was that I didn’t want to get raped. I pleaded with all of them, and cried. They also beat the shit out of us, so crying wasn’t hard. I tried to make myself look weak, so that they would feel bad and stop.”

“Did it work?” Jamie asked.

“Sometimes. What worked the best was telling them I had a husband, and pleading for his sake. Do you have any idea how fucking infuriating it is to have to beg to not get assaulted on behalf of a man who was screwing at least two of his students and a research librarian on the side?” A wave of rage washed over me, and I felt my skin heat and my cheeks flush. “Those fucks cared more about that man’s ownership rights than they did about me. I wasn’t a human being to them. I was tits and an ass and a cunt.”

“But they didn’t…”

“No, they didn’t. One soldier held me on his lap, and touched me all over, and told me how he was going to kill me. One night we went through a bunch of checkpoints, and each time the soldiers paraded us out, like trophies of war. The crowds hit and spat at us. They went harder on Joe, Sam and José than they did on me. One guy hit Joe in the face with the butt of a gun and broke his nose and gave him a concussion. Sam and José both took some awful beatings. The boys thought it was worse for me, and maybe it was. In some ways, I’d rather take the hits.

“We were handed off to different groups of soldiers, and each group started the violence all over again. They kept interrogating us, asking if we were spies, who we were working for on the rebels side, berating us about our visas and passports. On the sixth day they stuck us on a plane to Tripoli, and there we were turned over to government officials — the Foreign Office and the like, or what was left of it. That’s when the beatings stopped. We were given food, and clean clothes, and a bunch of official explanations. The suits wanted our turnover to be official, whatever that meant, and that held up our release for a few days. But finally, diplomats from Turkey came and got us, and took us over the border to Egypt.”

I let out a long breath, and, my story mostly over, I scooted down the bed and leaned into Jamie. I let his body encompass mine, driving out the cold and terror.

“What happened when you got back?” Jamie asked softly.

“There was some media coverage, but not a ton. It’s not like Americans give a shit about journalists these days, and they really don’t give a shit about anything abroad. The worst of it was some blonde talking head on Fox News saying that we had it coming and spewing some lies about what happened. We all sued and the network settled pretty quickly — we all got a small cut of that, and Reuters ponied up for Joe’s medical expenses and some therapy. And then I got this job and here I am.” I kissed his forearm, which he had snuggled around me.

“But, what about your husband?”

Ah, we had finally gotten to what Jamie really wanted to know. “I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since before I left for the trip. I hid out at Joe’s for a few months, and he helped me move my stuff out when Frank was at a conference. And I lawyered up to end it on paper too.”

What I didn’t say, but felt to the marrow of my bones, was that there was nothing quite like truly believing that you are going to die for six straight days to bring clarity to your life. Tied up and blindfolded and in total terror, I had known that no matter what happened I was getting out of my marriage, be it by the separation of death or divorce.

“You were so brave, Sassenach,” Jamie whispered in my ear as he curled his body behind mine.

“I just endured.” We lay together silently for a while. I tried to sync my breathing to his, feeling his long inhales and exhales on my neck. “How much of this did you know?”

He chuckled. “Some. Geillis likes to talk,” he said, confirming my suspicions about our fair-haired colleague.

“It’s OK,” I said. I turned in his arms so we were face-to-face. “I wanted you to know.” His breath hitched, and my heart started to speed up. I wrapped a leg around his hip, bringing my center into contact with his quickly hardening erection. I rubbed myself against him like a cat against a tree, and he grabbed onto my hips, pushing me closer. “I need you.”

He kissed me sweetly while he somehow produced a condom, and then harder when he pushed into me. I was hot all over, and his fingers pressed into my hip, urging me higher until it was so much that my body shook and spasmed — Jamie following me into bliss with a cry muffled against my lips.

It was dawn and I drifted away into sleep again, leaving Jamie with the keeping of my dreams.

Author’s note: I’ve conveniently shifted the timeline, but Claire’s experiences in Libya are extensively based on those of New York Times photographer Lynsey Addario, who was detained in Libya by the forces loyal to now-deposed (and assassinated) Prime Minister Muammar Qaddafi in 2011. Read more about the capture and detention of the four journalists, and about Addario’s personal experiences.

[virellya]

You Are The Cure by @michonnesuss

Chapter 11 is up!

Michonne’s rare blood disorder is the key in the military’s effort to cure diseases, but when a psychopath comes after her a blue-eyed soldier with disturbing secrets of his own is the only person who can keep her safe. Richonne AU

sneak peek:

Rick refused to leave my side. He chose some colourful phrases for the doctor that dared to suggest he should wait outside the lab while they took a blood sample. His anger simmered under a collected exterior, but was quickly rising to boil when I was dismissed from the lab and we were shown back to Hershel's office.

The glass walls of Hershel's office where newly fogged at the click of a remote, shielding him from any onlookers with the use of a technology allowing large panes of glass to alternate between transparent and opaque. He called Rick to come in alone.

"She's not staying out here."

"Michonne will be fine, she's with the military." Hershel reminded him.

"She was attacked by a soldier of the military." Rick retorted.

"While one of my most qualified men was supposed to be keeping her safe. Leave her with Maggie and get in here now."

Rick's eyes darkened and he looked back at me for a moment, silently asking if I'd be alright. I gave him a slight nod and settled myself into a chair outside Hershel's office as Rick entered and closed the glass door behind him. Several minutes ticked by, during which Maggie was kind enough to get me a cup of tea and sit with me. Voices from inside the office began to rise, slowly becoming louder as one fought to overcome the other.

The details of their words were muffled, but inflection in their voices made the emotion unmistakeable. Hershel's distinction powered through the commotion with the unmistakeable authority of someone giving orders, and when it seemed the dust had settled, a new rage shattered through the room.

"That's bullshit and you know it! You can't expect me to just sit by!" My heart leapt into my throat and I exchanged a look of alarm with Maggie. I had never heard Rick so angry, and from the look on her face I guessed she hadn't either.

"Not a fucking chance!" Rick shouted again. Hershel's door was yanked open and Rick stomped out, seething and clenching his fists at his side. I watched nervously as he steeled himself, and called back to Hershel who was now emerging from behind the glass walls. "I'll take care of everything. I've got control, we'll be fine."

"Do you, Rick?" Hershel challenged. His hardened eyes seemed to bore into Rick's back. "You need to keep it together. We can't afford to get sloppy. You can't lose focus ever. I'll send in a replacement if that's what it takes." Rick's eyes went wide and he turned to face Hershel as he sighed.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe someone else should be protecting Michonne."

"No!" I yelped. Their heads snapped to my direction. "Please, what happened wasn't Rick's fault. The only reason I'm okay is because Rick was there. I... I don't want to start all over again, living with a new stranger. Please don't make me."

Hershel's eyes danced back and forth between Rick and myself, and my skin began to crawl under his assessing gaze. It was easy to see why this man made people nervous.

"Michonne, we have to wonder if this arrangement may not be working. We sent Rick to protect you and find who's been threatening you, and it took Jared Carter attacking you for us to actually get any solid lead. It's not like us to take so long to bring down an enemy." He said, casting his reprimanding glare at Rick. "We need to wrap this up. I better not hear another incident like this, Rick. You were sent to do a job and tonight you've done it poorly. But you may be able to redeem yourself by interrogating Jared for me. He probably won't give information easily."

Rick's icy glare intensified as he flexed his fingers threateningly.

"He'll answer to me."

click here to read the rest!

[corvaux]

The Nightar Part 4

Here it is, the grand conclusion Lunaris’ grand plot. The end of the Scarlet Empire and the rise of the Nightar. One of the greatest legends of the Milky Way. It all begins with Rose and how she handled one of the most complicated assassinations in history. 

Before Rose’s surgery, her father had been a kind and warm man. Sometimes distant, but loving nonetheless. Ever since the surgery, she noticed he had been a changed man. Ruthless, methodical, scheming. It was as if something had possessed him. The only thing that reminded her that he was the same man was his appreciation for her. While he wasn’t as whole with his love anymore, it would peak out on occasion.

Her curriculum had changed drastically as well. Instead of modern academics, she was being taught the skills of a murderer, a rogue, an assassin. Language turned into the teachings of social manipulation and hierarchy. Mathematics was shifted to coding and modern computer language. But most of all, her physical development was put under a magnifying glass. Instead of basic exercises to tire her out or teach her new ways to stay healthy, they were intense, all day practices. Any and every form of physical development was pushed on her. The only reason she her muscles had torn or her body wither from constant strain was due to the cybernetic enhancements constantly healing the tissues with little effort. 

Dr Dage Lunaris had done it. After a few years of experimentation, then eighteen years of raising her, he had created the perfect assassin. Rose grew hardened and distant. After seven years of being pushed beyond her limits and being treated like an experiment more than a daughter, it wore on her mind. Even though her training and ‘schooling’ took up much of her life, she figured out Lunaris would rarely notice if she took the ship somewhere. At first, this became a display of freedom. Over time, with Lunaris’ teachings, it became a reminder of the bleakness of the galaxy. The happiest day in her life ended up being the day she ‘graduated’. Her father took her out shopping for a cake, and a blade. 

It hadn’t been a week before her first official mission. She had been sent on errands or simple requests to tail someone, but never something so official. Rose was tasked with murdering a dignitary who, unknown to her, was the very scientist who petitioned to stop Project RISE. The mission had been an immediate success. Clean kill, no witnesses. Again, her father praised her talents and would celebrate. This would become a trend after every successful mission, which was one of the few things Rose had to look forward to in life. 

By the age of twenty-two, Rose had assassinated over fifty-two targets. And even more who were not even targets, but caught in the crossfire. She made few mistakes, but never enough to be outed by the Scarlet Empire. The only thing that was known was a serial killer had been going around, murdering chief scientists and researchers. As well as dignitaries, military officers, and even a foreign ambassador. Lunaris was delighted with her progress. Each kill was either easy and simple revenge or a step towards her final mission.

Lunaris had rushed his plan, his age was getting to him and it left him unsure if he’d see this through. After the successful assassination of an imperial general, Rose was given the final mission. Everything had lead up to this, the murder of Empress Elwinn. This mission would push Rose even further than before. While her previous kills had left gaps and holes in the empress’ defenses, the security was nigh impossible to slip past. 

The Nightar assassin created her own plan based on everything she had learned on Earth. The first part involved her impersonating a nobleman of high repute to create a gala, killing him, and his family to pose further as the nobility. The second was to create a military affair that would leave the empress further exposed. And finally, she planned to slay the empress in front of the entire gala. 

Everything went off without a hitch. Aside from one issue, the escort the empress brought was mercenary. Somewhere along the line, she had hired a group of freelance soldiers to keep her safe and keep eyes within the gala. Worse, they were much more intelligent than the pig-headed soldiers Rose was used to dealing with. Meaning, a public assassination would be even more difficult than before. Though Rose could’ve finished the job then and there, she knew her life would’ve been forfeit. The entire plan was put into jeopardy, every step she had taken, every painstaking detail she organized. 

All was not lost however. Rose caught the Elwinn’s eyes upon exchanging pleasantries. She picked up the empress’ attraction and seized this chance. While Rose had very little knowledge in the way of sexuality or intimacy, she did have a knack for luring men and women using her charms. Over the course of the gala, Elwinn found herself speaking more and more with Rose, who had at this time, taken the name Drivus von Delgada. The two spent the night laughing, toying around, and by the end of the night, in intimate hushed tones. Empress Elwinn extended a subtle, yet, suggestive invite to the Scarlet Spire. To see the ‘collection’ she had amassed in her bedroom. 

Lady Delgada and the Empress said their goodbyes, taking to the Spire. The couple found themselves locked in a night of passion, one of which the Lady Delgada, had never experienced before. After the event had concluded, Delgada made her move, attempting to stab the Empress with one of her letter openers. But to her surprise, Elwinn wasn’t as helpless as she seemed. In a furious scuffle, leading to the calling of guards and soldiers, Rose failed to make her mark. Knowing she couldn’t escape by normal means, she threw herself off of the Scarlet Spire, smashing into a tower below. Her body was ripped apart. But her nanobots went to work, repairing the battered assassin in the short span of an hour. Afterwards, she made good on her escape, returning in shame to her father. 

Lunaris was disappointed to hear of the failed attempt. Especially now, the Empress would surely remember Rose’s face and her guard has most likely multiplied drastically since then. Not only that, but the alias of Delgada was called into question and any similar attempts to seize nobility would be observed immediately. The mad doctor grew cold and distant, believing he had failed. Rose was devastated to see him give up after all this time. They rarely spoke after the events that had transpired. His plan, her plan, it was in flames and they would never get another shot like this. 

Or maybe... they didn’t need another. The things Rose had learned about seduction, attraction, and intimate actions gave her a new idea. A new plan that no human, apex, avian, or otherwise would even consider. 

The Long Game.

[bunnybbomb]

Catharsis (Chapter 1)

Throughout his entire life, Brivere has insisted that Prion, late First Knight to the great King Dorephan of the Zoras, is his father. He kept insisting this even as he and his mother were stripped of nobility status, even as he failed prove that he had Prion’s ability to predict the future, even as everyone bullied him for being a liar. He continued to insist Prion’s parentage even when he slowly began to doubt it himself.

So when the time comes that Brivere is able to definitively prove that Prion is indeed his father and show that he was right all along, anyone would think that he would take the opportunity to do so in a heartbeat.

But for some reason, he doesn’t.

(This is a fanfiction for a fanfiction. Yes, I know, but I am completely obsessed with @banishfics Sidlink fanfic Coma Baby. Definitely check it out! Prepare for a long read that’s worth it. But you don’t need to have read all of it to get this fic, since a lot of things are explained within it.

Disclaimer: In no way does this have any true ties or canon to Coma Baby. It’s an indulgence AU to feed my obsession for Brivere drama.)

Bazz frowned, looking at the ruins around him. The records held for each soldier showed that this was indeed where Brivere lived, but they never said anything about how the place was destroyed in the earthquake months ago. The books and blankets neatly placed on top of the fallen pillars and walls hinted that they still lived here but just happened not to at the moment.

“Sir,” Tottika said behind him. “It is just a guess, but they may have gone to a nearby river or pond to sleep.”

Bazz turned to face his underling. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, it is a pretty common practice now, since many homes were destroyed after the earthquake. Most still live in the remains of their house since repairs are slow and costly, but because the water is safe to use now they sleep there instead of…” Tottika paused and gestured at the broken home before them. “You know, the graveyard of their old lives. Also, it is still early in the morning, so the brothers may just be resting elsewhere.”

Nodding his head, Bazz let out a deep sigh and rubbed one clawed hand to his temple.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

Bazz let out a small chuckle. “Nothing, Tottika. I was just hoping that they would actually be here so that our jobs would be easier.”

The other Zora nodded along. “Yes, I agree. We aren’t even supposed to be working so early, but the King announced that this retrieval mission was urgent.”

“All the more reason to head out then.” Bazz grunted as he patted Tottika on the shoulder. He raised his spear to get the attention of the other guards also searching the ruins. “Everyone! You are to spread out and search every inch of the nearby rivers and ponds. If neither of the brothers are found within two hours, we are to all reconvene in front of the barracks and discuss a different strategy. Is that clear?” he barked.

“Yes sir!” The soldiers yelled back in unison. They quickly dispersed in different directions. Bazz went towards the market, hoping to find someone who had actually seen one of the brothers.

About an hour and a half of searching went by without a single hint of where Brivere or Estuu were. As far as any of their neighbors knew, they were just a silent pair of brothers who kept to themselves. Those who actually knew about the controversy surrounding the two of them had learned to block out their presence years ago.

The only lead Bazz found was an Undercity merchant who claimed that a small, rosy Zora missing half of his arm had bought two fish from her and went “that way” with a vague roll of her hand towards the woods. The Guard Captain had no choice but to investigate; where one brother was, the other was bound to be there as well.

Half an hour passed without any trace of Brivere or Estuu in the woods surrounding the Domain. Bazz sighed and raised his hand to signal the other guards to call off the search, but stopped when a small hint of gold flashed in the corner of his eye. His head whipped around to see a figure hunched behind some trees, almost completely hidden by their low dangling leaves if it weren’t for the wind gently blowing them around.

Motioning for the nearby guards to follow him, Bazz quietly parted the leaves and approached the crouching Zora. Their head was tucked between their knees while their hands tightly gripped a silver scale longsword stabbed into the ground in front of them. Bazz didn’t even need to see their face to know it was Brivere, for he was the only Zora who used the odd weapon. He was also the only one to be able to appear so threatening even in his sleep.

Behind him, there was a small pond, so peaceful that there were barely any ripples disrupting its calm surface. It felt like a tiny sanctuary, protected from the outside world by the trees that tightly surrounded it.

Bazz took a step forward, feeling guilty for disrupting the peace but knowing that he had a job to do. Opening his mouth, Bazz tried to call out to Brivere, only to have the words stuck in his throat as a blade was swiftly pointed at it. The guards behind him flinched and quickly raised their weapons, all pointed at the blade’s wielder.

“Brivere.” Bazz breathed. “It’s just me.”

In all honesty, he didn’t know if that would actually encourage the other Zora to lower his longsword, considering the tense history between the two of them. Bazz had blocked Brivere’s attempt to trade rations for the sake of his ill brother months before. And while yes, it was a dick move, Bazz had justified it with how the brothers refused to give his now late friend medical care weeks before that.

He was relieved to watch Brivere’s dazed eyes blink and slowly come back into focus. “Oh.” Brivere said, quickly drawing back the blade. “I do apologize, Guard Captain. You startled me and in my tired state I did not realize it was you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Bazz said hesitantly. He couldn’t tell if Brivere was being hostile or not, but as always the golden Zora continued to wear a blank mask of indifference. To be honest, it irritated him a little. Bazz awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to dispel his personal feelings for the sake of professional business. “The King has been seeking your presence for quite some time now, but we have been unable to find you for hours since you were not home.”

Brivere slowly nodded, turning his head to look at the pond. “My brother is still distressed over the destruction of our house. He does not take sudden changes to his environment very well, especially since it was such a safe place for his whole life. We often come out here so he can peacefully rest.” Bazz glanced over Brivere’s shoulder, catching a small glimpse of rosy scales that shimmered under the water.

Looking back at Bazz, Brivere bowed his head. “I apologize again for the trouble. I just did not anticipate anyone looking for us this early in the morning.”

Bazz waved it away with his hand. “It is quite alright.” After an awkward pause, he spoke up again. “If you do not mind me asking, why did you not sleep in the pond with your brother? Surely that would be more comfortable than the hunched state we found you in.”

A weak scoff escaped Brivere’s mouth, and Bazz swore he saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his taut lips. “I do not know if you have noticed, Guard Captain, but the pond is awfully small. My brother has a strong aversion to touch, so I wanted to avoid making him uncomfortable. Plus, I can guard him better up here than down there.”

“You must really care for your brother.” Bazz said, hoping that the compliment would ease the tense situation. It clearly backfired when Brivere’s gaze hardened as he stood up. “Yes.” He said in a tight voice. “Everything I do is for him.”

Bazz cringed. He was definitely still mad about the food rations incident. He quickly changed the subject. “We should head out soon. It has been a few hours since the King has requested your presence.”

Nodding, Brivere turned around and bent over the small pond. He lightly and repeatedly smacked the calm surface with an open palm, confusing the hell out of Bazz until a small head popped out of the water.

Right. Bazz thought. His brother hates touch.

It took a few minutes for Brivere to explain the situation to Estuu, who sleepily nodded his head and dragged himself out of the water. The two of them quickly followed the guards to the river, jumping into the river and quickly swimming towards the castle.

;

           Brivere quietly walked alongside the rest of the soldiers, no one saying anything as they navigated the winding streets of the Domain. While this wasn’t out of the ordinary, since no one really talked to him outside of official business anyways, the atmosphere was definitely different. Since he was their superior officer as the Prince’s First Knight, usually the air had a sense of professionality and was at least comfortable, but today he would be surprised if he didn’t choke on the awkward tension around the group.

           He was glad that he at least had his younger brother around to keep himself grounded. Estuu quietly skittered behind him, trying to hide in his older brother’s shadow.

           “So.” Brivere said, breaking the silence. “Where is Prince Sidon?”

           Bazz, who was leading the group, looked over his shoulder at Brivere. “He is in the throne room. Why do you ask?”

           “Well, I am his First Knight. I am supposed to be by his side whenever we are called for official business. And the throne room? We usually meet at Mipha’s statue so that we can enter together.”

           “You will not be meeting the Prince nor stand alongside him today.”

           “…I beg your pardon?” Brivere asked, slowly.

           “The King has called for you specifically. Prince Sidon will still be there, but that is because he must be beside his father.”

           Anxiety pooled at the bottom of Brivere’s stomach, but he’d be damned if he let it show on his face. “Do you know the reason for which I have been called?”

           “To be quite honest, I have no idea. We have just been asked to escort you to the throne room.” Before he could ask any more questions, Bazz turned forward, clearly indicating that the conversation was over. And with those words, Brivere noticed that the guards who accompanied them had subtly formed a tight circle around himself and Estuu. Suddenly, he didn’t know if this was to protect them...

           …Or to prevent them from escaping.

[overdrivels]

The Way to a Heart (4)

<<Chapter 3

There’s a spot in the Watchpoint where there’s a perfect view of the horizon that separates the sky from sea, where the fishing boats can be seen bowing to the will of the waves, and the birds dot the skies like shooting stars. It's almost impossible to get to unless you are able to climb, jump, or fly (which an unfortunate amount of people are able to do here).

It’s one of the base’s precious few blind spots, safe from cameras and that intrusive AI. Oftentimes, Hanzo finds himself here after a quick trip to the kitchen for some perfectly brewed tea before he became more acquainted with the organization’s residents.

Today, he sits here with his terribly cheap, bitter tea, sipping it more out of comfort than for taste.

It really shouldn’t stay on his mind for as long as it did, but the lack of peppers in his dish is something he can’t get ignore or dismiss.

To say that it unnerved him is an understatement.

For an assassin, a detail like this could mean life or death. It's a sign that he's being observed far more closely than he would prefer, and it's a weakness that can be used against him.

There was a survey when he first arrived, asking if he had any allergies or dislikes. All of them were left blank—if he was being fed for free, there’s no reason for him to be picky about his meals.

But when was the last time he had eaten peppers? He had wracked his brain, trying to remember all of his previous meals.

His first meal here was katsudon with miso soup. The following meals were seafood, rice or pasta, but nothing stands out (except that lemon chicken stuffed with risotto, that was worth remembering if only for it's interesting execution). All he could really remember are the late night desserts—a single pan-fried red bean cake, jam cookies, lemon cookies, a scoop of ice-cream, a sliver of dense but decadent cheesecake.

Maybe it’s because it was absent that it never crossed his mind, and he never ate often enough with anyone else to notice when it was missing. Not until recently anyway.

Dinner is the same. He could've passed it off as a lucky guess or a coincidence or a forgetful mind, but not during dinner.

It was pepper steak. With no peppers. The taste was there, that acrid, bitter tang on his tongue, but he was spared from eating any of it. McCree and Pharah, on the other hand, had extra heapings, eating it like it was delicious.

But as far as his recent memory can recall, not once did he ever eat anything here that had peppers. So how did you reach this conclusion?  

Hanzo takes in a lungful of salty air.

Maybe it was his face. Or something common in all people who hate peppers. A look about them, perhaps. Similarly to how he could tell when someone is left-handed or right-handed, or whether they’d be an easy mark or not. Maybe you had the same understanding in your programming. Maybe there's a specific algorithm for people who hate them, or maybe--

“So this is where you have been all this time.”

Hanzo inclines his head to the side--“Genji.”--keeping his eyes out toward the sea.  

It’s an unspoken invitation to sit which Genji takes with a ridiculous grace that he wouldn’t never expected from the younger brother he once knew. (The Genji he knew would’ve just plopped down, no  grace or any finesse at all.)

He does his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that pools in his stomach and crawls up his skin.

“Brother, have you become more familiar with Overwatch?”

Hanzo still isn’t sure if he prefers to be called ‘brother’ or if he prefers ‘Hanzo’ coming from Genji. Neither seemed appropriate. The mechanical timbre is difficult to associate with the loud, reckless young man that Hanzo had to chase after in his youth (and then force him to sit in seiza while lecturing him).

His eyes drop down to the tea cup in his hand, the steeping teabag obscuring his reflection.

Since coming to Overwatch, there are several things that Hanzo required adjustment to.

Firstly, he realized his world is vastly different from the other agents’.

Hanzo understands that his life is different from the average person's, he knows this almost too well. No two person’s life is the same, not by any stretch of the word, but there was something that connected the other Overwatch agents in a way that he could not even begin to comprehend. (This is also one of the reasons why he feels closer to the Junkers and Satya than the rest.)

The difference did not become more apparent than when he went on his first group mission.

He had argued nearly every step of the way because Soldier: 76, the team’s acting leader, had planned a mission tactic that was a clear inefficient use of manpower--it would take far longer than necessary for a mission of this magnitude and runs the risk of being caught too soon. The hardened vigilante did not budge on any of his decisions. Even Hana, normally so rebellious and outspoken, only has a few snide remarks, but no outright opposition to Soldier: 76's tactics.

It leads to him grumbling on the plane, strapped in next to Hana who only half-listened to his griping.

"Why do you not argue his plans? You must also know that if we all gather at point C, it would increase the risk of being ambushed.”

Hana popped her gum nonchalantly with a gaze in her eyes that make him question the true age of this young woman. "Because," she said slowly, "he's the leader right now. What he says, goes."

"But there is a better way," he insisted. "If we drop each one of us at regular intervals between point C and E--"

"He is the leader."

"His plan takes too much time! It is not a proper method--"

A hard hand claps over his shoulder and he barely stopped himself from flipping that person over. Though, looking at whose wrist he grabbed out of instinct, he doubted it would go down so smoothly.

Zarya gives him a smirk and sits down beside him.

"You hear what he says, yes? We are all soldiers now. We must act like soldiers. Soldiers do not question their commanders or their leaders."

Hanzo has an insult at the ready in his mouth, a nasty retort about the Russian woman's homeland and its leader's current state of affairs, but the stinging of his shoulder keeps him from being unnecessarily callous. Especially not when this woman could knock the breath out of him without even intending to. He settled for some incoherent grumbling that had Hana smiling at him the whole time.

Though, it’s with begrudging reluctance that he admits the mission went off without a hitch under Soldier: 76’s strict instruction. Hanzo still insists it could’ve been done much faster if they had followed his suggestions instead.

(He doesn’t hate the old soldier. The man reminds him too much of his father—authoritative with that exact tone of voice that will not yield to anyone who back-talks him. It almost makes him feel like a little boy again. But perhaps, that’s why he’s so reluctant to accept the fact that Soldier was right.)

There is a lot more communication that he’s used to; he was forced to check in with everyone when he’s used to staying silent—his ears ring with the residual orders of the silver-haired soldier long after he’s taken out his earpiece. They were split into teams, coordinating with each other and taking their sweet time to secure the target. All of this is outside of Hanzo’s comfort zone; he prefers working alone, taking his victories alone, securing his superiority by his lonesome.  

It's through this mission that he realizes how different his life was--again, he knows the difference between himself and an ordinary person, but between assassin and military. There is a distinct difference in their discipline. When Soldier: 76 tells them to jump, there is no question that Hanzo would follow his orders, but not without a fuss. Hana and Zarya (among others) would do it without question because soldiers do not question their commanding officers.

Soldiers are not supposed to think. They must follow orders lest it get the whole squad or battalion killed.

Assassins must be thinking at all times. They are given free reign over a mission and are expected to take the best and quickest form of action with minimal instruction.

Everyone surrounding him was or is military. They all received the same type of instruction, something that he’s far removed from. He hasn’t gone on a mission with Genji yet, something he’s both grateful for and anxious, but he has no doubt that if he were to see him now, Genji would also exhibit hints of the same behavior.

Here, he is not in control, but in that same vein, he does not need to be in control.

Truthfully, it’s both irritating and comforting.

Speaking of irritating…

Another aspect of military life he does not quite have a taste for, literally: MREs, IMPs, ration packs, or  whatever you want to call them.

Sometimes, there is no restaurants nearby or any time to go out and grab any food during a lengthy mission. Granted, he’s only been on two of these—both were stakeouts.

Hanzo has done stakeouts before—an assassin’s job requires close monitoring of a target’s habits. He had long learned to carry odorless, easy to consume foods: onigiri, jelly-pouch drinks, bread. Now he has to accustom himself to the strange prepackaged crackers, dry meats that he’s supposed to warm up with a heat pack, and shitty desserts that makes him wish he were back at the base or in Japan where he had access to a conbini.

The disgust he feels each time he’s handed a ration pack does not escape anyone’s notice. (He’s teased about it by several people, and tolerates it from even less, vowing to save an arrow for each of them. It’d be a miracle if he didn’t start to have nightmares about the drab brown packages and its unappetizing contents.)  

However, the other members do not seem as adverse to it, even making comments about the packaging and cheerfully gossiping about how their rations are much different in their respective countries.

It makes the after-mission meals back at the base something to look forward to. (He’ll even tolerate the ridiculous amounts of butter you slather onto their meals if only to eat something that looks and feels like it hasn’t been chewed up and spat out by a bird.)  

Whenever a team returns from a mission, fresh food would already be prepared for them, piping hot and waiting no matter the time as if you already know when they'll return. Regardless of how tired he is, he’ll always force himself to trudge to the kitchen for a meal. Though, he prefers to have his meal alone and after a hot shower, he will eat his fill to make up for the sad excuse for rations he was forced to eat during his mission and possibly contribute to the strain of an already thin budget.

Budget--money--is another thing that he cannot get a satisfactory answer for.

Overwatch is a defunct organization that is outlawed all across the world. Anyone caught operating under the guise of Overwatch or supporting it could find themselves in a very, very uncomfortable position. It goes without saying that monetary help is also illegal.

So, it’s certainly a surprise to Hanzo when Winston—something else he has to get used to—gave him access to a private bank account with credits in it. The numbers on one of the many computer screens show the exact amount allocated to him.

“Sorry it’s so little,” Winston said as he rubbed the back of his head, “it’s all we can offer at the moment. It takes a lot to run everything.”

“You have money to give us?”

“Well, uhm, you guys need to be rewarded in some way, right? Think of it as a salary for yourselves.”

Hanzo flipped the card back and forth; the numbers on it shone in the dim light. It’s not as though he does not have any spending money for himself—he’s completed enough ‘jobs’ in the past ten years to sustain himself, and he’s sure that the other members are the same. (Not that he would ever tell anyone that--especially not Genji; he likes to have a positive balance on his accounts.)

“Where does this money come from?” He waved the card. “Surely the UN is not so incompetent as to miss any of Overwatch’s accounts.”

It’s fascinating to watch the gorilla’s fur rise up in alarm. Winston fumbled with his glasses, wiping them on his shirt as he speaks. “No. No, Overwatch’s assets were all seized during the…shutdown years ago. This money comes from donors heard about the Recall and who still believe in what we do.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows rose up. “’Donors who heard about the Recall’?”

“Yes.” Winston cleared his throat. “I understand that your skepticism of our current financial sources, but rest assured, we—we have it all taken care of. Nothing to worry about.”

He gave a poor attempt at an assuring grin.

“You are certain these ‘donors’ are trustworthy?”

For a second, the grin faltered. “Ab--absolutely. Athena has it all covered, no problems here!”

Hanzo did not need to be a master assassin or have experience as an older brother to know that Winston was hiding something important. This entire situation is suspect, and something in the back of his mind itches to know what, but he nodded slowly, pretending to understand.

The logo of the AI blinked innocently behind Winston. He doesn’t know how powerful it is, but it must not be any minor program if the international community has not yet come down upon them like a tidal wave.

Hanzo Shimada is confident in his ability to evade the law—he’s done it for a decade already and considers himself a little more seasoned than the rest. However, even he has no such confidence (not that he would ever say that out loud) about evading the entire world’s police force. (It would be a fun challenge worthy of his time, but he’s not particularly fond of fearing for his life at every waking and sleeping moment with little to no safe place in the world.)

Still, it’s another thing he adds onto his list of things to think about when he’s not sleeping, and another reason to feel that this new Overwatch is a fawn still new to its own feet (and that coming here was quite possibly a mistake).

“I am adjusting fine,” Hanzo says finally.

Genji gives him a long, long stare, indicative of his disbelief. Hanzo pointedly ignores the unvoiced accusation.

“Really?”

So much for unvoiced.

“Yes.”

He brings the tea cup to his mouth, taking the slowest sip ever if only to subtly indicate his loss of interest in the conversation. He tries not to cringe at the temperature or taste.

“And everyone treating you well?”

A small flare of irritation skitters across his skin. What is Genji trying to get at?

He is a grown man capable of managing his own personal affairs. He does not need Genji looking after him like some nosy mother-in-law. Since when did Genji give a shit about his relations with other people?

(Previously, it would be Hanzo who would interrogate Genji on his choice of company, demanding that he choose his friends and trysts carefully, to which it falls on deaf ears.)

“Fine,” he grunts.

Even as he says that, he remembers that his first few days here were less than comfortable. He does not know how much any of the agents knew about his and Genji’s past, but he could pick out the ones who knew from those who didn't at a glance.

There is a decided coldness that is beyond the normal medical professionalism that the blonde doctor addresses him with (“So you are Mr. Hanzo Shimada. I have heard a lot about you,”); a careful trepidation from the overly-enthusiastic time-traveler (he still doesn't know how that works or how that's possible, but he knows better than to ask); a particular look in the eyes of the overly large crusader--something akin to pity or a deep sorrow; and other things like furtive glances or irritating whispering that he tries to ignore in favor of familiar solitude.

He can deny it all he wants, but the scornful attention pricked and stabbed at something softer inside he thought he had cast away long ago.

It’s only with people like Hana, Satya, Roadhog, or even Omnics like Bastion that he is even the slightest bit at ease. They do not know his past or seem to care. It helps that he cannot understand the omnic. There’s also you, who just does the job that you’re assigned: cooking. You do not engage in unnecessary conversation or judge him for what he has done, and that’s already much better than half the agents he’s met.

“I heard that you beat Jesse’s high score in simulation 12.”

Genji’s shift in topic is a welcome one and Hanzo scoffs, a touch prideful in his new accomplishment. (He’d never tell anyone, but it took him nearly two weeks to do so.)

Genji continues, “He’s been complaining about it.”

“He is loud, and talks too much nonsense. He should put his money where his mouth is.”

Sure, McCree is talkative, but he speaks a lot of nothing for someone who knows so much. The words out of this man’s mouth are honeyed poison; a trap for unsuspecting prey. If anything, Hanzo only trusts the man’s aim, having been saved by it once before and seen it in action many more. Beating his score was a sweet victory that he’s sure he’ll get the pleasure of doing so again.

High scores in many of the simulations never remain the same for long, and the mere thought of it whets his appetite for competition.

“If he is not enough of a challenge, perhaps you should try to beat Ana-san’s score in simulation 7.”

At that, Hanzo pulls a face of disgruntlement. Genji laughs, the tinny edge barely tainting the familiarity of the sound. A bit of nostalgia wells up in his chest and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“There is no need to feel ashamed. Everyone has been trying to beat it for a long time. You are not the first to try.”

The score is not the reason, but he lets him think it anyway. “Hmph.”

“Maybe you should ask her for advice. You talk with Ana-san a lot, do you not?”

“She talks to me.” Running a hand over his face, he admits quietly, “It is...difficult to refuse her.”

The cyborg nods sagely. “I don’t think there is anyone who would say no to her, not even the chef.”

The image of the sniper’s afternoon tea time and cookies come to mind. Buttery, like everything else the chef makes, but still warm and melts in his mouth. It’s only slightly sweet, occasionally accented with a dollop of jam. It is not an option on the menu and, from what he’s heard from the other agents, impossible to get.

But then, he remembers the woman’s back at the window, loudly demanding that you leave your fortress. To date, she has not been successful.

More cookies for him, then. Though, he doesn’t think it’ll make a difference, omnics don’t eat.

He unconsciously looks at Genji from the corner of his eye. His jaw tightens.

“The chef has refused her before,” he says tersely.

“And let me guess, the chef has refused you, too.”

Hanzo does not dignify that with an answer.

“Maybe you should try to be more friendly. The chefs were always kind to me.”

“Chefs?” There’s more than one of you?

“Hm? Oh yes, there used to be many.” Genji leans back, a little more relaxed in his posture as he drifts off to the years that Hanzo does not know of. “They were a rowdy bunch, but they were all very nice people. They were very...considerate of me when I first joined hands with Overwatch.” Then, quietly: “I am very grateful to them.”

This time, Hanzo really can’t suppress the guilt that grips him like a vice and threatens to squeeze the life out of him. He wants to just get up and throw himself off this ledge, if only to end the anguish this conversation brings.

But he’s a bigger person than he was several months ago. He forces himself to sit there and take it.

“You should say 'thank you,’ at least. It's good manners.”

“I don't want you of all people to lecture me on manners.”

Genji doesn’t need to take off his mask for Hanzo read his facial expression: disapproving, one eyebrow raised with a cheeky frown. “Brother. It is good manners to thank the people who feed you. Would it kill you to be polite?”

Instead, he asks with an accusing edge to his voice, “So you have been watching me?”

Guilty as charged, Genji puts his hands up. “I had to make sure you did not kill the chef for putting something you disliked in your food. Like peppers.”

There’s a smug rise in Genji’s voice as he watches Hanzo’s face shift from one of irritation to one of realization.

If there had ever been any doubt about Genji’s relation to him, all of that went out the window.

“So it was you.”

Genji laughs, loud and obnoxious, nudging him with an elbow. “Were you perhaps worried that the chef can read your mind?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Yes.

There’s a smile in Genji’s voice that’s almost infectious. “I’m sure Chef would have noticed eventually. The Head Chef trained everyone to do that. So I am sure even if I said nothing, the chef would have noticed eventually. You are in good hands here.”

He doubts it especially with the way Overwatch currently operates--there are still too many questions left unanswered and too many things that do not make any sense.

Like: “Why is it forbidden to enter the kitchens?”

There is a silence that is taken up by the screech of gulls that he swears is mocking him for even asking such a foolish question.

Before he could even retract it, Genji laughs, a little depreciating and somehow nostalgic.

“I should have expected you to be curious about it.” At Hanzo’s frown, he says, “I heard there is a great treasure kept inside that kitchen.”

That immediately piqued his interest. “A treasure? In a kitchen?” He shakes his head. “Don’t be absurd.”

Genji shrugs. “Many Blackwatch agents have attempted to enter. None have succeeded. Jesse may know more. He has tried to go inside many times without success.”

“The cowboy?”

“You should not try. Otherwise, you may find peppers in your food.”

Hanzo shoves at Genji with an annoyed (but fond) huff, nearly throwing him off the ledge. Genji shoves back.

“Bring it.”

The two brothers begin a strange game of trying to shove the other off the ledge, choked laughter and cursing breaking out between them--only to stop when Hanzo’s tea cup pitches over the precarious landing and straight into the smashing seas below.

“Chef. Chef, Agent Hanzo is here to order. Chef. Agent Hanzo is here to order.”

You snort and your leg spasms as you are immediately awoken by Athena’s announcement. Almost robotically, you get out of bed and slip on your uniform hanging from your door with practiced ease. It doesn’t occur to you that it’s four in the morning and you’ve only slept for a little under three hours, having stayed up to babysit some broth and edit ledgers. By the time you make it out of your quarters and enter the kitchen, Hanzo’s order is already posted on all the screens.

Sencha.

Without skipping a beat, you grab a kettle and fill it up, flicking on the stove on your way to grab the tea. In one smooth motion, you swipe the container, a teapot, a cup, open the drawer, grab the spoon to measure. It’s muscle memory that drives you.

You’re not entirely aware of your actions until you’ve slipped the tray into the window, ring the bell, and start to walk away.

“…thank you.”

It takes a moment to register that this is the first time Agent Hanzo has said anything to you.

You rush back to the window to answer. But he’s gone. You bend down to get a peek at the cafeteria, which has become dark again.

The words, “You’re welcome,” remain stuck in your throat, struggling to escape but without a proper direction.

Maybe you could still catch him?

“Athena! Cameras.”

The screens fill with the man walking down the hall, tray in hand. That’s not the path to the dorms. You watch intently as he makes a turn and the cameras switch to the common area.

“Ah.”

You press your fingers to your forehead. Damn, if you knew Agent D.Va was going to partake, you would’ve made something quick. They could share it and use it as a conversation point and find out their similarities and differences in tastes. Though, judging by the way she welcomes him onto the seat beside him and points to the screen with excitement shows that they already have something in common.

The thought gnaws at you. Nourishing the soul and fostering camaraderie between agents is the job of a chef, too. It would be very, very wrong to interrupt even to bring them food (that you’re supposed to be keeping very careful control of).

‘Who’s going to know?’ a voice whispers in the back of your mind.

Athena because she’s always watching. Then Agent Winston because he is in constant communication with Athena. Then Captain Amari because that woman is sharper than your knives. Then everyone else because that’s the way it is.

The two sit side by side, talking at ease and gesturing at the game. There is a softness to the man’s eyes that is normally hidden by day, and a vulnerable ease around the MEKA driver. It felt a little strange to be looking at a scene that looked like it was meant more for a family than an organization of illegal vigilantes.

“Thank you, Athena. Please turn it off.”

Maybe you can make it up to them another time.

If Agent Hanzo or Agent D.Va end up receiving desserts with their next orders, you can say nothing. Except now, the archer will slip a quiet ‘thank you’ that you’re somehow always too slow or too busy to return.

Chapter 5>>

[avidbeader]

Voltron fic: “Scattered” Ch. 22

Rated T. Genfic/no ships. S2 AU. You can begin at the beginning here or read it on FF-Net and AO3 when I get it posted there, probably in the morning. FEEDBACK IS WELCOME.

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After helping one another to unload their troves of Earth supplies in the kitchens or their rooms, Shiro directed everyone to suit up and report to the command deck. They had let the Garrison and Earthforce stew for over thirty-six hours and they were ready to present their demands.

Leave our families in peace. Contact us immediately if you have any alien activity in the solar system. Here’s some shiny tech to help monitor that.

And punish Darzi for his actions.

Shiro hoped it would be that simple.

Allura entered the command deck first after Shiro arrived. She was wearing one of her gowns, navy with pink trim, but her hair was pulled up, surrounded by a gleaming tiara. “Do you think this will be impressive enough?”

Shiro nodded. “You look beautiful and terrifying.” Behind her, Coran looked up from his console with an amused look for Shiro’s words.

She smiled. “Good.” She moved to stand beside him. “Shiro, there is another option to the issue of prosecuting that man.”

“Another option besides a joint tribunal here on the ship? Because I’m not sure we can persuade Earthforce to go along with that. They’ll protest having any Altean representation among the judge advocates, since there’s a grand total of six of us to choose from and we all have a huge conflict of interest in the proceedings.”

Allura’s expression hardened. “If they expect to be recognized—”

“Princess, they may not care. Earth is still decentralized. We’re a bunch of sovereign states, not a unified planetary government. The closest thing to that is the United Nations, and their authority is limited. Earthforce may be a combined effort at international peacekeeping, but any country can pull its soldiers and arsenals out at any time.”

She huffed. “Well, that’s a silly way to do things!”

“Not as advanced as you, remember?”

Allura sighed. “So primitive. I’m amazed this planet produced the five of you.”

“Anyway, what is the alternative?”

“You need to talk with the Black Lion about it. In the past, the lions could be asked to measure the conscience of the accused and confirm guilt or innocence.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. “They can do that?”

“How else do you think they select their paladins?”

He gulped a little at that. He remembered a feeling of being assessed as the other lions roared, welcoming Black. Weighed and judged and found worthy.

But how did that square with the knowledge that the first Black Paladin had done something that had ended his Red Paladin?

Black growled in his mind, sounding almost petulant. He changed. Besides, everyone should be allowed one mistake.

Shiro shoved his tongue between his teeth, trying to hold in a sudden impulse to laugh.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 Keith met Pidge en route to the command deck. She moved in and put one arm around him. He tensed for an instant before making himself relax and return the gesture. He had been relaxed about his personal space with Shiro’s parents; Pidge should be no different.

Leading him down the hall, Pidge looked up and asked, “Do you think you’ll be able to do it? Record the memory of the attack? Hunk’s point was really good—it’ll be so much easier on you in the long run. It removes the need for testimony and cross-examination.”

“I don’t know. What’s to prevent them from saying it’s faked?”

Pidge frowned at that, thinking. “True. But if you provide another memory, something that they can confirm independently, that might convince them. Or we can make one of them test it.”

Red’s presence in his head surged as she offered an inspiration. Keith was suddenly immersed in the memory of stepping out of her, extending a hand to Iverson to shake, only to have a medtech make him stand still long enough for snipers to hit him with tranqs. Iverson could corroborate that event and it would be one more piece of evidence against Darzi, who had ordered it.

“Red’s got an idea. That might work. I just…”

Pidge tightened her hold on him. “I’ll be there if you want. We all will.”

They entered the command deck and saw Shiro and Allura. Keith noticed that Shiro was trying very hard not to smile and wondered what was going on. Allura turned to them.

“Keith, have you thought about my suggestion? If it will truly be too painful, I won’t ask you to do it.”

“No, I think I can. Hunk was right, if they will accept that they’re seeing true memories, then there’s nothing they have to ask me.”

Shiro’s expression darkened at that. “How are we going to convince them?”

“Pidge had a good idea. I can record another memory or two that they can verify independently so they’ll know for sure.”

Allura smiled, pleased that her plan was coming together. “Excellent.”

Lance and Hunk entered together and Lance looked around. “Are we ready to do this?”

“We are. Hunk, can you repeat what you did before to connect us?”

“Piece of cake. Come on, Pidge, let me show you what we did.”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 It had been over thirty-six hours of tension and misery. Iverson and Benítez took turns monitoring the communications center, sleeping in an office down the hall. The media blitz had shifted from reporting on the proof of aliens to either trying to get more information about the five Garrison members or submitting open records requests for more information about Earthforce’s actions during the crisis.

Iverson rubbed a hand over the two days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He had managed a quick shower and a fresh uniform during his last rest period, but coffee was no longer doing its job in keeping him alert.

As he looked around for the aide to ask about the possibility of something stronger, the main viewscreen jumped to life.

Iverson straightened at seeing his Kerberos pilot and the alien woman again. This time she was dressed like a fairy-tale princess, but it didn’t fool him. This person was a force to be reckoned with.

“Commander Iverson. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s understandable, Shiro…Captain Shirogane. I’ll summon the general.” He waved at the aide, who took off. Iverson scrubbed at his face, trying to bring himself back to full alertness.

He watched as his former Kerberos pilot gestured, bringing forth the other members of the team. This time Katie Holt was there as well, in the same armor as the others with green accents. Iverson relaxed a bit at seeing Kogane, looking fit and healthy in the red armor. He tried to control his expression, knowing that the general would be there any minute to reopen negotiations. Then Kogane tilted his head slightly, a quizzical look on his face.

Iverson blinked and Kogane broke into a slightly disbelieving smile. “Guys, have you ever seen him look so…I don’t even know what to call it. Relieved? Pleased? Almost happy?”

“Given that the last time I saw you, you were in a coma that we weren’t sure you’d survive, I think I’m allowed.”

McClain let out one bark of laughter before stifling it with his hand. The others looked like they were fighting back smiles, but the woman frowned and spoke with an icy tone.

“Commander, I need to know where things stand with the prosecution of Darzi.”

Iverson nodded. “General Benítez is the convening authority for the court martial. She has entered and preferred the charges, along with General Caplan as the judge advocate assigned to the proceedings. We expect Darzi to prefer the charges and enter his pleas sometime before the end of the day. He’s hired a personal lawyer instead of allowing someone to be appointed.”

“Pleas?” Shiro zeroed in on the unexpected bit of information, just as Iverson had hoped. “What are the exact charges?”

“Unlawful imprisonment, assault, and attempted manslaughter.”

“Manslaughter? What does that mean?” The woman’s voice broke in sharply.

Shiro put a hand on her shoulder. “It means that they don’t think Darzi went in there intending to kill. In our terms, murder includes planning and intent.”

“Exactly…your highness. We can’t prove intent, so we’re going for the strongest charges we can make stick.”

The woman’s brilliant blue eyes narrowed at him.

“And it’s going to be tough. I’ve been ordered to convene it as a special court martial, not a general one.” Benítez sat down beside him, running her hands through her hair.

Iverson turned to her. “No!”

“What does that mean?” Fury was rising on the woman’s face.

“It means that any punishments would be less severe,” Shiro answered and she whirled on him.

“I knew it, Shiro! I knew—”

Shiro brought his other hand up and held her in place. Iverson was fascinated at the clashing dynamics. On the one hand they were supposed to be a ruler and her…commandant? General? But right now it looked like two friends arguing, one trying to calm the other down.

“They’re doing what they have to in order to get a guilty verdict. If Darzi is declared innocent, then he can’t be tried for it again.”

She jerked back sharply. “Not even if new evidence is found?”

Shiro shook his head. “It’s called double jeopardy and most of our court systems don’t allow it to happen.”

“This will not stand! I—”

“Princess!” The others had moved closer and Kogane reached out, turning her to face him. “Princess, it doesn’t matter. We’ve done what we wanted to do here, we can just leave.”

That got protests from the others, including a fierce “Hell, no!” from Katie Holt. Again, Iverson felt he was looking at a tightly-knit group of friends, almost a family, instead of a squadron of pilots and a royal personage. Shiro and the princess stared at one another briefly, an entire conversation happening in minute expression changes. Then Shiro nodded at her.

The Princess turned to them. “I am invoking the Interstellar Charter of Cooperation, an alliance of over a hundred planetary governments. Any proceedings will be held where I dictate, with witnesses of my choosing to observe your proceedings. You will hold them on board my ship, as the only piece of Altean territory that is readily available to you. We will land near your Garrison.”

Benítez’ mouth had dropped open at this sudden tirade. “I don’t know if—”

“Yes,” Iverson interrupted her. “Yes, General. They deserve concessions to balance everything that has been done to undermine this case.” He heard several people react to his blatant declaration, but he didn’t care. He would push as hard as necessary to try and get justice out of this for Keith.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 They agreed to schedule the hearing for the next day. Somewhat unexpectedly, Darzi entered a guilty plea for the assault charge, but not guilty for the others. If he had hoped to soothe Allura’s temper by partially capitulating, he had misjudged badly. She was more determined than ever to punish him.

After changing back to their regular clothes and grabbing a meal, Allura had taken Hunk and Lance with her somewhere, leaving Coran to help Keith with the memory device. Shiro and Pidge tagged along without comment. Coran explained the process as he settled Keith in a chair and set a metal headband in place.

“It’s quite simple, really. Concentrate on the memory. Once you’ve got it front and center, touch this control to start recording. Do the same thing to stop it.” He guided Keith’s hand to a place on the headband. “Now, it’s up to you, but you can choose to record privately or you can go ahead and project it for us to see.”

“Projecting means we can make sure it’s working,” Pidge offered.

Keith felt Shiro lay a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, even though he was still unhappy with the entire thing. “Okay, projection it is, Coran.”

He felt Pidge’s hand on his other shoulder and drew a deep breath. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the first memory he wanted, one that would easily prove to Iverson that the machine was doing what it claimed.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 He sat in the simulator, directing the flight with an easy grace. The asteroid belt had been a breeze and his engineer, a competent girl with a snarky attitude that he enjoyed, had been able to fix the stabilizers problem in under a minute. All that was left was a successful reentry and they’d be done.

“Recon Flight Three India Four Eight Zulu, requesting clearance to land.” The boy on comms spoke with a hint of excitement in his voice. Keith ignored it, noticing something off in the controls. Something was affecting his steering. He started adjusting for it.

“Recon flight, you are advised to continue to White Sands. Canaveral is experiencing strong gale-force winds in the upper atmosphere.”

So that was it. Keith hit a few controls and addressed the boy. “Upper atmosphere, but not lower?”

The comms officer relayed the question.

“Confirmed.”

“Is ground control aware that we may not have enough fuel to get to White Sands?”

“Reserves should handle it.”

Keith continued to correct for the growing winds. The turbulence was minimal at the moment. He looked at the other two.

“I say we land here. Once we get through the winds, it’ll be an easy landing.”

The engineer stared at him. “Are you sure? Can you adjust your lift in that?”

“Yes, if you can keep everything wide open for me. Can you?”

She bit her lip, glanced at the comms officer, and nodded.

“Let’s do this, then. Comms, advise ground control.”

The boy did, the excitement in his voice increasing as the sim warned against the decision and he overrode it. He and the engineer tightened their seat belts and Keith started the reentry path.

He focused like he never had before, letting his instincts guide him as he used the winds buffeting them to add to the drag, adjusting the trajectory constantly. He could hear the gasps from his teammates as the craft shifted sharply to the left once and then dipped. He rode the turbulence like waves, knowing he was in his element.

And with one final terrifying shudder that had the engineer’s hands scrambling across the controls to check for any damage, they were in the clear and descending smoothly toward the runway.

The instant the screen changed to “simulation completed”, the comms officer jumped out of his seat and ran for the door.

“We did it, didn’t we? Did we do it?”

“Do what?” the engineer asked.

“We beat the record! Kogane beat out Shirogane’s record!”

The door opened, revealing Commander Iverson and Professor Harris. Harris had a huge grin on his face. Iverson looked dumbfounded.

“Cadet Kogane, what the hell were you thinking?”

Keith shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 He reached up and stopped the recording, opening his eyes. Pidge’s mouth was hanging open while Shiro’s expression was delighted. Their expressions helped shake the mildly uneasy feeling of being pushed through the memory, unable to break away from it without disconnecting the device.

“Good choice. Just about everyone from the Garrison can confirm that really happened.” Shiro squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “I did tell you how proud I was of you, right?”

Keith nodded, still a little embarrassed at Pidge’s reaction. She drew in a breath. “That was…incredible. I remember Matt talking about it at the time, but to see it like that… God, Keith, that was amazing.”

He shrugged, unaware that he was repeating the exact reaction from the memory. “I just wanted to be done.”

Coran finished fiddling with the controls and looked up. “All right, that’s one memory recorded and ready. I enjoyed seeing that, Number Four. You and the Red Lion are a natural fit.”

Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair at his neck, careful not to dislodge the headband. “Ready to get it over with?”

“Almost. It was Red’s idea to show this one.” Keith drew a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 Keith walked down the ramp from Red’s mouth and paused, seeing Commander Iverson and someone in a hazmat suit standing near the gates that led to the main hangars. He removed his helmet, squared his shoulders, and stepped out of his Lion.

 He went through Red’s force field. Shoving his helmet under his left arm, he held out his right hand to shake with the Commander. The faceless medtech got in the way, waving a scanner. “Hold still, we need to check you over for any dangerous pathogens.”

 Keith’s tone was impatient. “I feel perfectly fine. None of us have gotten sick at all. I could…” His voice faded as if something had occurred to him.

 “Just another minute while these readings come through…”

 Keith’s view snapped to one side and he gasped “Ow!” He stumbled a little. “What the hell?” His fingers scrabbled along his neck and brought something into view. A tranquilizer dart.

 The view wobbled as Keith tried to draw his bayard and move back far enough to get inside the force field again, to get his helmet on. But the darts kept coming and finally Keith was reeling forward and losing consciousness.

 Iverson was there to catch him. “They pulled rank, son. I’m sorry.”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 Keith fumbled for the control to stop the recording and felt Coran do it instead. He scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to shake off the feelings from the memory: the sudden alarm from the attack followed by the panicked attempt to retreat and the helplessness as he lost control of his body to the tranqs.

Shiro knelt in front of him. “It’s okay, it’s over. That’s a smart choice. It gives us a bit more evidence against Darzi. Iverson can verify it.”

Pidge moved behind him, clasping his shoulders. He dragged his hands from his face and reached out, taking her hand and Shiro’s hand.

“That was harder than I expected.”

Shiro put his other hand on top of Keith’s. “Do we need to wait before doing the last one?”

“No, I need to get it over with.”

“Okay, we’re right here. Just remember, it’s over and you survived.”

Keith closed his eyes and touched the control once more.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 The view was of a dimly lit room, looking up at the ceiling. He looked around, noting the straps holding him down. Beeps punctuated the stillness. He continued to look around, seeing his helmet and armor to one side—

 And a woman sprawled on the floor near the door, unconscious.

The beeping accelerated with his pulse, triggering an alarm. The door to the room opened, showing Darzi and Perkins. The smile on Darzi’s face was anything but friendly.

 “Now we can talk, Kogane. Just you and me and the right balance of amotrazephine and adrenaline.”

 The view shook as Keith struggled against his bonds and shouted. “Guard! Hey, somebody! I need help!”

 Darzi moved across and hands came down, sealing off his air. “Now, now. None of that. Just give Perkins here a minute to set up the drip and everything will be all right.”

 The view jerked as Keith tried to shake off the hands, but the pressure increased. He tried to get the medtech’s attention but he could produce no more than a rasp in his throat.

 His blood was pounding through him, roaring like rapids in his ears. His eyesight was dimming, dark spots blooming in his view. And Darzi stared at him with a maniacal gleam, watching eagerly as Keith fought to breathe.

 “Sir, let go!” Perkins grabbed Darzi’s arm, breaking his hold just enough for a trickle of precious oxygen to make it through. Perkins pulled at Darzi again. Finally, finally a hint of sanity emerged and he removed one hand, keeping the other across Keith’s mouth.

 “Do it now!”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 As his memory and the projection of it dissolved into Red’s scarlet aura, Keith groped frantically for the control to stop it, gasping for air. Cool metal fingers deactivated the band and lifted it from his head. He heard a murmur as Shiro passed the device to Coran. Then with a gentle tug, he pulled Keith forward into his arms.

“Breathe, Keith. Slowly. We’ve got you.”

Keith felt Pidge slip into the chair behind him and slide her arms above Shiro’s to hug him, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. Their warmth radiated through him and steadied him. You can breathe. You can breathe.

Coran’s voice interrupted, in a low volume so he wouldn’t startle them. “All right, it’s done and the memories are transferred. I’m going to keep the equipment for recording nearby tomorrow, just in case we need it.”

“Thank you, Coran,” Shiro replied, not moving from his position. He worked his left hand free and ran it through Pidge’s hair, drawing a contented sound from her.

Keith chuckled at that and twisted so he could get one arm around her. “All right, guys. I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Pidge snuggled into his side. “Because I can stay here, no problem. Group hugs are great.”

“Won’t feel so great on my knees in a few minutes,” Shiro replied. He gave Keith one more squeeze, ruffled his hair, and stood, pulling both Keith and Pidge with him.

Good cubs, Red rumbled. Much better this time around.

And what’s that supposed to mean?

But Red ignored his question.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 “You agreed to what?” Darzi surged to his feet, both hands planted on the table in front of him. His lawyer nervously grabbed at one arm to tug him back into his chair.

Neither Iverson or Benítez batted an eye. She looked sidelong at General Caplan, the appointed judge advocate, who raised his eyebrows at the outburst.

“Lieutenant General, you have managed to act in a detrimental manner against a representative of a foreign government, an alien government—”

“So you’re admitting Kogane’s an alien!”

The lawyer almost facepalmed. Caplan looked even more confused.

“As my granddaughter would say, care to share what you’re smoking? No one is saying any such thing. Kogane and the other four have clearly been accepted into this alien society, trusted to fly these ships. And according to the charges preferred by all parties here, you detained him illegally, conducted illegal assisted interrogations against him, assaulted him, and nearly killed him. You should be grateful that we’re being allowed to conduct this proceeding ourselves, no matter where it’s held. If that princess gets wind of our United Nations, she could very well turn this into a global incident and demand that you be tried in her courts.”

Darzi’s face reddened in fury, but it appeared that the message was finally getting through. The lawyer quickly jumped in.

“What is the proposed plan?”

Benítez replied, “We will meet here at 0800 hours tomorrow morning, along with medtechs Perkins and Desai as witnesses. The Alteans are going to land their ship twenty miles south of us, on Garrison property but far enough away not to disturb the compound. We will drive out and be shown to the facilities they have. We will be given the chance to ask them questions. Proceedings will open at 0900. Is that all understood?”

Iverson thought he could hear Darzi’s teeth grinding together, but the only answer came from the lawyer. “We’ll be here.”

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More to come! In the meantime, I tossed in a couple of Easter-egg references. One’s a nod to one of my favorite Voltron fanfics and the other is an (anachronistic) reference to another fandom. Any guesses?