#i held off putting ants on here long enough

[particlexxdealer]

When you're the world's smallest hero, the best thing you can do...

is THINK BIG.

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen.

Hi guys! So I'm pretty new to writing and this is actually the biggest thing I’ve ever written. I watched The Way of Water when it came out and took an immediate interest in this guy, partially because I thought his character has a lot of potential, and partially because I also thought that he was really hot.

So I decided to set up a series of little works. This one is just sort of a beginning to the Reader’s character and Quaritch, and I do plan on writing more about them in the future with this fic as their base. Maybe do some AU’s, maybe just continue the story from here, maybe lead into the movie, who knows!

That all said, I really, really hope you like it! If you do, please give it a like or a comment!

WORDS: 15,000

WARNINGS: Adult themes and language

peachy keen. Part Two.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your body jerks to a stop just before you can fully trip over your shoelace and faceplant onto the floor. Unfortunately, the leftover food on your plate could not say the same, jostled just enough that it went flying from your hands and onto the tiled floor of the mess hall.

You lean down quickly to clean it up, scooping the food with your fingers and back onto the plate as best you can. You succeed only halfway, goop just smearing across the floor and onto your hand.

You stare at the mess you made, ears and cheeks burning as you hear snickers of cruel amusement coming from some military meatheads a few feet behind you.

You jump up quickly, making sure to avoid your shoelace so you don’t trip on it again and embarrass yourself any further. You hurry to the counter holding the utensils, mugs, and paper towels, tugging several brown napkins out of the dispenser sitting on top. You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Kneeling down so soon after sleeping for six years in a cyropod made the muscles in your legs and shoulders ache, but you do it anyways. You wipe up the mess as best you can, piling the dirty napkins onto the plate and dumping it all into a nearby trashcan. You wish the ground would swallow you up.

You aren’t usually so embarrassed by such a small mistake, but it had been a rough past couple of days for you. You had landed at Bridgehead City just a few days ago, and you had felt immediately overwhelmed by the extreme size of the fortress.

It took the RDA fifteen years to return to Pandora, but when they did, they made sure to put in roots. Bridgehead City was an enormous structure, constantly building upon itself and hosting thousands of military combatants, engineers, skel suits, construction robots, anything that was thought of to build and maintain humanity’s last stronghold. Every person of every imagined career was here, working as one like bees and ants had once done for their queens a hundred years ago, before they had both gone extinct. 

Bridgehead was terrifying to look at for the first time, seeing in person exactly how far humanity was willing to go to force itself onto another planet. You had noticed that it almost looked like a parasite, contrasting in color and material against the lively, glowing rainforest that surrounded it just past the barren land of the Kill Zone.

The wave of information that hit you the moment you stepped off the ship was almost enough to make your excitement to be on Pandora wither and die, but you held onto it with shaky, desperate hands.

Luckily for you, it wasn’t long before your enthusiasm bounced back and you met your new colleagues. Most of them had been just as nervous as you, clearly uncertain and overwhelmed. Knowing you weren’t alone made you relax just slightly. They were scientists hand-picked by the RDA as test subjects for re-opening the Avatar program, just like you.

None of you were really sure why the program had been stopped in the first place. The RDA was very quiet about what had happened all those years ago, when most of their military and scientists had been sent fleeing from Pandora with nothing but the clothes on their backs and tails between their legs. They refused to issue many statements, insisting that a minor misunderstanding had occurred with the ‘natives’ of the planet, and they’d be back soon enough to continue their mission.

The RDA had stated that the main reason for discounting the Avatar program was because the cost outweighed any benefit. The only reason they were allowing a few lucky souls to come to Pandora as Avatars was simply as a favor to the scientific community, and as a test to see if the Avatar program should be reinstated. Now the main purpose behind the program is to see if it’s worth it for people to be able to travel around Pandora without having to worry about the environmental protection systems, than a way to make peace with the Na’vi.

Most of the scientists in the base were only allowed restricted access to information regarding the past and current situation with the Na’vi, only knowing that The People were no longer accepting of humans on their planet and that the military is now on constant high alert. Most of the remaining records were classified to you, although you did try to learn as much as you could about what was happening on Pandora. Unfortunately, the RDA was very strict with that information, and you never found anything that mentioned the Na’vi or what happened fifteen years ago.  

The ten members of the new Avatar program had been divided into two parts of five, just to make the introductions and sessions easier. You had met your three new acquaintances, eager to make some friends. They had introduced themselves; Emma, a small, shy woman who preferred observing rather than participating; James, a sweet, handsome young man; and David, an older man in his late fifties who seemed a bit too haughty for his own good.

Your group was shown to your individual rooms over on the west side of Bridgehead, far away from the landing pads and ships you had arrived on. Your new room was small and gray with concrete walls and a thin layering of carpet covering the cold floors. You had a small desk that sat underneath a suction-locked window that let you glimpse into an enclosure full of construction robots, but at least the light it let in was nice. There was a simple cot in the corner and a mirror as the only piece of décor on the walls, but it was yours, a place you could call your own.

You had grinned tiredly and fallen face down on your bed without bothering to take off your shoes. You slept for fourteen hours, and when you awoke you felt as though you were rising from the dead, hair wild and mouth fuzzy. After you brushed your teeth, showered, got dressed in clean clothes, and ate food for the first time in six years, you felt like a brand-new person.

And here you are now, in the mess hall, already making a fool of yourself on your second week.

You quickly rush back to your table and plop your behind into the seat you had vacated to throw away your plate, sitting across from Emma and David. Emma is poking at her food, face pale and gloomy. David is almost done with his own dinner, glasses perched on his nose as he reads from a holotablet.

Geesh. These guys certainly weren’t known for being the life of the party back home.

Maybe they just need some more time to adjust? I know I certainly fucking do.

You take a moment to bend down and tie your shoelace, double knotting it, not wanting to cause any more scenes.

When you sit back up in your chair and make eye contact with Emma, your lopsided, embarrassed smile falls from your face when she simply stares back at you, clearly uneasy for some reason you can’t name.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking clumsy. And why the fuck does it look like you’re all attending a funeral over here?” The voice that chimes up behind you lifts your mood exponentially, and you turn around in your seat to greet the approaching form of the last member of your group and your best friend with a happy grin.

You had met Margot a few months before your trip to Pandora when you both attended a required conference that would discuss certain parts of living in Bridgehead. The second you struck up a conversation with her, it was like meeting your long-lost sister. You had instantly clicked, getting on like a house on fire and scarcely spending a day away from each other.

James arrives at the table with her, holding his own plate. He gives you a comforting look, clearly sympathetic to your embarrassment.

“Hey Margot, James! You saw that, huh?” you ask sheepishly, shoulders raising to your ears as you feel a hot flash of mortification all over again.

“Uh, yeah, honey, I saw. I’m pretty sure half the cafeteria watched you nearly eat shit. You need to learn to tie your shoes better, babe.” Margot’s voice is just as loud as ever, and her bright blonde hair and tall figure aren’t exactly subtle, either.

She was the type of person to grab someone’s attention and refuse to let it go, manicured nails digging in deep. Well, her nails used to be manicured. Now they were just as plain as everyone else’s.

She takes a seat in the empty chair next to you, setting her own plate down with a clatter. She untucks her cheap silverware from the napkin and digs into her dinner, eating hurriedly like someone is about to snatch the plate away from her. You had once asked her why she never slowed down to enjoy her food, and she said that with eight siblings if you wanted any food, you needed to eat it like an animal.  

James takes the other empty seat next to you, patting your shoulder twice before saying, “It’s okay, I don’t think that many people saw.”

You smile weakly at his attempt to make you feel better. It doesn’t help much, but you appreciate the thought, “Thanks, James.”

He nods and moves his attention to his plate.

Your table is silent for a few moments, everyone lost in their own thoughts and tasks.

You break the silence when you nervously ask, “So. Anybody else freaking out at the thought of linking up for the first time or is it just me?”

David looks up, paying attention to your words for the first time since you met him. “Well, I’m not nervous because I did all the pre-linking sessions and training years ago.” His nose is practically raised in the air.

You stare at him.

What a fucking douchebag. Who answers a question like that?

“That’s nice. What about you, Emma, are you nervous or excited? How are you feeling?” you ask gingerly, wanting to include her in the conversation. It would be nice to have another friend so that the next few years weren’t miserable.

Emma stares at you blankly, and then whispers a simple, “No.”

You lean back in your seat and deflate. “Oh.”

Fuck it, I tried.

Margot, the smug bitch, is watching you drown in social awkwardness as she happily munches away. You give her a look and a shrug, and she rolls her eyes before placing her fork down on the table. She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and then says to Emma, “Girl, I absolutely love that bracelet you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

To your surprise, Emma perks up in her seat, right hand grazing the bracelet she wore on her left wrist. Her face softens, and she says, “It was my mom’s, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Right?” Margot jabs her sharp elbow into your side, and you hiss but nod hurriedly.

“Yes, that is so sweet! I wear my mom’s wedding ring, actually.” You rub said ring with your hand. Your mood drops a little bit at the mention of your mother, but you shake your head to get back on track. “Makes me feel closer to her, I suppose.”

A small smile pulls on Emma’s cheeks, and she looks down, still rubbing the bracelet. “Yeah.”

You look at her, reconsidering your thoughts about her personality. 

Maybe it just takes a little time to connect, that’s all.

You fiddle with the small, emerald cut ring that you were on the ring finger of your right hand. It had been a piece of jewelry your mother had worn faithfully until the day she died.

When you were a child, around ten or eleven years old, you had asked her why your dad had chosen that specific ring to represent their marriage, out of the hundreds of others he could have.

She was still sick at the time, spending most of her days laying in a hospital bed while nurses bustled in and out. She had lost so much weight that her cheeks were gaunt, and her face and hands were so white they were almost transparent, pale blue veins clear through the skin.

Her lips were pale and chapped, and the dark circles around her eyes were deeply imprinted in her skin like bruises. She looked like a ghost, a fragile, terrifying imitation of the woman who had raised you, a woman who you had thought put the stars themselves into the sky. She was weak, and even before she passed away it was like she was already dead.  

She had gripped your hand as tightly as she could when you had asked that question, sweaty palm squeezing yours to the point of pain in a rare show of strength. She was usually so weak the nurses and you had to feed her by hand as she could barely lift up her arms. She looked you in the eye and pulled you close until your face was right next to hers.

In the croak that had now become her voice, she whispered, “I had asked the same question, years after he had proposed. I asked, ‘Jonathon, why this ring? Why this cut, why this color?’. And he had gripped me tightly and pulled me close and said, ‘Well, my love, it’s the breathtaking green color of your eyes. Your eyes and the ring match exactly, you see. And every time you look at it, you will see yourself the way I see you. Beautiful and bright.’

Tears had filled her glazed eyes, and she whispered to you, “No matter what, when you find the one you love, never let them go. Cherish every single second you have with them, never take them for granted, and make sure that they love you for everything that you are, the good and the bad. It is the purpose of our life. Love. Without it, we are nothing.” Against the tears and the agony that claimed her face and voice, your mother smiled for the first time in years.

Your father had passed away while your mother was still pregnant, killed in an easily avoidable accident. No matter how much your mother loved you before she had gotten sick, no matter how much joy you brought to her life, there was always a deep sorrow and grief inside her that consumed her soul every day.

She never got over your father, never dated or remarried or showed the barest hint of interest in anyone else. When asked why, she said that she had already had the love of her life, and there was no one who could ever compare to even the lingering ghost of your father that seemed to haunt her.

And when the sickness truly hit and reduced her to almost nothing, her anger and bitterness twisted her mind and her love for you into something cruel and abhorrent. 

Even years later you kept her whispered words locked away into the very muscles of your heart. Even though your mother had been sick and weak when she told you these things, it was one of your few beloved moments with her. It had shown you who your mother really was, past all the sickness and malice, who she really was deep in her soul. That she had once loved and been loved.

And now you wear her wedding ring as a reminder of your parent’s love for each other, and how regardless of your mother’s cruelty toward you during the last years of her life, your love for her would never fade.

You’re jerked out of your melancholy thoughts when Margot burps loudly and thumps a fist against her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Margot. Where the fuck did you learn your manners from?” James asks, recoiling in disgust.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m almost done, then we can go check out the linking center.”

You nod eagerly, so overwhelmed with anticipation and delight that your fingers tremor just slightly.

You are so ready to meet your Avatar and link up for the first time, but the thought of anything going wrong makes you restless. You wish you could just get it over with so you could stop agonizing over it.

Margot finally finishes her food and stands up to dump her plate. James does the same, and then all five of you are off, walking down a long hallway with lots of twists and turns. The fluorescent  lights shine brightly on the ceiling, and you can hear the distant sounds of never-ending construction.

Even with all five of you working together to get to your destination, the new buildings are too much for your group and you get lost in the labyrinth of hallways. James even has to ask a nearby custodian for directions once or twice. When you turn a corner, you spot a bathroom sign, and suddenly you have business to take care of. You pat Margot’s arm and point in that direction.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

The rest of the group nods, but Margot decides to go with you. You do your business and you’re washing your hands in the sink when Margot makes eye contact with you through the mirror as she washes her own hands.

“I won’t lie, honey, I’m feeling pretty nervous about linking up as well. I know we’ve been through training simulations and have studied and practiced for years, but this is going to be different.” Her face and voice are uncharacteristically serious, and her hands shake just slightly as she pulls a towel out of the dispenser to dry her hands.

You feel a flash of sympathy for your friend, stopping your own drying. You walk around to her and put your hands on her shoulders, leaning your face close to hers.

“It’ll be okay, Margot, we’ve both got this. We just need to do it, and then it’ll be as easy as breathing before we know it, okay?”

Margot nods and takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment. When she looks up she’s much calmer, and her usual peppy attitude is back and shining.

“Thanks, sugar.”

You nod understandingly, releasing her shoulders and knocking her hip with yours as you walk toward the bathroom door. You both step outside into the hallway and continue your way.

“Of course. And besides, I’m just so ready to finally see her, you know? We’ve seen pictures and videos, but actually being there in real life is going to feel so surreal. The Na’vi are just stunning to me. Ooh, I almost forgot!”

You stop walking as you talk, scientist-brain taking over. Margot moves to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused expression. This was far from the first time you had gone on a tangent.

“I saw someone from the recombinant unit when I was walking around yesterday, and he was fucking huge!”

You’re so busy trying to organize your thought flow into something sensible that you completely miss the approaching footsteps coming from behind you, and the way Margot looks over your shoulder and turns white.

You continue on, oblivious.

“He must have been pretty high ranking because the people with him followed him around like little ducklings. And the blue pigment of his skin was so beautiful. The color contrast of his eyes versus his skin kind of reminded me of a Primula ‘Zebra Blue’, you know, that blue and golden flower that went extinct like a hundred years ago? It was just amazing to finally see in person, and I-”

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?”

The deep voice that comes from behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You whirl around, expecting to come face to face with whomever just spoke. Instead, you come eye level with the belt buckle and zipper of a pair of navy green camo military pants.

Your heart drops to your shoes.

You tilt your head up, up, up, until it’s practically craning backward. The uncomfortable position hurts, but that’s the least of your problems.

Your biggest problem, literally and figuratively, is the cold eyes and carefully amused face of the man you were just talking about.

You open your mouth to speak but words refuse to leave.

Why does this shit always happen to me?

You clamp your mouth shut when no words appear and swallow nervously, and the man notices your tense expression.

He smirks down at you, almost sneering. From the way he towers over you closely, unconcerned with personal space, it’s clear that this man likes to have people’s attention on him, takes pleasure in scaring people with his massive height and muscles.

And his intimidation tactics completely work on you, that’s for sure.

Jesus, look at his hands. He could cover my entire face and upper torso with just one of them!

You want to put as much distance between this frightening man and yourself as possible. But there’s a little voice in the back of your head, a stupid, too-curious little voice, that want you to examine him all the way from the finger pads and palm lines of his hands to the tip of his tail.

He was terrifying, yes, but you are also stunned by the wonderful science and technology that made up his body.

Of course, you’d seen holographs and pictures of Avatars and the Na’vi people, but they could never hold a candle to the real thing.

The navy green tank top, tattoo, and dog tags were all familiar things, but his height and the bright, smooth blue color of his skin were brand-new to you, something you wanted to take a closer look at. His hair was shaved closer to his skull than any other you’d seen, Avatar and Na’vi alike.

His bright yellow eyes sear into yours, and it feels like he is trying to see into your fucking soul.

Your heart rate skyrockets, mortified and thrilled and fearful all at once. The pile of extreme emotions twists your stomach, making you queasy.

Do not fucking puke on his shoes.

The man takes a step back to make room for his massive arm before he lifts it up, clearly holding his hand between you for a handshake. It almost seems as though he is testing your nerve; you wonder how many people had chosen not to shake his hand, too frightened.

“The name’s Colonel Quaritch, pleasure to meet you. What’s your name.” It’s a demand more than a question.  

You look up at his face again before quickly wiping your hands on your lab coat to get rid of any sweat. You grab onto his hand as best as you can with your own, and holy shit.

His hand engulfs your own minuscule one and part of your forearm, his fingers reaching almost all the way to your elbow. And the skin of his hand is surprisingly soft; he doesn’t have as many calluses as you thought a marine would, but that might be because his Avatar body is fairly new. You tell him your name, and say,

“Uh, sorry, sir! I’m a xenobotanist from the science division, I got here about two weeks ago!” Your voice is squeaky and louder than you want it to be, making you cringe. You barely remember to shake his hand as you speak other than simply hold it in your own.

He continues to stare at you, wicked smile only growing when you say you’re a scientist.

“Ah, you tree-huggers are officially back, then. Part of the ‘newly instated Avatar program’, right?”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. That’s us.” You laugh weakly.

He barely twitches the fingers of the hand still holding your own, but the strength that comes from them is enough to make his grip almost painful.

“Hmmm. Well, I’m real curious to see how long you and your friend last before Pandora eats you alive. Just as a friendly warnin’, you should be real careful about what you say and who you say it about ‘round here. Guess I’ll be seein’ you. Peach.”

Your knees weaken and you nod hurriedly.

He finally releases your hand, gives you one last cold, golden look, and continues on his way. His bare arm brushes your shoulder as he passes you, and it’s enough to make you shiver.

He’s gone in just a few seconds, but you stay rooted in your spot, staring at the floor. You’re wondering if he’s going to come back and shank you with the wicked knife you’d seen strapped to his thigh when a hand gently presses against your shoulder.

You leap into the air for the second time that day, hand slamming into your chest and breath coming out in a gasp as you realize it’s just Margot. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, too consumed with the encompassing presence of Colonel Quaritch.

You look at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Margot returns your stunned look, face paler than you’ve ever seen it before.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You have the worst luck out of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. What the fuck just happened?”

You gulp. “I’m pretty sure that a terrifying man who wouldn’t hesitate to gut me overheard me practically gushing about him?”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stand there, practically swaying on your feet. “Oh my god, he fucking hates me! Did you see the look on his face? Oh my god, why is this happening? I’m never going to able to leave my room again!”

You bury your face into your hands, suddenly exhausted. First the mess hall, now this? Why couldn’t you just not embarrass yourself for once?

Margot pats your shoulder as you groan. “There, there. It’s alright, all you have to do is avoid him for the rest of your life. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure the next time you see him he’ll either just ignore you or kill you for saying all that stuff about him, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore!”

“But I didn’t even mean it in a bad way! I was just describing him, the same way I do with all unknown subjects.”

Margot winces. “Uh, yeah, I would definitely not tell him that.”

------

You feel like whining as you finally continue walking to the linking center. After all that, the excitement you had felt at meeting your Avatar had almost completely disappeared. Now, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl back to your room and hide underneath your blankets forever.

But Margot pulls on your hand and ignores your childish wishes. When you arrive, she practically has to push you into the room.

And then every single thing, all of your hard work, the training, the learning, even the awkwardness of that day, was suddenly all worth it when you saw her for the first time.

She was curled up in the tank, cords attached to her body and eyes moving behind her closed lids. She floated gently around in the liquid that surrounded her, sometimes twitching a limb as she slept on.

You approach the tank, mind blank and mouth dry. As you get closer, you can see the details of her face, your face, just shifted into the feline-like features of a Na’vi.

She stole the breath straight from your lungs.

And that was how you spent the next few weeks, gazing at her slash yourself. Eventually, the time came for the first linkup, and everything went well, just like you had told Margot.

You spent the next month linking into your Avatar and wandering around the facilities, checking your reflexes and consuming everything Pandora had to offer while still in the confined space of Bridgehead City.

The disorientation from linking was enough to make you lay in a cot for an half an hour each time, too dizzy to move much. It’s such a bizarre feeling, suddenly being so much taller than everything else, and you are so much stronger than you are as a human.

It took a long time to remember your strength, and you accidentally put dents into a metal door handle when you grabbed it, squeezing it much harder than you meant to. The tiny little humans helping you gave you a pretty wide berth after that, only approaching when necessary.

You practiced using your new body, walking around without sitting on your long-haired queue or stepping on your new tail, which flailed around with a mind of its own. You liked to press your tongue to your sharp canines and look at the swaying tendrils attached to your hair.

It was an exhausting, thrilling process, and you loved every second of it.

None of the new Avatars had yet to actually leave Bridgehead and go into the forest yet. It would probably take a few more weeks for that to happen, and even then, you would probably only be allowed into the tree line past the Kill Zone.

Still, you eagerly look forward to that day, barely able to contain yourself in your excitement. It’s all you can think of day and night, and even in your dreams. On that day, you would be accomplishing so much more than a lifelong goal.  

Now, your group is relaxing in one of the lounges used for breaks, discussing your experience with linking and Pandora. It was something you’d been talking about for the past few hours, the past few weeks, really. It wasn’t like any of you had very much in common with each other, other than your careers and education, but you were trying to dig a little deeper to learn more about these people.

The only problem was they were more antisocial than not, which was almost to be expected by a bunch of scientists. They were also hesitant to speak much about their past. You were the same way. They probably wouldn’t be here if they had a very pleasant past filled with lots of people they wanted to stay with back home.

You eat the small bag of crackers you’d snagged from one of the vending machines lining the gray walls of the room, hoping that the tiny treat will hold you until your next meal. The chair you are leaning back in creaks dangerously and wobbles, but you hold your precarious position, feet pulled up and crossed on the table in front of you.

Your mind wanders as the chatter of the group drifts in and out of your ears. You think of nothing in particular, dazing out of focus, simply relaxing for once.

That peace is shattered when James leaps from his chair further down the table where he and Emma sit. They’re playing an old-fashioned card game; one you’ve never heard of before. When you asked James where he learned it from, he said his great-grandfather had taught it to him. Something called ‘Go Fish’.

James raises his arms above his head in apparent victory, grinning fiercely.

“That’s round three for me, Emma!”

Emma is giggling behind her hand, cheeks flushed a bright pink. She keeps her eyes on James as he playfully postures at winning, and the sight of her joy makes you grin.

You look across the table at Margot and wiggle your eyebrows. She laughs quietly, nodding in agreement.

Sweet Emma and James. You’re almost surprised that they developed such an obvious, big fat crush on each other out of all people, given that their personalities are so different.

Maybe opposites really do attract?

Whatever the reason may be, you hope your friends find happiness in one another. The world could certainly do with more love.  

Margot scoffs in disgust and curls her lip at her empty plate, apparently already over the tooth-rotting sweetness that was Emma and James.

She throws down her silverware onto the table and leans back in her chair, pout firm on her face.

“The food here is ass! You’d think a multi-trillion-dollar company would be able to feed its employees with something other than more fucking oatmeal. I’m so damn tired of oatmeal! It’s been most of our meals for the past month!”

“The supply shipment is late, you know that.” Is all you say. There is nothing to gain from arguing with Margot when she gets into one of these hungry moods.

“Then they need to make it un-late and bring me my fucking muffins!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ‘un-late’ isn’t even a word, but I do agree with you. Oatmeal reserves are getting pretty old.”

Margot nods vigorously, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

“Coup? Coup? Anybody interested?”

You throw back your head and laugh, “Margot, we’re not going throw a coup just because there aren’t any muffins! I thought you had saved a bunch of snacks the last time this happened?”

Margot deflates. “I ate them all already and the vending machines are out of my favorites!”

“Oh, Margot.”

“I know! Somebody just put me out of my misery.” She plants her face into her crossed arms on the table, moping.

“You know, you always complain about the food here, Margot, but that never seems to stop you from scarfing it down,” James says, putting himself into your conversation. He sits in his chair still, shuffling the deck of cards as he smirks at Margot.

“I have to eat it, it’s the only thing they have here!”

You open your mouth to say something, only to pause when a big blue hand reaches around the curve of the open doorway like something out of a horror movie. You sit there, gaping, as Colonel Quaritch crouches down through the opening and steps into the break room.

Margot, James, and Emma see your startled face and turn to see what you’re looking at. When they see Quaritch, they all lurch out of their seats to stand up straight. The cards Emma and James were playing with go flying all over the table and the ground, and Margot nearly knocks her plate off the table.

Quaritch straightens up and stands, several feet taller than any of you. He rests his hand on the holster of the belt wrapped around his trim waistline and practically cocks his hip as he looks directly at you.

You’re still sitting, cracker packet now crushed to a pulp in your right hand. When he looks at you, you finally jolt up to your feet. You dust off the cracker crumbs from your shirt as best you can, anxiety filling you.

“S-Sir!”

What the hell is he doing here!?

He saunters into the room until he’s standing by the table, just a few feet from you. You crane your head up to look at him, baffled and worried.

“Is there…anything you need, sir?” You can’t help the way your eyebrows scrunch up as you ask, clearly confused.

He stares down at you, head tilting to the side as if pondering something. Eventually, he speaks.

“Walk with me.”

And then he turns on his heel and ducks out of the room as quickly as he had entered. You stand, frozen, turning a bewildered stare to your group of friends. They stare back at you, just as perplexed, until Margot urges you to follow him with a push of her hand on your back.

You get your limbs to move and start walking after him, exiting the break room and finding him waiting. Once he sees you’re following after him, he continues walking down the hallway without a word.

The silence is almost uncomfortable as you walk several hallway lengths away from the lounge to some unknown destination. You’re almost tempted to break it to ask where the hell he’s taking you, but fear of his biting words keeps your mouth shut.

His legs are so long that his stride is practically jogging for you, and you have to speed walk so you don’t get left behind. He notices you struggling but doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, the bastard smirks meanly at your frustration and funny walking pace.

You scowl at his amusement but refuse to say a word.

Finally, Quaritch stops in front of an enormous metal door, and he takes a key from his pocket and twists it into the lock on the doorknob. He opens it and walks in, and then gestures for you to do the same with an impatient wave of his hand.

You hurriedly scuttle in, freaking out even more. If he’s taking you to his office then he must have something serious to talk about, right? Was he going to punish you for what you said, was he going to yell at you, threaten you? You’re practically sweating, fingers twisting as your imagination goes wild.

You take a moment to break out of your thoughts and look around.

You pause.

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto one thing and one thing only: the large bed laying flush up against the corner of the space.

Who keeps a bed in their office? Is the first thing that comes to your mind. Confusion rushes through you and you look around the room, taking in the closet doors, the large desk tucked into the corner across the room parallel to the bed, the empty walls just as barren as your own room.

Your own room.

Ohmygod I’m in his room. Why would he bring me to his room!?

You whirl around, and Quaritch is standing so close to you that your face nearly smacks into his crotch.

You leap backward with a yelp and jump when Quaritch barks out a loud, unfriendly laugh and then sneers at you.

“I would’ve taken you to my office before, but it seems I don’t have one of those anymore. So, this’ll have to do.”

Confusion layered with frustration comes back to you, and your eyebrows furrow. “Do for what, sir?” You barely remember to tack on the ‘sir’ at the end of your sentence.

His face suddenly breaks out into a sharp-toothed grin, and he leans back, smug once more. You were really starting to get tired of that expression.

“I have a… proposition, for you.”

You barely refrain from turning a wide-eyed, horrified look at the bed.

Under any other circumstance, if a man had taken you to his bedroom and said he was propositioning you, you would be real worried. Red flags would pop up in your brain, mind demanding you flee fast.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, given that one of his arms alone is almost as big as your body. And you didn’t really get the impression that was something he was looking for right now, so you shake your head to get rid of any crude thoughts. You refuse to lower your guard, though, still uneasy.

“Uh, a proposition, sir?”

“Yes. You see, I’m under the firm belief that to destroy your enemies, you have to think like ‘em, be like ‘em. Kill like ‘em, eat like ‘em, shit like ‘em, that sorta thing.”

He takes a step closer and you take one back.

“And if I want to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of finding Jake Sully and the rest of the natives, I’m going to need to put myself in their shoes, metaphorically speaking. But most of the people here are military, marines, people with no knowledge of the Na’vi except how best to kill ‘em.”

“So. Who best to teach me how to be Na’vi other than one of the soft-hearted, limp-dicked scientists who just eats up Na’vi shit like it’s Mamma’s home-baked cookies?”

His yellow eyes burn into yours.

“One specific little scientist came to mind, you see, when I was thinkin’.”

You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop you from blanching. You shove a finger in your chest and point at yourself like an idiot.

“Me?”

Quaritch finally leans back, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you.”

You sputter, mind going a thousand miles per hour.

“But-but, I’m not even an anthropologist, sir! I study foreign plant and-and animal life! Emma, she is the one in anthropology, you should talk to her!”

Quaritch scoffs.

“Emma Rodrigo can barely string a sentence together without pissin’ her pants, let alone teach me to do anythin’.” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. His wicked teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting as he grins.

“Nah, I think it outta be you. Peach.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I was right, I should have just gone to my room and never come out.

“But-”

“You can say no, ‘course. This ain’t an order.” The look in his eyes says otherwise. If you decline, you’re sure you’ll either be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life or found dead with his knife in your gut. There is no going easy with this guy.

You gape at him, dumbstruck by the bizarre turn your day had taken. You had hoped you would never have to see this terrifying man ever again, fully prepared to cower and duck out of every room you saw him in. Now, he was asking you, of all people on this base, to teach him?

While this guy had the height and look of a Na’vi, he seemed to utterly despise everything about them. Was it even possible for him to learn anything about the Na’vi, their culture and their language, for it to really make a difference in whether he found them or not?

You weren’t even good at teaching! You were far better at learning and observing than educating people, and you had never been interested in changing that. Could you really teach this guy anything? Was he even capable of learning?

Your face hardens as you realize you’re faced with no other choice but to accept.

I guess we’ll see.

“You know, if you’re too chicken-shit to help me out, I could always get-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice comes out firm, as confidently as you dared to speak to him.

“…oh?” He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. And skeptical, the asshole.

You nod your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are nervous, yes, but it had been decided. There was no going back now.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes. I’ll teach you everything you want to know about the Na’vi. But I-I also want something in return.”

His eyebrow raises higher.

You muster all the courage and audacity you can find in your body. Admittedly, there isn’t much, but you scrounge up enough to say the next few words aloud,

“In exchange for teaching you, I want you to teach me how to fight. I need to be able to protect myself when I’m out in the forest collecting samples, and I would ask one of my friends, but they can barely handle butter knives. And you are obviously…”

You eye him from top to bottom, eyes lingering on his massive arms before you can stop yourself.

“…capable.” You finish lamely, swallowing. You refuse to back down though, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

Quaritch grins slowly.

“Well, little Peach, you certainly have bigger balls than I thought! It’s a deal-”

You hold your hand out for a handshake, palm open.

“To make it official.”

Quaritch glances down at your hand and then at your face, expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he reaches to grasp your hand and most of your arm once more. He pumps your entire arm down three times, eyes never leaving yours.

If you dared to think it, you might have thought he looked almost…impressed.

You clear your throat, face on fire. “So. When would work best for you, for our lessons?”

“…0500 every day for the next two months outta do it.”

Your eyes widen in horror, mouth dropping open all over again in protest. You barely keep yourself from grasping your chest in shock.

These military guys, did they never learn how to fucking sleep in!? That’s so damn early!

His sneering smirk returns to his face at your reaction, “Come on, Peach! Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll tell me everything I need to know about the tree-fuckers, and I’ll teach you how to take a fist to the face, that sound good? About two hours each, four hours in total every single god-damn day. Good? Good.”

You sputter, hardly believing your ears. “Four hours every day? Don’t you have better things to do!?”

“Nope. My entire purpose for existing is to capture the traitor Jake Sully and end this war once and for all. With your help, I might actually be able to do that, which means that your time is now my time. Got it?”

You nod, queasy. It seems like all of your bravado from earlier had fled, leaving you with only the shakes and a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl, Peach. Knew you had it in ya’!”

He claps your shoulder, and even through your shirt you can feel the warmth leaching off his hand and into your own skin.

The grin he wears makes you shiver, and you suddenly feel like prey that had just been caught by a predator, sharp teeth sinking into your neck and bleeding you dry.

He leads you to the door of his bedroom and practically tosses you out, done with you now that he had gotten what he wanted. He barely gives himself a chance to say, “See you bright an’ early tomorrow morning, Peach!” before he is slamming the door in your gawking face.

You stood outside his door for a few moments, simply processing. Eventually, you’re able to make your feet unstick from the floor and you wander back to the break room in a daze, mind clouded.

I can’t fucking believe that just happened. This is going to change my entire schedule for the next few months! Jesus Christ.

You practically stumble through the hallways toward your destination. Once you reach the door to the break room, you lean your arm against it and press your forehead into your arm. Your eyes close, and your heart jackhammers in your chest.

I don’t there’s anyone in my entire life who has ever made me as nervous as that guy. Holy shit.

You take deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and get some air into your lungs. It takes a few moments, but eventually you’re able to get your heart rate down to a steady pump.

You lick your lips, suddenly parched.

When you lean up from your perch against the door and open your eyes, you can see the faint form of your face shining up from the metal of the door. Your pupils are blown, eyes still wide, and your cheeks are red.

He is seriously the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met. And now I’m going to have to teach him things! I don’t know how I’m going to do it without passing out a few times, ohmygod. This is going to be miserable.

You swallow as best you can with a dry throat and shakily reach up to fix your messy hair, smoothing down flyaways. You straighten your shirt, crack your neck, and plaster a calm smile onto your face.

There’s no reason to let them know how terrified I am.

You open the door to the break room and step inside, ready to answer any questions they must surely have, and…

The room is empty.

You deflate, hand rubbing down your face and feeling embarrassed.

Of course they wouldn’t wait, we have a linking session in thirty minutes…that I am now late for. Fantastic.

------

You spend the rest of the day completely distracted, too worried about what might happen the next morning. It even took longer than usual for you to link into your Avatar, and when you were finally able to get outside, you had to answer to the swarm of nosy scientists you called your friends.

They were just concerned, you knew, but you didn’t like having to relive the entire stressful event down to the last detail. Still, you gave in and spilled, telling them about Quaritch’s ‘proposition’ (ha!) and leaving out the part where he had taken you to his bedroom.  

They had all given you looks that ranged from horrified -Emma-, sympathetic -Margot and James-, and utterly uncaring -David-.

You start drinking from your water bottle franticly after you tell them everything, feeling anxious all over again.

“Well, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing,” Margot says, expression turning contemplative. All members of your group are sitting outside around a creaky wooden table in your Avatar forms, enjoying the fresh, sweet air and the bright light of Pandora as the rays warm your cyan skin. When you tilt your head back to let it shine on your face, it almost feels like home had been before the pollution clouded the sky.

Your hearing in this form is incredibly sensitive, and it hurts to hear the loud, never-ending beeping and rumbling of production taking place. It had taken you weeks to spend much time outside, and even then, you still sometimes have to put your hands over your big pointy ears when the sounds become too overwhelming.

Margot curls her large fingers underneath her chin and props her head up in her hand, “I mean, you’ll learn to protect yourself, so there’s that. Also, um…” She looks at the rest of the group mischievously, and they all get questioning looks on their faces.

She clears her throat and leans in closer to you. She puts a hand in front of her mouth, blocking it from the others, and whispers into your ear,

“I really, really wouldn’t mind getting to see how big his dick actually is and maybe you’ll get a chance.”

You choke on the water pouring into your mouth, spraying it all over the table you are sitting at. The liquid gets caught in your throat, causing you to cough painfully.

“Oh my god, Margot!” you screech, still coughing into your elbow and voice coming out scratchy. Your watery eyes glare at her over your arm.

Margot shrugs, “What, I was just saying what we were all thinking. He’s the biggest guy here, which has gotta mean something, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows and grins salaciously, and you bury your face into your arm.

“If he ever heard you saying anything like that, he would put his knife straight through your face without even hesitating!”

“I’ll let him put something else in my face if he wants.”

“Margot!”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed that Colonel Miles Quaritch was a beautiful man. It would be impossible, really. Despite the sneer he always seemed to have on his face, the deep cyan of his skin, his wide, golden eyes, and his tall, broad frame were enough to make anybody swoon.

And his feline features weren’t the only thing that made him attractive. You could see his beauty in his long-fingered and broad hands, in his high cheekbones, in the curve of his lips even when they were curled up in disdain. 

It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that a lot of people thought he was attractive just because of his attitude, either. Back home it seemed that everyone was interested in the cocky, proud, manly posturing that Quaritch seemed to like to do.

But despite how pretty he may be, he was also absolutely, shit-your-pants terrifying, and an asshole, which was enough for you to keep it in your pants. That, and the fact that he hated your guts.

“Trust me, Margot, I’ll be too busy trying not to piss him off again to see how big anything is.”

Great, now I’m thinking about his dick.

Margot rolls her eyes but leans back in her seat and drops the subject, “Your loss, then.”

James strikes up a new topic, just as embarrassed as you, and you slouch gratefully back into your seat, glad that the interrogation is over.

It’s nearing darkness by the time you all finish your linking sessions, and the group shuffles their way back into the sleeping center for the Avatars. You move over to your assigned bed, crawling under the soft sheets and sighing deeply.

You lightly traced your right-hand index finger over the smooth skin of your left arm, causing goosebumps to rise. It was still so strange, being able to actually feel with a body that was yours but not, having so many new features that you still have to adjust to even weeks later. Having a whole-ass tail, being several feet taller than any human alive, having super strength, hell, even being blue was still just totally fucking weird.

You lay back into the cot and attempt to clear your mind from any thoughts, but it was just as hard as it had been when you had linked earlier. After a few minutes, you are finally able to silence your mind and drift off just enough for the link to become secure and for you to wake up in the gel link bed, back in your human body.

By the time you walk to your room, you are bone-wary, almost stumbling on your feet. You dread the coming morning, and the only thing you want to do now is turn off your brain and rest. Your shoulders hurt from the stress of the day, and when you finally unlock your bedroom door, take off your clothes, shower, and brush your teeth, you’re practically hunched over.

You shuffle under the covers once again, and you’re unconscious before your head can fully settle onto the pillow. 

------

Your eyes pop open, arms and legs flailing wildly in your sheets as you struggle to reach over to your alarm clock to silence its screaming. When you finally smack it, the crack of your hand connecting with its durable metal makes your palm sting angrily.

You let out a hoarse groan, cradling your hand to your chest as you flop down onto your bed. It had barely felt like you had gotten a wink of sleep last night, too busy thinking about your approaching morning with Quaritch. Scenarios ranging from you accidentally stabbing him to him purposefully stabbing you ran through your head, keeping you awake after only a few hours of rest.

Eventually, you stop your moping and reluctantly pull yourself out of your bed, eyes blearily glaring around your room.

It’s still a gray and sad little space, your room, but you had placed the small number of personal items you brought with you to Pandora throughout it. The one picture you had of your parents sits framed on your desk, along with your holotablet.  

The few items of clothing and the two pairs of shoes you owned were put up in your closet haphazardly, and your hygienic amenities were scattered across the small bathroom connected to your room.

Your room and areas beyond it are all so generic and boring, which is why you spend most of your time either with your group or outside in your Avatar, being able to run around and feel. And once you were finally able to leave Bridgehead, your life would start, and it wouldn’t matter what your room looked like.

You tiredly get dressed and brush your teeth and your wild hair, putting it up into a simple ponytail to keep it out of your face. Once you’re suitable, you head out and lock the door behind you, placing the key in the right pocket of your jeans.

The hallways are quiet for once, and even the incessant roaring of construction has stopped. You walk down the softly lit hallways to the mess hall, unreasonably jealous of the people who get to sleep in their beds.

Most of the lights are off when you walk in, but to your surprise, there are a few people sitting down at a table already eating their breakfast.

Guess my assumption about the military was right, they really don’t know how to sleep in.

To your delight, there is a light amount of muffins and bagels laid out on a table nearby, but the most important thing was the coffee pot next to them.

Looks like the shipment finally came in. Margot is going to piss her pants.

You gladly snag two muffins with napkins and two small cups of coffee, heading right back out the door to the hallway with a friendly smile to the person walking in. They look blankly back at you, but you don’t mind as you stuff a chocolate chip muffin into your mouth as you walk.

You shuffle the remaining muffin and cups into your left hand and elbow crook, grasping the cold metal handle of the glass door that leads into the center with your right hand. You can see a head of black curls poke out from the side of a monitor, followed quickly by a scowl and a pair of eyes glaring blearily at you as you walk in.

You wince. “Morning, Tom. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

Tom had been the unlucky soul you had asked to help link you into your Avatar every morning for the foreseeable future. He had balked when you had asked, saying “Hell no!” before the words were fully out of your mouth. You had leveled him with your best begging look and offered to pay for six of the ridiculously expensive books you know he liked to read coming in on the next supply shipment.

He grouchily agreed to the deal but demanded you bring him breakfast every morning. You had accepted with a pleased smile.

Tom rolls his eyes and snatches the cup of coffee from your hand when you offer it. You’re about to warn him about how hot it was when he gulps half of it down. You watch, halfway impressed and halfway feeling the pain for him in your own throat.

“Let’s get started, then.” His voice is even more crackly than yours is this early.

You nod hurriedly and take one last sip of your coffee before you reluctantly set it down on the table. You walk over to the link bed and crawl in, and Tom pulls the cover down over you. You settle in, closing your eyes to clear your mind.

------

“There ya’ are, Peach! I was startin’ to think you’d chickened out on me.” Quaritch’s loud voice startles you out of your sleepy trance, and your head snaps up from where it is laying against the metal table you are sitting at.

The asshole looks as awake and lucid as usual, not a hint of tiredness on his face. He grins nastily when he sees your sleepy expression.

“We didn’t agree on a place to meet up, sir.” You are barely able to cover your yawn with a hand, and you stand with a grimace.

“That is true. From now on, we’ll do our lessons in Courtyard Six. Try to keep up.”

He turns and walks away, clearly expecting you to follow. You hurry to catch up with his long stride, but it’s much easier to do in this form. He’s almost ten feet tall, but your Avatar is eight and a half feet tall, and you are able to lengthen your stride to match his pace. Your shoulder width and muscles are still much smaller than his, but you imagined most were.

As you step in close to him, your nose twitches, and you realize something that almost makes you trip.

Quaritch smells really, really good.

You lean in closer to him and inhale discreetly, deeper than before, and, yep, that scent is definitely coming from him.

It is such a rich scent, a strange combination of rainwater, black coffee, and something smoky, like a campfire.  

The smell is so strong that it feels like a physical mist floating its way through your nose and ears and into your head. Your mind goes fuzzy, as if suddenly stuffed with cotton. Your lips and fingertips tingle. And to your absolute horror, you can actually feel your mouth start to water.

It’s just such a lovely scent.

Do you think he’d be okay with it if I pressed my nose into his neck to smell him better-No!

You try to break out of the mist, shaking your head to get rid of the images of licking up his neck, tasting his skin, the way his head would tilt back and you would be able to feel his rumbling groan spread through his chest pressed up against your own and-

Stop it! Jesus Christ, don’t even think about it!

This is just a completely normal physical reaction, right? Maybe, but it wasn’t like this with the other guys!

In front of you, Quaritch’s footsteps stutter to a stop for a split second before resuming. It’s barely a pause, but it’s enough to make you snap out of your thoughts and look up at him. When you do, you notice the slight twitching of his own feline-like nose.

Is he smelling the same thing?

He turns his head around slightly to look at you, and you make eye contact with him just enough to notice his pupils are blown out, consuming most of his iris.

My eyes are probably no better, you think, before ducking your head to watch your feet as you walk.

Quaritch stares at you for a moment and then turns his attention back toward the path, and you do the same. You discreetly rub at your sensitive nose, trying to get his fantastic scent out of your head. A few moments after you do, Quaritch rubs at his own nose.

It doesn’t work, but by the time you reach the courtyard you’ve already gotten a little used to it. Thankfully you don’t feel as lightheaded anymore, but you have no idea if it is going to come back.

You notice that the sky has begun to lighten up as Quaritch unlocks the chain-link gate leading into the yard. Not that you really need any light, what with being able to see in the dark and all.

 He stops once you enter and closes the gate behind you, and you can immediately tell why he had chosen this courtyard out of all the others. It was hidden behind a big wall of concrete that had no windows, so nobody could see you from inside the building, and it was positioned all the way in the back of the court section, meaning it was far more remote and private than the others.

Probably doesn’t want his tough guy image to be hurt when people saw him learning about the Na’vi and chatting with a little scientist, the prick.

The enclosure is a simple little area with a small basketball court, a tetherball pole, and a metal table. Nothing special, but it would be perfect for your lessons. 

He turns around to meet your eyes, and you still have to tilt your head back to return his yellow gaze. The bioluminescent markings on his face glow brightly.  

“You wanna go first, Peach?”

You swallow nervously but nod, “I’ll go first. I thought a lot about what our first lesson was going to be last night.”

You drop down onto the soft faux grass that covered the courtyard, legs crisscross applesauce in front of you as you avoid sitting on your flicking tail. You look up at him expectantly when he continues to stand.

Quaritch looks at the table sitting just a few feet away and shrugs. He plops down onto the grass hesitantly and crosses his legs in front of him the same as you. Now that he’s actually here, all the plans you made completely leave your brain, and you mind turns blank as you struggle to come up with something to say. You both sit there in silence for a few moments before he says,

“So are you actually going to say anything in this lesson or what? Usually I can’t get you quacks to shut the fuck up-”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just trying to figure out where to start. Um…” Your brain flashes to what Quaritch had said when he started this whole thing, wanting to learn more about the way the Na’vi think, what’s important to them, how they work.

“Okay. Well, I guess the first place to start would be at the very beginning. Millions of years ago, when-”

Quaritch interrupts you with a loud groan, throwing his head back in exasperation, “I’m not askin’ for a history lesson here, Peach. Just tell me about them now, how they operate now, in this time, not millions of years ago! Jesus Christ, you pretentious assholes always have to drag things out-”

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry! Um, so the most important thing to know about the Na’vi is their connection to nature, their connection to Eywa. You’ve heard about Her, right?”

You continue to speak when Quaritch nods. “Right, well, She protects the balance of life here on Pandora, and the Na’vi love Eywa, the Great Mother. All things on Pandora are connected to each other through Eywa; you, me, plants, animals, you name it. Life and the forest are sacred to them because it bonds them to Eywa. They can actually speak to Her, and there are places like the Tree of Souls and the Tree of Voices that are sacred to them. They connect all the Na’vi to Eywa and to their ancestors, and they can actually hear the voices of past living people, isn’t that amazing? Are you with me so far?”

Quaritch nods again, surprisingly quiet. In fact, it’s probably the longest you’ve ever seen him be silent. His face is carefully blank, eyebrows furrowed with some unnamed emotion as he listens to you speak.

And that’s how the next two hours go, you talking and Quaritch listening with rapt attention. You had no idea if what you were talking about was anything Quaritch wanted to hear, but he didn’t interrupt you other than to ask a rare question.  

About an hour in you stood up and stretched, bones popping and limbs aching from sitting on the ground for so long. Your ass was practically numb, and your left leg was stinging with pins and needles. You put your hands on your hips and looked down at Quaritch, who remained sitting on the grass.

For the first time ever, you were actually the one towering over him, and the thought made you grin as he looked up at you.

It seemed he could tell what you were thinking, because he scowled and pulled himself up on his feet, looming over you once more. He stretched his long arms above his head to get the blood flowing back in, groaning just like you had a moment ago.

You paused your own movement, gaze lingering on the way his strong muscles shifted underneath his pretty blue skin. They bunched up as his arms flexed, and your mouth turned dry.

Your eyes flickered over them for a few moments and then shifted to his face. Your stomach swooped low as you realized he had caught you looking, and you stared at him in mortification as his sneering, arrogant smile returned full force to his face. He looked so smug.

You had no idea your Avatar could even blush from embarrassment, but your cheeks burned all the same. You hurriedly turned your gaze away from him entirely, eyes squeezed shut.

He let out a low, unpleasant chuckle, clearly taking immense pleasure in your misery.

Asshole!

You stood for a few more minutes, back facing him as you pretended to examine the sky with incredible interest, waiting for your blush to fade and your stomach to settle. Eventually, you both sat on the grass once again, and you resumed your speech.

You talked about all things Na’vi related, from their connection to Eywa to what they wore, what they ate, their ceremonies, anything that popped into your head that you felt was important to mention.

In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t able to cover very much ground before your two hours were up and your lesson ended for the day.

By this time, Pandora’s light has returned from the eclipse, shining down brightly on both of you.

“So, how did I do?” you dare ask Quaritch.

“Well. Now I know what a Na’vi eats for breakfast, so. That’s something.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands, “I’m sorry, you said you wanted to know what they ate and everything! I promise we’ll eventually get into the more interesting and important things.”

Please don’t put me on toilet duty. I can do this!

Quaritch sighs, but says, “Don’t worry, Peach. We’ll get to the juicier parts someday. Learning to be one’s enemy is a long process, after all.”

He smacks his thighs, and the sound makes you jump, face moving away from your hands. Your nerves reignite in your stomach all over again as you realize it is now time for your lesson.

Why did I ever ask him to do this!? I should never have said anything, now I’m going to be Quaritch’s punching bag for the next few months! Idiot!

A sharp-toothed grin stretches over Quaritch’s face, and he leans in until he’s right in front of you, face close to yours. His yellow eyes bore into yours, and you can see your own terrified expression reflecting right back at you.

“Time for me to teach you, Peach.”

------

 “Alright, Peach. You know how to handle a knife?”

You think about it and shake your head.

“…Okay. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Again, you shake your head.

Quaritch curses and takes a step back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the middle finger of his right hand between them as if praying for patience.

Both of you are standing in the middle of the small basket court, facing one another. You refuse to feel embarrassed by Quaritch’s reaction to your fighting skills, or lack thereof.

Not everyone can be a terrifying killing machine, asshole!

Quaritch seems to get the patience he was asking for, straightening up with a sigh.

“Back to the basics, then. Jesus.”

He steps up to you and places his warm, large hands on the bare skin of your shoulders. He shuffles you over closer to him, and you go willingly, body tense.

“First step in learning to defend yourself is to not be a pussy.”

Wow. Wonderful advice.

“You need to be firm in your stance and your attack, else your opponent will just be able to knock you off your feet before you can even land a hit. And if your limbs are loose, you’ll lose your balance and go flying just from your own force. Keep your core tight.”

He places a large hand firmly against the bare skin of your stomach and you suck in a surprised breath. His touch tingles through you in a way you’ve never felt before, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. He walks around toward your back, and you can see the veins in his arm shift when his hand flexes by his side.

“When you throw a punch, you need to keep your wrist straight and fully extend your arm each time. Make sure you step like this,” he demonstrates, “and pull your arm like this.”

“Keep your thumb behind your index and middle fingers but out of your fist, don’t stick your pinky out, and you want to hit your opponent with these knuckles right here. Got it?”

You nod slowly, making a fist following his instructions with your right hand. He nods once and then moves in front of you. He lifts his hands in the air, palms facing outward.

“Hit me.”

Already? But I barely even- alright, you know what, I don’t even care anymore.

You shake out your arms self-consciously and try to position your body in the way he had shown you. You pull your arms up, hands folding into fists, stance widening, and you lash your arm out at him with all the strength you can muster.

Your right fist smacks against his open palm with a satisfying thwack, and you grin, tossing your arms above your head at your success.

“Your form was good, Peach, but your fist felt like getting hit with a bug. You need to work on your strength, build up your muscles and your core. Try again.”

You nod, arm flying out and hitting his palm once more.

“No, you need to keep your arm tucked in, not flying out like an idiot bird with a broken wing. Again.”

You hit his hands over and over for the next half an hour as he corrects your form and stance. As he said, you need to build your strength up in this new body, but this was a good start. He has to get in pretty close once again to show you how to move your body, but other than he seems to keep his distance.

You know, this isn’t so bad!

You hit him again a few more times before he nods, satisfied, and drops his arms.

“Now you know how to hit somebody hard, Peach. Always go for sensitive places, like the nose, groin, ears, eyes, kidney, wherever you can reach. Got it?”

You lower your own arms, panting. Reaching out to punch him hadn’t taken much movement from your arms, but doing it over and over again for half an hour made them ache terribly. You struggle to catch your breath.

It had been embarrassing, admittedly, the first few times. You had felt shy and scared all at once, unsure of yourself and uneager to be anywhere near Quaritch, let alone close enough to touch him.

Then you’d lost most of the fear the second time he had lightly smacked your cheek when he got through your defensively positioned arms. They were pretty much love taps, practically pats, but it had lit an angry fire in your stomach. Your uneasiness turned to determination to land at least one hit on him, and you forgot all about your trepidation and that this was Quaritch you were tussling with.

From the way he had grinned and curled his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ gesture, that was probably what he had been trying to do.

He also probably just liked hitting you, the dickbag.

Quaritch nods, and you fully expect him to end the lesson early for the day. What you weren’t expecting was for him to reach down and pull a massive knife from its sheath on his right thigh, bringing it up toward the light for examination.

You lean back quickly, ears flicking to the sides of your head in alarm. You had thought your punching lesson had seemed tame for him! It really wouldn’t surprise you if he decided you needed a lesson on keeping your guard up and lunged at you.  

He won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me-

“This here’s a bowie knife, seventeen inches of serrated steel strong enough to cut through bone.”

He waves it around carefully, smirking at your wide-eyed look of terror.

“And this…” he leans down to put the knife back in its sheath before pulling out something else from a different pocket on his right leg, “This is your knife.”

The little knife is comically small in his giant hand, more of a switchblade than anything else.

“That’ll be the knife you use for the next week at least, so don’t lose it.”

You pluck it from his hand gingerly, fingers folding around the base as you bring it up to your eyes for closer inspection. It looks bigger in your hand than it did in his, and you can see his initials, M.Q, engraved on its tiny metal handle.

Why the hell would a guy as big as Quaritch even need a knife this small? Does he use it as a toothpick?

Nonetheless, you’re glad he didn’t give you anything bigger to use for your first time. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it without stabbing yourself.

He shows you how to hold it, how to slash and stab, the proper way to stand and lunge with the little blade.

After another half an hour, he nods.

“Alright, now I want you to try me.” He says, pulling his arms up close to his chest and goading you on once again with a ‘come at me’ curled hand gesture, cocky smirk in place.

You balk. “You want me to charge at you with a knife already? We just got started!”

“Yep, sure did. What, you think you could actually touch me, let alone hurt me with that little thing? Ha!”

You wince. That’s a good point.

You do what he taught you to, adjusting your grip on the blade and positioning your body and feet into the dirt, tightening your core. You take a deep breath, strengthen your muscles, and then leap with a cry.

Quaritch shifts out of the way of your knife quicker than you had yet to see him move, simply stepping to the side with an unsurprised expression.

You go sailing past him, war cry turning panicked. You drop the knife and jerk up your arms to cover your face, turning away and squeezing your eyes shut.

Just as you start tilting toward the dirt, a hand grips the back of the collar of your shirt and pulls you upright before you can even realize you aren’t falling anymore. You remained positioned for impact, hands still in front of your face to cushion your fall even as you stand on your own two feet.

You open your eyes and blink, hands patting down your front as if to make sure no injury had been done to your person.

Quaritch lets go of your collar, knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“That was fuckin’ pathetic! It was like a wet paper bag was throwin’ itself my way. And where the hell did you learn to cry out like that, ‘cause it was fuckin’ embarrassin’.”

You pay no attention to his harsh words, still stunned you hadn’t face-planted into the dirt for once.

You look up at him, starry-eyed.

“That was amazing, Quaritch! You moved so fast I could barely see you! Have you always been that quick or is it new? Could you teach me how to dodge like that?”

He stares down at you, ears flicking back against the sides of his head. An odd expression crosses his face, almost as though he was taken aback by your wonder.

He clears his throat awkwardly, turning to the side to avoid your strong eye contact.

“That doesn’t matter, not with that pathetic performance. You need ta’ be firm, like I said, and not throwin’ your weight ‘round like a pussy. Come on, do it again.”

You reach down into the dirt to pick up your little knife, and you lunge at him again. He dodges all the same, but you surprise the both of you when you don’t stop, turning around and slashing in his direction.

Of course, the blade doesn’t even touch him, but it’s the thought that counts.

He grins at you, “There you go, Peach! Way to show some initiative, I’ll make a fine soldier out of you yet. Let’s go again, come on.”

And that’s how you end your morning, trying to stab Colonel Miles Quaritch with a knife the size of one of his fingers. You’d have never thought this was where you would be when you met him all those weeks ago, but hey, if learning from him would one day save your life, you’d do it gladly.

By the time two hours have passed, you’re sweating and panting for breath, hands on your knees. Your body was still new, and you hadn’t been in it long enough for you to get past light jogging and reflex training. Honestly, the fact that you were able to do all that moving without collapsing was a god-damn miracle.

You were so much faster in this form, so much more flexible and stronger. Still, that held no comparison to the trained, experienced combat vet you were practically playing with. Because that’s what this would be called, not fighting or even training. It was like playing tag or a slapping game, cause that’s all that happened for the entire lesson.

Quaritch, the fucker, doesn’t have a drop of sweat on him. His chest rose and fell evenly, and he rested one of his hands on the gun holster he had wrapped around his hips.

“You good, Peach? Not going to puke, are ‘ya?” You’d be flattered by his concern for your well-being if it weren’t for the mean, amused tone layering his voice when he spoke.

You stay bent over for a few more moments as you struggle to catch your breath. Eventually, you’re able to rise fully upright. You answer his question, even though you know it was rhetorical,  

“I-I’m good, I think.”

Just as you finish your sentence, your stomach growls angrily, as though enraged at being denied sustenance.

Ugh.

If you weren’t exhausted and beyond caring about what Quaritch thought of you, with your floppy, sweaty form and shitty punches, you would have been embarrassed. Now, though, the only thing you do is pout. Now, you were just a little pissed and tired at getting your ass thoroughly kicked for two hours.

“I’m hungry, can we be finished for the day?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but relents.

“Yeah, Peach, we’re done. Let’s get goin’.”

You grin, relieved, and your energy returns just slightly at the thought of lunch. You bound to his side, and he leads the way out of the courtyard and into the space beyond.

The day is in full swing, scientists, soldiers, robots, and trucks all bustling around Bridgehead as you follow Quaritch close on his heels to the mess hall.

You pass by all the tiny little humans, most of whom don’t even spare either of you a glance. Either because they were used to seeing ten-foot-tall Avatars walking around or because they were too busy to give a shit. Probably both, really.

You both have to duck as you walk through the doorway, Quaritch much more than you. You walk over to the table where you had snagged the muffins for breakfast earlier that morning, grabbing three of the sandwiches that were there now instead.

Quaritch grabs six of them, piling them all onto his plate.

You’ve just started scarfing yours down when a large hand whips out across your back, slamming into you. You inhale instinctively and start choking on your food, struggling to breathe. You turn around, fully ready to smash your sandwiches into the face of whichever fucker did that when you see Quaritch’s walking away, waving the spare hand not holding his food up behind him.

“See you ‘round, Peach.”

Oh. Well, at least he said goodbye.

You drink from the water bottle you’d snagged from the mass hall and eat your sandwiches as you walk to the showering station for Avatars. You stay under the pounding warm water longer than you probably should, enjoying the way it soothes the ache in your tense arms and shoulders.

After you’re done washing away the sweat and grime, you head back to the Avatar resting area, ready to be in your own body.

It had taken you a while to learn how to hold onto the brain link connecting your bodies; the first few weeks were the worst when you were learning to hold it longer and longer. Sometimes it would break, and you would slam back into your human body with a gasp, disoriented and head pounding.

Now, though, you were much better at holding onto the link for longer periods, even if it still gave you a headache.

You settle back into the pillows, closing your eyes and letting your mind go blank.

------

When you wake up in your human body, it always feels stuffy, not right, like you’re being squeezed into a tube. Your mouth is always cottony, too, and even though your body was simply laying down like you were asleep, your bones always ache when you get up as if you’ve been doing jumping jacks for however long you were in there.

You step out of the link bed, stretching your arms above your head and groaning. Tom is no longer in the linking center, but you didn’t expect him to be when there were others milling about who could watch over you.

You stand up and wobble a little bit, dizzy. Once it passes and you’re sure you can walk without smacking into anything, you make your way back toward your room, fully intent on sleeping for the rest of the afternoon before the conference in the evening.

Just as you leave the linking center, Margot runs into you, hair wild and eyes a little bit crazy. She grabs onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth lightly. You let her do whatever she wants, beyond caring.

“How did it go? Did he yell at you, did he flirt any? Ooh, did he smack your ass-? Hey!”

You shake her hands off, walking past her with a roll of your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Margot, you really need to get laid.”

She groans, following after you with quick steps, waving her arms around as she says, “I know! There’s just no one I’ve seen that I’m interested in, so I have to live through you and your sexy romance with Colonel Quaritch-”

You halt, turning around to grab her shoulders. You’re the one shaking her back and forth this time.

“Listen, Margot, there is nothing going on with Quaritch and me at all, nothing sexy, nothing flirty! We literally just met like two days ago, and he’s hated me ever since! Now stop saying stuff like that, or he’s going to overhear us, again, and kill us both. Okay? Okay.”

Margot whines, “Oh, but maybe there could be! If you were just a little less uptight and he was a little less homicidal, you guys could totally get together. I mean, you can’t deny that he might be interested, right? I totally saw the way he was looking at you yesterday!”

“Yeah, he was looking at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat.”

“Kinky.”

“No, Margot, not kinky! More like murderous! You’re starting to sound crazy, Margot, you’ve gotta do something before you start humping anything that moves.”

Margot blushes, finally feeling some sort of shame, and she nods, “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just so pent-up, honey. Ugh! Okay, I’m going to try to relax somewhere, get outta my head for a little bit. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You pat her shoulder and say, “See you then, Margot.”

She gives you one last smile before she’s off, bounding down the hallway. You shake your head in fond exasperation, now even more tired than before, and walk back to your room. You adored Margot, loved her, but sometimes her exuberance made your head pound.

You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and toss yourself onto the unmade sheets of your bed. One last thought floats through your mind just before you drift off to sleep.  

Maybe mornings with Quaritch won’t be as bad as I thought.

peachy keen. Part Two

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic january 9 - write - 946words - feat. fem!harry because i was craving girldads

(this one also esp goes out to @veryinnovative)

“Papa?”

“Yes, mon chou?” Regulus responds, shaking a curl out of his eyes to look over his shoulder as he keeps stirring.

Harrie is still bent over her artwork, crayon held in a tight fist, pigtails standing askew with half her hair falling out of them and in her little face anyways.

“Will you help me write my name?”

Regulus lowers the temperature of the stovetop to let the sauce simmer as he puts on the lid, “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

He crouches down to check the potato wedges and veggies in the oven, satisfied when they look according to the alarm he set, and gives his hands a quick rinse before he saunters over to his daughter.

The soles of his plush slippers are a faint noise against the whirring of the oven and the soft bubbling of the pot. The air smells warm and cozy with the home-cooked meal and the drying clementine peels that are still on the table from Harrie’s earlier snack.

Regulus bends over her to regard her painting, nose buried into her wayward hair, inhaling. It smells like her Strawberry Shortcake (the kid’s show) shampoo, like James’ cologne and still that distinct brand of baby that Regulus is utterly obsessed with and hopes she never loses. Well, at least as long as she’s small enough for him to still pick her up.

Harrie is unperturbed, keeps drawing little blue petals around a flower besides what Regulus assumes must be their cat, Mochi. Or maybe a very oversized ant. His little artiste.

“Can I give you a kiss?” Regulus mumbles into the crown of her head.

“Yup.” 

Harrie squeals when Regulus plants a loud smooch on her chubby cheek. She smells like grapes and walnuts there too. James must’ve packed them for her lunch in kindergarden.

She tapers off into a hearty giggle when Regulus keeps peppering kisses before he lets himself fall into the kitchen chair beside her.

“So,” Regulus says pointedly, making a show of granting her his undivided attention.

Harrie nods her head, making little, silly Mhm-mhm-mhm noises. Like she’s trying to convey the importance of what follows. Or like she has a tune stuck in her head. Regulus bets his money on both.

He grins, tucking a strand behind Harrie’s ear that just falls right back into place. “Where do you want your name?”

A tongue pokes out of the corner of his daughter’s mouth and she turns her pen to point at the top edge with the end of it, “Right here.”

“Alright.”

Harrie chooses another color for her signature and then they begin to write together.

“An H. Huh—as in house,” Regulus makes, Harrie repeating the sound automatically. “Two straight lines down and then one across the middle. Good job.”

“Then Ay,” Harrie continues. The beginning of the alphabet she’s already got memorized.

“That’s right, mon chou.”

“Ha-rrr.”

“An R—that’s a straight line, with a bump on top and a leg on the bottom. That’s it. We need another one of those, remember? Your name has two.”

Just as Harrie sets onto the next letter Regulus hears a car rumble up into their driveway, head instinctively swiveling around to the window.

When he looks back down the second R isn’t entirely correct. “Whoops—look, this one has its leg on the wrong side, honey.”

“Oh,” Harrie makes, eyebrows rising, and she goes to grab her eraser.

She corrects her letter and then proceeds to draw the I without prompting from Regulus, adding a wonky heart on top.

“Good job. And an—”

“E–like eeeraser,” his daughter sings, adding the three horizontal lines to the last letter, right as Regulus hears a keychain jingle against the front door.

Harrie is now drawing a little star next to her name as James comes into the kitchen with Mochi in his arms, a leaf sticking to his paw.

“Daddy,” Harrie yells, scrambling down from her chair and hasting into James’ arms, Mochi already fleeing for his cat tree, presumably.

James hums delightedly, smiling as he squeezes their daughter to his chest, “Mm, mi amorcito.”

He’s still in his coat and beanie from outside, glasses fogging up—though luckily for him, he’s had the mind to slip out of his boots at least.

Harrie rubs her palms along James’ stubbled jaw when they pull apart, making him chuckle. “Missed me?”

“A little,” Harrie shrugs.

“Oh, only a little, huh?” James challenges, whisking Harrie up and whirling her around in the air, twirling himself and making her scream with joy.

He sets her against his hip after he successfully lost one of her hair ties on his little escapade, never to be found again or for Mochi to play with.

“Smells amazing, love,” James says warmly, gazing at Regulus before helping Harrie gently pull out the other hair tie too.

Which reminds him Regulus to check on the sauce again. 

He smiles sweetly at his husband and wanders back over to the counter, grabbing the lid with a kitchen mitten and stirring the thickening sauce as he gets hit by its savoury tang and hint of black pepper and parsley.

At his back he hears Harrie and James babbling, conversing about something or the other as she takes her seat again. Something about finger paints and Ron and tea cup and pee accident.

Regulus is just stretching to get some plates when there’s strong arms wrapping around him from behind, prompting his lips into another immediate smile.

“Mi vida,” his husband mumbles, pressing a soft kiss behind Regulus’ ear.

James is warm and smells like caramel latte and outside air and the same hint of cologne found in their daughter’s hair.

[moni-logues]

Different Spaces

Pairing: Bangchan x reader

Genre: friends to lovers, smut

Summary: Chan has just returned home from tour and you hope you aren't wrong that something has changed between you. Only one way to find out...

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: one (1) handjob, little bit of cum-eating, that's pretty much ya lot!

AN: YES, she's a MULTI BLOG NOW. And obviously it's Chan. It was always going to be Chan lmaooooo. Anyway, this idea crept into my head last night and then I wrote it today to put off writing something else 😅😅😅 I HOPE YOU ENJOY! It's unbeta'd (except for @minttangerines reading it to make sure it didn't suck lol) so forgive the typos please!!!

ETA: you can now find part two HERE!

*~*~*

It wasn’t weird and it wasn’t uncomfortable. But it was different. It was definitely different this time. 

Chan sat in front of you, between your legs, his back against your chest and his head in the soft space between your shoulder and collarbone. You leant against the arm of the sofa with your hands on his stomach- 

That was different. You had the hem of his T-shirt between your fingers, toying mindlessly, while your other hand rested on his warm, soft skin beneath it. He had one hand resting over yours, his fingers not exactly entwined with yours, but not exactly not.  

You’d held hands before. On occasion. Entirely casually, platonically. Except for the part where you wished it wasn’t casual, wished it wasn’t platonic.  

You’d had feelings for Chan for as long as you could remember, since you first set eyes on him. Honestly, you were used to it. Comfortable with it even. You knew you weren’t going to do anything about it and that meant it didn’t worry you. It would be your little secret and you would soak up all the time with him you could, you would enjoy all the friendship privileges he offered you and you would clutch them close to your heart in the absence of any actual body to hold.  

It was only before he went away this last time, a couple of months ago, that you felt something change. Something about how clingy he had been the night before he left, a little more tactile than he usually was. He was ants-in-his-pants fidgety and wouldn’t sit still. He was wrestling you into a hug one minute and then pushing you to the other end of the sofa the next. He held you so tightly and for so long when you hugged him goodbye that you had joked it was like he was going off to war. He had laughed only half-heartedly, which, for Chan, might as well have not been laughing at all. He had pulled back and looked at you intensely with his hands still on your waist and you had waited and waited for him to say or do something else but he just kept looking. 

“Are you going to like, actually leave?” you had asked. 

He snapped out of his trance and ruffled your hair.  

“Course I’m going! Why? Trying to get me to stay?” 

You weren’t, because you knew he was going to leave, anyway, that he had to go, but he sounded hopeful (or were you imagining it?). 

“Yeah. I did consider locking you up for a second, but taking care of one animal is enough; I’m not sure I could cope with having to feed and care for you, too!” 

He had done a proper laugh then and you were reassured that whatever had just happened, it was a blip, a glitch, nothing more. He had hugged you one last time, shorter, looser, and then turned to leave with a salute. 

Then he was back, hugging you just as hard, fresh off the plane (rather unfresh, actually, and he had the cheek to ask to use your shower!).  

And it was the same as it had ever been. 

But it was also different. Because he had told you so many times while he was away that he missed you; he had said ‘wish you were here!’ so often that you actually believed it; your gallery was full of ‘found you!’ photos of ugly statues and ‘thought you’d like this’ shots of architecture and souvenirs—souvenirs he’d actually bought and brought home for you. He didn’t usually do that.  

And now, there you were, with your hands on his skin and your cheek resting lightly on the top of his head and he was laughing at the film you were watching and taking your hand from the hem of his top, crossing it over his torso and holding it there. He closed his fingers over yours. Holding hands. You flattened your palm over his stomach and stroked sideways, the circle of your arms tighter around him, and you wanted to ask what this meant. Did it mean anything? Had he just been lonely on the road? Did he just want some physical contact? Were you just... there?  

You weren’t one to be stuck in indecision. You didn’t have the patience for it. You decided, when you first met, that you weren’t going to act on your feelings because trying to date an idol was an insane thing to do. And you didn’t need the stress.  

But you also didn’t need the long, drawn-out stress of a ‘will they? Won't they?’ scenario with one of your closest friends.  

And, if you were going to be really honest, you kind of did need a good fuck. And you’d thought about fucking him a lot, one might say too much. And if he was interested, if something had changed and he saw you differently now, well, then the bedroom was calling for you.  

“Chan?” you said quietly. 

He twisted his head a little. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I... touch you?” 

You drew your fingers back, softly grazing your nails against his abs. He giggled. 

“What do you mean? We already are touching!” 

You slipped just the tips of your fingers beneath the waistband of his jogging bottoms and the waistband of his boxers. 

“No, I mean... touch you.” 

“Oh, sh-… Uh.”  

You didn’t move your hand; you felt his heartrate quicken, thumping back against your chest.  

“You don’t have to say yes. It’s ok if the answer’s no.” 

“Yeah, no,” he said. “I mean, the answer’s yes. It’s ok.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

He swallowed and nodded and put his hand over yours, carefully encouraging it lower. 

“Yes, I’m sure.”  

His hand left yours as it disappeared beneath the fabric of his clothes and you couldn't breathe as your fingers ran over the velvet skin of his soft cock, which twitched on contact. As you pushed his trousers and his boxers down, you almost couldn’t look, couldn’t bear the thought of disappointment, after all this waiting, after every fantasy, but you needn’t have worried. Of course, it was fucking perfect. Just like the rest of him. You wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard length and he shifted. 

“You don’-” Then he hesitated. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Uh, you don’t have to be gentle...” 

Then he wrapped his fingers around yours, squeezed a little tighter, and your thighs squeezed, too. You chuckled, a little embarrassed, a little shy actually, a little over-awed. 

“Channie likes it rough, huh?”  

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing; you could feel the heat radiate from his cheeks. 

“Um, well, uh-”  

He was stammering now and you were amazed that he could be bashful with his cock in your hand, shy even though he was directing you. 

“I like it,” you whispered and you felt a shiver go through him.  

He kept his hand over yours and you smiled to yourself because you should have expected this. Control freak Chan, perfectionist Chan, Mr ‘I’ll just do it myself’ Bang. It was cute. But you weren’t going to let him get away with it. You let him control you, let him show you how he liked it, let him get himself to the point where his breathing was heavy and his bottom lip was bitten between his teeth and his brows were furrowed.  

“Hey,” said, nudging his head with yours. “Who exactly is giving this handjob? You want me to just leave you to it or...?” 

He spluttered and stopped and immediately let your hand go. 

“Sorry, I-” 

“You don’t have to apologise; I know you. But I want to do this for you, y’know?” You turned your head and gently bit the top of his ear before pressing a kiss to it.  

“Yeah, got it. All yours.”   

“Thank you.” 

You had him panting again in seconds, because he had already given you his secrets, and when he tipped his head backwards and whined, it made your cunt pulse. 

“Ok, you’re right, you’re right,” he gasped. “This is better. Fuck... Oh shit.” 

He was moving like he couldn’t help himself, his hips snapping up, fucking himself in your fist and you could feel his thighs twitching, feel the tension coiling in his body.  

It was building in you, too, as you soaked through your underwear. He wasn’t quiet and every moan, every grunt, every gasp of your name made your head spin. You hoped it wouldn’t stop here. After all this time, something was finally happening and you needed it to keep happening, you needed him to feel you, too. A moan fell from your own mouth as you imagined him fucking you, imagined that it wasn’t your hand around his cock but your cunt. That he liked it even rougher when he was inside you. That the deep black intensity he had inside him came out. That he fucked you like he danced, with every inch of his body and every ounce of strength.  

“I’m-.. I’m-…"  

You didn’t need him to tell you. 

“I know, babe. Go on, make a mess. Make a mess for me.” 

With a shudder and a cry trapped low in his throat, he came, over your hand, over your fingers, over his stomach and his T-shirt. He was gulping in air with his eyes closed and a hand clenching and unclenching at his side.  

“Oh, shit,” you whispered as you swiped a finger through the mess on his skin. “Who’s going to clean all this up?”  

You raised your hand and brought it almost to your own mouth, then pretended to think twice before pressing down on his bottom lip. It was a bold move, you knew, but you were feeling emboldened.  

Then he opened his mouth and took your cum-sticky fingers in without a second’s hesitation. Would the night’s surprises never end? He licked your fingers clean and ran his tongue over your palm before he swiped his finger through the mess on his stomach and lifted it to your lips. You laughed. 

“I can do you one better.”  

You shuffled and climbed out from behind him, pushing him down and straddling him. It was the first time you had been face to face; you both blushed when your eyes met and you couldn’t stop the giggle that rose in your throat. He giggled back and you recognised that you were on the verge of hysteria; if you let that giggle become a laugh, it wouldn’t stop until you were both crying. You tried to rein it in, this strange, self-conscious shyness that was gripping you, this wild giddiness that made you want to scream with laughter and cry ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!’. You were looking at Chan and you knew he felt it, too; his eyes glittered and then all but disappeared as his smile widened. He bit his lip to try to keep it in, but it was no use.  

He snorted and covered his face with his hands as a loud laugh bellowed forth. You never could resist his mirth. You were helpless to it at the best of times. He was curling over, his whole body shaking, and you were climbing off him, flopping to the floor, weak with it, the laughter sapping your strength and overriding any capacity for being serious. It was too absurd. That this had just happened. That one day—one moment—you were friends and the next you were making him come over himself, that he was licking his own cum from your fingers. That you had wanted this for such a long time and sworn off it. That you had no idea it might be something he wanted. That you never even thought to ask! That it could have been this easy? All this time?  

Your brain was elsewhere as your breath shuddered and tears streaked your cheeks. You thought you had got yourself under control: your breathing was shaky and your stomach hurt but your eyes were dry and you sat yourself up. Then you looked at Chan, face also tear-streaked, flushed with glee, and you both collapsed again. 

“Don’t look at me,” Chan said, his voice thick and wobbly with laugher some minutes later. “Don’t look at me, please, I can’t laugh anymore, but can you get me a fucking tissue or something?”  

You shut your eyes, scrunched your face, and pressed your fist to the bridge of your nose; you couldn’t laugh anymore, it would kill you. But you knew that if you turned to look at him, helpless and messy on his back, that another fit would catch you. You crawled to the end table and threw the box of tissues in his direction. 

“Thanks.” 

You leant back against the edge of the sofa and let your breath resume its normal rhythm, let your heart slow down, let Chan wipe himself up and tuck himself away. You felt him sit up as his knee knocked your shoulder and you turned so you could just see him out of the corner of your eye. He looked down at his cum-stained T-shirt and gingerly pulled it over his head. Then he looked at it, displeased. 

“This was clean on like, an hour ago.”  

“Oh, shit, sorry, dude. You want me to take the handy back or something?” 

He looked alarmed for a second. 

“Do you want to take it back?” 

“No.” 

“Good, neither do I.” 

“I would kind of like to know where the fuck it came from though.” 

“What are you talking about? You started it! You offered!” 

“Chan, you were holding my hand. We don’t hold hands! Look at all this shit you bought me!” You gestured broadly to giftbags and boxes, trinkets and jewellery on the coffee table. “Besides, I’ve always wanted it; you haven’t.” 

He stared at you, mute, looking like you’d just asked him a long division question.  

“You always wanted it?” 

“Yep.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“Because you didn’t want it!” 

“How would you know?! You never asked!” 

“Ok, well, did you?” 

He looked up; he looked down. He looked thoughtful. He looked a little apologetic. 

“I don’t really know,” was his eventual answer. 

“Well, there you go. That’s why I didn’t say.” 

Silence reigned and you didn’t want this to collapse, to fizzle into awkwardness.  

“Do you want it? Now?” you asked. 

“Yeah.” At least he sounded sure about that. 

“What changed?” 

When he looked at you and caught your eyes, there was a look there you hadn’t seen in them before. It was almost painfully soft, tender in a way that pierced your heart. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you like he was looking at something precious, something sweet. Then he shrugged. 

“I’ve never been away from you that long before.”  

“And?” 

“I didn’t want to be. It made me not want to go at all. And I couldn’t work out why it mattered so much. I’ve been away before. I’ve been here, even, and just been busy and not seen you for a while. But it felt different this time, somehow. I really didn’t want to go. And I talked about it and everyone told me I was like, the world’s biggest idiot. They all apparently thought—or knew?—I had feelings for you already and they all just said ‘tell her! You’ve got to tell her! Go for it!’ and I wanted to. I was going to, the night before I left, but then I realised I’d be confessing all that stuff and then just... fucking off. I didn’t want to do that. So, I... did nothing, I guess.”  

“Fair enough.”  

“You wanted it all this time? Me, you wanted me?” 

That he even had to ask was adorable, broke your heart a little. Who wouldn’t want him? He was everything you could have asked for and more; he ticked every box; he made your sad little heart sing like a songbird. And he still had to ask.  

“Since the moment we met.” 

“Shit.” 

“Shit.” 

“I had no idea.” 

He looked like he meant it, too: a little dazed, a little confused, just a hint of wonder on his face.  

“So, what now?” he asked.  

You shrugged. 

“You mean right now, or general future ‘now’?” 

“I guess both?” 

“Can I be honest?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Right now, I would really like to do something about how badly I want to fuck you.” 

And he was bashful Chan, again, his eyes wide and the tips of his ears pink, his mouth slightly open with surprise. You watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed.  

“I... am amenable to that.” 

“Want to try that again with something even slightly sexy?” 

And he blushed bright, covering his face with his hands.  

“Fuck, ok, give me a second.” 

You laughed and moved from the floor to sit opposite him on the sofa, your knees touching. You waited patiently for a second or two, then tapped his leg. 

“I’m flustered, ok!” he cried. “You’ve got me all... flustered. I don’t know... I-.. Agh. I swear I’m not this bad usually. I promise. I just--… this has really taken me off-guard! Fuck, I didn’t know. I-” 

You interrupted him to climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifted his face to yours and you kissed him, just a light peck on his petal pink lips. 

“How about you let me lead, then?” you asked, your voice soft and low. “Can you do that? Can you let me take control?” 

He looked at you pleadingly, his eyes round and wide, and you were worried that it meant no, that he was going to say he didn’t want that. 

“Yes, please.”  

Fuck.  

With your hands on either side of his face, you pulled him closer and kissed him again, deep this time, deep and slow and breathless. He tasted of honey butter chips, which you had never liked before that moment. His tongue rolled with yours, soft and sweet and every bit as good as you had imagined. He whined quietly, just barely, when you pulled back, when you sank your teeth into the plush pink of his lower lip. When you looked at each other, nose-to-nose, his eyes were wide again, sparkling and bright and looking at you like you were the whole world. 

It wasn’t weird and it wasn’t uncomfortable and it wasn’t awkward; it didn’t feel like crossing a line or pushing a boundary; it felt like you should have been doing this all along. It was different for the two of you, sure, it was different. But you’d been ready for this change since you learnt his name, since he held his hand out to you and smiled politely. This different was good. This different was everything you’d ever wanted.  

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward]

Summary: When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 7.4k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“We gotta move.” How this guy got the key to Jake’s cell he’d never know, but what was important was that he had it and he was here now. “We’ve got about ten minutes to get you both out to the medi-vac.” 

You never would have guessed how quickly Jake Seresin could still move in order to put his body on the line for you. At the sight of someone coming into his cell yet again, rescuer or not—he was shielding you with everything he had. No one was touching you, not again. 

Once the man was inside Jake's cell he took a knee to assess your current state. At the mere thought of anyone touching you Jake flinched and held you a little tighter. He wasn’t sure who he could trust, wasn’t sure if this was real or just some cruel joke. Another attempt to shatter any kind of hope. 

“It’s okay Lieutenant, you can let her go.”

“I don’t trust you.” Jake used his body to shield you as much as he could. He was done letting people hurt you, including himself. The man in the dark mask paused, but then in order to gain Jake's trust, he took that mask off, revealing his identity to Jake as he tried to reach out to gauge your pulse. “Please don’t hurt her, she’s been through enough.” 

“I’m not gonna hurt her Jacob.” The man with silver hair and a cocky half smile confirmed. “My name is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, I’m gonna get the two of you out of here.”

“Who was the woman, the one who gave me the note?” Jake couldn’t stop thinking about her and her lifeless body. Who was she? How did she get a note from Rooster? How did she know help was coming? There were so many unanswered questions he thought he’d never get answers to. 

“CIA—deep cover agent, she had sent out a coded message around the time the two of you went missing. Descriptions matched, your friend Rooster I believe?” Gibbs was still trying to find your pulse. “Yeah he told her to write a note out, give you something to fight for.” 

“Hold tight, Stay alive—“ Jake repeated to himself just under his breath, the agent who wasn’t happy with how weak your pulse was nodded too. 

“Which is exactly what she’s gonna have to do, let’s get her out of here before it’s too late.” 

“Gibbs!” Another man came racing down the hallway. “Gibbs we gotta move!” He was dressed in the same dark uniform as Gibbs was. “They’re angry as shit, like ants! A hive of angry ants.” 

“I thought I told you to distract and disturb?” 

“Yeah well, change of plans—we gotta get the hell outta dodge, now!” 

Jake wasn’t all that sure who to follow or what to think. He only knew two things for sure, one being he had to get you out of here while he still had a chance too. And two? He couldn’t run. He couldn’t come with you. He was damaged goods. 

“I can’t go.” Jake confessed with a deep sigh as he handed you over to the man who’s just come racing in. He ran his finger down your cheek and tried to hold it together. Was this the last time he was ever going to see you? “She’s in a really bad way, please take care of her, get her out of here.” 

“Lieutenant it’s now or never—“ Gibbs made sure to remind Jake. 

“They put a pacemaker inside my damn chest alright! I can’t let my heart rate get above one forty!” Jake explained as the older man helped him to his feet. “The Commander has a remote control for it too, and I gotta be honest with you, I’m not all that keen on the idea of my heart exploding inside my fucking chest.” 

“The Commanders dead.” Gibbs tried his best to bluff his way through this. He had to get Jake out of here, there was no backup plan. It was now or never and never wasn’t an option. “He’s gone, ain’t got no way to press that button.” DiNozzo knew as a matter of fact that Dennis Gervais was well and truly alive, because he’d just come from the same room that he was in. “So we focus on keeping your heart rate down and get you out of here.” All Jake did was nod as he looked at you just barely breathing, barely holding on for dear life. You’d been through so much—he owed you this much, to try till his dying breath to get you out of this hell. “DiNozzo you take Y/n, I’ll guard Jake here and we’ll get ‘em on the medi-vac before shit gets too out of hand.” 

“On it boss.” Tony acknowledged the plan and knew the risks involved as he bent down to pick you up and pull your nearly lifeless body across his shoulders so that he could carry you. “Okay ma’am, sorry if this hurts a little.” 

“We’re heading down the hall, taking the first left and making a run for the stairs that leads up to the ground floor—it’ll take us right out to the loading bay.” Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Gibbs knew it was going to be a hard pill to swallow as the group started to make their way out of the cell. 

“You mean to tell me there’s been an exit door right down the hall this whole time!!” It made him sick to his stomach. Freeform was right there all along. It made things so much worse knowing it was right there. 

“We’re gonna get you home Lieutenant, just keep in step and don’t look back.” Gibbs commanded as he made sure his weapon was loaded. “Let’s get these two out of here DiNozzo.” 

Jake watched as DiNozzo took off running with you slung across his shoulders. His heart ached on two fronts, one being he knew you were about to be safe, about to be away from all this. The other being he hated whenever you were away from him. When you were with him you were safe in his arms. Apart? He couldn’t help you. 

There were guards slain in the hall from where gunfire had recently rung out, Jake tried his best not to get too caught up but he couldn’t recognise a single soul. None of them he knew from his time trapped. They were just foot soldiers. 

“Take a left DiNozzo!” Anthony corrected his direction promptly as Jake followed, he was being careful to pace himself. He didn’t want the beeping to start, not now. It couldn’t, he was relying on everything he had left inside him to keep it down. To breathe steady, In and out. 

“Right! Sorry!” Gibbs was the last one up the stairs, he was protecting his people, firing the odd shot at anyone who tried to stop them four of them from getting where they needed to go. 

“Jake?” It was the softest of whimpers that escaped from your lips as DiNozzo carried you up the stairs. “Jake?” You mumbled again, only this time a little louder and more confused. “What’s going on?” 

“You’re okay ma’am.” Tony tried his best to calm you before you had a chance to panic. “Jakes right behind me, I’m special agent Anthony DiNozzo with the NCIS.” 

“Oh.” Was all you could say as you dangled over Dinozzo's shoulders. “Oh god someone found us.” It was more like you were trying to convince yourself this was real. “Someone came.” 

“We did ma’am.” DiNozzo confirmed as he opened the latch on the door that led out to the loading dock. “We’re not out of the woods yet though, so just stay with us for a little while longer okay?” When he was finally able to unlock the heavy metal door, DiNozzo was delighted to see the medi-vac choppers coming in for landing. “Over there!” He shouted back at Jake and Gibbs before he took off running with you on his shoulders. 

The sunlight burned Jake's skin as he stepped out into the light. God how long had it been since he’d felt the warmth of the sun on his usually tanned skin. He’d never been this pal, this skinny, this unkempt. 

“There’s someone who wants to speak with you, Lieutenant.” Gibbs smirked as he escorted Jake across the snow and over to the helicopter that would be taking him back to the carrier. He handed him a radio, one of those sat nav ones. 

Jake held it up so he could talk just as five F-18 Super Hornets came racing past to pepper the building with ammunition. It was a full takedown if there ever was one. A covert operation to get you and Jake back. The signal had been given and it was go time. 

“What took you so long?” Jake wasn’t sure who it was going to be, but he knew they were all up there. All cheering that he was alive, that you were alive. That the pair of you were being rescued. Hey did however have a slight inkling as to who might answer. “What the hell has the Calvary been!” 

“Hey Hangman.” Rooster bellowed through the radio as he flew closer to the building just to drop a missile on the southwest corner. “You look good!” Jake couldn’t contain his laughter, this was really happening. 

“I am good, Rooster.” He remembered what he’d said all those years ago. “I’m very good.” Jake sighed as he watched his colleagues and friends dismantle the building you and Jake had been held hostage in for what felt like forever. “Now get us outta here!” 

“We better keep moving, Lieutenant.” Gibbs ushered Jake over to the other medi-vac helicopter, it had all gone according to plan. Jake had kept his heart rate below one twenty as his watch kept telling him. You were being loaded into the other helicopter, strapped to a medical gurney and fitted with oxygen immediately. Jake watched on as the building the four of you had just come out of went up in smoke and flames. Insurgents scurried out for their lives at any exit they could take. “Let’s get these birds in the sky!” 

“Yes sir.” The pilot copied just as Jake saw the man he’d been told was dead appearing out of the smoke, surrounded by insurgents with guns who aimed right for the two medi-vac helicopters. 

“Come on probie help me get her strapped in.” Tony grumbled as he fiddled with the straps around the wheels of the bed you were on. He didn’t want it to budge. “How the hell did you get the easy job anyway!” 

“Easy job!! I’ve been out here for ten minutes fending off enemy fire!” 

“I thought you said he was dead!?” Jake hissed as he eyed off the man who’d put you both through hell. He couldn’t help but to say as he thought about making a break from the helicopter just to get his revenge from n the man who’s done so much damage. But he couldn’t, Jake wouldn’t do that as the helicopter began to rise from the snow covered ground. He wasn’t going to, not for any amount of money, you’d told him when the pair of you were first captured to never play the hero again—but Jake was a villain. A hero would sacrifice anything for the greater good. He’d see anything ax expendable. 

But Jake would walk through fire and cross the seven seas for you, he had no such desire to want to play the hero. He just wanted to be safe again, with you. So knowing you were already safe, there was no reason to go back. There was no reason to want to be a hero. 

“I lied—“ Gibbs sighed as he aimed his weapon. “Get us up in the air!” Jake knew the moment he saw The Commander standing there watching him escape that he wouldn’t let him go without a fight, without causing enough damage that he might not make it out alive. As the helicopters took off you sat up just to watch the group below you get further and further away. 

You were safe. Jake was safe. You were finally getting out of this hell together. And then? Everything you thought you knew came crashing down around you as you watched what appeared to be Jake's lifeless body fall out of the side of the medi-vac helicopter. No. Not now, not after everything you'd been through. 

“NNOOOOO!” You cried out from behind the oxygen mask you'd been given. “JAKE!!”

Jake first fell to his knees as his hand gripped at his chest. The pain was all too real, too overpowering for him to stay steady on his feet. The Commander stood grinning ear to ear as he watched Jake fall out of the Medi-vac that was in the process of taking off. It would have been a solid hundred metres give or take a few. But it was surely enough to break Jake's jaw on impact. 

“You’re not going anywhere Seresin!” The Commander growled as he and his men ascended on Jake. Two of them pulled him harshly up by his forearms as they forced Jake to look up at the very man who had caused so many people so much pain. “Your girl might get out, but you–you won't ever see the light of day ever again. 

“Take us back to the carrier!” DiNozzo ordered the pilot who had carried on his way. You were in complete hysterics. You couldn't leave, not without Jake. 

“WE HAVE TO GO BACK!” With all your might you were trying to get up off the bed. “WE CAN'T LEAVE HIM!” You felt like you couldn't breathe, Jake had been your rock this whole time. You'd seen the worst in people but also seen the best in him. You couldn't leave him behind, you couldn’t betray him when he never once let you give up. 

“Ma’am, Ma’am you need to try and relax alright, Gibbs will figure it out.” Tony reassured you just hoping that his boss could pull something together. “We’re not going to leave him here, but we need to get you back to people who can help keep you alive.” 

“I’m gonna kill you, I’m gonna kill you dead just because I can and for what it's worth? Your name will be forgotten once we are one word and one people, Jacob.” It was the worst kind of pain, a pain unparalleled to no other, the kind of pain that takes your breath away. That kind of pain that stops blood in its tracks, that shortens ligaments and tendons as you seize. “If only you’d just stayed the fuck away.” The Commander spat as he stopped Jake's heart, he fried the pacemaker in his chest past the breaking point and when his finger finally came off the little button in his hand: Jake was just thankful to have gotten to hear you say you loved him. Even if you only said it back to even the playing cards. 

Jake knew you could never love him. Not after this, not after you’d gone through unspeakable agony all because of a split second decision he made. 

“You’re not, you’re not going to win this.” Jake struggled out as he looked up at The Commander. “Dennis—“ That struck a raw nerve as The Commander reached for a handgun one of his men held. He wasted not a single second before peppering three rounds into Jake's gut. 

“Maybe, but you won’t be around to see the outcome.” 

Jake Seresin laid dying in the snow surrounded by insurgents as five F-18 Super Hornets laid waist into the building you'd both been held captive in—destroying every crevice, every brick. But ultimately it was just a little too late. You’d be okay though, you had to be. Jake had to believe that as his blood stained the China white snow he laid in. 

The expected was always easier to accept than the unexpected. 

“Everybody get to the evacuation points, if you see anyone you don’t trust? Kill them.” Jake could hear The Commander ordering his men before he kicked the heel of his boot into Jake's face. “Goodbye Lieutenant Seresin—you really did your country proud.” The condescending tone in The Commander’s voice really drove it home that all this had been for nothing. He was going to die, killed in action his final report would say. 

The last thing Jake thought about as he laid in the snow watching as the medi-vac helicopters flew away, one of which had you finally safe on, was that he hoped you went on to live a beautiful life. Got back on your feet, healed from everything you were subjected to, went on to love and experience all the good the world had to offer. He thought about what kind of guy would be so lucky to marry you, have a life with you, raise your children, and watch you thrive. Because it wouldn’t be him. He was okay with that though because you were safe now, Jake Seresin was okay with dying so long as it meant you got the help you needed, that you deserved. 

“I love you.” 

Because you weren’t ever expendable. Not to him. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their own personal history. Diagrams of all their old wounds. Most old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar, but some of them don't. Some wounds you carry with you everywhere, and although the cuts are long gone: the pain still lingers. 

“Where's Jake?” It was the only thing you could say as you fought off unconsciousness. “Where's Jake? Where is he?” 

“Lieutenant Y/l/n we need to get you into medical so we can start you on IV fluids and antibiotics–” It was a voice you didn't recognise that replied to you as you were being wheeled off the medi-vac and onto the deck of the carrier. “Someone let the Swaine know we’re on route!” 

“Where's Jake?” Why wasn’t anyone listening, why wasn’t anyone answering you? “Please someone tell me he’s okay, that he’s alive? Please?”

It truly was a spectacle on the deck, but in all the commotion of your big arrival no one was listening to what you were mumbling behind your oxygen mask. No one except for one sandy blonde aviator who was pushing past every person he had to in order to get to your side as they wheeled you across the runway. He’d barely shut off his F-18 before he was racing down the tarmac after you. 

“Hey!” Bradley beamed as he reached your side, his hand slipped into your as he walked with the team who were in charge of getting you where you needed to go. “Hey, Hollywood, holy shit–” He couldn't believe you were alive, sure none of them had ever given up hope and from the fleeting information they had been given during your time in captivity, he hoped that CIA agent was still alive, but still he couldn't believe you were actually back. It had been so long. “You’re safe now, we’ve got you.” 

“WHERES JAKE!” It came out as an agonising scream until Rooster could see your tears. “Where is he Bradshaw?” As far as Bradley was aware Jake's rescue Evac was still in the process. He’d fallen and that's all Bradley knew for sure. 

“He’s right behind you, they got him Hollywood, you don't have to worry anymore.” DiNozzo, the Special Agent in charge of escorting you back to medical, looked at the aviator across the gurney from him. He knew that Jake was still yet to be evacuated. He was still on the ground the last Tony saw. “You can rest now, it's alright, Jakes right behind you.” 

“Oh–” You sighed as your entire body relaxed, it was a weight you didn't realise was compressing your chest. “Oh good.” It was only then did your body allow you to go into complete rest. You fell into unconsciousness seconds after being told that Jake was okay, he was coming, that he was right behind you. 

“We’re losing her, we gotta move.” One of the officers informed Bradley as he stood still, watching as you were wheeled into the carrier. Not knowing if you were actually going to make it out of this hell alive. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Jake swore the chill of the snow would take him before his heart gave out. He couldn’t move a single muscle as he laid there on his back in the silence—only burning rubble seemed to break through the deafening silence of his last moments on earth. 

He thought about you, the entire time. How your laugh would fill up the Hard Deck and how he’d roll his eyes in response. It was stupid really but Jake honestly thought if he didn’t get involved with you personally it would be easier to forget about the way you made him feel whenever you walked into a room. 

“Y/n.” Your name sounded so familiar to him, so alluring and all consuming. “Y/n.” It brought him comfort in death. To whisper your name to himself as his life drained from him. “Y/n.” 

“Not Y/n—“ Gibbs groaned as he pressed gauze into Jake's stomach and moved his hands to cover it. “Keep your hands on that.” He told Jake with a hushed tone, like he was trying to keep quiet. “Lift on three, one, two—three.” 

“AAHHH!” Jake couldn’t help the agonising whelp that escaped his mouth as he was lifted up onto a stretcher. Had they come back for him? Surely not—at this point he was dead weight. Why on earth would they turn back for him? 

“Get him on that medi-vac now!” Gibbs ordered as he stood and looked around, it seemed as though The Commander had been able to flee with a handful of insurgents. “Stop the bleeding as fast as you can.” 

What's worse? New wounds which are so horribly painful or old wounds that should have healed years ago and never did? Maybe old wounds teach you something, maybe they remind you of where you've been and what you’ve overcome. They teach you lessons about what to avoid in the future. 

That's what Jake liked to think. Because as he let his head rest back against the stretcher and thought about how beautiful the embers of that god awful building were, he couldn't wait for these new wounds to become valuable lessons that didn't hurt as bad as they did now. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Every cell in the human body regenerates on average every seven years. Like snakes, we shed our skin. Biologically, we’re brand new people. It's imperative, change that is. You might look the same, you probably feel the same, but the change isn't visible. At least not for most people. 

“She’s waking up—“ You barely heard it, the husk of a familiar voice that came from beyond the darkness. “Do you want me to leave?” 

When people say things like ‘People don't change’ It drives scientists crazy, because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy. Matter. It's always changing. Morphing. Merging. Growing. Dying. It's the way people try not to change that's unnatural. 

“No kid, no—“ Again, another familiar voice echoed beyond the darkness as you were brought back into the light. A steady beeping droned in the background monitoring your vitals. “You stay, I’ll go check on how Lieutenant Seresin is doing after surgery.” 

The way people cling to what things were instead of letting them be what they are. The way you cling to old memories instead of forming new ones can be just as damaging as trying not to evolve. The way people insist on believing, despite every scientific indication that anything in this lifetime is permanent. 

“Okay, yeah—let me know how he is?” Bradley asked as your dad, Commander ‘Hollywood’ Neven, tapped his shoulder as he sat by your bedside. Watching over you as you recovered from what had been some of the most extensive and exhausting surgeries Rooster had ever seen. 

His mother had had a few operations in her battle with Cancer—but none of which came close to what he was told you were going through. 

From the complete orthopedic reconstruction on your shattered wrist to the skin graft on your lower back, to the plastic surgery repair made to damage done on your face. Some scars would remain—but your surgeon was pretty hopeful that the swelling would go down. It made Roosters heart break. 

“Roo—“ It was the first thing you managed to struggle out. Your throat was so dry as you tilted your head to the side just slightly to see him better. “Hi.” The light hurt your eyes, in a way it felt good to be out of the dark. 

“Hey Hollywood.” Bradley smiled as he reached out to grab your hand. “Tell you what you know how to scare us, don't you?” You couldn't help the oh so soft smile that crept across your face when you realised you were home, that you were finally safe. “How you feeling?” 

“Uh–” You didn't know what to say. Your entire body ached for various different reasons all the more painful to describe than the last. You were a plethora of injuries, a thesaurus of unspeakable acts of violence. And even though there wasn't a part of you that didn’t hurt, all your mind could think about was Jake. So you lied. You lied straight through your teeth. “I'm okay.” Bradley didn't believe it, not for a second. He had seen the state you were in when they airlifted you back to the carrier. And it seemed as though your number one priority hadn’t changed. “Where's Jake? Is he okay?” 

“Hangman's–” You interrupted Bradley quicker than he could explain Jake's current status. 

“I asked where Jake was Rooster, Hangman isn't Jake.” The man who had done everything he could to protect you wasn't Hangman. He was simply Jake. “So please, just tell me Jakes alive?” Bradley complied with your very specific request and told you what you wanted to hear first. 

“Jakes alive.” He nodded. “But he's critical, he's been in and out of surgery for a few days Y/n.” Rooster had collected a series of coffee cups on the table in your hospital room, ranging in size and kind. He must have been here with you for a while. “Your dads seeing to it that he gets the best care.” 

“How long have I been out?” You asked next, everything was blurry. You could remember bits and pieces of being rescued, but not many. You could hear the sound of the helicopter blades in your head, but faces were all distorted in your memory. You could remember Jake holding you, his warmth protecting you from all harm, but then you saw him fall. He fell. Over and over in your mind you watched Jake fall and then you heard your pain filled cries of pure heartbreak. “How long has it been?” 

“Since we got back here, a few days–you've been on some pretty strong painkillers and the doctors just kept telling me you'd wake up when your body was ready.” It was nice to fill in the gaps. But there was one gap you weren't sure if you wanted to fill. 

“And how long were Jake and I, you know, held for?” Bradley wasn't sure if he should be the one to tell you, but then again, if you wanted anyone else to tell you, you would have waited to ask them and not him. So he told you, point blank. 

“Almost Three months.” 

“Oh god.” Change is constant, how you experience change, that's up to you. “No, No no no it cant have been three whole months Rooster.” It can feel like death, or it can feel like a second chance at life if you open your fingers, loosen your grip and go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline. 

“Y/n?” Bradley frowned when he heard your heart rate monitor start to beep at a faster rate than the machine was comfortable with. “Are you okay?” You felt like you couldn’t breathe as your brain tried to process the harsh reality that you and Jake had been held prisoners for three whole months. Your airways were tightening, like someone had their hands around your neck and was squeezing, holding you down, choking you. “Hey! Hey, I need someone in here! Nurse!” Bradley jumped up to his feet and hit the panic button as you began to cry, panicking as your body didn't feel like your own. 

“Oh god, I can't breathe!” You cried out. “Rooster, help!” Like at any moment you can have another chance at life. Like at any moment, you can be born all over again. Or die from the pure weight of it all. 

“She's having a panic attack or something.” Rooster explained to the nurses who were first into the room. “I don't know what to do.” 

“It's the Asthma, sir.” One of the nurses explained. “She needs ventolin.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“You gotta wake up for me.” An induced coma, that's what the doctors had told you. That's what they said Jake needed in order to heal. In their words, his injuries were extensive, critical and very much life threatening. But while you watched Jake breathe through tubes and held his hand just to let him know you were there, you had to believe that he was going to be okay. That he’d pull through and you'd get to see his smile again. 

“You don't get to leave me now you son of a bitch do you hear me?” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I'll be so pissed if you leave me here.” You snarled right in his ear so that he could hear you. “I'll come and find you in the afterlife and when I get there? I'll rain hell down on you for all eternity.” You weren't expecting a reply, not with Jake being in an induced coma and all. The tubes alone would have stopped him from replying even if he was awake. “Please wake up soon, I really miss you.” With your good hand, you gently ran your palm up his forehead and moved the hair that had fallen across his face away. The bruises were dark and extensive, but Jake was still there under it all. Under all the swollen and bruised skin and bone. Jake was still there. Your Jake was still fighting with everything he had. “I love you, please don't leave me.” 

You sat back in your chair, the one you had been in since you were able to leave your own room during the day and visit Jake. You had to take your IV pole with you though, it was a non negotiable. You had to stay hooked up to antibiotics to fight off the infection in your lungs. It hurt to breathe, so the oxygen tank came too. 

“How are we doing today Kiddo?” You dad asked as he came to visit you like he did every day. He, like all the other aviators that came to visit you and Jake, had gotten used to finding you up in Jake's room up in the intensive care ward. 

“My lungs are on fire but it beats the alternative.” You only took your eyes off Jake for a second to acknowledge your father, who so far, hadn’t pried too deep into finding out details of your imprisonment. You knew he'd have to take off the farther figure hat and replace it with his Commander of the pacific fleet hat soon enough. “The doctors said they’re happy with Jake's stats, said he might be able to come out of the coma soon.”

“That's good to hear sweetheart.” Your dad replied as he stood at the end of Jake's hospital bed, eyes off the man who had kept you alive from what he could tell. “I've uh, i've organised for you to speak to someone, someone who might be able to help you start to process what you went through.” 

“I'm not interested.” It was as dismissive as it could be. You had no intention of leaving Jake's side for any longer than you had to. You didn't want to talk to anyone about any of it, they wouldn't understand and you certainly had no desire to explain all your trauma to a complete stranger. “With all due respect, dad, I don't have any intention of returning to active duty, so a therapist signing off on a clearance form that I’m mentally capable of returning to work, isn't needed.” You added the explanation at the end without so much as looking at your dad. You had a sinking feeling in your gut the more you thought about it. The more you were told about the people you had been tasked to take down. To dismantle. 

“Baby girl.” Your dad tried to reason with you as a father and as Commander. “You are a highly skilled weapons system officer, the Navy cannot afford to lose you.” 

“But yet I wasn't good enough to not be labelled as expendable huh?” The room was cold, but your heart was colder now more than ever before. It made sense but at the same time it didn't. Why? Why would the man you looked up to, respected so much–do this to you? 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Did you know that I was sent on this mission? Why I was chosen over Bob and Fanboy, two highly skilled, highly decorated WSO that Jake already worked with and had worked with for years?” Your dad was silent. Of course he knew, he had to have known considering the stakes of the mission. It just hadnt crossed your mind until you were sitting at that dining table with The Commander being told details you weren’t privy to prior to your file being selected. 

“I–” There was nothing your dad could say to change your mind about the situation. He knew, he had betrayed you. 

“I almost died, dad.” You barely spoke above a whisper all the while you kept your eyes on Jake's face. “And you signed off on this mission, knowing that we were going in blind with half a file that contained only basic information.” 

“We knew you were capable.” Your dad was firm with you, like a Commander would be. “I knew you were ready for this, and I knew you were capable of understanding the risks involved—none of us banked on Seresin not knowing how to let go.” So it was true. They all believed the same thing, that if push came to shove Jake would save himself, not his WSO, not his Wingman. No one. 

“You used me as collateral in case it didn't go according to plan!” 

“Darling, you cannot blame me for what happened—I signed off on the mission file, the admirals were given recommendations, your name and file happened to be one of many.” 

“I need you to leave!” You snapped with tears streaming down your cheeks. Now more than ever you wished Jake would just wake up. “I need you to leave and I need you to understand that I don’t have any intention of talking to any therapist or physician or anyone!” It was then you took your hand out of Jakes to pick up one of the empty coffee cups on Jakes bedside table, one of the many you had begun to collect, and threw it at your dad. “Get out!” 

He did. He did what you asked without a fight, knowing the consequences of his actions along with many others would come back to bite him. You and Jake were not letting this slide, not in a million years. 

“Where is it?” You mumbled to yourself as you fumbled around your pockets for your inhaler. You didn’t understand the panic induced asthma yet, but you had been told how to manage it. “Where is it?” When you finally found the little red inhaler in the pocket of your hoodie, you took a single hit of the ventolin and tried to calm down. 

“Miss Y/l/n, are you staying for morning rounds?” One of the doctors who had been looking after Jake asked as he came into the room. Followed by his interns. 

“Yes please—“ You sighed as you got comfortable and reached out for Jake’s hand again. “And for the love of god Doc tell me you’re gonna wake him up soon?” 

All he did was smile in return before looking over to one of his interns. A young female who looked all the more surprised that she was being called upon to present.” 

“Uh this is Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, sustained three gunshot wounds to the middle abdomen that resulted in severe blood loss, major cardiac trauma resulting in a heart attack that left his right aorta damaged.” It was nothing you hadn’t heard before, could probably resight it all yourself by now you’d heard it so many times. “A broken mandible as a result from falling one hundred meters and multiple other injuries ranging from minor to major abrasions, bruises and laceration that all seem to be on the mend.” Hearing it every day didn’t get any easier. Until the last part that put fresh hope in your heart. You hadn’t heard that part before today. 

“Due to be slowly woken from an induced coma as of today.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Today could be the day Y/n.” The first twenty four hours after surgery are critical. Every breath you take, every fluid you make, is meticulously recorded and analysed, celebrated or mourned. But what about the next twenty four hours? “You just have to remember that both of you went through hell, his body needs time.” Phoenix had brought your flowers. A kind gesture that put a sparkle in your eye for only a few minutes. You were back at Jake's bedside, curled up under a blanket in your chair with your IV poll still at your side. “You need time.”

“I just really need him to wake up—“ But what happens when that first day turns into two, three and four and then those days turn into weeks and possibly turn into months? “I’m starting to lose my mind—the longer he sleeps the more time I have to convince myself that they won.” You explained to Phoenix who fluttered about Jake's ICU ward room. Tidying up, making sure you had company. “That they broke him, me.” 

“They apparently picked the guy up on the coast of Positano—“ It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it but it still felt so surreal to hear. “And that CIA lady's body was recovered a few days after you were rescued.” You’d never met her, but Jake had. The CIA and the NCIS were working together to get this guy long before you were assigned your mission. “So was Captain Hewens.” Phoenix made sure to remind you. “I don’t think he won Hollywood—if he won I don’t think you’d be sitting here.” 

“He didn’t win.” The goal of any surgery is total recovery. To come out better than you were before. But for you and Jake? There was no certainty that the two of you could ever go back to the people you were before. “Ain’t no way he won.” Jake mumbled as he stirred slightly, his hand gripped yours back for the first time since you were able to visit. “He didn’t win—this is nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Oh my god Jake! You’re awake!?” You cried as you got as close to him as you possibly could. “Hi, hey I’m right here yeah? You’re gonna be okay.” 

“I love you—“ Jake needed to say that. He needed you to know. “You’re okay? I’m not dead am I?” 

“No, no you're not dead Jake.” You couldn’t help but to chuckle with utter relief. “You’ll know we’re dead, remember? when it’s just us, on a farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere, just the two of us.” You whispered as you pushed his hair up and away from his forehead. 

“Count me in for that version of heaven.” He’d barely opened his eyes, but Jake had missed your smile oh so much. He would do anything to see it, like a damn fool head over heels in love, he’d do anything. “So we made it? We’re out?” 

“We’re out, we’re home and we’re safe.” Some patients heal quickly and feel immediate relief. For others, the healing happens gradually and it's not until months or even years later that you realise that you don't hurt anymore. “You saved my life Jake Seresin—you never left me hanging.” 

“I’ll leave you two alone for a little while.” Phoenix politely excused herself to go check in with the nurses station about notifying a doctor that Jake was awake. You appreciated it—because now that he was awake you weren’t leaving his side. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asked as he just tried to focus on breathing. When he was finally able to open his eyes they were in you and never left. “Woah, I kinda forgot what you looked like without the dirt and grim, you’re beautiful.” 

“Apparently I’ve got a pretty serious infection in my lungs that gives me asthma attacks when I get worked up but other than that I think I’m okay.” You explain knowing Jake would honestly want you to tell the truth rather than just say you were okay. “And the last thing my body was focused on was maintaining its cycle so I lost my period.” Jake knew why you were mentioning it. “Guess my body just knew what it had to do and not drop any eggs.” Jake squeezed your hand a little tighter and brought your palm up to his lips. “So no need to abort any insurgent fetuses.”

“How long?” You’d asked Rooster the same question, it ended in a panic attack. But again—if Jake wanted to know from anyone else he would have asked them and not you. “How long were we in there for?” 

“Almost Three Months.” So the challenge after every surgery is to be patient. But if you can make it through the first few weeks and months? If you believe that healing is possible–then you can get your life back.

“Guess we’re gonna be pretty messed up for a while aren’t we?” Jake sighed as he fought back tears, this was hell on earth. His entire body hurt but not nearly as much as his heart ached looking at you with his head full of your screams. “But I’m so glad you’re alive.” 

“I’m really thankful you’re alive too.” But that's a big if. “And I know that isnt gonna be easy, it’s gonna really hurt—and be really hard, we’re gonna have to work at this everyday.” You were trying to keep yourself together for Jake’s sake as you let your hand squeeze against his. “But I want to do that because I want you.” 

“You sure about that hotshot?” Jake breathed in softly as his heart beat steady without any doubt that you were the love of his life. “I’m the one who got you into that mess in the first place.” When you nodded softly as tears fell freely down your cheeks, Jake knew one day he’d ask you to marry him. 

“I want all of you, forever, you and me, everyday.” You added, but then there was the pause Jake was waiting for. He knew it was coming because he was thinking the same damn thing. “But we have to heal first, recover—I think the worst thing we could do for each other would be to go into a relationship when we’re literally being held together by glue and some staples.” 

“Can we recover together? But unofficially?” Jake smiled softly as he reached out to cup your still bruised cheek. “Because I unofficially love you, and unofficially I think that I’m not going anywhere.” You let out a laugh, a laugh so pure it brought Jake back to life. He needed nothing but you, forever. 

“Unofficially that sounds like a pretty good idea.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[crusty-chronicles]

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 7: Reminiscing Around the Campfire

Synopsis: After finding out a bit more about Kite, you and the boys decide to stick with him for a bit. Doesn't mean you won't give the man shit for punching your kids. (Although there is something about him that puts you at ease)

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

You were trying so damn hard not to lose control of your aura. Your fists were clenching and unclenching as you struggled to keep your cool.

But the audacity of this man to ask if you all were okay, after being the one to attack first, was making it very difficult.

He stiffened slightly at your previous tone, but approached to meet you halfway nonetheless. Your anger was palpable through the air.

Not a good sign for him.

"HEY ASSHOLE! IS IT A POLICY OR PREFERENCE TO SHOOT AT KIDS!!!"

Your pointer was jabbed against his chest as you shouted. You could feel the calm from his aura fade into nervousness.

He held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Can I explain before you continue berating me?" His voice came out slightly muffled due to his cloak slightly obscuring his face.

Your anger only flared up.

"Fuck your explanation! What I want is an apology!!! You almost killed my kid, you ass!!!!"

The man before you tossed his cloak to the side, figuring it'd be easier to talk to you this way. See eye to eye so you knew his intentions weren't malicious.

Apparently, you couldn't care less at the moment.

"Look I-"

You cut him off as soon as he started.

"We just went through hell and back with several murderers, an insane beefy convict, and some other creep from the Phantom Troupe, just to be shot at!!!!!?!??"

The boys behind you were watching as you cussed him out, ears fully uncovered as your tone rose.

"WE ALMOST DIED SEVERAL TIMES JUST TO GET HERE FOR-!!!!" You stopped yourself upon realizing something.

This man had long silver locks. Gon did not.

Hang on a fucking second.

HANG ON A SECOND!!!!

You grabbed the man by the back of his neck and maneuvered his face down to Gon's level.

"IS THIS DING DONG EVEN YOUR FATHER!!?!??"

The clown made from the stranger's nen started cackling.

"Gonna let them manhandle you like that?"

"Shut up," he hissed back at it, your grip unwavering and surprisingly strong.

Gon looked up shakily at the man. His excited aura now defeated and the hopeful look in his eye gone.

"It's not Ging."

Poor kid.

But you were even more pissed now.

You released the stranger, letting him stand straight so you could continue chewing him out.

"WE ALMOST DIED FOR SOMEONE WHO'S NOT EVEN HERE!!!"

You know what, fuck Ging too for once again misleading his son. You don't know why you thought it'd be different this time.

And it seems your frustration was shared with one of the boys.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!?!" The small assassin shouted.

If that man had shot you....

If you hadn't been fast enough to get to Gon....

If either of you had been injured, there's no telling what he would've done.

Maybe you didn't want an explanation, but damnit if all three of you weren't owed one.

"Tell us! First you knock us down, then you start firing at us!!!! Quit messing around!!!"

You took a step backwards, as if to shield them again should anything happen. The stranger, however, took a step forwards.

"Messing around? Quite the opposite."

Your eyes focused in on him, trying to find any ounce of malice. There was none. Just slight uneasiness.

"If I hadn't opened fire, all three of you would have been attacked."

Your anger had subsided temporary.

A good sign. Maybe now you would listen to reason.

The boy several feet behind you though, was still very much pissed.

"YEAH BY WHAT!?!? THAT STUPID ANT YOU SHOT!?!?" Killua went to step on the still twitching bug before its torso leapt up.

With mandibles like daggers, it sank into his flesh causing Killua to let out a screech of pain. You tensed up as the stranger whizzed past you at an alarming speed.

"You fool!" He went to knock Killua down again.

But his fist made contact with a very different surface.

Your palm, which was now closed tightly around his hand. There was a small aftershock from the force, your arm unwavering from the pressure.

He didn't see you move. Didn't even feel you until you were right there. He didn't hear your steps either.

You had a small frown on your face, but other than that, there were no indicators of your current emotion.

But there was a flicker in your aura. A very exhausted and disappointed flicker.

Then he saw your eyes.

They were so cold and unforgiving. The dark circles under them only adding to the intensity of your glare.

"That was strike two."

Such a powerful resolve behind those cold eyes. It let him know you would not back down next time. You would kill him over these kids if you thought necessary for their safety.

Like a bear protecting it's cubs.

The irony would have been funny if your grip on his fist wasn't so strong. Had he known you weren't actually a fighter, maybe he would have given more push back.

But for now, your resolve had earned his respect.

"Ahhh! Y/n, help me!!!" Killua was pulling with everything he had to try and pry the head of the ant off.

Immediately your hard gaze had softened and you focused all your attention on him. Your firm grip on the stranger's hand was gone.

In less than a second you were kneeled down next to Killua. A very different demeanor than what you had just displayed.

"It's gonna be okay, kid. It's gonna be okay. Just let me-"

"But it hurts!"

Technically, you could kill bugs. They weren't people. And you said you wouldn't let anything happen to your boys.

"Stay still for a sec, just for a second."

Killua stilled as best he could. It would hurt like hell, but you really didn't have a better option. Your thumb and pointer closed around the insect's head. With a small amount of nen, you yanked the bug from his flesh.

He gripped your arm, trying to find a small comfort through the pain. The insect in question was tossed to the side. You briefly glanced down at his leg.

A mistake.

Blood trickled down a sizable wound. The crimson liquid was too close to your line of vision.

You shook slightly, a queazy feeling settling in your stomach. The last thing you wanted was to show weaknesses at a time like this, but you just couldn't stop the trembling of your body.

Killua took notice and quickly did his best to cover the wound.

"Hey, don't look. Okay?" The reaction from the last time you saw blood still fresh in his mind. You'd never looked so scared. And it was happening again.

Gon finally broke from his stunned trance as your breathing quickened. He jumped up immediately and covered your eyes with his hands.

"Don't look at it. Pretend it's not there. Try to think of something else." He did his best to distract you. It seemed to help, your trembling form relaxing little by little.

The man looked on at the three of you, at last understanding. You were deathly protective of those you cared about and yet... you were vulnerable with them as well.

A very interesting bunch.

Deciding he already wasn't in your good graces, he made sure to properly dispose of the Chimera Ant. A resounding shot heard throughout the area.

You gently removed Gon's hands from your face to glare at him. Your anger was slowly rising again, distracting you from your panic.

"That was no ordinary ant." His tone was softer, trying not to agitate you further.

"It's a Chimera Ant," he continued.

Your face scrunched up in confusion. Chimera Ant?

"A what?" Killua asked.

"An aggressive, carnivorous insect that's been designated quarantine level one. They even attack humans from time to time." He addressed Killua.

That explained the blood, but not why he just attacked without any warning.

"You three didn't realize it, but you were standing right in front of their nest. If I hadn't fired the moment I did, an army of Chimera Ants would have consumed you all by now."

You let out a tired groan.

"Then you should've said something you ding dong. You had a solid two minutes to shout something. Maybe a 'Don't step forward or you'll die.' Anything really. You didn't have to sit there until last second."

You stood up, only barely reaching the stranger's shoulders. He eyed you cautiously.

"I doubt you would have reacted fast enough."

"I outran you, didn't I?" You weren't gonna stop giving this guy shit until he apologized.

He let out a tired sigh of his own before kneeling down next to Killua. You sent him a warning glare, and failed to notice Gon's feeling of familiarity.

"Don't worry. It's not as serious as your friend made it out to be." He pulled out a small bottle of some kind. "It's antiseptic, use it."

So maybe he had a heart after all, but you wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.

You were startled by the clown as it spoke.

"What!?!? Gimme a break, is that it!?!? Come on! Let's go wild man!!!"

You were gonna break that thing if it kept talking.

"Ugh, shut up and go away already." The man grumbled as he unsummoned his ability. He stood back up to his full height.

"You three should leave as well."

"Not without an apology." Your hard glare was back.

"You're still on about that? I thought I explained-"

"And I thought I told you screw your explanation. You could have killed my kids with your recklessness!"

"Reckless? What's reckless is showing up in an area you're completely unfamiliar with." Even as your tone rose, he still kept his calm demeanor. Not yet angry with you, but becoming somewhat annoyed with your persistence.

"What did you want us to do? Pull out a nature's encyclopedia from my ass and identify the greenery?" You followed him as he tried to walk away. He paused and turned to face you.

Was that embarrassment in his aura?

"Look, I'll concede. I shouldn't have opened fire without a warning. But you should've been a hell of a lot more careful. If you really care so much about those boys, you'd have been vigilant about your surroundings."

It always sucked when the other person had a point. But you were still very new to this. You weren't used to the suddenness of the real world anymore. A flaw that had to be corrected immediately.

"Yeah, I get that. I was just expecting something else to happen is all." You expected Ging, not whoever this man was, and sure as hell not those ants.

You'd mumbled your words, not expecting them to be heard. But they were, he just chose not to comment on them.

You let him go this time, listening to his rambling as he went.

"Damnit. Now I'll have to start over from the beginning. At least the nest was destroyed. Damnit, and now I've got this pointless kill to my credit."

That phrase caused Gon to let out a noise of shock. You and the man turned around quickly to see what was the matter. Little by little, recognition filled his features.

"Hey, are you....Back when I was younger, are you the one who saved me?"

Your eyebrows scrunched up. This was news to you.

"Wait, when?" The stranger questioned.

"On Whale Island. I'd stumbled onto a foxbear with her cub in the forest." Gon answered.

The man looked over to you. A bear and it's cubs. Definitely a familiar sight.

"Whale Island?" There was a spark of recognition now in his aura.

"Remember," Gon tried again. "You said you had a pointless kill to your credit because of what I did."

A small smile made its way onto the stranger's face.

"Oh yeah, I remember. I never thought I'd run into you again here. You sure have grown up, Gon."

You and Killua gasped out in surprise. So they have met before. Just what the hell was going on here?

"But how do you know my name?!?!?"

"I heard it from your dad: Ging."

He knew Ging, too? So was this meeting set up on purpose like the one with Razor?

"So you know Ging, old man?" Gon asked.

You let out an amused huff as the man became flustered.

"Old ma-" He cut himself off with a small grumble and readjusted his hat.

You lightly bonked Gon on his head.

"Manners, kid." You already set enough of a bad example earlier.

"Don't be rude, even though he does kinda deserve it. Besides, he doesn't look all that older than me." Maybe mid to late 20's if you had to guess.

He gave you a greatfull look before deciding to introduce himself.

"My name is Kite. And yeah, I know Ging. He was actually my master."

All three of you were extremely surprised by the sudden revelation.

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

By sundown, the four of you had made a makeshift camp to talk. There was a small campfire with several fish cooking on top. (One of which you didn't want, still very petty about earlier and Kite having been the one to catch them.)

Kite sat on one end of the fire while you and the boys sat on the other. Two small slabs of stone were used as seats for Gon and Killua. You opted to sit on the ground between them.

"So, the three of you are Pro Hunters too. Is that right?" Kite questioned.

"Well, me and Killua are. Y/n is just really good with nen," Gon answered.

You looked down, trying to hide your small smile.

"Are you one, sir?" Gon continued, remembering to use his manners. God you were so proud right now.

"Just call me Kite. You're my master's son, so don't be so formal."

Gon looked up at you. You nodded your head. To be fair, you did just mean for him to be respectful, not all proper like. But it was sweet how he took it so literally.

"Okay! So you're one too, Kite?"

"I am. Master Ging's the one who made me a first-class Hunter. He was my teacher and my benefactor." Kite said all this with something fond in his eye. His calm aura shifting into something softer.

"See, if I had never met Ging, I'd be dead now. Rotting in the back alley of a slum probably."

For the first time that day, Kite had been the cause of your softening gaze. The frustration completely diminished. Now from your aura, he could read sympathy.

"You were an orphan." You said it like a statement rather than a question. But your tone wasn't harsh like it had been. You felt eyes on you, probably wondering what had caused your shift in mood.

"Something like that," He responded.

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

Kite went on to tell the story about how he met Ging. It was a little funny, if you were being honest. Trying to survive day to day and coming back to your hideout, only to see some stranger crashing there. Only for said stranger to say your living conditions were 'so cool' with all the animals around.

It definitely tickled your funny bone.

Gon, however, was less amused by the story and a little more disappointed. He was probably expecting something cooler or maybe something with a little more context.

"That was it? That's how you met Ging?"

Kite only smiled back at him.

"Yeah." He paused as if in thought, then spoke again.

"Ging told me once that every single Hunter is well liked by animals."

"That so, Cinderella?" Your brow quirked up in a teasing way as Killua laughed at your quip. From your left, Gon nudged your side with a 'be nice.'

Kite sputtered over his words for a second, not expecting your playful remark. Unawares it was just your way of warming up to him. He continued on with his story, albeit a little embarrassed now.

"He also told me I had potential, so that piqued my interest."

"So you were his student?" Killua asked, making sure he was following correctly.

"Once I forced him to teach me. He's not very fond of anything that causes him too much hassle, so I was never his student in any official capacity."

Sounds like Ging really is an ass. Did he leave Gon because he thought of him as a hassle?

"But I suppose I can be a little stubborn, like your friend over there," Kite gestured to you. You gave a small protest of 'hey' before he continued on.

"So I just hounded him 'til he caved. A while after that, I started to develop my nen and he started teaching me how to hunt."

Kite got up to pass the boys each a cooked fish, continuing his story as he went.

"As a result, I passed the Hunter Exam without much trouble. But Master Ging still wasn't satisfied."

You shook your head when he got to you, not reacting out of spite this time, but because you genuinely weren't hungry. He frowned, but didn't push.

You would, however, take whatever drink he had in that kettle.

"There was another hurdle he wanted me to clear. Can you guess that hurdle was?" His question was directed at Gon.

But you had a pretty good feeling about what it was anyway.

"I think I might know." Gon was excited, but there was some anticipation there too.

"Yeah?" Kite encouraged.

"No, I definitely know. If I know Ging, he probably told you.... That he wants you to try and catch him." There was so much conviction in his eyes that it left no room for doubt.

"Right, That's it exactly."

Gon cheered at the response.

"I knew it! I thought that was it!"

Both of them seemed enthralled in their own little world as they talked about Ging. You'd never seen Gon this excited and talkative before. Never seen him this happy. Your little sun was finally shinning.

Maybe you were still pissed Ging had blown off his son once again, but a (not so) small selfish part of you was grateful this journey got to last a little longer. And if you were careful enough, you might just be as happy as that kid one day.

You tuned back into their conversation at a good time.

"The fact that I went to Whale Island, or the fact that I met you there, none of that seemed to surprise him." Kite noted.

"It was almost as if he'd expected it."

You let out a huff. Ging was either a clever bastard, or just plain lucky things had worked out that way.

"Looking back now, I think everything that's happened has gone according to Ging's plan."

Gon was practically shaking with joy at that.

"You're saying he set all this up?" Killua finally spoke.

"Well I can't prove it," Kite admitted.

A beat of silence. And then-

"You may be right." Gon's voice was soft. Like he was putting the pieces together for a bigger narrative.

"Razor was there waiting for me. Dwun and List, too."

You shivered at the mention of the ex-convict. You never would forgive him for breaking your leg or the events that led up to it.

"Razor, and Dwun?" Your words from before rang in Kite's head. What was it you said? An insane beefy ex-convict? That checked out.

"Yeah," Killua confirmed. "It was in a game called Greed Island, but it's kind of a long story."

"Dodgeball, bombers, and cards. That's about it," you simplified.

"Bombers???" It might've been the first time you've given someone else whiplash.

You shrugged your shoulders with a teasing grin.

"Now that one is a long story. But yeah, bombers."

Gon nudged your side again.

"Fine, I'll stop messing with him. Only because you asked me to, munchkin."

Content by your response, Gon continued on with his explanation.

"We got inside the game, and Razor told me he was waiting for me. Ging told him to."

He also said not to hold back on a 12 year old boy, but yeah, waiting is one way to put it.

"Ging created Greed Island with 10 of his close friends. Dwun and List were two of them. Those three were all there. Just waiting for me.

"When I learned that, I realized something. If that was Ging's big plan all along, for me to go there and meet his friends... Then I wonder if meeting all the others, people like Bisky and everybody else, well that might've been part of his plan too, right?"

Weeellll, he probably wanted Gon to find a good mentor for training. There's no way in hell he could have planned all the other chaos.

"If that's really the case, then it's also possible that Ging wanted you to meet Kite here so he helped to make it happen." Killua speculated.

"Think so?"

"It'd make sense for him to set this up. I mean why leave you that clue if it didn't lead you somewhere important," You reassured. You believed this was all a coincidence, truly, but it didn't hurt to build up the kid a little more. Plus you really didn't want to be the one to ruin his happy mood.

You glanced over to Kite who looked deep in thought. Seems he was also trying to put together the pieces Ging left behind.

"Hey, that's right!" Gon exclaimed. Kite gave a hum to show he was listening.

"You must have spent time on Greed Island at some point, haven't you?"

"Me?" The man in question pointed at himself.

"Yeah! And when you went, did you register under the name of Nigg?" There was once again a hopeful look in Gon's eye.

"Nigg? No I don't recall that name....Wait. I do remember Ging taking me inside a game a while back. Now that you mention it."

You bit back your remark of 'We've been talking about a game for the past hour and you just now remembered.' He was a little ditzy, wasn't he?

"I knew it!" Gon celebrated.

"Greed Island? Yes, I believe that's what it was called. But I can't remember if I used an alias." Okay, very ditzy. But to be fair it was getting late, you'd have a hard time remembering things too if it weren't for that Angel's Breath.

Having finally put the pieces together, Gon's aura was relieved and still very happy.

"Damnit! He got me good!"

"Language!" You scolded.

You felt a harsh thump on the back of your head. You turned fast to glare at the small assassin.

"What was that for!?!?"

"You can't get after Gon for his language with the things you were saying earlier!!!"

"I'm an adult, you're both tater tots! And besides," you grabbed the side of Killua's head and covered his ears with your hands.

"WHEN I TELL YOU TO COVER YOUR EARS, YOU DO IT, YOU LITTLE FIBBER!!! IF YOU PICK UP ON MY BAD LANGUAGE THEN WHAT KIND OF BIG SIB WOULD THAT MAKE ME!!!!" You shook him slightly during your dramatics.

"But damnit isn't nearly as bad as fuc-" Gon tried to defend before getting cut off by your shocked gasp.

"GON FREECS! DON'T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!!!!"

You shook your head in disbelief. God, you were failing terribly at this older role model thing.

"DON'T YOU DARE! AND IN FRONT OF COMPANY TOO???" You gestured across at Kite who was very amused by your antics.

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

By now the boys were stuffed and conversing happily, the discussion still revolving around Greed Island. You were just glad the first day in the real world had ended on a high note. It was nice for a change.

No fighting. No training. No worrying.

Just peace.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

"So the real reason that Greed Island was created was to provide the boys with the type of training they needed?" Kite seemed unsure about that part.

"No, it was only for Gon really." Killua clarified. "I've pretty much been along for the ride the whole time. Y/n just recently joined us from the game."

You took a swig from the small thermos and nodded your head.

"But that might've been part of Ging's plan too, dont'cha think?" Gon asked.

"Even me!?!? Not likely," Killua dismissed.

"Your dad's a wizard if he planned for you to meet me. He probably expected you to make friends along the way. Just not the exact ones you'd make." You explained.

There was no way in hell anybody could have predicted for you to meet those boys. Even you, yourself were still shocked you'd actually left Greed Island.

"But it appears that all of us meeting here was no mere coincidence." Kite did have a point about that.

Ging was proving to be one crafty bastard.

"Yeah, I agree," Killua spoke up. "There's got to be some deeper meaning to all this."

"Like what?" Gon asked.

"Like... Razor waited inside the game so he could help make you stronger. And if that's the case, then it would make sense that Ging has some role for Kite to play too."

"A role, huh?" Kite murmured.

"Maybe a mentor," You guessed. It seemed like a Ging thing to do. Dump his son on someone else while he was god knows where.

Kite's eyes met yours.

"Aren't you their mentor?"

You smirked something crooked.

"Hell no! I'm more of the help than I am mentor. Too much responsibility. Besides, you're a decent fit."

You could feel his aura shit into something embarrassed.

"Decent fit?"

"Yeah, you found Gon's dad, didn't you? From what I hear, he's the best of the best. And if you were able to find the best of the best, well that certainly says a lot, doesn't it?" Ewww, since when were you so nice????

Since when did you ask for help?

"Ging must have trusted you with the remainder of Gon's training. Or at least felt you were capable of doing so. He did send us your way, after all."

Either that or Ging was just a dick. And even though you highly suspected the latter, it'd do nobody any good to voice that opinion.

"You really think so, Y/n?" Gon was looking up at you unsure, but there was a spark of hope in his eye.

"I think they're right about this, Gon. Why else would Ging send us here?" Killua backed up.

You waited for Kite's response. He'd gone a little quiet at your suggestion.

"...Hey, Gon?"

The boy hummed to show he was listening.

"Want me to tell you where Ging is right now?"

It was a trick question, you could tell from a mile away. But if you knew Gon, there was no way in hell he would take Kite up on his offer. Gon wanted to find his dad with the skills he had and the clues he found.

"No thanks. I'll find him myself."

Atta boy.

You weren't the only one pleased by his response.

"That's a good answer," Kite said with a small smile.

And that surge of happiness once again consumed Gon's aura.

"So anyway, tell me all about Ging! I wanna hear every story that you've got about him!"

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

Every story, every little detail about his father, had Gon on the edge of his seat. And even though the other boy wasn't as enthusiastic, he was very much interested in the tales of Ging and Kite.

And a small part of you was too. You wanted to get a good read on his character. Figure out if maybe you were being too harsh on him, or if you were justified in your assumptions. Of course, you knew what you would hear would be sweet. Ging had a special place in Kite's life, so everything said was in a positive light.

But you supposed the same could be said about you depending on who was being asked.

Apparently, Ging was as good as a triple star hunter. And there weren't many of those. [REDACTED] was one of those.

You shook off the negative feeling. You were gonna have a good night and nothing was gonna prevent that from happening.

You'd felt the last flicker from Killua's aura as he drifted off. Gon had dozed off a little earlier, leaving you with Kite.

It was a tiny bit awkward. You never were much of a conversationalist. You were used to talking when necessary. (Or whenever you had gotten pissed) With the kids, it was a little easier. When you had nothing to say, they'd always add something that recharged the conversation.

Even talking with Bisky had been hard. You trusted her judgement, but when it came to non-nen related topics, you just struggled.

And that's where you currently were right now. Trying to find something to say to fill the silence. You didn't quite trust Kite yet.

But it had more to do with who you were as a person rather than him.

From what you could tell, he wasn't all bad. He'd fed your kids and entertained Gon's whims. He kept his cool while you were blowing a fuse earlier.

But it seems he was in the same place as you. Struggling to find something to say.

"...Sooo?" You broke the ice first. Unease settling in your stomach.

He nodded at you to show he was listening.

"In your personal opinion...Is Ging Freecs genuinely a good person?" Your words caused his eyes to widden, confusion radiating from his aura.

"Why do you ask?"

You briefly glanced over at Gon's sleeping form.

"I just don't want Gon to be disappointed if he turns out to be a jerk. And I kinda want to know what to expect." You didn't want to be caught off guard like this time.

Some silence passed as Kite thought of a response.

"He's a stubborn one. And he's very blunt with what he says. Good or bad, he says what's on his mind. There's also his tendency to flake out on people." There was a teasing glint in his eye.

"But despite it all, Ging cares about those close to him. Even if he doesn't show it...Ging isn't the best to get along with, but I don't think that makes him a bad person. Do you?"

You weren't exactly the best judge of character, hence why you asked for an honest opinion. But if you had to say based on that...

"An emotionally constipated ass, got it."

A snort caught your attention.

"Yeah, that about sums him up." The tension suddenly wasn't as thick as before. But before long it was silent again.

"You aren't mad anymore." It was an honest observation from Kite.

"No. Just don't punch my brothers anymore and we can call it even." A slip of the tongue that you didn't catch. Perhaps it was getting a little too late for you.

The male in front of you didn't comment on it. But he sure as hell noticed it.

"Force of habit. Ging was very thorough with his teachings. I'll leave punishments up to you from now on."

"Bold of you to assume my boys have done anything wrong in their lives."

One look and he knew you'd die on that hill. You really did care about them, didn't you?

"GRRRR!"

The both of you startled at the loud noise, only to realize it came from your own stomach.

You tried to suck it in to prevent the loud noise from escaping, not wanting to wake up Gon or Killua. You looked up embarrassed when the noise had stopped.

"You're hungry."

"No I'm not!"

He gestured towards your stomach.

"We both just heard that."

"I didn't hear a damn thing."

"GRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Shutupshutupshutup," you hissed trying to regain control of your stomach.

"I can see if I have something for you." Kite offered.

Your head snapped up.

"I'm not hungry."

You were a stubborn one, too.

"Pretend I didn't hear your stomach growl, I can still tell you're lying when you say that."

You pouted like a child.

"Lies, you can't prove it."

"I can see deceit in your aura as we speak."

That caught your attention quickly.

You'd stilled and looked at him with wide eyes. Could he really.....

"You can see...my aura?" It had been so very long since you've met someone who could see auras. You knew Bisky could somewhat sense them, but to actually be able to see them.....

To have someone see yours after all these years, you felt a little exposed. But not uncomfortable. It felt a little personal and familiar to have somebody who'd been reading you the same way you read them.

It was something that gartered trust both ways. A trust you were starting to give.

"Yes?" Kite's voice was unsure. Most likely due to your sudden shift in mood.

"That's... nice." Your voice was tired, even though you were so alert.

"You don't sound all that happy about it."

"It's just gonna take some time to get used to. It's been a little over a decade since I've had someone be able to see me." Seems you were feeling a little loose lipped tonight.

"You know, only extremely skilled hunters can see auras. Ging would do it to me all the time. I could never get away with anything."

You appreciated Kite's openness. It made you be a little more open too.

"You're telling me. I could never lie without getting caught. Even if it was something small like if I made my bed. But lying was one thing. Hiding how you feel, that's another."

"An issue of privacy, right?"

"Something like that." You responded.

And at the worst possible time-

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

You were beyond embarrassed now. Kite tried to hide his smile from you, finding the situation a little amusing.

He rummaged around his backpack, hands finding something that might satiate your hunger for now.

"Here." He tossed you something in silver wrapping.

You eyed him cautiously.

"It's a candy bar. Not the best, but it's what we've got that the moment."

Candy bar?

C A N D Y B A R

It was almost comical the way your eyes lit up. Like a kid opening up a present. Your excitement increased as you took off the wrapper. And as you bit into the bar, all that radiated from you was pure content. You noticed his staring and beamed.

"So what's up bestie?" Your words were muffled from your stuffed mouth.

You'd successfully earned a laugh from him.

You were cute when you were happy.

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

You awoke surrounded by the scent of pine needles and something a little stronger. Almost artificially sweet. Cologne perhaps?

Wait a minute.

You opened your eyes groggily and adjusted to the sudden brightness. With your brain still half asleep, you barley registered the slight weight on your shoulders. You were also surprisingly warm.

You stood up, still not quite sure where the pleasant scent was coming from. It wasn't until you felt the weight start to slip off your shoulders and pulled it back up did you realize.

This was a cloak.

A very familiar cloak.

Your face went hot.

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

Fun Fact#8: Y/n used to love clowns and puppets when they were little. Not so much now as an adult.

MASTERLIST

Tags: @fandomhoe101

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

An: Me giggling, kicking my legs back and forth, and twirling my hair every time Kite comes on screen. I just can't help but have Y/n romance him, plus it'll add to future angst. 🥹🥹🥹 Also we love us some foreshadowing 😍

[vermillioncrown]

an actual AU snippet: a number of different selves

bc @rozaceous and i keep teehee-ing about 'folie a deux' and aaaaall the au's we have for our dc-siocs

money where the mouth is: bonus snippet + concept for followers

(it'll prob just be like my longer mdzs au's with one written part and the rest is just back and forth)

impetus: roz and i saw a shitpost where someone laughed at "bruce wayne x reader divorce" and said "he's already going through it and people are really inserting themselves in the narrative just to divorce him lmao"

which we then joked "damn we'd be set. he could have whatever mistress he wants as long as we could have financial support and leave us alone. we'll play his trophy wife"

and then we both realized that there would be things we couldn't let go if we ever caught wind of it. like it would drive us insane to abide by it. and thus...a version of our si's w bruce (yeah you heard me, both of us)

so here's a thing, bonus only for tumblr🙂

“I put you two in that meeting to clear up any hard feelings,” Lucius stares dead-on at his screen. He tries very hard not to pinch the bridge of his nose—composure needs to be maintained. “It can’t have gone that poorly.”

“Time is a finite resource for us lowly mortals and I’m not getting that hour back,” Vivienne grits out. “A fucking PA—where does he get off on his high horse? I hope he explodes.”

What?

“—know how many people work here, Lucius? Let alone just my division? And you’re wasting everyone’s time with each dead-on-arrival concept that gets shuffled into our portfolio and then ‘mysteriously’ yanked when it’s just good enough to Frankenstein into whatever high school science project that’s hiding in some Gotham sewer tunnel.” Her tirade is caustic and not hidden behind the typical red lipstick smiles. “Morale is dipping. There’s only so much you can pay to keep mouths shut and stop turnover.”

Vivienne makes very good points—the fact she has the acumen even three years ago was why WanyeTech moved to fund her PhD and fast-tracked her as a technical director upon entering the workforce. She caught on very quickly—too quickly—that there were private uses of certain advanced concepts within R&D, and she cared. Fortunately for WayneTech, her diligence meant increase in efficiency for the company; they’ve won several bids that have extended their reach into two new industries.

(Fortunately, WayneTech is privately held and not subject to public shareholder scrutiny.)

Unfortunately for the Batman, it meant additional roadblocks for his tools and supplies. It was by God’s grace, or something, that Vivienne didn’t decide to either blackmail them or whistle-blow. What she argued for was more oversight and appropriate man-hours and billing for certain projects that went towards a ‘private use case.’ The willingness to help (out of logistical fury) took a load off Lucius’s shoulders, but it put two new headaches in his skull: one next to each ear every time Vivienne or Bruce complained about each other peripherally.

“Does His Dark Grace think he’s not subject to g-forces?”

“Lucius. I asked for four different configurations. It should be able to fit.”

“Love his idealism—of course we have the manufacturing tolerances of an ant colony!”

“This is over-redundant and unnecessary. It gets in the way of visibility. I need a design change by two weeks.”

...and so on, so forth. So Lucius decided to cut himself out as the middleman and make the two talk to each other. A direct stakeholder meeting to capture requirements and fulfill proposals, so to speak in company terms. As both Bruce’s long-standing friend and Vivienne’s superior for her tenure at the company, he’s in the unique position to see the similarities in their personalities and (perhaps foolishly) believed they would get along after candid discussion.

And somehow, it all went to hell in a hand basket. That’s probably on Lucius for forgetting that adults were equally susceptible to playground scrapping as his six-year-old son. Thankfully, there’s less physical dirt involved or impromptu weapons, even if Vivienne looks ready to rip her stiletto heels off to use as a real stiletto.

“Vi, what do you need me to give?” Lucius straightens and prepares to negotiate. The greatest vulnerability of adding good talent is having more people in the know. Loose ends. It’d be a blow to lose Vivienne, but as long as she doesn’t talk—

“He’s lucky he’s a net good,” she snarls, now pacing in front of his desk. “He’s fucking lucky city statistics are on his side.”

“Vivienne.”

She stops mid-rant. “What.”

“Are you terminating our agreement?”

Vivienne takes a few calming breaths before rearranging her stance into something more office-appropriate rather than riled up before taking part in an illicit cage match. “No, Chief Fox. I am not,” she answers with a placid smile, tone light and even.

“Then, what would make your life easier?” Lucius does understand that she’s doing them a huge favor at an equally huge cost from herself. There’s a lot of duties that are more effort and well-beyond what someone her pay grade should need to touch; the delicate situation requires her to be equal parts every role for end-to-end conceptual design to manufacturing.

When Lucius scouted Vivienne Yang from her undergrad in Gotham University, it was by chance—there were technical managers scouting and giving PR for various capstone projects, and he decided to tag along. There, as he was browsing various posters, is where he found her. The work done by her team wasn’t novel (just par for the course with undergraduate engineers), but it was the polish that caught his eye. A methodical approach to answering the prompts given by the capstone courses, justified scope, and structured analysis and design choices that made her team’s final concept (proposed electric car design) stand out. Their value proposition considered necessary support infrastructure and manufacturing as part of their considerations.

He called them ‘her team’ because it was clear that, despite being barely 5’6” with pointed choice of footwear and surrounded by young men over a head taller with the typical engineers’ mannerisms to boot, she called the shots. Oh, of course, her teammates contributed to the questions he asked (”Andy,” young-Vivienne barked, and Team Member Andy jumped in to answer about the drivetrain sizing), but she was the systems integrator.

This was the type of skill that took years to build—usually, years of practical experience on the job—and she had it as intuition. And when Lucius corrected certain assumptions on their design, she didn't take it personally but was instead able to promptly speculate how that would shift their design point.

Thus, he put out an immediate sponsorship for her to grab an advanced degree (or two), school of her choice, research topic to be approved by whatever technical manager in WayneTech that acted as her liaison, and would jump into a stable job with a salary and employee benefits other grad students could only dream of.

Landing something as prestigious as Director of Advanced Concepts, slated for Chief Technology Officer by her 30s, in a Fortune 500 company? Barring the fact that the work was based in Gotham, crime capital of the United States, it would be something like pure fantasy to any aspiring engineer.

She took the sponsorship offer, and Lucius learns over the years that she financially supports her family living out-of-state and genuinely enjoys the various industries that intersect within WayneTech’s R&D. She likes a job well done, is practical and professional (if not overly enthused) when defense-related bids come across their table, and disdains many of the big research or tech conglomerates that make the news for various crimes or “waste of brain cells and human effort.”

Her morals aren’t obvious, but Vivienne’s choice to support Lucius’s efforts to protect Bruce in his uphill crusade is her character vouching for the Batman, even if she dislikes the actual man behind the mask and his design requirements. That she considers it still of worth is something that Lucius needs to compensate her for.

Lord knows had Bruce actually gone through with that projectile design, he’d have already lost an eye. If Vivienne says his proposed ‘Batplane’ design will vibrate into smithereens, he’s inclined to trust her on that.

“I’m going to start calling him an idiot and vetoing stupid requirements,” Vivienne declares, one eyebrow raised like she’s daring him to object.

“You mean you haven’t been doing that already?”

“Lucius, I have been nothing but polite to him. You have the CCs,” she refutes, looking at him incredulously.

He’s not sure by whose standards her scathing emails can be considered ‘polite’, but of course she can be worse. He needs to smooth this out, redo the first meeting ASAP. His hairline can’t take more of this.

“Fine, alright. Just—let’s try to set up another discussion. I’ll attend this time.”

Vivienne actually snorts. “Guess I’m never beating the PA allegations.” She looks down at her watch. “Fuck. Should have just written you an angry email. How am I going to make it five blocks in ten minutes?” She mutters and just as suddenly as she invaded his office, she strides out with a distracted, “Okay thanks, I’ll continue this later.”

He’d rather she not, but it seems she’s sticking around the Wayne Enterprises HQ building to call into her upcoming meeting; he hears her requesting a fresh notepad, a hot cup of coffee, and a private conference room and everyone outside honors those requests immediately.

That’ll give Lucius about two hours to process Vivienne’s rant, track down Bruce for his side of the story, and figure out how to smooth things out. It shouldn’t be unreasonable.

His phone call to Bruce shatters his expectations.

“You called Director Yang my what?”

[glitchyfrills]

🎶Dudududu🎶 Part4

Ao3 Readers Click This!

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Five)

((GlitchNote: This story has really taken a productive turn. And no one had to threaten my caffeine. PROGRESS! Hope you all are enjoying the story!))

“Pobrecitos,” sighed Gia as she read her communicator.

Spreen scoffed, “Pobrecitos que nada. They should be taking advantage of this situation they created. If Sueño is still in the Nether them dying and respawning in the Overworld can be a power play.”

“Exactly,” Awesamdude agreed. “Come on, we gotta find where they ended up.” Sam got up reluctantly from where he was sitting under a tree and walked towards the direction George and Ant went a few hours ago. “Or you can stay here, it’s up to you. You are our guests.”

“But we were also brought to observe The Hunt. Gia may want to stay but I’m going,” Spreen explained.

Gia huffed, “I was specifically selected by Captain Puffy herself.” She dropped from the tree branch she was relaxing on in front of Spreen. “No way I’m staying behind.” She poked Spreen in the chest pushing him out of her way to follow Sam.

The three walked a few hundred blocks and came across a village that looked to be where the trainees had created some sort of recon area.

“Check the houses,” Gia suggested.

Sam nodded and they split up. It wasn’t long before he heard Tina complaining. “Stupid stupid mobs! Ugh!” The door of a villager’s house swung open and she stormed out.

“You made it to the Nether, that’s something to be proud of.”

“Oh my gosh! Sam!” She jumped back and gasped. “You scared me.”

“Good thing you didn’t have a weapon on you,” Sam chuckled.

Tina sighed and pulled out the compass from her inventory, “All I have is this stupid thing. We were lost in the Nether forever!”

Sam shook his head and laughed under his breath at her dramatics. “But you managed to find the Fortress.” He was trying so hard to give Tina a new perspective on how things turned out.

“Only because Dream found it!”

Sam was about to make another comment when RedVelvet appeared. He passed Sam and stood beside Tina opening his inventory. “Here you go.”

The anger and frustration Tina was just experiencing slowly faded. “Thanks, Velvet.” She took the replacement armor he had given her and put it on. “Good thing we found enough iron for extra armor.”

Velvet nodded. Sam sent a quick message to Spreen and Gia. The two quickly joined the others.

“Are you going to get back to the Nether?” Spreen asked, noticing their lack of urgency.

“No, we are going to gather more food and hopefully find diamonds to make better armor for when we get to The End,” replied Velvet.

“Decent strategy,” Sam commented. Hums of agreement came from both Gia and Spreen. “Get to it. We will be here to observe.”

Tina took the task of gathering food supplies while Velvet headed towards the hills away from the village to start a new mining area.

“How do you not get bored just,” Spreen waved his hands around as if trying to snatch the word out of the air, “esperando.”

Sam looked down at his communicator for the translation of the word and let out a chuckle. “At first it was extremely boring but after a few trainee events I’ve found ways to keep myself entertained.”

Soon the sound of a door opening and closing caught their attention. They headed in the direction the noise came from and found Karl rummaging through a chest and pulling out iron boots.

Sam opened his communicator and looked back at the death message he obviously missed somehow. “How did you fall in lava?”

His question startled Karl as he jumped up and held his hand up to his chest. “Don’t do that! Geez? I just respawned you nimrod.”

“Answer my question, Karl,” Sam sighed.

“Dream pushed me in,” Karl shouted with his arms flying about his head. “Can you believe that guy!?!”

Sam could believe it. Dream had pushed him off a mountain, into a ravine, and off an End Island. He was about to ask Karl what his next move was when Hannah stumbled out of a villager house close by.

“I almost had him!” She cried out. “But my stupid shield broke!” She pushed past Sam and kneeled by Karl to also rummage through the chest. “Who took all the extra armor?”

“I just took the last pair of boots,” said Karl.

“Velvet and Tina were kitted out,” Sam pointed out. “Tina went to look for food and Velvet went mining for more resources.”

Hannah sighed dramatically but after a moment she took a deep breath and recentered herself. “Okay, here’s what you and I are gonna do.”

Karl gave Hannah his full attention as she went into detail on what they should do next. Sam quietly listened and took note of how their plan could both succeed and fail.

“He most definitely already has the Eyes he needs to find the Stronghold.”

“Definitely,” Hannah agreed. “Now I know this isn’t our favorite tool but it’s what we’ve got,” she pulled out the compass from her inventory.

She and Karl watched as the needle in the compass circled a few times but then settled pointing in one direction. “Got him, let’s get going.”

Before leaving the village they took whatever tools they could from the blacksmith of the village and sent messages to Tina and Velvet to meet them as soon as they had decent amounts of resources for them to split.

As they were about to leave the village and head towards the direction the compass was pointing towards AntFrost and George appeared.

“Woo!” Exclaimed Ant as he shook himself out. “Traveling with those eyes really gives you a rush.”

Sam raised an eyebrow as he watched Ant and George try to regain their balance as they made their way towards them. “You two didn’t use the Eyes one right after the other?”

George laughed as he nodded ‘yes’. Sam clenched his fist but took a deep breath. “You know that’s dangerous, right? You could have lost something in travel.”

“Lost something?” Gia echoed as a question.

“Yeah, the enchantments on the Eyes are very strong and need a cool down period. Which these two idiots know!” Sam scolded George and Ant for taking such a risk.

“We just wanted to get back to a closer point,” George explained. “Traveling to the Nether and back was the only way. We didn’t want to walk thousands of blocks.”

Sam sighed, “Just don’t do it again.”

“Just don’t do it again.” George repeated mockingly as Ant giggled beside him.

They were about to put away their weapons when Sam stopped them, “Don’t even think about it. We are following behind Karl and Hannah. They are tracking Dream with the compass.” Sam waved Karl and Hannah to go ahead and they would trail behind.

“Why can’t you follow them and we catch up after we rest,” George questioned in a whiny tone.

Gia pointed out, “Aren’t you two the ones that are supposed to watch them in the OverWorld?”

“Ha! Gotcha!” Sam pointed at both Ant and George as he laughed in victory. “I don’t even have to be here. I could travel to the Stronghold if I wanted to!”

“Whatever, Sam!” George shouted.

Ant pulled out his own compass and watched as it spinned and settled in a certain direction. “That way,” he pointed towards the opposite direction from which they came. “Let’s get going.”

George pouted but adjusted his bow and quiver so it sat comfortably on his back. He reached over and grabbed the compass AntFrost was holding. He grumbled as he walked in the direction the compass was leading them, “Fine, let’s go.”

Before following, Ant motioned for Sam to get closer. When he did, Ant asked, “Did Velvet respawn okay?”

Sam couldn’t help the smile that creeped on his face. “He’s fine. He’s actually off in a mine somewhere looking for diamonds.”

Ant sighed in relief and without saying anything smiled his thanks to Sam. He then hurried after George who was waiting impatiently.

Spreen was the one to break the silence that had fallen over the remaining three. “Are we going to travel to the Stronghold or…”

“Nah,” Sam replied. “We’ll follow behind and watch and see how their plan plays out.”

“I hope they manage to execute their plan effectively,” Gia exclaimed with every ounce of hope she could muster. “They seem so determined and sometimes that’s what can tip the scale in someone’s favor: determination.”

“It got you pretty far,” Spreen elbowed Gia in her side playfully.

“Claro!” Gia cheered. She was proud of her accomplishments and never backed away from praise. She knew she deserved it. With pride in her step she led the group towards where the others had gone with Spreen not far behind.

Sam pulled out his communicator as he walked, every few steps looking up to make sure he could still see Spreen and Gia up ahead.

‘We are heading in the direction of the Stronghold. Things are about to get interesting.’

((GlitchNote: Interesting indeed!!! Thank you so much for reading!!! I really do hope people are enjoying this very out of nowhere story. It’s been so much fun to write. Again, thank you for reading! I look forward to seeing you in the next part!!))

[mistyeyesofthemountainpeaks]

The sleepers

Pt. 1

My ears were ringing, and there was a bright light in my face, I couldn’t see very well, but I could tell there were people moving around.

“He’s waking up, can someone get Doctor Adams?” An excited female voice said. I groggily looked around, but could only see the vague outline of… wait.. that can’t be right. I looked the other way, the only thing there was the wall.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” The same voice asked. I turned my head again to its source, and found her directing a brighter light into my eyes.

“So far everything seems to be fine. OH, Doctor, you made it!, I’ll see to the other three.” The female speaker left. Other three… she must be talking about.. but only three? Did only four of us make it?

“Your probably wondering what’s going on kid.” Said an older sounding voice, it’s speaker sounded rather bored.

“Y-yes” I replied, my voice somewhat ragged. “I- I can’t see very well though, so that’s probably not helping.” I quipped. This “Doctor Adams” fellow didn’t seem to find it funny.

“A common side effect of long-term cryogenic stasis.” He replied after a while. “However, in your case, these might be more helpful.” He held up a small case. “Your lucky we noticed them in your pod.” He said, handing it to me.

“My glasses.. thank you doctor…” I trailed off, waiting for a formal introduction.

“Dr. Grant Adams.” He held out a hand as I put my glasses on, bring the room into much more clarity, the rest of the haziness slowly fading away as I woke up. “You are?”

“Michael North.” I responded taking his hand and shaking it. “The one woman, who was just here, she said that there were three others?”

Dr. Adams sighed deeply, looked to the ground for a minute, then looked up.

“Kid, there’s something you should know. The sleeper ship your pod cluster was part of, was little more than a mangled wreck. Your cluster was the only one still operating, and even then only just.” His words sank in, and I could feel my face paling.

“N-no one else…”

“No one could have survived whatever came through.” He took a moment, then continued. “There’s something else… and this one will probably shock you more, so if you want I can save it till your companions are up.”

I shook my head, I’d brief them on my own. There was a moment of silence, then

“Earth has been destroyed.” The words rattled me, our home world? How long did the sleeper ship have us under? How recently was earth destroyed? Questions buzzed through my head, is humankind on the brink of extinction? Did we manage to move somewhere else?

“Dr. Adams, one of the others isn’t waking up, but his vitals are stable, for now” the female voice interrupted my train of thought, I turned y head to the door and nearly jumped back into the wall, too shocked to scream at what appeared to be a spider-ant hybrid.

“Thank you, Ettyn.” Dr. Adams replied, I’ll see what I can do, for now…” he paused, looked at me then continued “actually, I’ll take Michael with me, he seems to be doing well enough.”

Ettyn nodded, and left the room, presumably to continue whatever she was doing prior to informing us one of my colleagues wasn’t waking up.

“We did find a new home world, by the way.” Dr. Adams said.

“Oh.. that’s good.” He laughed a bit ruefully

“Terra Nova is far from what earth was, but that’s not to say it isn’t close enough.” He looked to me, before saying “it was a few hundred cycles ago. Your ship was sent out another couple centuries prior to that.”

Centuries… we’ve been sleeping for centuries.

“Are we on a ship or in a hospital on Terra Nova?” I asked

“Ship. We’re a few dozen star gates from Terra Nova.” Dr. Adams said, opening the door to what appeared to be an office. “Wait here while I get the others.”

I nodded, the other three people were my last link to home. Our last link to home. As the first one woken up, I figured it was now my responsibility to get my crew, as they now seemed to me, acclimated to our new world, and then carve ourselves a place in this galaxy. The first thing we’re going to need though, is a ship.

[thegrandharveyspecter]

Trip to a Coffee Shop; a Harvey & Scott Drabble Part Thirteen: The Sick Ant

"Harvey? Tell me that's you." Scott's voice, hoarse and scratchy, called from behind the counter seconds after Harvey entered the coffee shop. Harvey couldn't see him. "I need help."

Harvey tried to squash the worry as he hurried behind the counter. Sitting on the floor, slumped against the counter, was Scott Lang looking absolutely miserable. He was coated in sweat, there were bags under his eyes, his hair was a scruffy mess and there were splats of vomit on his shirt.

"Jesus, you look like shit," Harvey said, kneeling in front of him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Too long. Waaay too long," Scott groaned. "I tried to make my way to my room but I collapsed halfway. I kept throwing up and my body feels numb and..."

"It's okay, kid. I'll get you to your room," Harvey said, schooling his voice into something gentle. "We'll change your shirt too. Come on."

Harvey stood and held his hand out for Scott to take, and he did so with a poor excuse of a grip. Harvey slowly helped Scott stand, though he still slouched and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before they could move.

Thankfully, Scott's room was right behind the counter so they didn't have to walk that far to his bed. It still took a little time thanks to how slow they had to move, and it was clear that Scott was struggling to not throw up again. Harvey carefully sat Scott on his bed.

"Lift your arms for me," he instructed.

The fact that Scott did so without protesting or complaining was a testament to how miserable he really was. Harvey pulled Scott's dirty shirt off and threw it in the laundry basket. He went to his small wardrobe and searched until he found a muscle shirt. Scott was able to slip it on himself.

While Scott laid on his back, Harvey went to the storage room/kitchen and got a bowl for Scott to throw up in. Before leaving, he grabbed an icepack from the freezer and a hand towel.

"You don't have to stay," Scott said when Harvey came back. "I just needed to get back to my room."

"I'm staying whether you like it or not," Harvey replied. He put the bowl and hand towel on the nightstand.

He placed the icepack on Scott's forehead and the guy practically jumped out of his skin. "COLD!"

"Obviously," Harvey said, dryly. "Keep that on your forehead. It'll help. Do you have any medicine here?"

Scott shook his head. Harvey sighed. "Alright, I'll be back in a bit with some medicine then. Stay here, don't get up from bed. There's a bowl on the nightstand for when you need to throw up."

"Thank you, Harvey..."

Harvey shrugged, lightly ruffled Scott's sweat-soaked hair. "Get some rest. I'll be back soon."

With that, Harvey's day of taking care of a Sick Scott Lang started. He bought cough syrup, Tylenol, different cans of soup, other cold medicine. Was it a bit excessive? Maybe. But it was just in case Scott got another fever. This way, he wouldn't run out quickly.

Throughout the day, Scott was in and out of consciousness. Most times when he woke up, he'd vomit, complain about the cough syrup, and pass out again. He was never awake long enough for Harvey to ask if he was willing to try some soup.

There was a time where Scott started freaking out, claiming that he was dying. He didn't want to die yet, he had to live and watch Cassie grow up because he missed time. He freaked out so bad, Harvey called Cassie and had her talk Scott to sleep. The poor child was scared for her dad. It took a while for Harvey to assure her that her dad wasn't really dying.

Around 10:30PM, Harvey tried to get Scott to eat some soup. Of course, the kid was pouting and whining, saying he'd only throw it up. Harvey agreed with that, but Scott still needed to eat. It took a whole fifteen minutes to convince Scott to have a couple spoonful's.

Somehow, Scott managed to keep it down but he passed out shortly after. When he was out again, Harvey cleaned up the vomit bowl, replaced Scott's icepack, and put the rest of the soup in the microwave for later. He turned all the lights off in the shop, locked the front door and sat next to Scott's bed.

XXX

Scott still felt miserable when he woke up the next afternoon, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day before. He didn't even throw up as soon as he woke up. He wasn't as hot, probably because he had two icepacks on him now. It was hard to keep his eyes open but he didn't want to drift into a nightmare about dying.

He licked his dry lips, shifted onto his side, one of his icepacks sliding down his forehead. He adjusted it and yawned loudly. It felt great to be awake and not want to throw up. When Scott looked up, he blinked, surprised at the sight.

Harvey was still sitting in the same chair, out like a light, no doubt exhausted from caring for Scott the day prior. Thankfully, the man didn't look like he was getting sick.

There was a comfortable warmth in Scott's chest. He smiled at the thought that Harvey stayed the whole time. Down the line, whenever Harvey needed his assistance, Scott was going to stay as long as he needed.

If only everyone knew that Harvey Specter wasn't as rough and cold as people thought he was.

[srmthfgrimworld]

Game 1: Part 29

The months went by, Mandarin and Nova often discussed how and when they were going to get off the planet. Gibson was making steady progress on research, but they were still a ways off from being able to leave.

Elf, the cat was killed by a bear, Otto was very upset as he had a unique bond with the cat. He decided to make her a box so he could put her ashes in it.

Nova had another child, they named him Kai, they also noted how Kai looked similar to Rose.

One day, a group of travelers were passing by, among them was a robot monkey called Selena. However, the group was attacked by raiders as they left the base. Selena was the only survivor of the fight. Gibson rescued her against Mandarins orders.

It took weeks for Selena to get back on her feet, by the time she did, she decided she wanted to stay with them. Mandarin probed her for answers about this world. Selena told him that she'd been here her entire life, and that yes there were more robot monkeys too.

The team didn't understand, how could there be more?

Mandarin wasn't happy, but Gibson pleaded to let her stay, she was advanced in science and medicine, she would help their research to get out of here. Eventually he gave in.

Time went by, Amara grew into an adult, while she loved science, she decided to dive into plants as they needed someone to maintain their crops better. She still loved hearing Gibson's lectures and would often go to him for advice.

Dragons were still a major problem, they kept a lookout during the day, if any were spotted, everyone remained indoors until the dragon left the area. It wasn't worth the risk anymore.

Meanwhile, Gibson and Selena began a relationship. Gibson had a brief romantic encounter with Otto in the past, but nothing had developed from it. Meanwhile, these two quickly fell in love over their passion in science.

Amara began to go visit her baby sisters grave, she decided she wanted to planet Roses around it to honor her.

One large group of raiders tried to run through the trap tunnel all together, this was the closest so far that they had managed to get to the entrance of the base. The team decided to upgrade the tunnel with better traps.

As long as they remained indoors during these raids, they were no longer going to be any issue. The raiders couldn't make it through the tunnel anymore.

Kai was finally old enough to start going out by himself, children in the base mainly cleaned and hauled items to where they needed to go. But they were all allowed plenty of time to play and explore.

Gibson and Selena decided to get married, Otto held the ceremony.

They also had a child called Comet. (I forgot to take a picture when he was a baby whoops)

During one attack, one of the farm animals let in a bunch of mutated wild creatures, something the team wasn't prepared for as they came in through one of their other entrances. Mandarin lost his arm during the fight and broke both of his ear antennas.

Otto built Mandarin a new arm.

Otters also attacked Kian, they were stealing fish from their nets and Kian tried to stop them, however these Otters were extremely aggressive. Kian was hurt but thankfully okay.

Time went on, Gibson and Selena took turns researching and helping each other, their son Comet also tried his best to help, which was mostly carrying around papers.

Mandarin would often sit in the graveyard, he prayed that no one else would have to be buried here before they finally could leave.

One morning, the base was attacked by a group of gigantic ants that tried to tunnel inside. Otto was hurt, but thankfully he was okay and didn't lose any limbs of suffer any permanent damage.

Nova had another child with Mandarin, another boy that they named Kyler.

Food was no longer an issue for the base, with Gibson and Selena's research, they could now grow crops insanely fast and during the winter. The animals had always struggled through the winters, but now they would be able to feed them all year round.

As Kian became an adult, he became Gibson's apprentice and began helping the research effort. They realized that they needed to acquire gold soon for their future projects. They hoped traders would bring it.

Gibson and Selena also had another child, a girl called Rain.

[wiltingxrose]

drabble after the events in ant-iversary- Jan appreciation Post 2

Janet kept her eyes fixed on Scott and Cassie, were they really saying what she thought she had heard? They had lost UltronPym. It was broken open into this pocket verse. And Ant-Men from different timelines from early Henry to someone in 2549 named Zayn all came together to help defeat him. It was good to know that the science of ants and everything Hank worked on would continue to grow in his absence, but what she needed was a stiff drink after Scott said Ultron merged with the All-Father and they defeated him, melting him down to nothing. Nothing was left. He was eliminated. Her heart was pounding and she felt lightheaded, maybe not a drink but smelling salts would be better. Eyes brimming with tears as the realization hit her straight in the gut. That meant Hank was gone as well. Any trace of him. The wave of grief started to fill her, but she held it down, needing to think, process this. “He’s gone. Ultron…Hank is gone?,” she couldn’t help the crack in her voice which was all but a whisper. Was Ultron the thing of her nightmares, the person who wanted her as a bride time and time again and recently merged with Jocasta this last time? Yes. Though,if she was honest with herself she would still take Ultron over Dave, Whirlwind, her other creepy stalker. But he also had merged with Henry and she hadn’t wanted to believe what Tony said about him being just a flesh suit. Hank had merged with Ultron to stop the threat, he had to know what would happen to him if he merged and if so why hadn’t there been a note or something. Meanwhile, Nadia was still holding out hope to meet him, she knew she was. Now there was nothing Jan nor Nadia could do if he was really gone. Exterminated from the universe. Her attention came back when Scott was talking about how he helped Hank in the past see how much he mattered and that he was a great man. And how Hank was really going at him and so smart to defeat him, even saying that he would never build a robot like him again when the time came. Cassie was rattling off how she thought a Ant-vengers team would be great between all of the Ant-Fam and through in the Spider-Fam too if they wanted and could behave, but Janet cut her off. “First off Cassie, we could probably due that, just have to find of a way to have everyone in the right mindset, but second,” her eyes held Scott’s excitement but also cautious fear before she spoke again. “Henry knows about Ultron and you all went back to your time. Without a memory erase, what if, what if he doesn’t do that and he keeps the confidence of what he has seen, what if that means he can be back in this world working in his labs right now. That means that would have never happened, the merge, everything.” Janet got up and grabbed her keys before deciding to shrink down just enough to have her wings. Scott grabbed her wrist, “Hold on Jan, we don’t know if that is the case or even true. I might remember because it doesn’t change a lot. We were the only ones that were from the current timeline to go through and all I know is that the ants do nano-science or something, there is no guarantee.” Jan pulled her hand slowly from his grasp, knowing he was right, “But there is a chance and in science, if Henry has taught me anything is not to give up hope on a chance because it’s still a possibility,” Jan flew out of the window and headed towards Hank’s lab, hoping to see him there. Hearing Cassie in the background said, “So does this mean the Ant-vengers is on hold right now?” Janet landed outside of PymTech, heart pounding, wouldn’t her memories be different if he was really still here. Wouldn’t those events never happened? Or was this what Dr. Strange would talk about a breakaway timeline, she never really listened too long on those conversations. As she made her way through the corridors and to his lab, she swiped her ID and put her hand on the biometrics scanner. Holding her breath she stepped inside.

[puckwritesstuff]

A request for a scene where Main Timeline! Sigyn is giving birth to Vali. Since this is somewhat a What if? situation, can we have it fluffy? Like big brother Nari holding baby Vali and Loki is being dramatic that it looked like he was the one who gave birth XD. Thank you!

I assumed that by "fluffy", you meant, "without the part where Baldur and Tyr come in and make Plot happen."

Thank you for the ask!

---

Thor opened the door and Nari poked his head around.

“Are you ready for visitors?” Thor asked.

Loki heaved a great sigh. “I suppose.”

“My heart, if you insist on acting like you just went through nine hours of labor, I will have to hurt you,” Sigyn said, struggling to sit up while handling the small, fragile bundle in her hands.

“Here, darling,” Loki said, taking the baby so she could have use of her arms.

Nari inched over to his father, looking at the scrunched up little blue face in the midst of the bundle of pink blankets.

“Would you like to hold her?” Loki asked quietly.

Nari shook his head quickly, stepping back. Thor put a solid hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Thor said. “You won’t hurt her.”

Nari stepped forward and Loki gently laid the baby in Nari’s arms. She looked up at him with wide, almost unblinking red eyes.

“Hi,” Nari said quietly. “I’m Nari.”

The baby squealed, squirming in her blankets. Nari was careful to adjust his arms, making certain he was supporting her like he’d practiced.

“She’s heavier than the doll,” Nari muttered.

Sigyn laughed softly. She took Loki’s hand in hers.

“Have you decided on a name?” Thor asked.

“Yes,” Loki said. “We will be naming her Váli.”

Loki motioned for Nari to hand the baby back to Sigyn. Nari handed her off and Sigyn held her close.

Thor nodded. “You understand—”

“Of course we do,” Sigyn said. “But it’s been her name since before we knew her. How could we choose another?”

Nari got close to the edge of the bed and shifted into his Jotun form. Váli squealed again, smiling.

“That’s right,” Sigyn said to her. “That’s your brother.”

“And I’m gonna keep you safe,” Nari said. “Cause that’s what big brothers do, right, Uncle Thor?”

Loki raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother as Thor scrambled for a response.

“Well—”

“Of course, Nari,” Loki said. “That’s exactly what brothers are supposed to do. But it’s my job and your mother’s job first, before you have to do anything.”

Loki looked at Thor again.

“As long as fathers do their jobs properly,” he continued, “it should not fall on their sons to protect their family.”

Thor nodded. “Yes.”

“But what about when you get really old and stuff?” Nari asked. “Like how Dr. Pym and Dr. Van Dyne can’t be Ant-Man and Wasp anymore?”

“Well, that’s a completely different situation,” Sigyn said. “But I am well assured that your father’s strength and power will not wane with age.”

“But what if—”

“Nari,” Thor said. “Why don’t we let your mother rest for now?”

Nari looked like he very much didn’t want to do that, but nodded and went with Thor anyways. As the door closed, Váli started to fuss, and Sigyn shifted her hospital gown to nurse her.

“Your brother means well,” Sigyn said.

“He always does,” Loki said. “But it’s not his job to protect me, I can take care of myself well enough.”

“I think he was trying to say that you don’t always have to,” Sigyn said. “That you never had to.”

“I shouldn’t have had to,” Loki said. “But that was not Thor’s fault. We were children, Sigyn. And Nari is still a child.”

Sigyn nodded. “Yes. And he and Váli will stay children as long as can be helped.”

“So declares the King of Asgard?” Loki asked with a wry smile.

“I am their mother first,” Sigyn said. “But yes.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Rage Fire Institution

Bridging. 20.

Tatsumi was a tyrant.

Tatsumi was a tyrant, a bully, a tyrant, and any other words along those lines that Maki couldn’t think of thanks to his tired state. Beneath his meek looks, stupidly long hair, damned glasses, and pilot suit, Tatsumi was more like a damn predator and he’d been the damn mouse all along. Now the game was over, he’d been swallowed entirely. Every part of him hurt. His pride included as he’d been repeatedly slammed to the gym floor no matter how hard he’d struggled.

The first night training had been brutal. The second night not as bad as his babysitter had opened up the comms and talked him through how to defend himself properly. He’d shown him to move and how to exploit mech movement despite how shitty the mech was. Two weeks had passed with this bi-nightly new routine, and the previous night he’d finally met his two fellow pilots.

Collapsing into his bio-engineering seat, a coffee cup magically appeared in front of him. Maki greedily snatching it up, indulging in the warmth seeping into his fingers. Winter was upon them, and winter could kindly go fuck itself. The heavens had opened between the dorms and the main building, students sent running like ants to escape the cold rain. As a chuckle came from beside him, Maki raised his tired head

“Fuck off, you bastard”

Tatsumi teasing him with his greeting

“Didn’t sleep well?”

If anything he was sleeping better than ever, learning new things brought out the hunger in him and if not for his babysitter he’d have pushed himself harder

“Not thanks to someone. You’re a fucking arsehole”

Tatsumi laughed lightly at him, happy morning people deserved to be stabbed.

“I did warn you that you’d hate me. Stella said you held on well”

“Stella talks too much”

Stella Wells was a fourth year pilot with her own modified mech. She personified happiness, flowers, love and destruction at the hands of her candy yellow TC-157 which was basically the private sectors version of a student mech only built far tougher. Her mech was made for defence and her years of combat training shone through, even though her synch rate sat at 83%. The third pilot Tatsumi had chosen was another alpha, a foot shorter than him, Maki thought he was being mocked when he was introduced to Anthony’s lily pad green mech he called “The Frog”. Being the same age as Maki, Maki had thought for a sliver of a moment they’d be closer in ability. They were not. Anthony and Stella were both entering the engineering division on the front lines once graduating and Maki feared the day that the pair would meet with Silva. Not only would they have more than enough to talk about, the three had the same damn personality of picking on him.

Pulling out his data pad, Tatsumi shook his head

“She’s a great pilot for her age. Skylark had me to talk to her when she was settling her career path. The same with Anthony. I wanted you three to meet before I bring them to the next project meeting”

Throwing the man a salty look, dealing with excitable researchers was also exhausting. They’d not met Stella and Anthony, and seeing they’d only be providing limited upgrades to both mechs, Maki was uncomfortably the focus of their attentions

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. Flo isn’t happy with you”

“Flo is never happy with me. I’ve got good news though, this weekend we’ll be taking a trip. I know it’s your free weekend, but I think you’ll find this enjoyable. I put feelers out weeks ago and things have finally fallen into place”

Sliding forward, Maki let out a soul deep groan. Tatsumi making him shoot back up as he flicked the back of his ear. Scowling at his babysitter, he crankily complained

“Because being stuck with you in a car isn’t punishment enough? I can’t escape you”

Tatsumi teasing

“And here I thought we’d bridged the gap between us. Why must you be so cruel?”

“What’s he done this time, Professor?”

Slinging is backpack down, Maki was grateful for Li. He didn’t have a snappy retort ready and now it seemed he didn’t need to. Tatsumi directing his attention to Li

“He hates me again”

With the pair of them becoming closer, Tatsumi had been teasing him more and lecturing him less over the trivial things. It was suspicious and weird, and odd. Definitely odd. He didn’t hate Tatsumi as much anymore, but there was no way he’d call themselves friends. Tatsumi still owed him too many explanations and Maki still felt as if he were dancing on invisible strings. Passing a coffee over to Li, Li lit up

“Even if he hates you, I don’t. It’s a lot easier to keep a good grade when you’re around”

Tatsumi’s expression seemed to say “See, even Li likes me”, Maki having none of it

“Fuck both of you. Let me die if I fall asleep”

His comment drew snorts from both men, Li elbowing him as he sat

“You can’t sleep, not until next class. I need help here. Our next test is next class and I’m seriously screwed. Yon’s going to break up with me, I just know it!”

Mentally the alpha wondered whom was babysitting whom, yet the arrival of Ms Walters put a pin in him asking.

***

When Li heard of their shopping trip, he begged to come with them. Tatsumi had planned to take only Maki so he could get his opinions on what parts he wanted to use on the project mod, and Flo as she was effectively the head of the research group. He’d wanted to keep the whole trip quiet, yet, he’d failed. 7 people were now crammed in the cab of the truck on a bench seat made for 3 grown adults. Skylark and Samara rounding out their number.

It’d not been a lie when he’d told Maki he thought he’d enjoy the trip. Another researcher by the name of Steven Hallod was supposed to be coming to collect research materials from the market, yet had cancelled at the last moment, Poaw notifying Skylark, who’d in turn, notified Tatsumi that he would be joining them on the drive.

It was a tight squeeze. Samara not giving them a chance to drop the back seat so the students could sit in the row behind the front seat before ushering them into the cab of the truck. Squashed against the passenger door, Tatsumi felt stifled. To ensure no funny business happened between students, Skylark sat between Maki and Flo, Flo practically sitting in Tatsumi’s lap, making him uncomfortable, and wonder if Li was half sitting on Maki or Samara. Maki was like him and liked his personal space. He liked to be able to feel he could breathe. Instead Tatsumi was sitting there battling a headache and a sick feeling in his stomach.

From the institution to Solast was a three hour drive at the hands of a semi-trailer truck. Three hours of hell as far as Tatsumi was concerned, which was saying a lot after all he’d experienced. They needed the truck in order to collect the Erebus that Maki would use in the competition, another thing Tatsumi had hoped to surprise Maki with. Samara had tracked one down in reasonable condition, then bartered down the price with the fact it was for a student competition. Samara hadn’t spilt the beans yet, but he’d been excited to meet Maki, so Tatsumi felt sure it’d all come out before they reached their destination. He sorely regretted not going alone to collect the mech, but he couldn’t change the past, but he could change this damn seating arrangement now they’d cleared the city.

“Samara, pull over”

Taking his eyes off the road, Samara leaned all the way forward to reply past the other sardines in the cab

“What? Why?”

Greaaaat. Samara was probably having the time of his life teasing the students with them. It was time to use the vague threat card

“Because there’s going to be a mess if you don’t”

“Oh, shit! Hold on, man. No blowing chunks in my cab today”

With zero subtly Samara navigated across the four traffic lanes with absolutely no care for the other drivers. Tatsumi not feeling as if he’d actually vomit until the sharp lunging turn. Before the truck could come to a complete stop, he was out the door and gripping the guard rail, thankful to be able to take a proper breath again. Behind him he imagined a quick conversation over who would be nominated to check on the poor sickly return pilot, leading to Skylark ultimately being the one to come to his side, cigarette hanging out the side of the his mouth

“Puke already. We’ve got places to be”

Turning around, Tatsumi leaned back against the guard rail

“I’m not going to puke that easily, I needed an excuse to kick everyone else into the back. You know he wouldn’t have done it on his own when he can fuck with the kids”

Skylark gave a small chuckle

“You’re as crafty as ever. You had me concerned for my boots”

Reaching out, Tatsumi plucked the cigarette from Skylarks lips, taking a deep drag before handing it back and looking to the sky

“Why aim for boots when a jacket would do nicely? Fucking hell, I’m fucked and we’ve only just left”

“You did look pasty this morning. You’re not going to pass out next, right?”

“I’ll aim for you if I do”

Skylark scowled at him, crossing his arms and drawing himself up. Tatsumi knew this meant an incoming lecture

“If training Maki is too hard…”

“No”

“You need to put yourself first. There’s a reason you couldn’t return to active duty”

“And there’s a reason you’re lecturing me. We both know and we both know I need this. Training is fine. He’s paired up with two other students and hasn’t noticed anything. I’d like to keep it that way”

“You’re a damn fool. The kid’s got potential but not at the risk of your life”

“What life? Washed up and spat out, thrown a lifeline out of pity? All I wanted to ever do was pilot, you know that, it’s better than sitting on the sidelines cursing myself”

Skylark reached out, ruffling Tatsumi’s hair

“Get some shitting sleep in the cab then. Samara loves his own face too much to crash”

That Samara did. From the corner of his eye, he could see Samara hassling Maki and Flo, probably trying to recruit the pair or trawl for embarrassing stories to throw in Tatsumi’s face later. The man was a menace. An utter menace that he needed. By the way Samara had carried on over Tatsumi’s call, one would think he’d never asked Samara for a favour before. Still, the bigger issue was Skylark’s care, the man taking any out that didn’t lead back to how he was feeling

“That and he knows how to fear for his own safety when you’re involved”

Throwing down his cigarette, Skylark stubbed it out before clapping his hands to draw everyone’s attention

“Alright, people! Kids in the back! I want no complaining between here Solast!”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Mating Signals

Yandere Male Monster x Gender Neutral Reader  (Second part here: Consummating Your Relationship) (CW: Kidnapping, mentions of oviposition, scorpion-man, general yandere themes) Word Count: About 700 (I had to re-upload this because it seems the tags it had previously prevented it from appearing in searches even after removing them, this is my first completed fic so I hope it is okay!)

 When the formerly closed off country of Treragar finally started trade and treaties with its neighboring countries you were one of the first researchers to try and get clearance for a field study of the very mysterious desert region. You planned to document the strange and hardy flora in the area but even more exciting than that was the chance to study the animals that called such a place home. Not even the natives of Treragar braved the desert unless absolutely necessary. But you weren’t to be deterred!

 During the waning hours of your first night you were going over your journal where you cataloged all the fascinating life that you had found on your expedition. Scorpions with two tails, strange rodents that were scaled almost like pangolins, a VERY aggressive type of ant that you would know to AVOID in the future, a couple beetle species, and a decent variety of flora. All in all it had been a very productive day.

 Despite your excitement to continue your expedition tomorrow you were exhausted, you finished looking over all your notes and started a fire before it got dark, it got cool at night and the fire would repel any would be predators. You settled into your bedroll, putting your journal and other supplies in your pack beside you before drifting off to sleep.

 You woke up in the middle of the night to a large figure looming over you, a fairly muscular 25 to 30yo man looming over you, the flickering flames revealing his pale white skin and long black hair as he looks down at you with glowing yellow eyes, that would all be creepy enough, but what had you truly terrified was the fact that he had the body of a giant black and white scorpion from the waist down! All thick chitinous exoskeleton, heavy and powerful.

 You immediately sat up in your bedroll and scooted backwards as fast as you could until you hit the flat surface of the huge rock behind you. When picking a spot to set up camp it seemed like a wonderful thing to help block the wind, but now it trapped you from backing away further from a giant scorpion monster. His glowing stare was intense and you were sure you were going to wind up dead.

 He came up to you and scooped you up in his surprisingly strong human arms as if you weighed nothing. It held you close to its unnaturally warm body while you screamed for him to unhand you. You started crying, and thrashing for dear life, you were close enough to feel his breath on your neck and his musky scent was smothering, who would not absolutely panic in your situation?

 Talin did not understand your language, but your warm alluring fire beacon, your lack of proper shelter, the smell of the food you had, and your wonderful natural scent all told him all he needed to know, you were obviously trying to attract a strong mate to give you a proper home! He was so thrilled he found you, he was obviously just what you were looking for and you would make such a lovely little incubator to slide his eggs into~ He cooed and nuzzled his head against yours as you squirmed to get free.

 “This play fighting and thrashing is cute darling and certainly proves you are an energetic and proper mate but we have to get back to our den before the sun rises, please calm down~” You cannot understand anything he is saying and his language sounds naturally aggressive and scary so you continue to struggle and kick.

 He would never dream of hurting you, he knows you are just so thrilled to be his that you can’t help squirming and thrashing with excitement, that’s okay he’ll calm you down and take care of everything! He slid his stinger into your shoulder and quickly delivered a small dose of paralytic venom into you, you felt a light pinch and then quickly faded into unconsciousness in his loving embrace. He took you and your possessions off to his den. Whether you wanted it or not you’re his mate now... and he will never let you go...

[ynscrazylife]

Can I please please request one where Natasha and Yelena have another younger sister (Y/N) and she gets badly injured and her older sisters are hysterical since they’re afraid to lose one they love the most

A Race Against Time | romanoff fam fic

Summary: Natasha and Yelena do their best to help their hurt younger sister.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/twitalents

“Everybody alright?” Natasha asked as Alexei and Melina approached her and Yelena. The redhead herself definitely hadn’t gotten out of the whole ordeal without injuries. In fact, from Dreykov punching her to the fight against the Widows, and the fight against Antonia (not to mention the injuries from the past few days that she hadn’t taken care of), she was in some pain. However she didn’t worry about herself, she knew she’d be fine. She always was.

Natasha glanced over and spotted Y/N making her way over to them, too. From the distance, Natasha couldn’t tell that she was limping and was very hurt.

“I am clearly injured,” Melina deadpanned, causing Natasha to look back over and send her adoptive mother a smile as an apology. With a quick glance, Natasha could tell that she’d be okay, she’d just need a cast on that ankle and-

Thump.

The sound, accompanied by Yelena’s loud gasp and yelp, broke through Natasha’s thoughts and caused her to whip around suddenly. The sight her eyes landed on instantly sent what felt like an ice shard plunging into her chest. No. No.

By the time she snapped out of it, Yelena was already by Y/N’s unconscious figure, which the thump must have been - her plummeting to the ground - and Alexei was helping Melina over as fast as he could. Natasha sped past them and dropped to her knees, her brain wired to already be processing the situation and formulating a plan, while she lightly stopped Yelena’s wrist to prevent her from going to shake Y/N.

“You don’t move someone who is unconscious unless necessary - it could injure them,” she breathed out. Yelena, who could see that her older sister was in autopilot mode, sat back and let her do her thing, opting to look up at her parents, instead.

Both their eyes were glued to Y/N. Alexei’s eyebrows crinkled and, after taking a big breath, muttered (just loud enough for them to hear), “There’s blood on you.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped down and sure enough, her knees were bloodied. She quickly looked up only to see blood beginning to come from Y/N’s stomach where she had fallen on her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to allow herself to think, Natasha carefully and gently pulled up Y/N’s shirt, only to see an open gash in the shape of the Widow hourglass.

“Wha-?” She said, barely forming a word, and Yelena leaned over to see.

She immediately began shaking her head and pushed Y/N onto her back. “I-I know what this is, I think. I remember hearing about a weapon that’d leave that mark,” she rambled out.

Melina peered over Natasha’s shoulder and when she saw it, her face went pale. “That-that weapon, it ejects a blast that makes that mark when it meets the skin. It was made as a precaution in case any of the Widows went rogue - it was made years ago. But only a few were made because they were so confident in themselves. It-it goes along with a process they constructed to re-brainwash the Widows. The blast gets under her skin, in her body, with a chemical that’s in it, and that chemical starts the brainwashing process,” she explained.

A park of hope entered Yelena’s eyes. “So she won’t be fully brainwashed?” She asked.

“Not without the rest of the procedure,” Melina began, but then her eyes widened when she remembered something and horror quickly flashed across her face. “But if the process isn’t completed within a certain time period, the chemical will wear off its brainwashing effects and instead will start hurting her . . . A lot . . . But I have an antidote-” her tone sped up now, “-It’s back at the house. We need to get her there.”

Natasha and Yelena nodded, both having gone through a great wave of emotions throughout Melina’s words. Yelena, while racked with worry, still remained hopeful, and Natasha did her best to be, too, but her tears were drying and she was sniffling.

“The jet is-” Alexei began to say, when the sound of the engines of cars rapidly approaching cut him off.

Natasha looked over. “Shit, Ross,” she said, regretting even tipping him off to their location in the first place.

Melina bit her lip. “You girls go. Take Y/N home. The antidote is labelled ‘Ant-Widow,’,” she told them firmly.

Yelena’s lips parted to protest, not wanting to split up, but catching Natasha picking up Y/N out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She nodded, rising to her feet.

“We’ll distract them. They won’t want anything to do with us when they realize you’re not here,” Melina insisted.

Natasha sent her a look that she could only hope was conveying everything she wanted it to. A million thoughts whizzed about in her mind, none making room for each other. She wondered, would they leave them alone? Or would they be taken into questioning? Shouldn’t she be the one facing Ross - since she called him there? Is Y/N going to be okay? Will they get there in time?

By the way Melina looked back at her, Natasha thought that her message had been received. There was no time to go over the plan any longer, if they stayed even a couple more seconds they’d get caught by Ross, whose army of cars headed to a halt.

Natasha bolted off in the jet’s direction, Yelena quick on her heels. They rushed inside and Natasha took her time to gently put Y/N down before going to the pilot seat. Yelena sat down in the back, wanting to watch over their little sister.

Neither of them said anything until Natasha had gotten them off the ground and away from the field. Yelena could hear the engine whirring and she knew that Natasha was going as fast as this aircraft could probably go.

“Natasha,” she said, her voice small and hesitant, reminding Natasha of her own self when she was younger. The redhead braced herself for her sister’s words. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”

Natasha let out a slow yet steady breath, fighting back the urge to tell her not to say that. She wondered the same thing, and she hated it. She didn’t answer, though, because she didn’t want to lie. She didn’t know herself, and she also hated that.

Yelena looked down in defeat when she didn’t get an answer and continued watching Y/N. She couldn’t stop herself from worrying and when she spotted the other injuries — bruises, cuts, scrapes — littering her body, she got up and went to the back.

The blonde grabbed the med kit they had stored and went back, quickly opening it up and getting everything she needed. First, bandages. Yelena put pressure on the wound even though she knew it wouldn’t bleed out, and a twinge of guilt hit her when Y/N moved and groaned unconsciously.

She then wrapped up Y/N’s stomach and tended to her other injures, every so often glancing at Natasha, who she could see by the way she was sitting up straight that she was tense. Upset. Worried. Yelena had to admit she was feeling those same things but busied herself by taking care of Y/N.

This carried on and they were about ¾ there when everything shifted. Y/N, who had been mostly quiet throughout the journey, suddenly rolled onto her side, eyes opening with a startled gasp.

Natasha frantically looked up at Yelena and the latter jumped to resolve the situation. Gently, she put her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders and tried to turn her onto her back, but Y/N fought her off and scurried back, against the wall.

“Y/N,” Yelena said, slowly putting her hands up in a “surrender” gesture.

The younger one shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “It-it hurts,” she got out, wrapping her arms around herself.

Yelena sent Natasha a frightened, desperate look and the glint in Natasha’s eyes held tears in them. “I can’t go any faster!” She cried out in frustration, her anger at her helplessness beginning to grow.

Yelena turned back to Y/N. “Take deep breaths with me, okay?” She said, and took a couple deep breaths to show her. It took Y/N a second, but she followed along. However, the pain didn’t take a break for long, and quickly came crashing back to her, like a magnet.

She let out another cry, but this one filled with that much more anguish, desperation, a pure rage from wanting it to be over, a rage that nearly caused her to vomit. Y/N leaned forward, hoping that there was something - anything - that could relieve this pain for even just a second. The warmth she was soon filled with from her older sister’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close did nothing to soothe pain, but she found someone to have a steady grip on, someone to hold.

This continued on. In every cry let out, Yelena could’ve sworn each one was louder than the last. She didn’t know what to do so she did the only thing she could and stayed there. After  a particularly loud cry from Y/N, Yelena couldn’t stop a “Natasha!” from escaping.

“I’m trying!” She shouted over the engine and over Y/N, doing her best to blink away the tears and focus, but everytime she was on the brink of it, something tore her away.

After what felt like what could only be described as eons, Natasha managed to touch down in the same spot she had just a day ago. The moment they made contact, she leapt out of her seat, nearly tumbling to the floor, and practically fell against the door.

“Stay with her,” was all she said to Yelena before pushing all her weight against the door and breaking off into a run towards the house.

Natasha had run fast before. To escape Antonia, on countless SHIELD missions, and even to beat Sam in a race, but none amounted to this. The mountains and trees whipped by so fast that she felt like she was in a race car and it made her head spin. Nonetheless (and she thanked her extensive training for that), Natasha’s stamina held out and she ran through the house, tripping over things and knocking others over, until she reached Melina’s office.

At first, everything looked like a normal office space for a normal business woman, but the underlying science and spy secrecy that she knew had to be inside was revealed. Cabinets upon cabinets filled with vials upon vilas and files upon files. She scoured the entire room and nearly dropped the green-filled file when she saw its label. This was it.

A moment of victory passed until Natasha remembered the weight of the situation and she got back on her feet, running like the wind, and leaving behind the office looking like some raccoons had gotten inside.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, Natasha could make out the outline of Yelena carrying Y/N (who was draped over her like a curtain, by the way) toward her.

They met in the middle and Yelena put Y/N down, the older sisters kneeling beside her. Y/N was half-conscious at this point and Natasha moved at the speed of light to get the vial lid off. “She was getting worse, I couldn’t wait!” Yelena yelled.

When she got it open, Natasha pushed it towards Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, honey, c’mon, you gotta drink,” she encouraged, hand trembling as Y/N attempted to fight her off. It was only Yelena running her hands through her hair that calmed her down, and she took a small sip of the vial’s contents at first before gulping it down.

When she stopped squirming and seemed to no longer be in pain, instead falling into a peaceful sleep, that’s when both Natasha and Yelena had calmed down. It had been a rollercoaster, but they did it, and she was okay. The two held each other, relieved.  

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