#it centers on like. what if he did take responsibility for that assault instead of running from it

[irlkomaedanagito]

hi your addendum to my post was so amazing i couldn't just not say anything i SEE YOU SO HARD in believing its like a greek tragedy. nobody was supposed to die on that ship, this was all avoidable had the company trained and took care of their employees better, had the crew been more stable, i love what you have to say about this

- @missingininaction

@missingininaction omgomgomg thank u so much!!! :D my friends and i have been talking incessantly abt how the whole thing is a greek tragedy for like the last month, like! i do not think jimmy is ontologically evil and to act like That's The Point is i think doing a big disservice to mouthwashing as a game because WHY would this game thats filled with nuance and complexity suddenly turn around and believe in ontological evil??

this is a sidenote for Me but in the medbay there's a book called "up or down? the illusion of choice" and its out on the counter. and i know this was just supposed to be a reference to how fish is made but it also implies that anya reads about philosophy and determinism (the idea that there's no free will) and compatibilism (the idea that there's limited free will) and i am just fascinated with the idea that anya reads about philosophy and about the very common argument that if people are shaped by their pasts and those pasts have an effect on them that they can't control, how "free" is free will? how "at fault" are people, really, for their actions?

i find the idea interesting, of anya reading that book to cope, because it makes her feel better. i feel like she believes that peoples' worst moments dont make them monsters because she reads about psychology and philosophy and is keenly aware how out of control a lot of actions really are. and that maybe if her assaulter isn't just a monster, it means she isn't just a victim, too. and that what happened to her wasn't anything she did to "cause it," it happened because the things that drive people forward are fickle and unpredictable things. it makes her feel better, to acknowledge the dead pixel, as it were, of the assault itself, but to still find comfort in the bigger picture of the nighttime screen as a whole. while curly refuses to see the dead pixel, anya sees it, is mindful of it, and yet still looks at the whole picture. willful ignorance versus mindful knowledge of both the wide philosophy of Was It Really His Fault and But It's Still Something That Happened And Ergo Someone's Responsibility To Acknowledge

[wildpeachfarm]

yesh i totally agree i think people are not wanting to compare cases for that and bc some feel Bad comparing two different cases but people are not comparing to Say beau is like caiti. Some are doing to show what Even Beau Said if i remenber correctly that he would be a good person if he ackwonledge her hurt and offered an apology. I don't think it's SA just like what happened to caiti but his reaction to her hurt and his Friends reaction are the differences that make them shitty.

I general i know people on social media have difficulties being calm about anything bc being on apps that wants US to feel strong emotions and being online 24 hrs fucks up out ability to take things slowly, that's why i thank people like You for keeping the calm and being reasonable

Yes I definitely think emotions will always take over people in these situations and people will never learn to just sit back and look at the facts and lay everything out.

And I don't think people are comparing Beau to Caiti at all (at least I'm definitely not lol) but I do think the similarities in situations need to be talked about because this is yet another situation of mixed signals, and perceived consent, and a claim of SA that I'm not sure is entirely accurate to the facts of the situation (although again, I will reserve my opinion until we hear from all sides because there is always three sides to a story: person A's side, person B's side, and the truth)

Again, this all centers around a lack of communication from either side in the moment and, in this situation specifically, his inability to accept that he did hurt her even if it was unintentional and his lying about it and isolating her was probably the worst thing he could've done in response. That doesn't make him look like a good person.

I think overall we need to be rid of the black-and-white thinking about defining SA when you are making public accusations like this because not only does it muddle the definition, but it doesn't take into account well-meaning individuals who got incredibly mixed signals (like beau saying she had dreams of kissing him and that they should act them out which /could/ be a signal of wanting this guy to kiss her). We are completely removing "innocent until proven guilty" in the eyes of twitter by saying "it's SA and I won't hear otherwise" which is ....not good at all lol (because as soon as that's the normal standard, we are truly fucked and marginalized groups WILL be the first target of this- as they have been repeatedly in the past)

Also, I'm going to take a page from Britanny Simons on this because it's always an important disclaimer to add to discussions about consent and verbal consent in romantic situations: most of the world does not ask for consent before kissing someone. That's just a fact of life. It's a very "online" concept to ask for verbal consent before giving someone a peck on the lips.

Would it be great if people thought of consent more in dating culture? yes of course! But that's just not the reality of where we are in the timeline of society right now. So I think some people also need to be more realistic, and understanding, and give people the benefit of the doubt more instead of assuming malice and assault right off the bat. It does no one any good. It actually just leads to more emotional and mental distress in the long run.

[toku-explained]

Brother's Creation

Arc: As a Kaiju rampages in Hoshimoto City, the people are suddenly saved by a Giant. News reports on the giant appearing 3 months ago, and defeating every Kaiju to rampage recently, but the Global Defence Force are still investigating the reason Kaiju appear and the giant, and public opinion is mixed, but Kaiju have appeared since K-Day 16 years ago. At SKIP, Scientific Kaiju Investigation and Prevention center, android YouPi is trying to explain to a caller that they don't fight Kaiju but investigate them. Hize Yuma arrives, only to be told he should have met with Chief Ban Hiroshi and Natsume Rin at the Monohorn's unmanned monitoring spot, as an anomaly was detected. Rin and the Chief discuss the Monohorn, which has remained in place since K-Day, the remains of one of the Seven Kaiju that appeared on K-Day, specifically the sole Space Kaiju, Rin thinks the GDF should remove it and study it properly. Yuma arrives, and tried to analyse the reported life sign, the signal approaches and what looks like an organ erupts from the Monohorn, and Yuma chases. Rin contacts YouPi to assist, YouPi launches his drone head You, while his body, Pi, man's the center. Yuma and You meet up, and Yuma chases the creature into a cave, only to be chased out by a Shagong. He's saved by blasts from a man he passed earlier, which lead Shagong to retreat. Back at the SKIP, the man explains he is Ishido Shu, and investigator from GDF's space science division, here to look into the Monohorn anomaly. Yuma notes that it's odd the Shagong emerged at this time of year, and was eating rocks given they are carnivores, Ishido shows data on the other entity, the parasitic organism Oo-ze, which arrive via Space Kaiju and feed on Calcium Carbonate. 4 have previously appeared overseas, and it will cause the host to grow to full size in a matter of days. They wonder how it remained undetected so long, and what awoke it now. After Ishido deals with the shock that they don't have coffee, You reports via Pi on Shagong's progress and growth travelling along a main road, heading for a Calcium Carbonate manufacturer. SKIP prepare to at, as Ban contacts the Kaiju Response Unit, as the others prepare to lead evacuation. As they're enroute Ban explains to Yuma he didn't know about Oo-ze because the GDF control data on space Kaiju. Shagong emerged, and the Kaiju Response Unit begins their assault. Yuma realises as the attacks are failing that Oo-ze has multiplied inside Shagong, and rescues a worker from a group of Oo-ze, and is in turn saved by Ishido, who is then hit by rubble and knocked out. The giant speaks to Yuma, offering his power again. Yuma activates an Arc Cube, and summons the Arc Ariser, placing the cube inside and activating it, and becomes the giant placing Ishido in safety, the man begins filming. There's a tough battle, and Arc finds himself blocking attacks with a barrier as time runs out. The Giant invites Yuma to use his imagination, so he breaks the Barrier in two and stabs into Shagong and blasts it with the Arc Finalize, then defeats the giant Oo-ze that emerges with the Arc Eye Sword. Yuma reunites with everyone, Ishido is collecting samples from an Oo-ze, all the young died when the mother did, and believes they should thank the Giant someday, dubbing him Ultraman Arc, after the arc the Giant left when it flew away. A few days later, Ban introduces the newly assigned GDF member to their branch, Ishido Sho, who has brought his own coffee machine.

Gotchard: Minato gets himself trapped with Renge and Rinne after being updated on the situation, and Arumi runs off due to finding Spanner's attitude annoying. Kongou explains her history with Greyon, when they detect interference with the barrier. Spanner goes, but when Hotaro tries to take Sabimaru as well Kenichi snaps at his brother putting him down, and Hotaro decides to instead to ask Sabimaru about KameDoon. Sabimaru explains he drew a turtle Chemy as a kid, and Kenichi added the cannon, so they dubbed it KamenDoon, and Kenichi suggested they alchemise it. Sabimaru was too keen when they tried, but the incomplete KameDoon was created, but Kenichi concluded they had made a mistake, prompting Sabimaru to deface the drawing, from then on Kenichi was cold to him. Spanner finds Greyon at the barrier, he no longer is interested in Spanner, and so no uses Gérmain's power to summon a Golem to fight him. By the time Hotaro arrives to help Spanner Greyon is gone. Sabimaru goes to his brother, trying to express that he's glad their creation of KameDoon has helped Kongou Lab's research, but Kenichi accuses him of being angry at him for claiming his work, and throws Sabimaru's tablet, saying he shouldn't need ISAAC anymore. He's then tormented by Sabimaru admitting this, an illusion brought on by Greyon, who thanks Kenichi for his work, not on KameDoon, but ISAAC, be takes it and envelopes Kenichi on gold. By the time Gotchard and Valvarad have defeated the Golem, the Lab is in flames, most everyone is evacuated, and Greyon is happy to just leave everyone with the Malgam. Sabimaru informs Gotchard the Malgam is his brother, the form has now stabilised as a mix of the two states. Arumi is found to still be in the building, so they send Valvarad to find her. Sabimaru tries to confront Greyon, who amused gives him a preview of what he needs ISAAC for, converting into a Dread Driver and activating his first AI controlled Dread Trooper. Despite his trauma from Dread Sabimaru is determined to fight, and recognising this, Hotaro lends him the Exgotchaliber. Kenichi keeps ranting about how he was trying to protect Sabimaru from making more Chemies, but Sabimaru has always known both of them alchemised KameDoon indeed it's actions seem focused on repairing the brother's bond. Arumi's ISAAC helps Spanner find her. Greyon whispers to Kongou before vanishing. Rainbow Gotchard defeats the Malgam and passes KameDoon to Sabimaru, who uses it in the Exgotchaliber to defeat the Dread Trooper. Spanner understands the value of the research, KameDoon heads off somewhere else, seemingly now complete. Back at the academy Sabimaru is glad to see his drawing restored. And, while snowing affection only to Atropos, Greyon begins mass-producing his Dread Drivers.

Boonboomger: Saibu imagines herself and Boonboom as Orihime and Hikoboshi, but recognises she shouldn't be out with him in public, only to see a bunch of kids wanting to to meet ByunD whose walking with Sakito, she scolds them, but they're hungry for onigiri. She takes them to the garage where they devour Boonboom's curry, and after a tense discussion Sakito offers intel he remembers for food. ByunD is weirdly knowledgeable about Tanabata, but causes Boonboom to mention bad memories of the Milky Way, confusing ByunD, Boonboom is shocked he doesn't remember the Milky Way Circuit. ByunD remembers and tells him it's in the past, but Boonboom is now in a bad mood. The Sanseaters see a woman celebrating payday, and turn an ATM into a Kurumajin. Boonboom explains how in a qualifier for the Big Bang Grand Prix, he'd had the lead on the Milky Way Circuit and ByunD had been on his tail. There was a safe route or a risky jump, at the last moment Boonboom lost his nerve and took the safe route, while ByunD barreled ahead. Boonboom acknowledges it's not really ByunD's fault and he shouldn't be letting it get to him still. Saibu is alerted to Hashiliens. Sakito is first in the scene and confronting the Hashiliens, followed by the arrival of Mira, Jou and Genba, who save people trapped under Hashilien money, and Jou tears the bill he grabbed. At last Taiya and Chasshiro, who were at the Garage, arrive. BunViolet throws off the roll call timing. When Mira is hit by the weight of money, Chasshiro realises the attack crushes you with the physical weight of your assets, as such they force Taiya to retreat from the battle, as he would be crushed. The next money weight attack, Chassiro has everyone hide behind Jou, knowing he just spent a lot of money and is broke currently, then they use the opening to defeat the Kurumajin. Yarucar Highway Beams the Kurumaju, and ByoonByoom Mach Robo and Boonboomger Robo stand ready to fight. ByoonByoom Mach Robo loses it's mobility edge when hit, as ByunD has a nest egg, Sakito unaware of this. ByunD encourages Boonboom to use his wings, everyone encouraging him not to fear the skies anymore, and so Wing Boonboomger Robo takes flight. Inspired by the combination, Taiya returns to the cockpit, and the fly above the Kurumaju to get hit, using the weight to increase the power of the attack. Back at the garage, Mira has everyone write their Tanabata wishes.

[leothetraveler]

A Contract Honored

a short story

The noble’s son stumbled as they ran up the grand steps. The sounds of the bombardment’s aftermath echoing from behind him. He dared not look. He had no time to dwell on the damage as his father had entrusted him with a responsibility. To take a family relic, a large coin with a blood red gem, to the temple. To read the ancient words inscribed on it and summon…something. No one was certain what anymore. The legend had faded over time, but everyone agreed that the coin held power. That speaking the inscription in the holy halls would summon salvation when the city needed it most. But what that salvation was exactly had been lost to time.

He walked through the archway into the temple proper. The inside mimicking the tragedy outside. The large rectangular room was lined with statues of the gods. The very same that now warred with each other across the world. Around most of the statues were doorways leading to a room where each was worshipped before The Heaven’s War. Some had collapsed in the bombardment, burying any who were inside. While the main hall had been spared, it was in disarray as clergy scrambled. Some helped others while the rest tried to secure sacred items or texts. A few sat sobbing, begging the gods for answers or forgiveness. The boy shook his head and focused on the task at hand, walking to the center of the temple. Passing the statues of those he was raised to respect, to worship. The kings and queens of the heavens. Once united against the threat of Hell, now turned on each other with it’s destruction.

As he reached the center, the boy looked up at the statue before him. The goddess of nature and healing. The city’s patron god, now having long abandoned them for the forests and grasslands she apparently favored. If it wasn’t for the war, he may have joined the healers that exalted her. The young noble looked down at the coin he was given. It was the size of his palm. Golden, with a blood red gem in the shape of a droplet in the center, visible on both sides. While ornate, it was foolish to think such a thing would save them when the god of war’s armies laid siege to their walls. As he thought, the boy looked at said god’s statue to his right. A faceless figure clad in heavy armor, wielding a large battle axe. An imposing avatar of strength and skill. By his side, his sons, the gods of duty and honor. The former, wielding an axe, was leading the forces outside. The god had not even asked for surrender, simply firing on the city first to squash any idea of defiance against his father.

The boy took a deep breath. Sorrow and fear would only damn them all. Holding the coin in front of him, he began to read the inscription aloud. The forgotten tongue echoing through the grand hall, gaining the attention of more than a few. The son didn’t know what the words meant, nor did anyone, and he could only hope he was saying them correctly. As he finished, the temple went quiet. Even those who lost hope had paused their cries to see what was happening. The young man looked at the statue of their patron, silently pleading that his words were not meaningless. That something, ANYTHING, would save them.

Suddenly, a swirl of blue flame erupted from in front of the war god’s statue on his right. From the fiery portal emerged a man in heavy armor, holding a poleaxe. The god of war’s other son. The god of honor. Why was he here? Was this a second assault? Worse, had the boy unknowingly doomed them all with his words? Others began to emerge behind him, soldiers dressed in armor like that of his family’s armies outside, only distinct by the blue on the cloth under-armor.

The god before him approached the young noble, who was frozen with fear. But instead of killing him or demanding surrender, he simply took the coin from the boy’s hands. Turning around, he then pointed and gave orders to the still emerging soldiers. “You three, find out who is in charge. I need to know defenses, supplies, and defender count. You and you, aid those still here. When we find out where the civilians are kept, take them there. The rest of you, man defenses and aid wherever you can. My father will not have this city!” The soldier dispersed immediately to complete their respective orders as the god turned back to the noble. “…why so afraid?”

The young noble did not know how to respond at first, confused at the events that had played out before him. Swallowing his fear, he finally replied. “Why are you here? Why help us when it is your kin who burn the city? Your own brother that leads the siege?” He gestured outside, to the broken city and armies beyond. The god of honor looked through the entryway at the city before looking back at the noble. They held up the coin that he had taken as the inscription upon it shifted, becoming words the noble understood. It was no prayer, but instead declared that the holder was calling on a debt sealed in blood. Divine blood. The god then answered, “because a contract signed, is a contract honored”.

[necroruined]

Word, naturally, traveled fast in the small camp -- by the time that Karlach and Astarion were on the ground and Astarion had been struggling to find his barrings, everyone was awake and alert ; shaken from their slumber by the disappearance of their tiefling friend and the sheer desperation that was nearly wafting off of the vampire spawn in almost visible waves. It made the other residents of the camp anxious seeing him almost out of character -- almost. It was no secret to any of them how close him and Kat'uriin had become. And while they were fairly private in their relationship, there was no hiding to those they were close with what was going on. Astarion was terrified, it was written all over his features and body language.

Some caught on quicker than others what the vampire spawn, and Cazador, might want with Kat'uriin instead of Astarion -- but, slowly, pieces slid into place.

"Solider - " Karlach started, being the first one to speak to him since the spawn left. She tried to keep her tone gentle; like the elf was made of glass and the wrong ones from her might cause him to shatter. She had never seen him like this. "Throwing yourself into Cazador's place without a plan, without supplies, without anything but your anger and fear is exactly what he wants from you. I know you're scared, I know you're angry. We're all with you, I promise. But you need to take a moment, Astarion. You are no help to Kat'uriin dead."

----

Her head felt heavy, like a sack of rocks had made a home there. Her limbs were just as weighed -- she lay on an ice cold cobblestone, her head pounding and her tongue dry. She wanted to will herself to move, but she was so tired. Her muscles felt like they were miles away from herself --- and the fog. The fog in her brain almost superseded everything else. She wanted to figure out where she was,what was going on, if she was hurt -- but nothing else mattered. Nothing but the cold, empty feeling in her stomach that HURT. It twisted and ripped at her insides in a way that demanded that it be felt. She realized with a ice cold start in her stomach what that feeling was --- HUNGER.

Not a hunger for food -- for meat, or vegetables. And everything slowly started to make sense. And, as it did, panic rose -- it made her shiver,and for just a moment, it made the cold pain of the hunger subside. "No ... no, no---" breathed out of her lungs, but never left her lips. ( A charm? Silence charm? The confusion was discarded -- one big catastrophe at a time. ) Her hands curled into fists against the cobblestone, trying to muster the strength to pick herself up to examine herself and her surroundings. As she managed to ease herself into a sitting position, cradling her head in both of her hands through ragged breaths ( -- did she need to breathe? ), a voice cut through the silence like a knife. Pushing its way through the fog and confusion that assaulted her thoughts. "-- Astarion...-" came her feeble response. At first, it was elated. Hearing his voice placed a comforting warmth in the center of her chest that felt like home. That filled the fear void that all the uncertainty created. But the fog shifts again ---

The panic returned, and the world felt like it might tunnel in around her and swallow her whole. This is why she was taken,this is why this was done to her. To hurt him. And if he came after her--

She then sounded more urgent -- she tried to hide her panic, even mentally, but he knew her well enough he would hear that as well, "Don't -- ! You can't come here, Astarion. Please-"

In the throws of the battle, Astarion could notice his sibling spawn were trying to isolate him from Kat’uriin; a method he thought they were doing so it would be easier to take him. With attempts to return to her side, he was quickly grabbed by his arms; holding him from going further. He wrestled, and punched, and swung and ensured every swing landed a punch or slash to a sibling’s body. He felt himself exhaust, and in a poor effort to break free from their surrounding form–three on one did not end well for the pale elf. His arms were felt bound behind him tightly, his legs kicked to lose his balance. His knees fell into the forest edge dirt as he looked up to see Kat’uriin. 

It was then he realised…it was not him they wanted. 

Fear replaced the will to fight for his own survival. He needed to fight for her. To be only feet from her and feeling helpless and trapped with little to no ability to break free no matter how hard he tried…and Astarion fought, only to be beaten and battered to submit to what was happening, but he blatantly refused to back down. 

“Kat’uriin!!!! No!” he cried out as he felt his arms free. No, he did not succeed in fighting himself free. Instead, it was as if they willingly let him go. His eyes widen at the quick passing thought, but he couldn’t linger on it. He ran toward her; his arm stretched out to grab her but she was gone. As quick as they arrived. She was gone. Four quickly followed as the voices of his companions could be heard.

He felt his body pulled; back scorched against the heat of Karlach’s chest as her arms wound around his form. He winced in pain as if the scars himself flashed a hot red. Once they were gone, he freed himself. 

“They took her. They–He took her. Why–why her?! Why not me!? I should have just–This was my fau–” The answer was obvious, but the traumatic events that happened so quickly clouded any sound judgement and ceased to make his words coherent. All he immediately wanted to do was storm Cazador’s palace and save her. “I have to go and get her,” he says in laboured breaths as he straightens himself up and rushes his way back to camp to prepare, as words of caution were spoken by the others on the way back. They echoed into nothing as his vision tunnelled solely on saving the only being he's ever loved. 

As he began equipping his weapons, a thought came to him. He needed to communicate–to see what she was seeing. With struggled breaths, he closed his eyes as he focused solely on activating any telecommunication toward Kat’uriin. Nothing was heard, or rather, something was blocking him from accessing her mind. He tries again, hoping she would let him in. 

“I need to know where you are. I’m coming to get you. I just need to know where exactly in his palace they are taking you,” he communicates through his tadpole plagued mind, in hopes he could hear something back. Anything. Please answer.

[justkending]

Everest. Chapter 4.

Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 6300+

A/N: fair warning, if you can’t tell from the word count, this one is going to have a lot of information!!

Chapter 4:

A few days had gone by. One's where Bucky noticed Y/N had gone back to hiding herself away in her room. Only coming out on occasion to take Ryker for a walk and to get food. And even then, she was sneaky enough to keep attention away from her outings. 

Bucky had noticed the only other people going into her room were Nat, and on a few occasions, Clint. With the little bit he was able to get out of Nat, he gathered that she was doing nothing but researching and devising a plan for the mission Tony had shared with her. All her time and energy was spent on that one case file. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. 

Had he gone over the original file a few times in hopes he would find something that he'd missed? Yes. Had he looked into it even a fraction of what he was capable of? No. After learning that Y/N had a personal connection to it, he wanted to give her the space and respect to tell him the details when- and if- she was ever ready.

He hadn't known Y/N for long, but in the short time, he had developed a deep respect for her and would rather not disrupt that by digging into her life outside of what she had told him.

In doing so, he continued to stay in the common spaces so that if she ever did come out for a break, he may spot her. 

Currently, he had found himself dozed off for the last hour after reading a book in the living room of the floor of their apartments. The thing waking him up wasn't an alarm or his body coaxing him back to the real world but a wet feeling on his hand. He wrinkled his nose, still groggy from a deeper nap than he planned to have, and pulled his hand to position under his pillow, away from the wetness.

However, all that did was promote the source of the moisture to assault his face. He backed away lazily and put his hand up in defense before opening his eyes to see Ryker smiling at him, now resting his chin on the ledge of the couch, waiting for further attention.

Bucky blinked away sleep and sat up, looking around the room for his owner, but it was empty besides him and the dog.

"Hey, boy. What are you doing out?" he sat up, patting his head and running his other hand through his hair to fix whatever bedhead he had. His back arched slightly as he stretched from the awkward position he'd knocked out in.

Ryker barked in response, and Bucky shushed him with a laugh for his loudness. In response, Ryker let out a softer bark that was close to a whisper instead.

"That works too," Bucky laughed at his antics. "But really, where's your mom?"

As he looked around, there was no sign of any other Avengers in the area. Nat, Clint, and Sam were out on a mission that came up the night before, and it sounded important. He didn't get the details on it, but Sam said they most likely wouldn't be in cell phone range and would be gone for a week.

He would have offered to help, but they seemed to have it covered, and he found himself wanting to hang back at the compound for his own reasons.

Steve had gone out of town for something relating to a friend at the retirement home. He said that one of the residents had a niece or something outside of the state that needed help moving, and he had offered to lend a hand. It had also happened to be a niece who had visited a few times at the senior center, and apparently, the two hit it off really well.

Either way, most of the Avengers were gone besides Tony, Peter, and Banner, but they were always in the down-under lab and rarely came out from there.

Bucky was in the hall now with Ryker by his side as they walked to the den, but no one was there. Then they walked to the kitchen. No one was there. Then, just as they were turning the hall to Y/N's room, she busted out with a phone to her ear, and a sense of chaos smacked Bucky like a wave.

She ran into his chest, but Bucky caught her by the arms to better steady them both.

Instead of rushing to apologize or even acting surprised at the collision, she immediately rushed out her worry.

"Where's Nat?" she said, dropping the phone down.

"Um," Bucky stuttered, thrown off by the question. "She- she's on a mission. Why? What's wrong?"

"Clint?"

He still had his arms around hers as she looked up at him, frantic for his answer.

"Same mission, and so is Sam. Steve's out of town, and Tony, Peter, and Bruce are all down in the lab." He decided to tell her everyone's whereabouts, hoping to ease her panic.

"Shit," she said under her breath, looking down and then turning back into her room with purposeful steps.

She left the door open, too worried about whatever was going on to shut it and keep the new guest out.

"Are you... ok?" he asked, peering into the room, but stayed at the threshold in case she wanted space.

"I need to leave," she muttered, running around the place, grabbing random papers and what looked like a flash drive.

"Leave? Like, go home, leave?" he asked.

Ryker, who had been at Bucky's side the whole time, slowly walked into the room, clearly feeling the tension himself and being apprehensive.

"No, no," she shook her head. "I just... I figured out their next stop."

She never stopped in her rush as she began packing what looked like a go bag and a few other random things Bucky didn't take the time to analyze fully.

"Who's next stop?" he asked.

That finally snapped her out of her frenzy, and she stopped to look at him. Ryker let out a small whine, and after a second, she registered him and gave a small pat to her bed, where he jumped and positioned himself next to her before she let out a breath she had been holding in.

"It's a long story," she replied before, more calmly yet purposefully, she started to pack again.

Whatever new data or findings she had were clearly on a time crunch, and from what Bucky did know about the case, he shouldn't have expected her to stay forever, especially when a lead like the one she was hinting at had come up.

"I'll help," he stated, no question behind it.

She stopped for a moment, assessing him as she did, and he wanted to fidget in his spot but kept firm in his stance.

"You don't have to do that," she shook her head after a second, turning to the next thing to pack. A fight on why he didn't have to help was pushed to the side, and Bucky was grateful that she wasn't giving him a lesson on not jumping into the battle just because the trumpets sounded. 

"I know. But I want to," he said, taking another step in.

She looked as his foot crossed the doorway and then looked back at him.

A look of sorrow and pity flashed so fast across her face that if he hadn't been one to monitor her every expression, he wouldn't have seen it. But he was constantly examining the emotions that painted her features.

"It's sweet of you to offer, but you don't even understand what I would be asking of you. You only know the storybook version of my life, and the real thing isn't as simple as that, unfortunately."

"You think I haven't seen the raw and bloody side of this world?" he said with a noncomedic laugh. If she had truly felt any of his emotions in their time together, she would know it wasn't sunshine and rainbows in his head. And something has to happen to someone to kill those things off initially. He watched as she didn't answer but instead went into the connected bathroom and started packing toiletries. "Listen, I don't know what this mission is about one hundred percent or how all it connects to you. I figured I'd give you privacy in that area, but knowledge or not, if you need help, I'm more than happy to lend it. And if you're worried about the mission being too much for me, I can promise I've been through worse."

She still didn't respond; she continued her packing in the bathroom. Eventually, she came out and leaned on the doorway, and he could see the exhaustion from the past days of research and likely upsetting informational findings on her face.

"It's because you've been through worse that I don't want to put this on you."

He made a small sad grin at that before shrugging.

"What's one more mission?"

Her face never lifted to a smirk or a smile at the retort like he meant. Instead, she laid her head on the wood paneling of the door frame, and her face stayed serious. In a second, the feeling of sorrow and tenderness filled the air. Clearly, she wasn't trying to veil her feelings or energy with him, and Bucky could sense every bit of solace radiating off her at his comment.

It was more than what he said, and she hated that he didn't look out for himself in these positions. Much like his friend, he threw himself in the way of danger as soon as he needed to. But not because purely of the feeling of needing to save those around him, but because of a long past of a guilty conscience that felt the need to be healed by selfless acts.

He stayed where he was but shifted in his spot as he felt her analyzing his own emotions and energy. She was studying him with serious eyes, and he didn't know how to respond.

"Really. I can- I want to help," he spoke up. "You're out of backups, really, since I'm not sure when Sam, Nat, or Clint will be back. I doubt you want to team up with Tony, and Banner doesn't really go on missions unless it's a code green. Parker, the kid, he uh, he has school tomorrow so..." he began to ramble. Anything to direct the attention away from him, but it didn't work.

She slowly walked toward him and raised a hand to his face. He didn't feel the need to pull back or escape the touch. No. Instead, he froze. The only other time she had gotten this close was when she made him feel as though he was walking on cloud 9, clear of the pain and hurt that weighed him down on a regular basis.

And, like before, he felt a sense of ease wash over him. Like the feeling of a breath that you never realized you were holding, releasing after a long and much-needed cry. It was the relief of what tight strings holding you're social posture together were, becoming loose and letting you fall into a stance that could only be called alleviation.

This time, instead of being winded by the change, he was relaxed and close to folding over in his spot at the feeling.

"Your guilt will ruin you," she whispered to him with an only slightly hidden, saddened gaze.

They were face-to-face. Mere inches from the other, all he could do was look back and forth between her eyes as if searching for the answer to preventing her prophecy. And surprisingly, instead of a solution, he saw conflict and grief in her Y/E/C eyes.

"But that's not my right to say." Her tone set back to even as she backed away and sighed, running her hand through her hair. "I could use the backup, but I'm not necessarily asking you. You have the option to stay home and say no. An option I'm hoping you'll take for your own sake." She paused, seeing her comment gave him the go-ahead rather than the hint that it wasn't worth it. 

"When are we leaving?" he asked, watching her return to her bags. Ryker lay on her bed with his head resting on his paws as he watched the two.

"As soon as I can get a plane hotwired and out of here."

"I'll meet you in the hangar in 10," he nodded, heading to the door. "Where exactly are we going?" 

Her response was hesitant. "The infamous country of Russia," she sighed, stopping for a second to send him a flat smile.

"Good times."

________________________

There was no need to hotwire a plane as Tony gladly lent one to the two. However, it still cost her a quick conversation about where they were headed and what leads she had gathered.

She gave him the summarized version of where they were going and the plan for when they got there, but she summed it up in a hurry. She left Ryker at the compound; even if he was capable of a mission, she wasn't sure now was the time. Tony and Peter promised they'd watch over him while she was gone, but Peter was the most excited about the chore.

Once the coordinates were locked in, Y/N organized her compiled files in a space away from the cock-pit. One step of the mission was planned out, but knowing anything about this life, you have to be ready for 100 different alternatives of what you'd be getting yourself into.

Bucky had volunteered to fly for a while even though autopilot could have saved them both the task. He figured giving her space where he wasn't looming over her in the smaller jet would be best for the both of them. She would come and tell him what the mission consisted of when she was ready. She wouldn't leave him out of the know if he were her backup, which was another thing going through his mind.

Why would a being as strong and powerful as her need a man with a gun? Did she really need the backup, or was he setting himself up to be the guy in the chair this time around? Not that he would mind. If it helped her in any way, it would be worth it. 

Lost in his thoughts, combing through all the possibilities of what this mission could be and what his purpose was here, he didn't notice her creep beside him and sit in the chair parallel to him.

"So do you like flying cause you're in control?" she asked casually, leaning back in her chair and looking out the window with one leg brought up to her chest and foot positioned in the seat with her.

He didn't flinch but turned quickly to the question.

"What?"

"No purpose behind my questioning, really. Just wondering since you've practically come into this whole mission blind, and this could be considered the first thing you've had control over," she shrugged, never breaking from the view ahead. "You haven't left your station."

He shook his head but couldn't help the slight smirk that formed.

"No, I just figured I'd give you some space until you're ready to fill me in. I know this is important and personal to you, so I'm working through this at your speed," he nodded, looking from her back to the sky.

Her gaze turned back to him. It was hard to miss when whoever she set her sights on could actually feel her studying your every move and emotion like a movie projector surrounding you.

"Thank you, by the way," she smiled softly. "You're- you're right. This whole thing has been really hard looking into, and the entire process of it resurfacing has been rough... to put it lightly."

"I'm sorry that you're having to face this. I may not know what it all means, but from what I've gathered, I know it can't be easy," he said sincerely. It was an understatement as he had been on the other side of this situation with Steve. To what extent, he wasn't sure, but losing someone only to have them resurface as a weapon was something he knew all too well. 

"Nothing for you to be sorry for. It's the world that came crashing in on me, not you," she laughed lightly, getting more comfortable in her seat. Her more fun and easygoing personality, whom Bucky had met for the first time in her room, was coming out slowly. "Can I just say I was expecting a very different version of you after hearing about you from Steve. You seem shy and quiet around me."

"Hate to tell ya, but you're a little intimidating," Bucky whispered the last part with a joking look to her.

"Me? No," she waved off. "I've never heard that one before."

"Maybe it's the age. Maybe it's the source of your power. Maybe it's the fact you can lift 70 years of stress off my soul in a single touch. I don't know, but whatever it is, it's a hint alarming," he lifted his shoulders.

"Hmm, yeah. I can see how that would freak a person out," she nodded in agreement before smiling brightly at him. "I've seen how it has freaked people out. Yet somehow, you're still here, willing to take on a job with someone you hardly know and fight something you know nothing of. Tell me... Why is that?" Her chin rested gently in her hand as she peered at him, waiting for his answer.

He paused, waiting for the answer to come to him, but really, it wasn't something said in words. It was all just a feeling he had.

Sure, he was intimidated by this woman who had done more than most could say they even dreamed of doing, but all he really felt was a suffocating cloud of faith when he walked into her atmosphere. A feeling of trust most had to spend decades with him for him to develop toward them. Because of that, he would follow her just like he had Steve all those years back to now.

"You don't have to respond," she said once he had figured it out. "Whatever it is, I really do thank you for helping me."

He nodded in response and could tell no words were needed. She understood somehow what he would say if he could put it into words. There was a long second of silence as they just relaxed, knowing their respect for each other until Bucky couldn't take it any longer. 

"If you don't mind me asking though... This mission? What exactly is it?"

"Right. That could be important to know as the copilot to the whole thing," she chuckled, but the light tone was slowly easing back, and a more serious energy was growing. "It's a long story that only a handful of people know. Up until this last week, of course."

"Is it about that girl? The one in the video?"

Y/N stared off into the clouds in front of them and had a distant look. She didn't answer the question as she got lost in what looked like a far-off memory. It took a minute before she started her story.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" she asked, not answering the question, but her own showing a hint as to where she was going to go.

"After everything I've experienced and learned from this world, I wouldn't say no. But I haven't really thought about it," he shrugged.

She nodded in understanding before continuing. 

"I never really felt like I saw any examples of it either until I met Marley." She paused with a small smile, cursing her lips. "Tony, of course, could be an exception to my pain in the ass, little brother, but they still have their differences."  Her smile fell. Her eyes were lost in another world, playing a memory like a movie in the backdrop of clouds before her. "She was a twin soul to my sister. Something so sweet and pure branding the earth again is hard not to notice. Even before I had my powers, I could get a glimpse of people's souls and intentions in life. My sister, Rosie, always had a white glow around her."

She rested her head back in the chair, picturing that same tone of white. In her hand a mimic of the color illuminated in her hand.

Bucky couldn't tell if she was doing it for him to see or subconsciously as she thought back to it. Either way, he watched up close as her powers wielded effortlessly in her hand, dancing through her fingers like a whisp of power. 

"In 400 years, I hadn't seen anyone else's like it. It showed just how much of an honest, uncorrupted, and bright human she was. She would move mountains and bring peace where we needed it most one day..." she sighed. "But, the world wasn't ready for that kind of unadulterated love yet. It diminished that light before giving it the chance to heal it."

Bucky watched as the hurt of losing her sister all that time ago showed fresh on her features. Even as much time had passed, her wounds from it hadn't fully healed... Maybe never would.

"About 15 years ago, we were on a mission that involved a group of mutants. We didn't know exactly what we were getting ourselves into, but from what we had gathered, someone was finding those who were born with an enhancement and using them for their own selfish needs. We later learned that those that we found and some that we fought were against us at their own will. No brainwashing, no threats. They wanted to fight us and were on the side of eventual mass destruction," she explained. "A similar situation to most in our universe."

She turned her head to Bucky, who had put the plane on autopilot at this point to watch her intently.

"I like to think that they didn't know any better... From what information they had been fed, I don't think they knew what they were doing was wrong. They were just following someone who would beat them otherwise if they didn't. It becomes a survival instinct at some point, and then if you're there long enough, it becomes your morals and reality."

"Marley was in the facility?" Bucky asked, making the connection.

"She was 8 when we found her. She was the most powerful of them all, even at such a young age. But she had no idea what her power was or how to work it. All she really knew was to take orders and point them toward the people who were threatening the operation," Y/N answered before looking back out the front windshield. "To make a long story short, we saved a few individuals, and the rest either were killed by Dr. Morozov or one of us who had to take them out."

"Dr. Morozov?" Bucky questioned,

"Not to give him too much credit, he was the man running the experiments and manipulation with any mutant he could get his hands on," she said solemnly. "He would find the enhanced and offer them new homes and a place of shelter. Or at least that's how he put it to lure their naive minds in. Marley was different, though. Her parents... Her parents gave her up and sold her when she was just five years old," she said with a sense of disgust in her voice. "They were horribly impoverished due to a gambling problem they had. After I looked into it more, I learned they were likely a single day away from starving. Marley had been exhibiting strange behaviors, but it was really her powers that were becoming more prominent to them. They were scared and freaked out and desperate for money. So when a doctor in a nice suit offers to take your weird child off your hands in return for $10,000, you take it. No questions asked," she said with a blank stare. And though it was blank, Bucky could sense the anger in it. "I later found out that they blew through that money in less than a few hours of getting it. Not for food. Not for shelter. Not for any form of help, but at some underground gambling arena."

"Did she know about that?"

"Hard not to when your parents push you off into some stranger's arms one random day. Leaves a nice new trail of trauma..."

Y/N rubbed her eyes as if trying to avoid the image of a scared little 5-year-old being sold off to a group of soldiers and scientists like she was merely a frog waiting to be dissected.

"She fought us at first. She was strong, but eventually, we were able to calm her down enough to tell her who we were and why we were there. She was stunned for a moment, and then she broke down and let us help her," she sighed. "She didn't want to do the things he was making her do."

There was a pause as Bucky took in the story's content. She gave him a second to process it because this was a lot, and there was even more to come.

"I knew when I saw her she didn't want to do the things she was doing, which made reasoning with her easier than the others. Everyone else we fought that day had a set intention of killing us. Not her... She wanted to do what was right... We took her back home. I was the only one she was comfortable enough to help her get situated back at the tower then... She was quiet and only really spoke with me. Wanda was the only other exception. Tony, Wanda, and, of course, Fury are the only people who know of her... Steve and the rest know I had a connection with this little girl we saved from this imprisonment facility we raided, but I wanted her away from the tower. She had seen enough war and fighting. It didn't need to be a part of her new home life as well. I called an old friend who kindly took her in as her own. "

"That's why Steve didn't recognize her in the video," Bucky concluded.

"That and she's grown up a lot. She would be about... 23 now," Y/N nodded while doing the math. "But that's the other part of the story," she added reluctantly.

Bucky sent her a confused look. She looked from him down to her hands.

"Like stated before, I sent her off to a friend. She lived out in the middle of nowhere like Clint. For five years, I would go and visit and teach her how to use and control her powers, not for fighting but to work them throughout her life better. Trying to conceal something that is a part of you never did anyone good. But it is possible to learn how to use them in your life for good, even if it isn't in a 'fighting evil type of way." She cringed at herself some. "And I know. She was young, but all she had been taught so far was how to use them to harm. I wanted to reteach her that she had a purpose outside of that. She had the capability of so much more."

"I get it," Bucky said, seeing her fight herself internally. "As someone who had been taken advantage of cruelly..." He didn't expect the harsh truth to come out but continued. "Having someone reassure you that you can still do good means something. Even if you can't believe it yourself."

She sent him a small smile. It meant a lot what he was sharing with her, and she appreciated it. She sent him a nod in acknowledgment.

"We got her into a good school. She was thriving and finally getting to experience the normal side of life she never had. I would check on her when I could. She told me she didn't care to use her powers unless it was essential. She really didn't want to become anybody because of them. She wanted normalcy after so long of the opposite."

"What exactly were her powers?" Bucky asked.

"I'm afraid she may have more powers now than I knew her with before..." Y/N answered with hesitance. She saw the confusion on Bucky's face and went to elaborate. "We've learned from mutants that they carry a gene that eventually surfaces after a traumatic event. Sometimes, otherwise, like through experimentation and operation, it can be triggered, but the majority of the time, it breaks the surface through trauma. After researching this case, I realized that whoever we are going against has realized that several genes can be provoked. Not just one power is coming to the forefront, but possibly two to three. Sometimes, but rarely, more than that."

Y/N rubbed her temple as she thought about the multiple people she had files for that were poked and prodded in hopes of triggering another gene. The science behind truly knowing if an individual had more than one wasn't always accurate. So, the probability of someone being tortured with experimentation was high. Marley likely being one of those individuals.

"When we met Marley, her only power was blood manipulation. In formal terms, it's known as hemokinesis. She can control any form of blood however she pleases," Y/N explained. "She could heat it to the point where you would practically melt from the inside as your body temperature overheats yourself to death. She could constrict your veins, causing brain aneurysms and heart attacks. She could physically move and puppet you around by controlling how your blood flowed through you. The list goes on."

"Holy shit..." Bucky mumbled, shocked by the news.

"Yeah. It wasn't easy to fight against," Y/N replied slowly. "But now you can see why that was a big power move for the man in charge. Even the Avengers struggled with the 8-year-old."

"How did you teach her to use them for good?"

The plane hummed in the background as it made a smooth turn. Y/N watched the slight change in scenery before answering.

"With any form of manipulation, you can heal just as much as you can hurt. My powers could easily be used for evil purposes... And when I was young and naive like her, someone had convinced me to do just that. And when you can no longer be convinced, you become forced."

Her words weren't meant for his answer, but the vocalized thought came up when thinking back on how she learned to use her power for good and when she hoped to teach Marley the same thing.

"We learned that Marley could heal blood-related diseases. It took a lot of practice with other things until she healed a random dog on the street one day..."

___________

13 years ago.

"Y/N, aren't we supposed to be in hiding? What if someone sees us?" Marley's small, barely 11-year-old self whispered by Y/N's side as they walked the busy streets of New York together.

Y/N being an Avenger and Marley being a young child with the gifts she had, made normal day-to-day activities more of a risk than a regular civilian.

"I found a new spell that allows me to mask our presence. Anyone intentionally looking out for us won't feel a need for a second glance," Y/N smiled, bumping her hip playfully. "Plus, I thought it would be nice to get out of the country and the small-town farmers markets and get a glimpse of the bustling atmosphere of the Big Apple."

Marley looked up at her with her big dark green eyes and smiled. Her life had consisted of poverty, enslavement, and now hiding. She hadn't had the chance to socialize besides with the small-town people of northern New York.

They were bundled up for the cold weather of the East Coast and were headed to Y/N's favorite coffee shop as their first stop. The idea of a hot chocolate in hand while admiring Times Square and every little detail the city had to offer was more than she could have hoped for.

They had spent some time shopping, stopping at a few touristy places, and now watching street performers before hopping on the subway to get closer home.

Marley had brought up a question of something history-based, which got Y/N talking about her knowledge of it, causing her to become distracted and not see Marley stop in an alleyway.

She got maybe 15 feet ahead when she didn't feel Marley's presence, and she stopped abruptly. She turned in her spot and looked around for the shorter brunette but didn't see her.

"Marley?" she shouted nervously. "Marley!"

No answer came back, and Y/N immediately backtracked and focused on her energy to trace her.

Eventually, she saw the alley she went in and tunneled into her bright soul that only she could see glowing behind a dumpster. She rushed over to the light, and before she could get onto her for running off, she noticed she was leaning over a dog.

He was a scraggly mutt who was about medium-sized and had clearly been living on the streets. He was lying on his side, breathing in a labored way, and wasn't even moving to avoid the little girl who had her hands hovering over his chest.

Instead of asking, Y/N watched. Marley had been practicing using her powers in a way Y/N could best teach her was good and pure. But they had only ever practiced on little mice or rats they found on the farm. Each one came out unharmed after Y/N ensured she could assess and fix the situation.

But a whole dog?

In a few seconds, the dog let out a few big coughs and then a sigh of relief. Y/N could tell the feeling of distress and pain had been alleviated by the animal, and he seemed at ease.

"What did you do?" Y/N asked, impressed and confused at the same time.

As if just now noticing Y/N's presence, most likely thanks to her concentration on her work, Marley turned quickly and looked at her, shocked, before the dog who began sitting up.

"He was sick," she replied meekly. "I did that thing you taught me about feeling energy. It felt off and painful, so I shifted it."

Y/N bent down and slowly put her hand on the dog's head to reassure him, showing he was safe.

"How did you shift it?" Y/N asked, looking back at Marley now that the dog was fine.

"Um, I don't really know, but I don't sense the disease anymore..." Y/N sent her a confused look with a tilt of her head. "His blood wasn't normal. There was a parasite in it. I took it out."

___________

"How did she take it out?" Bucky asked, wholly engaged with the story.

"She said she had used my training to focus on little parts of energy. You can feel energy as a whole, but if you concentrate enough, you can break it down into fragments. The fragments make up the entirety, of course, but if you're strong enough, you can manipulate the fragments, therefore changing the whole. It takes a lot of energy and power, but it's possible..." Y/N broke down for him. "Apparently, she did something similar to the blood. She could find the sickness in him and burn it out on its own without harming any other blood cells. She completely healed him from whatever disease he had running through him."

"Wow..." Bucky thought about it for a second, taking in all the new information and storing it away for later. "So say if someone had cancer that affects the blood or something, she could heal it?"

Y/N nodded.

"The capabilities she had were always high... Which is why I'm worried now."

"When's the last time you saw her?" Bucky asked, realizing that when she had come to the compound the first time, Y/N had claimed she was dead.

"I went to her house when she turned 13 for her birthday. It was just me, Wanda, Vis, and Ryker who went. I should mention the friend she was staying with was someone from my past. Lori was a woman I met when I went to college one of the many times I attended, and she became a nomad in upstate New York. She always wanted a kid but never settled down. She was about 58 when I brought Marley to her. They instantly bonded, and Lori practically adopted her as her own. Marley returned the favor as she never had anyone outside of me actually care for her."

It was quiet for a second, like Y/N had to collect her thoughts before continuing.

"Lori was a part of the blip, and Marley wasn't. Since I was up in the middle of nowhere space with Tony and Nebula after the fight, I couldn't come to check and see if she was ok. But once I did get back to Earth, I learned Wanda was gone... Vis had been killed. Nat was..." She took a second, grimacing at the harsh memories. "A lot had to be figured out before I could find her. But by the time I did... She was gone. She left a note at Lori's and her house saying she needed to figure things out on her own."

She let out a harsh laugh.

"She had been in the system of staying off the radar. She knew how to do it if needed, so she did. I couldn't find her for five years. The only thing keeping me sane in knowing she was okay was letters I would randomly get every month. Every month, a postcard would show up at the compound telling me she was fine and figuring things out. There was no word of mass destruction, so I figured she was in the clear of turning to the dark side." She was quick to defend her comment. "Not that I thought she would, but it scared me either way."

"What happened after that five years?"

Y/N let out a long sigh and readjusted in her seat.

"The big final battle was fought, and we brought everyone we lost back. I moved out to my new home and continued to get the letters from the compound, which Wanda would bring to me when she could. I figured she was safe and just traveling. Even Lori said she had dropped by a few times in the year after the fight, so things seemed okay. I gave her the space to be the mature teenager she was, and..."

She wanted to say something there, but Bucky couldn't read her now. She just stared off into the abyss with no real focus on anything. Then she came back to reality and stood up.

"I received a video—a video showing someone experimenting on her. Then, an explosion went off in the background, and the building began to crumple from the inside. They left her on the table strapped down in so many ways, she was incapable of escaping," she said very factually. "She burned. I watched it happen with my own eyes." The last part of her explanation was said without emotion.

There was more to the story and more details than just that. Bucky could see the memories of it flicker in her glossed eyes, but she left it at that.

"But apparently, I was wrong, and that's what's bringing us to this mission now," she said more seriously and sternly. The tone of being upset with herself was obvious.

Without further explanation, she turned and walked to the back of the plane. At first, Bucky thought she was done with her story and realized he had learned much about the girl but not necessarily the mission they were on.

He turned to look over the back of the chair for a second but saw her turn a corner of the jet disappearing. He waited a second for her to reappear, but she never did.

Realizing she may need a moment, he turned the autopilot off and switched to manually flying again. His mind trying to reel through all the new information given to him, but he was still trying to wrap the new stories of her life together in his mind. 

Clearly, she had a thing for taking in those who needed it, Wanda being one of the others, and she made a very personal bond with them. The bond was so personal that she would do anything to keep them safe and look out for them.

This mission was life or death to her, and Bucky was trusted with it.

Lost in his thoughts, he again didn't sense her coming back into the cockpit.

"Whoever the hell took her this time is going to pay."

The new file she had laid out in front of him showed a picture of an older version of the girl from the video and her stories, strapped to a table and surrounded by machines and tools. Not the tools that fix someone either, the tools that broke someone. Next to her was a doctor, masked up and scrubbed in to start the procedure. His eyes gave an evil glare to the camera.

"One time is too many times for her to be treated like this. Everyone associated with her abduction is going to perish..."

Bucky looked up to see her dead-staring at the picture while dried tears marked her face. She was going to save Marley even if it cost her everything.

TAGS:

Everest Tags: (if I missed you in tags, comment on this chapter to let me know:)

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @annazierden

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @lizzymacy555  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul​ 

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @torayuri777 @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes​

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

[hopeandvolleyball]

they call you clingy pt.1

genre: hurt, comfort, angst to fluff

w/osamu, atsumu

a.n. i’m the angst machine >:) no but seriously you’re gonna get angst stuff for a hot minute bc i just had a really bad breakup and i have to self project somehow

osamu miya

this argument was the same dance you’ve been dancing for weeks now, a twisted tango of wanting a moment alone with your boyfriend and him getting defensive over the workload his business was providing him

the dance was exhausting and you wanted to stop, but each day the argument osamu dragged it out farther and father and you wanted to scream.

“just once, once for the first time in a month, can i have some time with my boyfriend? i don’t ask for much with you so can you please just-”

“ya don’t ask for much? are ya fuckin kiddin me, y/n? everyday yer beggin for my attention like some fuckin’ useless puppy. if i knew ye were gonna be this clingy i wouldn’t ave ever asked ya out!” he bit back, venom and words unwarranted.

you took a step back, angry expression dying almost instantly at the usage of the word clingy. you tried not to be, really. you worked so hard at making a safe and loving environment for both you and osamu. did you not notice the signs he was uncomfortable.

“alright,” you nodded. “i’ll work on that. thank you for letting me know. goodnight, miya.” sighing, you made your way into the guest room for the night to let osamu cool down. 

osamu got off work early, finally deciding to hire other managers to relieve the workload on him. he knew you were right that it was beginning to be too much for him to handle, he also knew he had a lot of making up to do in regards to that blowout last night. he picked up a bouquet of tulips, your favorites, along with a teddy bear and your favorite takeout. he took a deep breath once he opened the door, not knowing exactly what to say or do or expect. he saw you in the kitchen, getting ready to start dinner. 

“ya don’t need to cook today, darlin. i got yer favorites,” he smiled, holding up the bags with a nervous smile. you turned around and blinked at osamu. nodding, you began to put everything back. okay. not the response he was expecting. he set everything, except the flowers, onto the dining table and waited for you to return. with outstretched hands, the bear was in his arms waiting for you to take. nervously you took it, staring into the glassy eyes of the bear. “’m really sorry for last night, buttercup. of all the things i’ve ever wanted to do makin’ ya think i don’t love and appreciate ya was the last thing i ever wanted. ‘m so sorry, baby.” you were silent, biting on your lower lip. setting the bear down you gave him a pathetic smile.

“thanks, osamu. lets eat, yeah?” you suggested. he smiled brightly and moved in to kiss you, which you dodged. okay. you were more damaged by what he said than he really thought you were. and his heart cracked at that realization. osamu took his place at the other end of the table and ate his fill, not paying attention to what he was shoveling into his mouth and instead paid attention to you pushing around the food on the plate. his lips twisted into a frown.

“um, wanna watch a movie tonight? i have a midshift tomorrow. i hired more managers to help me with the workload,” osamu leaned into his palm. you nodded, looking him in the eyes, his smile infectious and you smiled just a bit. 

when you didn’t cuddle with him during the movie that was his breaking point. he gave you so many signs he wanted you on his chest, starting to fall asleep while his fingers tangled in your hair. instead you curled into the arm of the couch on the opposite end of him. he frowned and paused the movie. you perked up and looked at him confused.

“c’mere baby,” he demanded, patting his lap. you shook your head and pulled your knees to your chest. “why? talk to me honeybun.”

“you called me clingy, osamu. i’m just trying to make things easier for you,” you commented, voice slightly muffled as your face was buried into your knees. sighing, osamu gently pulled you closer so your head could lay softly on his plush thighs. “i’m sorry-”

“ya shouldn’t be the sorry one here,” he cooed. “i didn’t mean it, buttercup. i really didn’t. i know ya don’t believe me but i was angry with ya. i just wanted ya off my back and i hurt ya. i didn’t mean it, okay?” he comforted, hands still threading through your hair.

“okay,” you nodded. “i’m still shaken up but we’re gonna be okay. i promise.”

atsumu miya 

whatever stupid fight you were in this time didn’t warrant what atsumu said on the phone to bokuto after. why he called bokuto after your fight you didn’t know. 

“and, to top it all off, y/n’s just bein real clingy lately and i can’t handle it.” he complained, fingers pinching his forehead. you were in the doorway to apologize but hearing that made your heart stop. did he really think that way about you?

luckily he didn’t catch you in the hallway before you slinked back into your bedroom and into bed.

atsumu joined not too long after. he sat on the opposite side of the bed, not wanting to lay down quite yet. he looked over at you, knowing you weren’t asleep but pretending to be. sighing, he turned to face you, pushing your hair out of your face. to his surprise you visibly flinched. his brows furrowed and he sighed deeply.

“y/n? angel? ‘m really sorry bout the fight. i don’t even remember what we were fightin about. but ‘m sorry. i don’t like seein’ ya this upset especially if it was me causin this. yer the love of my life and i don’t know what i’d do without ya,” atsumu breathed out, hoping the apology was good enough for you.

“it’s okay, tsumu,” you nodded, pulling the covers up closer to your chin. he smiled. 

“good. now let me smother the shit outta you.” he chuckled and opened his arms for you to fall into. when you didn’t, opting to snuggle into the blanket, he frowned. “y/n? what’s wrong lovely.” you shook your head.

“nothing i’m just gonna head to bed, okay?” you gave him a weak smile.

“but i can’t sleep without ya in my arms, baby,” he whined, doing grabby hands at you in hopes you would get the hint. but you didn’t, or you did and were ignoring him. “darlin?”

“i’ve just been clingy lately, and i don’t like putting you in this position, okay love?” you sighed, exasperated. his brows furrowed into a knot in the center of his forehead. not once had he ever given you the impression you were clingy except. oh. okay you heard. 

“oh baby no,” atsumu leaned in and cupped your face within the palms of his hands. “yer not clingy. i was just rantin to bo and i wanted to villainize ya to make me seem better and i knew it was wrong, bo knew it was wrong. i wish i could take it back. i love ya and i wish ye’d smother me in yer love every day,” he took in a deep breath before going into your neck and blowing raspberries into the skin, causing you to burst out into giggles. “there’s my pretty baby.” he beamed down at you, gently running his fingers over your cheek.

it took quite a bit of coaxing to get you into his arms, your rightful place. with gentle hums and coos he got you to loosen up, sadly chuckling. “i did a number on ya, didn’t i?” he asked.

“yeah. but i’ll get over it.” you sighed into his collarbone.

“oh no. just means ‘m gonna have to smother ya. oh no. woe is me,” he teased, going back to the assault of kisses onto your neck. 

[mjalti]

Ana, I'm 15 and I don't want to go into it too deeply but long story short I am 100% sure I have an STD, a permanent one, I just found out about a week ago that this guy I had sex with is sick. He's also a legal adult and I'm not. It was consensual though he didn't force me into it. I wanted to etc. But I didn't know he was sick and neither one of us used a condom. If I go to the doctor do you think they'll call my parent??? Like is it a legal thing they have to do because I'm a minor or will I be able to keep it quiet until I'm ready to tell someone??

if he didn't tell you he was infected, that was assault. I think you should go to planned parenthood and get tested. I think it seems like you haven't done that? Only that you know now he was sick. If you don't know your status, please check in with planned parenthood or a local center for an STI test. They work extremely well with confidentiality and you need to know about your body instead of stressing about it.

ALWAYS use a condom bc they protect from StI'/STDs.

I think you should really consider your options and ultimately decide what you want to do. This man did assault you bc you would not have consented to sex without a condom if you knew he was positive of STI's. I know you're 15 but if you choose to be sexually active, you also need to be sexually responsible and literate in your consent. You have to ask your partners if they've been tested recently, and for your OWN health, test between partners.

I'm really proud of you for reaching out for help, even if it's with me, but you need to take it a step further and go get officially tested so that you can see what medicine is available to you if you do test positive.

[kittyymew]

Accidental Surprise

Story Summary- Levi walks in on you pleasuring yourself. You, the Reader, and Levi are not a couple in this scenario, however, both of you like each other romantically without each other's knowledge.

********

You groan as you enter your room after a long stressful day, plopping down on your bed. You were tired, annoyed, angry, and frustrated. Hell! Why wouldn't you be? Another failed mission, and the worst part of it all? You were blamed for the unforeseeable factor which caused the mission to fail. Well, at least there wasn't a single casualty. A rare occurrence.

"Urgh fucking great! Of course, it's my fault! I mean yeah I controlled the titans who made us break our formation!" You let out in an exasperated tone, sitting up on your bed as you start undressing out of that stupid, uncomfortable uniform, tossing it all in a corner.

""Y/N! WhAt aRe yOu dOiNg WhY aRe tHeRe sO mAny tItAns? WhY DiDn'T YoU TeLL uS thErE aRe gOinG To Be sO mAnY aBnoRmALs iN oUr wAy?!"", you mock Levi's words as you get up from your bed and make your way over to the closet to get a change of clothes. He's been like this, blaming you for the most irrelevant things, ever since you were assigned a squad leader yourself. You tried ignoring his condescending remarks, illogical arguments, and wrongfully placed blames in the beginning but it's getting more and more unbearable with every mission you go on.

"Um... I don't know... MAYBE THE FACT THAT THERE WAS NO WAY I WOULD'VE KNOWN!" You yell out in the empty room.

"I can not believe I used to like-like him. Who am I kidding? I still like that stupid ass head! URRRGH WHY DID I HAD TO HAVE FEELINGS FOR HIM OUT OF ALL PEOPLE?!", you shriek out in an irritated tone, opening your closet door with such force that a box tumbles down from the top shelf, spilling its contents on the ground.

You sigh, closing your eyes and massaging your temples in an attempt to calm yourself down. You glance down at the box that had just tumbled out of your closet, seeing a pair of cuffs and a collar that had fallen out of the box. "Oop," you think as you realize it was your sex-toy box that had fallen out of your closet.

"Oh... I forgot I even had these things..." You mumble, bending down to pick up the items and the box, making your way back to your bed and emptying all the contents on the mattress. The collars, handcuffs, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, ropes, etc. You had bought most of these items when you were with your ex.

Amidst the breakup and you gaining more responsibilities in the scouts, it's been a little over a year since you've used any of the items inside the box. Hell, you barely have any time to pleasure yourself with your fingers, let alone have sex with someone or have the luxury of using all these toys on yourself.

You pick up the pretty pink coloured wand-type vibrator, pressing down on the power button, the vibrator buzzing to life. You didn't think it was even charged. Well, at least you hadn't ran out of luck... yet. You turn it back off, biting down on your bottom lip, contemplating whether you should use it on yourself right now or not.

You quickly get up and get rid of your panties, climbing back on your bed as you crawl to the center, propping the pillows against the headboard, turning around and leaning back on it, spreading your legs.

Your mind automatically travels back to the one person you've liked for so long. As creepy or weird as it may feel, you can't help it. How his lips might feel against yours, or his hand wrapped around your throat, his fingers tangled in your hair tugging on it, or how his fingers would feel inside you... or even better his d-

*SIGH*

Taking a deep breath to relax, you trail your fingertips down your chest, stopping at your nipples to gently squeeze and tug on them.

"Maybe this is how his fingers would feel..."

You bite back a small moan at the sensation, it's been a while since the (Y/N/C) buds received any attention.

You take your sweet time to rile yourself up, switching between squeezing your boobs and pinching and tugging on your nipples. Your mind clouding up with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts and you can already feel the heat pooling between your legs by just stimulating your nipples and by the thoughts of how Levi would fuck you...

You keep your left hand on your left boob and trail your right hand down until your fingers touch slick folds, your fingers rubbing up and down, spreading your arousal. A small, almost inaudible whimper falls off your lips as your fingers finally connect with your throbbing clit.

In the blink of an eye, your fingers are moving in a circular motion over your clit, applying just enough pressure to have you squirming and moaning. It's been so long, even the slightest touch has you going crazy.

You begrudgingly disconnect your fingers with your clit, just for a few moments until your fingers were replaced with the head of your wand vibrator, your other hand spreading your folds as you press down the vibrating head against your clit. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as pleasure spreads through your body like wildfire.

"O-oh... fuuck..."

You moan out as you apply more pressure, moving the vibrator up and down your clit slightly, the movement combined with the intense vibration causing your toes to curl and your eyes to roll at the back of your head in pleasure.

Sliding your fingers down towards your entrance, you push a finger inside your wet cunt that slides in with ease, and curl it upwards in a come hither motion, with your walls clenching around your finger as the tip rubs against your g-spot and the vibrator's sweet assault on your clit, it doesn't take long to feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten.

Throwing your head back in pleasure, small moans and whimpers fall off your lips, quickly adding in another finger inside, plunging them as deep as they can go, the tips rubbing against that sweet spot inside your tight pussy, as you draw your orgasm closer and closer with each thrust and movement of your fingers against your g-spot, combined with the intense vibration against your swollen clit.

"Fuck fuck fuck... oh... god... L-Leviii fuck...!"

You scream out in pleasure, applying more pressure on your clit with the vibrator, your fingers halting their thrusting movement as your cunt clenches around them, your lower stomach fluttering, your toes curling and back arching, as the euphoric sensation takes over your mind and body.

Pulling your fingers out of your throbbing pussy and turning the vibrator off, you try to catch your breath, still coming down from the high of the orgasm you just had.

"I- uh... *ahem*..."  Your head snaps up towards the direction of the door, the moment you heard someone clear their throat, and there he stood in your doorway, in all his red-faced glory, your soul leaving your body when you see his face.

It takes a moment for your brain to register, but you snap out of it when you see Levi take the tiniest step forward.

"FUCKING SHIT! LEVI WHAT THE HELL?!"

You yell as you jump up to cover yourself with the blanket and hastily trying to hide the multiple sex toys that were splattered all over your bed.

"I- uh...." Levi opens and closes his mouth, failing to realise that he's gawking at your naked figure. He averts his gaze only after you pull the blanket up to your chest and awkwardly try to hide his hard-on. He quickly turns around, his mind finally processes the situation, but not before you catch a glimpse of his situation down there.

"I just... came here to apologise for how I had been acting towards you over the past few weeks Y/N," Levi says, trying to make everything less.. awkward?

You just stare at the back of his head. You're way too embarrassed to even breathe at this point. How long was he standing there? How the hell did you not hear him come in? How did you even forget to lock the door before your genius self decided to masturbate?

Levi breaks the silence when you don't say anything. "Y/N...? I'm sorry the door was open and I-..."

"How long were you standing there for?" You ask.

You'd much rather die of a heart attack or something at this moment instead of having to face him. It'd be much easier than having to go through this.

"A while I guess...." He replies, scratching the back of his head.

*bonk*

You throw the first thing that you could reach. It was a purple dildo.

"Hey, Ow!" He mumbles, rubbing the spot where the dildo just hit him.

"AND YOU JUST STOOD THERE WATCHING ME INSTEAD OF LEAVING OR AT LEAST SAYING SOMETHING?!?!" You yell at him, throwing a pillow at his head this time.

"Well, you did moan my name brat!" Levi sasses in response when the pillow hits him.

"Stop throwing things at me brat!" Levi says, turning around on his feet to face you with a glare until he catches the sight of the purple dildo lying near his feet. He bends down to pick it up and smirks at you.

"Or I can just remind you whose name you were just moaning..." He says as he dangles your purple dildo in front of him

"LEVI!" You yell at him again, moving forward and attacking him by throwing everything that is within range at him.

"OKAY SORRY! SORRY!!!" Levi laughs as he dodges everything that's plunged in his direction and he's on the bed in front of you, holding your wrists down.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity between the two of you and you freeze up.

"I never said I was complaining about it. If anything it's nice to know that you think of me when you touch yourself. Because it just means that I wouldn't have to worry about you liking me back when I ask you out tomorrow" Levi says, letting go of your wrists and booping your nose with his stupid cocky grin before turning around and leaving your room.

"What just... happened..."

You think to yourself as you're left alone in your room, dumbfounded, to say the least.

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader

Part 6/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 7

content warning. age gap, afab reader, oral(f receiving), size kink, exhibitionism, degrading, public sex, overstimulation, dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, oral(m receiving), toji makes you his personal pocket pussy, profanity, shameless smut

This is part six of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.8k words

He spoke, the words making you shiver more than his tongue now licking a long stripe up your pussy. "We've got fifteen minutes. I'll only need seven." Every little sound echoed and bounced off the mirror-lined walls, shaky sighs and mewls seeming much louder than they were. One of your hands covered your nose and mouth tightly when you felt Toji flick his tongue over your already sensitive clit, trying to repress the noises coming out of you. He didn't seem to appreciate that, if the way he sucked on the delicate nub was any indication. "T-Toji, please..." You whispered from behind your hand, watching his thick fingers trace the inside of your thigh. His darkened green eyes shot up, holding prolonged eye contact as his fingers grazed your convulsing cunt. "You know better, brat. Who do you think you're talking to?" He quickly went back to his ministrations, mouth working over your clit with fervor. His finger entered you without warning, sliding in with ease. Realizing this, Toji smirked, detaching from you once more as he slid in a second finger. "Look how wet you are already, I could bend you over right now and fuck you senseless." He scissored his fingers inside you as he spoke. "Bet you were thinkin' about this all night." Part of you knew that mischievous glint in his eyes was telling you he would, but it seemed like he had other plans. A yelp came from your throat at the sudden assault on your clit, fingers working in time with his mouth and tongue. The way he grazed his teeth over your nub, coupled with how deliciously he was curling his fingers, made you gasp, free hand shooting out to grip his messy black hair. He didn't seem to mind, for now. The way the pads of his fingers massaged that particularly spongy part inside of you had you throwing your head back, nearly hard enough to make the mirror behind you crack. "Please, p-please! So...c-close..." You begged, whining as he slowed, but you knew what he wanted. "Please, sir, please let me cum." That seemed to do it for him. Toji groaned against your swollen clit, sucking, licking, and kissing you through your orgasm. He continued, even as you started to come down, making you squirm against his unrelenting abuse on your overstimulated cunt. When your grip tightened and tugged his hair is when he finally came up, fingers coming out of you to grab your wrist and tug your hand off of him. Your rough treatment seemed to stir something primal in him. He didn't say a word as he tugged you off the counter, flipping you and slamming your front against the hard surface. Winded, and unable to say anything, you simply watched in the mirror as he unbuckled his belt and shimmied his pants down just enough for his cock to bounce free, all while using one hand to pin your wrists behind your back. Once he was lined up with your dripping core, he released your wrists, only to trap them again on either side of your body, using his large hands to both grip your hips and pin your wrists against your sides. "Five minutes," Toji grunted as he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. With the pace he was going, you knew this would be the especially rough treatment you never got to see the other night. Using his overwhelming strength, he lifted your body so he wasn't having to hunch over your tiny frame. Your toes couldn't touch the ground, even in your heels. You were completely at his mercy as he fucked into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin deafening in the otherwise quiet room. "Still want me to break you, princess?" He lilted, abs tightening every time his hips rammed into yours. "Want me to break that tight little pussy, fuck you so good so no other dick can satisfy you?" His lewd words fell on deaf ears, too consumed by every time he thrust into you, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix oh so wonderfully. You couldn't form words, but watching his towering figure in the mirror grin wickedly at you made you tighten around him. One particularly hard thrust made you scream, tears pricking at your eyes and jaw hanging slack. Toji couldn't help but hiss at the sight, watching the tears stream down your face. He only fucked you harder, your senseless blubbering increasing in volume and pitch, drool sliding out from the corner of your lips. "Cum for me, you fucking slut." He commanded, hips shoving you so far into the counter you were sure your pelvis would bruise, the side of your face pressed up against the mirror. And you did. It was earth shattering, your toes curling in your shoes, your hands trying desperately to find something, anything, to grab onto, failing miserably, so you grabbed at the air instead. One of Toji's hands left your side and went up to the back of your neck, seemingly bracing himself as he came inside of you, hips only slowing after he'd finished pumping everything he's worth into your aching, abused hole. Quickly catching his breath and gaining his composure, Toji pulled out of you, leaving you slack against the marble counter. He, unsurprisingly, was still semi-hard as he tucked himself back into his pants, fixing his dress shirt, before finally taking a look at the clock. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Eight minutes." Using shaky arms, you slowly pushed yourself off the counter, making sure you had good footing before standing on your own. The sticky, warm mess between your thighs slowly dribbled down your legs, suddenly making you very aware of where you were. "Can I have my underwear back, please?" You bit, slightly irritated, fixing your hair and smudged makeup in the mirror. Toji simply smirked. "Nah." Part of you knew that would be his response, but you were disappointed nevertheless. His hands were in his pockets, and he offered an arm out for you to take. What a gentleman, you thought with a roll of your eyes, walking in front of him and out the door. You ignored the way the man outside eyed you up and down once again, eyes briefly stopping at the dripping liquid on the inside of your legs. Toji followed close behind, tucking another bill in the man's breast pocket without even sparing him a glance. You made a quick beeline for the table, grabbing your purse, and met back up with Toji at the front of the restaurant where he was taking his card back from the front staff. The silence that hung over you two was unbearable as the valet seemed to take his sweet time fetching the car. You held tightly onto your purse, thighs rubbing together, trying to prevent any more cum from leaking out and dripping down your legs. He didn't even bother helping clean up this time. "Keep moving like that and I might just have to fuck you again." Surprised by his words, you looked up at him, then down at the beginnings of a tent in his pants. What the hell was this guy taking to have such a high sex drive at his age? The car rolled up, and the two of you walked down the stone steps. Toji very mockingly opened your door for you, arm hanging on the roof when you stepped inside. "Make a mess on my seats and you'll be in big trouble, little girl." Defiantly, you swayed your ass on the seat underneath you, the squelching sound of his seed rubbing into the leather audible. "Should've helped me clean up then, asshole." You spat back, watching his unwavering gaze and unfaltering expression. He didn't say anything else, only closing the door with a little too much force, making you jump. He quickly opened the driver's side door, settling himself in and closing it behind him. He didn't buckle his seat belt, and as you reached for your own, he drove off, only shooting you a glance. "Touch that seat belt and I'll stop right here, right now, and fuck you right over the hood of the car." He was uneasily nonchalant, lighting a cigarette. You believed him. Placing your hands back on top of the purse in your lap, you sat in silence for a moment. When Toji pulled onto the highway that headed towards your apartment, his arm tensed, gripping the wheel tighter. His elbow was propped up against the car door, fingers hovering over his mouth as he took a long drag of his smoke. "If you wanna run that pretty mouth, you better put it to good use." He warned, giving you another glance as he pulled into the right lane. Swallowing, mouth suddenly very dry, you dumbly stared at him. Was he really telling you to give him road head? Your eyes trailed down, seeing the well defined outline of his hard cock in his pants. That answered your question. "Well? I'm waiting." Fingers tapped the wheel impatiently, urging you to lean over the center console and unbuckle, unbutton, and pull his pants down when he raised his hips slightly. When you took the base into your fist, he glanced down at you, hand still hovering against his mouth. He looked back up when you took the tip in, slowly moving down with every bob of your head. Toji exhaled in approval, eyes closing and rolling back just briefly when he felt you go down far enough to make you gag. The last two inches were never met with the warmth of your mouth, deciding to put your hands to work instead. One hand worked in time with your mouth, coaxing the occasional hum or grunt from him. He didn't make much noise, so every time he did, it sent a jolt of pride down your spine. Making a turn off the highway, Toji exhaled quickly through his mouth, hips bucking upwards as you swirled your tongue when you came up, then pushing your tongue along the bottom vein as you went back down. Just as he was pulling into your apartment complex, you could feel his climax reaching, his hips moving up in time with your mouth. As suddenly as the car stopped, a hand was placed on the back of your head, forcing you down to take all of him in your mouth. Tears spilled as your eyes screwed shut, choking and gagging as he held you there, a low, moaned good girl falling from his lips as he came down your throat. He held you there a moment too long, finally letting go of your head. You shot up, taking a deep breath, swallowing the remnants of his seed, and coughing. You glared at him, only to be met with a shit-eating grin. "Looks like that smart mouth is good for something. Now get out of my car."

______________________________________________________________

[goldentournesol]

to be true, to not be true (part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.

Length: 2.9k

A/N: i wrote this in collaboration with one of my favorite writers on here, Mia over at @mggpleasedontlookhere​. She is so wonderful and hopefully you can see both of our writing styles here! 

masterlist

The sunlight streaming through the windows made the hairs on my skin dance in glee, although it was the soft breeze invading the space that contrasted the radiant warmth. An equilibrium was achieved–a needed balance. The same can be said about the nerves crawling about my stomach and the naive excitement that made me light-headed whenever I was around Spencer. I glanced up at him from where my head lay in his lap. The reflected glow from the TV danced across his features making my heart jolt. My stare caught his attention and he sent me a small smile, his hand leaving traces in my hair. It was his day off and I had no problem spending it in suffocating proximity with him.

“This is nice,” I breathed, leaning back into his soft touch. He hummed in response, almost in contentment, if not for the moment his eyes seemed far off, entangled in a distant thought. It was so brief, I might have missed it. His job took a lot from him and I knew that, which is why I never pushed him. Instead, I let the subtle aroma of morning coffee and fresh linen confine my senses, leaving me oblivious to reality.

Although not a few moments later, the ping from Spencer’s phone burst the fantastical bubble that surrounded us. My eyes lingered on the cartoon characters plastered on the screen but I couldn’t help noticing the way Spencer’s fingers would thump rhythmically against the floor. Adjacent to his palm, rested his phone, revealing several notifications as it came alive. Albeit I paid no mind to their context given I was enamored by the picture of me on his homescreen. A faint smile graced my lips at the observation, feeling a wave of warmth rush my cheeks.

“I wonder who that is,” I teased, referring to the image. Spencer must have misunderstood my point of reference, hastily explaining that new language that Morgan had introduced him to through text messages.

“Spencer, using emojis does not constitute a new language.”

“Considering its context, I would argue it is–I mean look at hieroglyphics!” I covered my face in amusement, running my hands over my eyes. A sharp exhale left my lungs as my chest filled with contagious giggles. It seems that I was too consumed in my fit of laughter to notice Spencer stealthily concealing the device and turning off his ringer.

“First of all, hieroglyphics is a formal writing system-”

“And does that not ‘constitute’ a portion of language? Also, isn’t texting a writing system in itself?” His lips formed into a sly smirk, thinking he’d gotten the best of me.

“You’re right in the way that hieroglyphics is part of the language, however it’s all but the ‘expression’ of that language.” I debated, gesturing to the air as I explained my point. For a moment our eyes met, and I could feel my playful resolve melt away under his gaze. Despite the pause in my confidence, my stubbornness shone through.

“All I heard was that I was right,” he jested, tickling the side of my waist. I jumped at his mischief, collapsing into pleas and begs as he continued his assault at my skin. My stomach churned in delight as my hands attempted to pry him off of me, the premise of our conversation vanishing into air like wisps of smoke.

-

Spencer’s days off were becoming increasingly rare, I’d barely seen him in the last two weeks, but we’ve managed to salvage enough time between cases for a date. The excitement buzzed through my veins as the clock ticked closer to 7 pm. I was growing restless in the apartment, obsessively checking my phone for the time. Spencer is usually right on time, if not early. Dread and anxiety clogged up my throat as I waited for him. For hours, call after call would be sent straight to voicemail. The weather outside seemed to be in tandem with the way I felt. The rain was as unforgiving as the tears that striped my face.

I was never one to hold a grudge. But it happened once, then it happened twice. Slowly, it became a habit and it was impossible to reach him.

I guess date nights on Thursdays were now obsolete.

He came over to my apartment maybe once whenever he was in town and even then he was nearly unrecognizable. His shy, loving demeanor was replaced by explosive irritability and general unease. I wished he’d just talk to me, but he continued to brush me off. He was being distant and strange, his behavior was so unlike him. Knowing him though, he was probably too stressed or busy to get around to doing simple tasks like eating a balanced meal. Spencer can be quite scatterbrained, and I hadn’t seen him in around a week. So, around lunch time, I made Spencer a healthy meal packed with proteins and veggies and decided to pop into the BAU and drop it off. It felt like a good way to cheer him up. Maybe we’d have lunch together at the park he always liked to visit. It wasn’t that far from headquarters. Hell, I’d even eat lunch with him at his desk at this point.

The walk into the BAU was strangely nerve wracking, I could feel my heart in my throat. I had an uneasy feeling in my gut but I took a deep breath and pushed the heavy glass doors open. My eyes scanned the bullpen for my boyfriend but I couldn’t find him. Standing there in confusion, I was only snapped out of my trance when someone bumped into me from behind.

“I’m so sorry–oh, it’s you! Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?” JJ said, closing the file she held in her hands and wrapping me in a one-armed hug.

“Hey JJ! I was looking for Spence, I got him lunch, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere? Do you know where he is?” I said as I pulled back from the hug, she began to say something but was interrupted.

“Woah hey, sunshine! I was wondering why it suddenly got so bright in here.” The deep voice of none other than Derek Morgan came from beside us and he was, of course, donning his signature cheeky grin. I couldn’t help but grin back, even though my chest was nearly caving in on itself.

“Did Spence come in today?” JJ asked Morgan, whose brows immediately furrowed.

“No, I haven’t seen him today. I think he might be coming in late, I’m not sure. He’s been kind of off, lately.” Morgan said, eyes searching my own for an answer.

“He has, hasn’t he?” I exclaimed and the two nodded in agreement, “I’ve been worried about him, maybe all that emoji-talk finally got to him.” I laughed slightly, but stopped when I found Morgan’s expression shift.

“What do you mean? I stopped trying to explain emojis to him like months ago, if the genius doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it.” Morgan shrugged, unknowingly allowing the literal caving in of my chest to take place. JJ noticed the change in me immediately.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” She asked in her usual caring manner, but I could barely hear her over the rushing of my blood in my ears.

“Nothing, nothing. Um, if he comes in today, can you just give him this?” I dismissed the conversation and handed over the brown bag with the lunch I made, disguising the sharp exhale that left my lungs. Before JJ had the opportunity to utilize her profiling skills, I gave both of them a cordial nod and left the office.

My steps felt heavier with every collision against the tile, albeit the loud thumping of my heart drowned out reality around me. My mind warped itself around irrational thoughts as my loyalty to Spencer attempted to retaliate against the invaders. The concept of Spencer as dubious and sly fell foreign to me. However, that lack of knowledge only added fuel to the imminent blaze that engulfed my head and stomach.

I swarmed with alternate realities, trying to make sense of the unknown. If Spencer was aware of my method of defining a solution, I would’ve been scolded by my naivety and illogical thinking. Oh to be a scientist–to have a mind like his. It’s a gift yet a heavy burden to carry. Is that it? Was that it? Does he not believe I’m capable of understanding a mind like his? Was I stupid? No. He had shared intimate momentos of his life before, so what was it? What can I not offer…What can I not promise to make him drift away like this?

It must have been me, right? I must’ve hit a boundary the last time we spoke! Or was it his work? No. By the time my thoughts stopped buzzing, I realized my feet carried me to the park I intended to visit earlier with Spencer. An unfamiliar pang hit my chest, sending reverbing waves throughout the cavity. A sort of ache rested in the core of my heart–something I didn’t think I would feel when reflecting on my relationship with Spencer–my Spencer. I guess I was so used to the warm bubble he fabricated that I forgot how cold the real world was.

Was that it? Did I stop being that for him too?

The thought of the slow degradation of our relationship sent a chilling shock through my veins while I swallowed pins and needles. My hand rested on a park bench next to me, letting myself use the wooden beams as support. Looking out into the far pond in the center of the park, I pulled myself to take a seat. The wind began to whistle through the trees, and the lake of glitter–the nickname I gave whenever the sun casted its glow onto the surface–lost all of its beauty. Crickets didn’t even dare to sing their usual melody and birds flew south to their homes. The breaths I took kept going nowhere, dissolving into nothing even though my chest expanded and retracted.

I pulled at the ends of my sleeves, tucking my knees into my chest as the air grew crisp. Questions of infidelity and unfounded justifications collided creating a mass of insatiable curiosity. My head coincided with entropy–it enjoyed the chaos–until suddenly it went blank. Every tether that kept me grounded vanished, my consciousness going into autopilot. I didn’t even realize the burn that resided in my eyelids or the wet streaks coating my cheeks–maybe from the dryness or something more. It was only the small drop of water landed on the back of my palm that pushed me out of the addicting trance.

Another one had landed on my forehead. And another one. And another one. I cringed as I felt the water drip from my head to the crevice of my ear. The clouds began to rumble a somber tune as it began to rain. Plucking myself from the bench, I made no hurry to make it back to the house. In a way, the droplets cascading the skin distracted me–seemingly blissful compared to the former events.

Once again, my feet held a prominent consciousness as it was the only part of me that was stable, leading me to the doorstep of my apartment complex. With what felt like a last ditch effort, I checked my phone for any new messages from Spencer. My heart lurched seeing a new notification pop up. To my surprise, it was from him.

With a deep breath and newfound hope, I unlocked the device, taking a moment to gaze at the picture of I and Spencer on the screen, before proceeding. My shoulders dropped, the tight squirming in my stomach halting. A hopeful smile crept on the corners of my lips, the previous distrust dissipating from my unreliable mind as I read the words displayed in front of me.

“Date night tomorrow?”

-

Tomorrow night couldn’t come quick enough. It somehow felt like I was holding my breath the entire day until I finally saw him. He was apologetic and sweet enough that it quieted my anxieties for a while. If he held any guilt or shame, it wasn’t apparent, or maybe he hid it well. Or maybe I was being ridiculous and reading far too much into things that could be circumstantial. But this was Spencer…my Spencer, the tenderhearted, gentle soul who made way too many corny physics jokes.

Dinner went by much smoother than I expected, but I still felt like there were things unsaid. The words felt lodged in my throat, almost like an itch I couldn’t reach. Either by mindless habit or by sheer deliberacy, we ended up in our favorite park. The very park that I found myself running to in a fit of frustration yesterday. Our feet seemed to know the way of our usual path along the pavement. I wondered briefly if there was a place I stepped in twice without noticing it. There was a lull in conversation and before I realized it, the words escaped me stealthily.

“Hey, Spence?” I started, and he took his attention off his shoes to look at me, “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.” The way the words stumbled ungracefully from my lips had me cringing. He lifted a brow in intrigue and caught my eye, silently profiling me and my nervous behavior.

“Anything, love.” The use of the amorous term caught me off guard and I had to swallow under his intense gaze. I felt myself open my mouth, but the words died on my tongue as the blaring of his ringtone took the place of my voice between us. It was almost as if the scratchy melody startled him because the way he snatched himself away from me to look at his phone was worrisome.

His brows bunched together as he took a look at it, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

Without waiting for my confirmation, he pressed the phone to his ear and took a few large steps away from me, as if the space would give him more privacy. I suddenly felt extremely exposed without him by my side.

The emptiness beside me lingered of his scent, almost mocking me, the words constricting my tongue. If I had a second longer, maybe the phone call would’ve been obsolete, maybe for the first time in a long time he would’ve been selfishly mine, even for another moment. I found myself suffocating in the same place I was yesterday like some poetic injustice. Perhaps I’m just a marionette, dangling from loose strings as the universe had their way with me. Frankly that would be less upsetting than watching Spencer slip through my fingers, knowing that it was possibly me who sealed that fate, and not some otherworldly being. It would’ve been my doing, and that’s something I’m not yet ready to realize.

Maybe it was my undying curiosity or growing twinge in my chest every second passed that led me to consult the moral figures weighing down my shoulders. At two opposing extremes, they debated the right course of action–or if doing the right thing was even the course of action to consider. Surprisingly in the end, it was my impulsivity that answered for me, wasting no time to stipulate consequences.

I shook off the twisting feeling in my stomach, pushing myself off in Spencer’s direction. I kept justifying my actions by telling myself that all I would be doing is checking on him, although the underlying motive was nothing under disguise. I whispered the same mantra to myself with every inch closer. I gritted my teeth as the antsy sensation traveled to my shoulders, slowing my steps to contemplate my reasoning.

What am I doing? A harsh exhale of detest left my lungs, leaving a light yet deserved burn in my esophagus. It seemed incredulous to me that I was willing to eavesdrop on my own boyfriend, although it didn’t seem like that minutes ago. I bit the inside of my cheek in shame, turning myself around.

Has this all been in my head? No, it can’t. Then why would he lie? He wouldn’t, but he did. Confusion set deep within me, however it was my guilt that left an everlasting mark. Maybe Spencer had his reasons, he would never deliberately fib–at least the Spencer I knew would never. But what if that’s it? Did I really know Spencer that well? The world around me closed in rapidly, my senses overwhelmed. Did I make him lie? It would make sense considering my recent possessiveness. Did he see that? Did I drive him away?

I bit down on my bottom lip, threatening to break the skin. I ran my hand through my hair several times, taking a few calming breaths to compose myself. No, I can’t think like that. This is Spencer, he’s my Spe–no, maybe he never was mine?

Unable to contain my contradicting thoughts any longer, I shifted around with a newfound determination. Pushing the bile building up at the bottom of my stomach, I prepared to march my way to him. My body set aflame with feigned confidence, hopefully enough to fuel the overpowering desire to know the truth.

To know whether the truth actually lied in the irrationality of my mind

To know whether the truth lied in the coarseness of my behavior.

To know whether the truth  lied in the prospects of Spencer’s job.  

To know whether the truth-

“I guess I’ll see you on Thursday!” Spencer smiled with endearment–a smile I thought was reserved for me. “It’s a date…”

To know whether the truth was that he was no longer mine.

part 2  feedback is always appreciated!

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: It's family dinner time, babes!!

Warnings: none that I'm aware of

Word Count: 3629

—————————————

Chapter 12: Team Zero

Striding into the steam-clouded sauna where the two remaining Swedish assassins now silently relaxed, The Handler began an unprompted conversation in their language. “All the new age remedies out there, but nothing beats a good schvitz when it comes to stress,” As she sat on the bench, the two men carefully watched her. “My job can be stressful, sure. But I can’t imagine what it must be like for you boys.” She batted her eyelashes.

“Do we know you?” The Swede, who appeared to be the leader, questioned. The Handler kept her head turned forward as she stared down.

“No. But I know all about you,” Standing from the bench, she quietly chuckled and walked to the center of the sauna, the steam crawling its way up to her neck. “However, seems you’ve run into some problems on this job.”

“Just a snag.” He tilted his head.

“You lost your brother. I’d call that more than a snag.”

Snapping, the second Swede pushed off the wall and marched up to The Handler. Before he could get too close, he grunted when she grabbed hold of his manhood, freezing his steps. She watched as his mouth fell open in pain. “What if I can give you the location of the knife-hurling dolt responsible for blowing up your beloved brother?”

The first Swede tilted his head. “Who are you?”

“Somebody you’re going to want to know.” Her eyes never left the man she was assaulting. The second Swede finally found the breath within him to speak.

“Unharm my weiner.” He wheezed in English, The Handler kindly doing as he asked, a smile on her face. He sighed and stepped away as his brother held up the hand that had been twirling a knife the entire time.

“Go on.”

At his words, she turned to him. “I’ll give you the exact location of the one you’re looking for. Diego. The rest… I’ll leave up to your imaginations.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Let’s just say that his little game of ‘Hide the Sausage’ with my daughter needs a swift end. I just have one request,” The Handler approached the first Swede, the two in close proximity now. He watched her every move. “Don’t hurt the little one with the cute socks… and the other with the face scars.”

Lifting his chin, he furrowed his brows. “We’ve already killed her.” He mumbled. She only chuckled in amusement, the two men stiffening at the realization that their target may not have been executed like they thought.

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

The clicking of Reginald and (Y/N)’s shoes against the marble floor echoed throughout the hallway they walked down. The young girl was desperately trying to keep up with her father’s long strides, her puppy in her arms and her heart beating out of her chest. If they had actually complied, she was going to reveal her true whereabouts for the past two years to her family. They were going to know that the entire time they had been looking for Reginald, she was living under the same roof as him. No matter how many times she swallowed the lump in her throat, it always swelled right back up. “D-Dad, who are these people we’re having dinner with?”

“These people have been nothing but a nuisance to me.”

Her mind flashed back to the night of the gala. Diego had been there with Five. They were there for Reginald, to find out his intentions with the president. To find out what he was doing in Dallas in the first place. Reginald was a secretive man, he didn’t even let Grace or (Y/N) into his office unless he was present as well. Her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety the closer they approached the door to the tiki lounge. When Reginald stopped just before the doors, he turned to his daughter and lowered his voice. “When we enter, you are to sit and remain silent. Do not speak to them, do not interact with them. Sit and shut your mouth unless I tell you otherwise. And your pet remains on the floor or in your lap. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered and held Mr Pennycrumb close to her chest, the pup quietly panting and licking her cheek. That seemed to be enough for Reginald, for he nodded and turned forward, slamming the door open and marching into the lounge.

The Hargreeves stood dumbfounded at their father as he headed straight to the table they surrounded, not a word leaving his mouth. None of them had expected to see him ever again, especially not after the funeral they had attended back in 2019. But what they really didn’t expect to see was (Y/N) right behind him, her eyes avoiding them as she absentmindedly pat Mr Pennycrumb under his chin. She especially avoided looking at Five, whose jaw was dropped upon her appearance. The real kick was when Reginald pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Without even a peep, she sat down and allowed him to scoot her closer to the table before taking his own seat. The five blinked once before taking their own seats at the table.

“Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked not only me, but my daughter as well, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me-”

Klaus joined the table with a grunt, a martini in his hand. “Hey, Pop. How’s it hangin’?”

“-‘Dad’,” Reginald gave everyone a once over as (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably under the stares of her family. “My reconnaissance tells me you’re not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so… who are you?”

(Y/N) watched as they all glanced at each other, opening their mouths to answer, but quickly closing them instead. This went on for a few seconds before Five decided to do it, “We’re your children. We’re from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. Called us the Umbrella Academy.”

Reginald turned his head from left to right, frowning at each individual. “Why on earth would I adopt six-”

“Eight. One of us isn’t here.” Allison clasped her hands together on the table.

“Dead,” Diego muttered, his head bowed down. “One of us is dead.”

“And the eighth?” Reginald questioned. (Y/N) cleared her throat and began to speak, but stopped when he sent a cold glare her way. “What did we talk about?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, I… I’m the eighth. I’m also your child from the future. You just… got me very early this time-”

“(Y/N), it is not the time for your games-”

“It’s not a game! W-Why do you think I’ve been leaving my dates with Preston to be with them?” At the words ‘dates’ and ‘Preston’, Five leaned forward, eyes narrowed at his love. She glanced at him apologetically and shook her head. Reginald was just about to scold her yet again, but she rolled the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal the umbrella tattoo on her left arm. “Did you forget about this?”

“Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Enough of that now.” Klaus hissed and turned behind him. Everyone froze and stared at him in confusion. Turning forward again, he simply motioned for Reginald to continue. Uneasy, he did just that.

“Regardless,” His gaze turned back to Five. “What would possess me to adopt… seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“We all have special abilities.” The boy answered.

“Special? In what sense?”

(Y/N) set her pet on the ground and sat up in her seat. “In the superpowered sense.” She raised her brows. Reginald sighed and clenched his jaw.

“My child, if you do not stay out of this as we agreed, I am going to have to send you to the car with your mother-”

“Dad! I am being so serious when I tell you I am one of them!”

“Well, call me old-fashioned, but I’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence,” He turned back to the table. “Show me. All of you.”

Allison scoffed and adjusted the straw in her drink. “Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden…”

“We’re not circus animals, okay?” Luther spoke. “We’re not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement-”

As if on cue, Diego launched a knife across the table, zipping around Reginald’s head and pinning itself into the pillar behind him. The seven leaned in and watched as the man clicked his pen and began writing in his journal. “What are you writing?” Diego asked. Reginald glanced up at him.

“You are zero for two, young man.” He quipped, Allison sputtering her drink before Diego jumped up from his seat in anger. To prevent anything disastrous from occurring, Five stood and blinked in front of his brother, halting his movement and whispering a ‘stop!’ to him. “Now, that is interesting.” Reginald muttered.

Five sighed and headed back towards his seat. “Alright, uh, quick rundown. Luther: super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead. Allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“Except she never uses it.” Diego muttered. Allison removed her lips from her straw and sent a tight-lipped smile towards her brother.

“I heard a rumor… you punched yourself in the face.”

Against his will, Diego rammed his fist into his face, crying out and groaning in pain immediately after. Klaus reached over and tried to comfort him as (Y/N) and Vanya ducked their heads down to hide their smiles. Reginald glanced over at the latter. “And you?”

Luther placed a hand on his sister’s arm with a smile. “Uh, maybe we don’t take Vanya for a test run.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.” Klaus sat back in his chair.

“It’s fine,” Vanya shrugged, reaching for a fork. “I can handle it.” And despite her siblings’ protests, she tapped the fork against her glass. A high-pitched tone rang and shook the table. (Y/N) held her breath as she waited for the worst. A beat later, the bowl of fruit in the center of the table exploded, chunks of fruit splattering against everyone’s clothes and faces. (Y/N) tried to dodge as Mr Pennycrumb jumped into her lap, happily licking the food from her scarred cheeks and chin.

Reginald sighed along with his future children as he handed his only actual daughter a napkin to clean herself. Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, he side-eyed her. “Alright, my child, show me.”

Not even hesitating, (Y/N) stood and placed her pup in her father’s lap, despite his clear distaste, and straightened her clothes. “Alright. So, I can clone myself. To both summon and dismiss these clones, I have to sing two distinct three-note tunes.” To prove her point, she ‘ooh’ed her first tune, her clone appearing from her shadow, standing with a blank stare. Reginald raised his brows and began writing in his journal. “These clones not only share a conscience with me, but function as muscle and spies.”

“Spies?” Reginald frowned.

“They’re able to record their memories for me to look over in my own mind. Over the past year, I’ve come to learn that I can view these memories in real time. They also function to fulfill any task I command them.” Turning to her clone, she placed her hands on her hips. “Pick up Pennycrumb’s leash,” She commanded, the clone immediately doing as it was told. “I’ve also recently learned that I can give them the ability to talk. But if I wanted to… oh, I don’t know… attend a date with a certain boy without actually being there, I can project my consciousness into its body.”

After taking a seat, (Y/N) immediately slumped in her chair, unconscious. The clone beside her perked up and blinked twice before turning to Reginald. The man leaned forward to inspect it, but jumped back when it spoke. “But if something prevents my clones from fulfilling their task, they will start to self-destruct after twelve hours if said task isn’t completed. This is done by tearing into its own flesh and ripping itself apart.”

At this, everyone shivered.

“Right. It’s terrifying,” The clone returned to its blank and empty shell before (Y/N) raised her head. “And to dismiss, I hum the tune from earlier in its descending order.” She demonstrated said tune, the clone disappearing into her shadow. Mr Pennycrumb excitedly jumped from Reginald to her lap, nuzzling into her arm. “Any questions, Dad?”

Reginald was hastily scribbling into his journal. “Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary… And even more so that you’ve managed to keep this power from me for over a year.” He whispered. Turning her head, she caught Five’s proud smile. She winked at him as Diego stood from his seat.

“Look, we know that you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

“Am I?” Diego reached into his back pocket and slid a picture over to his father. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the president’s gonna get shot.”

Reginald picked up the photo and scanned it before his eyes moved to his daughter, the girl slightly shrinking under his gaze. Receiving his answer to the question he was to ask her, he turned back to Diego and set the photo down. “Well… I suppose you’ve solved it. You’ve single-handedly unearth my nefarious plot,” The smile Diego wore slowly faded. “Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion.” The more Reginald tore into him, the lower Diego sat himself into his chair until his lips were quivering and a tear slid down his cheek. “The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.”

“Y-Y-You’re wr… wrong.” Diego stuttered. (Y/N) shakily inhaled and slammed her hand onto the table, alerting the rest of her siblings.

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that!”

“And you!” Reginald whirled to his daughter, the girl flinching a bit. “You have done nothing but deceive me! I half expect you to tell me that the man you chose over Preston sits among us!”

(Y/N)’s gaze instantly found Five’s. His green orbs were pleading, begging her to say it.

Tell him. Tell him you love me. Shout it from the rooftops, promise that you’ll always believe in us. Tell him.

But she couldn’t. Not when her doubts sealed her lips shut and casted her eyes away from him. The siblings stared between the two, heartbroken for their situation. Seeing that she chose to be ashamed, Five nodded and cleared his throat to speak. “Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it.”

“War?” Reginald looked away from his daughter and to the boy across from him. “Men will always be at war with each other.”

“No, this isn’t just some war. I’m talking about a doomsday. The end of the world.”

“Well,” Reginald muttered after a beat of silence. “You’re the special ones, aren’t you? Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Expecting much, much more than that, all seven of them frowned. This was what Reginald wanted from the start, for them to come together as the Umbrella Academy and prevent the end of the world. But it had been almost two weeks and two apocalypses managed to form due to their actions. That was why they couldn’t.

Grunting, Klaus suddenly raised both his arms in the air and shook uncontrollably, choking out gasps and jerking his body. (Y/N) gasped and slowly reached out to him.

“Is he having a seizure?”

“Overdosing, probably…”

“Should we do something?”

Whipping her head to Luther, (Y/N) widened her eyes. “Yes!” She shouted before turning back to Klaus as he shuddered. “Shit, what if he is overdosing?!”

“Klaus,” Five leaned over and whispered. “Now is not the time. What are you doing?”

Gurgling, Klaus turned his body to Reginald, face contorted in discomfort. “I’m… Ben!” He gasped out before falling to the ground, panting and groaning. (Y/N) rushed to his side and placed a hand on his forehead.

“Klaus? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” She whispered as he reached up and weakly wrapped a hand around her wrist. Reginald looked from Klaus, to (Y/N), then to his journal before he gathered his things.

“Well… thank you for coming,” He stood from his chair and began to walk away, stepping over Klaus’s body. “I’ve seen about enough. Come along, (Y/N), your mother is waiting for us.”

A loud slam sounded, causing everyone in the room to turn to Luther, who stood and ripped his buttoned shirt open. (Y/N) covered her mouth when he revealed his discolored bare chest and abdomen. “Look at what you did to me! Look at it!”

As the siblings groaned and gawked, Reginald simply turned his attention to Five. “You in the culottes. A word, in private? (Y/N), to the car. This instant.”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered before giving Klaus a kiss on the forehead and standing to her feet. Five walked by her side in silence until they had to split ways. Reginald turned to the both of them, and just when (Y/N) was going to turn out of the lounge, Five grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to her lips. Gasping, the girl brushed her fingertips over her lips as her face burned. She watched Reginald for a reaction, but he only motioned for her to leave. “Bye, Five.” She grinned behind her hand and hurried away.

“This way, boy.” Reginald brought Five’s attention back to him, leading the two of them to the bar. After they took their seats and he ordered their drinks, Reginald turned to his future son. “You seem to be the sensible one of the bunch.”

“That’s because I’m the oldest,” Five nodded, Reginald tilting his head. “You know, technically, I’m older than you right now.”

Reginald turned forward when the bartender set down a bottle in front of him. “Cognac?”

“Just a smidge.” Five slightly smiled. As he poured their drinks, Reginald started their subject of conversation.

“The other night, you quoted Homer at me. Why?”

Five shifted in his seat and straightened his blaser. “You forced us all to learn it as kids. In the original Greek, no less.” He raised his brows before a glass was passed to him. He and his father did a silent cheer before he took a gulp of it. The entire situation was so jarring to the boy, but as he said before, he didn’t choose this life. He’s just living it. For the next few days, anyway. “This world ends in five days if we don’t get out of the timeline.”

“Worlds end. Paleozoic, Jurassic, and so on.”

“We can do something about this one.”

“Man’s greatest flaw: the illusion of control.”

The boy frowned. “I need your help. Alright? You’re my last sane option. Otherwise, I gotta make a deal that I really don’t wanna make. What do you know about time travel?”

“In theory?”

“In practice.”

Reginald hummed. “I know it’s akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing waters and reappearing-”

“-as an acorn. Yeah.” Five finished with a sigh.

“What transpired when you tried traveling before?”

The boy blinked and shook his head as he looked away. “I botched it…”

“How?”

“I jumped too far forward, got stuck in the future for forty-five years in an apocalypse. Then I jumped too far backwards… except this time, I brought my entire family with me.”

Reginald tapped his fingers against the bar as he clicked his tongue. “Including (Y/N)?” He questioned, receiving a nod in answer. “Well, maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades.”

“Seconds?” Five widened his eyes. “Look, no offense, but I need a bit more time for what I’m trying to accomplish here.”

“So much can change in a matter of seconds. One can overthrow an empire,” His eyes moved from Five to the doorway (Y/N) had been standing in seconds ago unbeknownst to Five. “One could fall in love. An acorn doesn’t become an oak overnight.”

Five swallowed, his expression that of defeat. “I was really hoping you had more than that.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help…”

Five shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, too. I gave you such a hard time as a kid… I didn’t know any better.”

Humming, Reginald glanced down before raising his glass. “No skin off my teeth, old man.” He smiled before drinking. Five sighed and downed the rest of his drink before standing from his seat. “One more thing.”

“What is it?” Five turned back to his father, freezing at the cold look he had been giving him.

“It would be best… if you refrained from courting (Y/N).”

A pang going through his chest, Five rapidly blinked and stepped back. “W-What…?”

“Your relationship is not healthy,” Reginald stood from his stool and began walking past the boy. “And besides…”

Five clenched his fists as his father walked towards the exit of the tiki lounge.

“I have plans for her.”

—————————————

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[sunny-sings-sooth]

Daphne

Words: 4.5k

TW: Sexual assault, abuse

Here's my retelling of the myth of Apollo and Daphne! Highly experimental, as I usually write in first person and not so poetically. Hope you enjoy, and if anything doesn't make sense lemme know and I will add some context here. (Also FYI some of the dialogues are pulled directly from Homer's narration)

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Phoebus Apollonas had been alive too long.

He was young by god standards, barely over a millenia old, and still one of the youngest Olympians. And yet he had grown exhausted. He’d been suffering the curse of life long enough to see the boy he used to be -- Phoebus -- die. The demise of the boy began when, in attempt to protect his sister Artemis, he had committed his first murder and thereby lost her forever. The boy decayed further when he’d held the corpses of his sons in his arms. And he’d finally killed the boy with his own hands when he turned his grief-fueled wrath on mortals. Phoebus, the bright, the innocent, the golden prince of Olympus, was dead. All that remained was Apollonas, the destroyer, the terror, the monstrous god of plague.

Except he no longer wished to be Apollonas. Apollonas was addicted to alcohol, drowning himself in it so that he wouldn’t have to face the memories that had murdered Phoebus. Apollonas had struck his younger brother Hermes, the only friend he had left, in drunken rage. Apollonas was despicable and deserved death. He could never be Phoebus again; that he knew and had accepted. But perhaps he could rid himself of Apollonas and become just Apollo. That did not mean erasing Apollonas; he had too many crimes to pay for, and running away would be a dishonor to all those who had suffered at his hands. He would repent for everything he had done as Apollonas, and thereby recreate himself as Apollo.

The first thing he needed to do was to break alcohol’s hold on him, which meant distancing himself from Dionysus. He didn’t want to abandon his youngest brother, but the temptation to drink was too strong in his presence. He hoped Dionysus would understand, and that he would one day be strong enough to bridge the gap of his creation.

He had been clean for three whole days. It didn’t seem like much -- blink of an eye in the lengthy lives of gods -- but that alone had taken him all his willpower. In the absence of the gallons of drink he had been consuming daily, not only was he plagued by memories and sheer self-hatred, he suddenly became highly attuned to the gossip that trailed him. Every moment on Olympus, hundreds of eyes were trained on him, and the whispers never escaped his sharp ears. It wasn’t that he was not used to being the center of attention, but rather the harsh truth of their statements. Phoebus Apollonas is a murderer. He flayed Marsyas alive for daring to challenge him. He curses anyone who questions his authority. He has killed thousands with his plague arrows. He is a monster. He knew these were all true and that he deserved to be pierced by such words, but the anxiousness caused by his withdrawal made them unbearable, and he had to escape to the woods. Here he found solace. Here he could work to slowly put himself together again until he was strong enough to face those who he wronged.

If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, then perhaps he would’ve heard the flap of wings before Eros was standing before him. He nearly dropped the silver bow that he’d been restringing and looked up to meet the other god’s gaze. Eros was the only man Apollonas considered a possible competitor in terms of beauty; his fair skin was smooth as a pearl, his wings the color of one, his features the aspiration of every artist’s portrait. And yet there was something unnerving about the other god. Perhaps it was his hair that, while comparable to a young maiden’s blush, was also the same shade as blood. Perhaps it was the deep red hue of his eyes, made of crushed hearts and rubies. And perhaps it wasn’t his appearance at all, but the mystique that surrounded him; he was the fourth being to come into existence and was old as time itself, and that was one of the only two things Apollonas knew about him.

“Phoebus Apollona,” Eros stated in greeting, and Apollonas hated how wrong it sounded, though he couldn’t tell if it was the names themselves or simply the one who spoke them.

“What do you want?” He couldn’t hide his irritation. The other thing he knew about Eros was that he was the god of love, and love had only ever caused Apollonas pain. He had no reason to like the god nor felt the need to veil his displeasure. All he wanted was the solitude necessary to rework himself.

“I was simply admiring your bow, oh He Who Shoots From Afar.” There was no missing the mockery in Eros’s voice, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at the weapon. “Why, your skill is almost comparable to my own! Perhaps with some effort, you can become the greatest archer in the land.”

“Are you implying that you are the greatest archer?” Eros nodded, and one glance at the winged god’s slim arms and the modest bow slung across his back sent Apollonas into a fit of laughter. It was many moments before he could calm himself enough to speak. “What have you to do with the arms of men, you feeble thing?”

“I am merely suggesting I may be god of archery as you are god of plague.” Apollonas’s head snapped up at the idea, and his hands curled into fists as he stood, towering over the shorter god. If Eros was a painter’s fantasy, then Apollonas was a sculptor’s. His toned body was the epitome of perfection, the ideal balance between strength and beauty. He was well aware of this fact, and though he rarely preferred to use his appearance for intimidation purposes, Eros’s insult necessitated such action.

“Do not lay claim to my honors,” he hissed, his sky blue eyes glinting with divine power. Archery was the one constant he could always rely on. With his bow and arrows, he could protect and punish, wound and save. It was the one part of him that stayed no matter if he was Phoebus or Apollonas or whoever, and he’d be damned if he allowed this worthless winged wretch to even suggest taking that from him.

“Let us put it to test, then,” Eros declared, unfazed by the archer’s anger. What would the ancient deity have to fear from the youth? He was well aware of his capability, and little did Apollonas know he was falling into another trap, his emotions and naivety deceiving him once more. He was but a pawn in Eros’s game. “What say you to a battle of skill?”

Apollonas did not grace the other with an answer, lifting his weapon and drawing an arrow from his golden quiver in response. The toned muscles of his back flexed as he pulled back the string and released, and the arrow had barely gone forth an inch before he sent forward another, and then yet another. His arms were but a blur as arrow after arrow went flying, striking the most minuscule of targets: the pupil of a fly’s eye, the thread of a spider’s web, the stem of a single olive. Apollonas did not stop until his quiver lay empty, and he took in the perfect shots before him that seemed almost artistic by his hand. No matter how low he may have descended in these past years, there was no denying the masterpiece he created from the most basic of weapons. This was his domain. He couldn’t keep his lips from curling in conceit as he turned to Eros.

“That gear becomes my shoulders best,” he declared, setting his bow back beside his quiver to draw emphasis to the weapons that had adorned him for centuries. “I wound my enemies; I wound wild beasts. My countless arrows slew the bloated Python, whose vast coils across so many acres spread their blight. You and your loves!” Apollonas couldn’t hold back his scoff at the mention of Eros’s inferior work. “You have your torch to light them. Let that content you. Never claim my fame!”

“Your bow, Phoebus Apollona, may vanquish all, but mine shall vanquish you. As every creature yields to power divine, shall your glory yield to mine.” At Eros’s threat, an enraged response was making its way up Apollonas’s throat, but before it could spill off his tongue, the love god drew his own golden-tipped arrow. In the blink of an eye, he shot it forth right into the other god’s heart before taking flight.

Apollonas stumbled back, a gasp more of shock than pain escaping him as he clasped his hands over his chest, fingers fumbling for the arrow. However, it had already dissolved into him, its magic making its home in his body. He felt something ooze into his heart and bloodstream, shoot up his spine, ensnare his mind. He turned his attention inward, trying to identify the invader, but he could not locate it, nor could he compare it to anything he had ever felt before. What had Eros done? He lifted his head, searching for the god, but instead his gaze fell upon another figure altogether.

There, a few feet away, stood the sweet river nymph Daphne. He knew her -- he knew the names of many of the nymphs that resided in these woods -- but beyond a passing glance and a murmured greeting, she had never caught his attention. But now… he couldn’t seem to look away, his lips parting in awe as he stared at her, dumbfounded. Had she always been so breathtaking? How could he have missed such a beauty? Her dark locks flowed down like a waterfall of ink. What it would be to hold that silky hair between his fingers, to braid it and adorn it with flowers and beads! Her eyes were a startling shade of not blue, not green, but something between the two, and he could spend hours drowning in their depths. Her figure had the slightest curve to it, the outline of a river, and he imagined that her body had been crafted to fit against his perfectly. He saw her, loved her, wanted her.

“Daphne.” Apollonas whispered her name, marvelling at the nectar-like flavor that coated his tongue. If just her name was so sweet, then how must her lips taste? Looking was not enough. The urge to find out was unbearable, the earlier argument stolen from his mind entirely as he found himself tossing aside his bow and quiver. What did archery matter when he could master the bow of her lips instead? He would claim it, make it and the rest of her his and his alone. He took a step forth, a giddy smile alighting his features.

“St-stay back,” the nymph stammered, icy fear coiling in the depths of her stomach. She could read his intentions clearly on his face, from the crazed look in his eyes to the wolfish grin he wore to the way his hands reached towards her. Daphne knew all too well what this man planned to do with her, and that should she fall into his grasp, she would not be able to stop him from having his way. So when he took another step forward, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Apollonas gaped only a moment before rushing after her, an arrow released from its bow.

“Daphne, please wait! I am no foe! You don’t need to fear me!” he cried out after her. Daphne did not answer him, her thoughts only on escaping. Thorns and brambles tore at the bare skin of her calves, yet she refused to slow down. “You run as if I am a wolf and you a lamb, but that is not so! It is love that spurs me! Don’t fly so fast, lest you fall and wound yourself!”

“Leave me be, you horrid man!” she shrieked, not stopping even as her dress got caught on the surrounding plants and began to tear, revealing her to him little by little. Apollonas’s brows furrowed in worry at the sight of bloodied cuts on her legs. From within him a voice called out: What are you doing, Apollona? Why are you tormenting this poor girl? Leave her be! You will not have your way with her! But before the voice could say more, he caught a glimpse of the bare skin of her thigh, and everything left his mind. His conscience was once more bound and gagged by Eros’s power, forced to watch it all in horror. Speaking of the god of love, he also watched, flying unnoticed above them, yet he felt only amusement from the sight. The sheer terror that had contorted Daphne’s face and drawn panicked tears from her eyes made him smirk, and Apollonas’s frantic yelling drew out peals of laughter. They had both bent to his will so easily, and he was eager to see how this played out.

“You run because you do not know. I am no peasant, no shepherd!” Apollonas called out to her again. She was only afraid because he didn’t know who he was. He knew the moment she realized his true identity, she would stop and turn to him with a blessed smile. “I am the son of Zeus, prince of Olympus, lord of Delphi. By me things future, past and present are revealed. I shape the harmony of songs and strings. You will be happy as my bride, dear Daphne! I will see that your every wish is granted and that no desire goes unfulfilled. Please stay!”

“No! My only desire is to escape you!” Yet this would not be granted, as her body was beginning to fail her. Try as she might, she could not outrun Apollonas; he was strong from years of training and battle, and though she was swift and sure-footed, she had used up all her limited mortal strength. Her legs trembled with every step, her lungs two pits of fire in her chest. And so her traitorous body came to a stop as she gasped for breath, and Apollonas finally had her. He held her hip tightly, freezing her in place. Had he been in his senses and had control over his own body, he’d never have done this, and his conscience screamed within him. But he was deaf to it, the lust coursing through him silencing all else. His eyes soaked in her bare skin when he would’ve shielded them, his hands pulled her closer when he would’ve let her go, and he was ready to claim her when he would’ve done anything but this crime.

“My love.” His warm breath brushed against her ear as he leaned down, pressing his lips against the pale column of her neck. Daphne gasped and tried to pull herself away, but his grip was too strong, utterly unbreakable. How could she escape a god? She was helpless and frail, trapped and alone. There was no one to aid her, no one to stop Apollonas from running his hands down her body and forcing himself against her. And then he was turning her around, wishing to taste her lips, and a final plea escaped her.

“Help me, Peneus!” she screamed for her father. She knew her father could do nothing against an Olympian, but perhaps he could do something to her, and she would accept any escape from this fate. “Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger! Let me be free of this man from this moment forward!”

Daphne’s prayer was answered, and she was changing.

A stiffness had taken over her body, the swiftness that had protected her for so long sacrificed to escape Apollonas. Her arms lifted of their own accord, her fingers elongating up and her feet rooting into the ground. The dark waterfall split into a hundred streams that lightened to a soft green. Her curved figure fell away as her body thinned into a single arc, her legs fusing and her hands reaching higher and higher. Bark was creeping up from her extremities, down what were now branches and up what had transformed into a trunk. It conquered her shoulders, her chest, her neck. A soft sigh, her last breath, escaped her just as her lips were encased.

Apollonas’s lips met rough bark that cut at his soft skin. With a small gasp, his eyes flew open and he looked straight into Daphne’s piercing eyes. The waves in them had finally calmed, as the storm that had tormented them could no longer ripple its waters. He stared into those beautiful orbs, breathing her name, and watched as they shut forever.

Apollonas couldn’t tear his gaze away, his mind still unable to process the transformation that had unfolded before him. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing flat against the trunk of the tree. A steady pulse graced his fingertips -- a heartbeat. Daphne’s heartbeat. She was this tree, this sorrowful laurel tree, lost from him forever. His legs gave out beneath him as he wept, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head against her bark. And yet the lust hadn’t left him, and he was kissing the wood over and over, whispering her name and an endless string of apologies as the skin of his lips tore and blood dripped down his chin.

“Oh, Daphne. My Daphne,” he cried, yearning what could’ve been. He thought the image of her smiling sweetly at him, kissing his cheek and calling him ‘husband’, was a vision, a prophecy promising that he could be the source of her happiness until the end of time. But he was wrong. It had been a fantasy, a dream that had slipped out of his grasp. And now she was gone. His sobs doubled in intensity as grief wracked him, and he didn’t notice Eros approaching until he spoke.

“Isn’t this a beautiful sight?” the god of love asked, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Phoebus Apollonas, broken and filthy inside and out. A slave to his desires. Do you accept defeat, oh lustful one?”

Apollonas turned to the other god, and the grief in him sharpened to rage. His beautiful Daphne, the love of his life, had been stolen from him, snatched right out of his hands, and the cause of it all was simply standing there, taking amusement in his loss. He reached for his bow only to find it missing, and so he lunged forth and tackled Eros to the ground, wrapping his hands around the smaller man’s thin neck.

“You monster,” Apollonas growled, his sky blue eyes glowing with divine power. This horrid creature had taken his Daphne from him and deserved nothing less than death. Apollonas would deliver him to the gates of Tartarus himself if necessary. The man must pay for his crimes. He increased the pressure, causing the other god to choke under his iron grip. “You did this!”

“Oh no, Apollona. I merely gave you a nudge. The rest was all you,” Eros gasped out, managing to laugh even as his windpipe threatened to collapse altogether. The sun god’s brows furrowed at the statement, and Eros subtly waved his hand, calming the effects of his magic. “And who knows what you’ll do next if I keep nudging you forth? You’ll be giving your father quite the competition, won’t you?”

The spell finally broke, and Apollonas’s grip slackened as the lust drained out of him and the truth became clear. He had chased Daphne. He had chased Daphne with the intention to force himself on her. He had tried to kiss her and claim her as his own with no care for her terror. He pushed her so far that she thought it better to lose her humanity than to be his. Oh Fates, what had he done? You are the most wicked person to live, Phoebus Apollona. You are no better than your father. You did this to that poor girl. You ruined her.

“N-no,” he whispered, backing away from Eros and clamping his hands over his ears, but it was in vain. The voice came not from outside but from within, where his conscience was finally free to reclaim its owner. And so Apollonas relived the incident that had just taken place. He saw himself chase after her just as Python had chased him and his family, heard his plans to ruin her just as he believed Orion had intended with Artemis, felt himself force himself upon her just as Zeus did to his mother Leto. Never in his life had something been so achingly clear to him as this truth: while he had spent his whole life painting others as wicked, he had been the most terrible monster all along. Apollonas doubled over, spilling his insides onto the earth as though he could purge the maliciousness from his body. But alas, he could not; he was born the destroyer, and he had truly lived up to his name. He could not tell if his scream remained in his soul or ripped out of him. He didn’t know if it was tears or fire spilling from his eyes. All he knew was the terrible truth that he has been blind to all his life.

“You are weak, boy. But I can make you strong,” Eros declared, towering over the hysterical god. He wondered how Olympus would react to seeing their golden heir broken on the ground, sobbing like a spoiled child. He could only imagine they’d be just as entertained as he. Still, the time for games was over. Making sure to avoid the pool of vomit, he crouched down and placed a thin finger under Apollonas’s chin, forcing the young god to meet his gaze. “Here is my offer to you: vow to me on the river Styx that you will follow my every command, and I will save you from further humiliation and heartbreak.”

“What, so I can spend my life blind and deaf, a mindless slave to a heartless man?” A dry, humorless laugh slipped out of Apollonas’s lips. He had seen and tasted truth, and he would not give that up to become Eros’s puppet. He scowled and spat at the love god’s feet, glaring into those blood-red eyes. “That is what I think of your offer.”

“I expected the god of intellect to be wiser than this, but I now see the difference between you and Athena.” Eros sneered, wrinkling his nose at the sorry display. “Do not be hasty, godling, and ponder my words carefully. I am offering you invulnerability. I will harden your heart to stone so that none may hurt you. Without your greatest weakness, you will be unstoppable. You will never have to feel such pain again.”

Apollonas paused for a moment, considering Eros’s claim. To never feel this soul-tearing agony again? To be free of the organ that rebelled against his mind at every moment? Now that he contemplated it, the offer was quite tempting. Without his heart, he would only have to rely on his body and mind, both of which were immaculate. He would indeed be unstoppable, finally the golden heir of Olympus he was expected to be. And yet… his gaze moved to the laurel tree, and a single leaf drifted down before him. Apollonas caught it in the palm of his hand, carefully tracing its pale green veins. If he were to remove his heart, to lose his ability to feel, would that not be a dishonor to Daphne? After all he had put her through, did she not deserve to be mourned and remembered? And what about all the others, every mortal that had suffered at his hand? He would be spitting on their graves by choosing to run away from the pain that, in the face of what torment they had lived through, was nothing. And so Apollonas rose to his feet, stretching to full height and then kneeling down so that his face was merely inches from the love god’s. “Rot. In. Tartarus.”

“You really should have chosen the easy path,” Eros muttered, the smirk sliding off his face as he grit his teeth. Apollonas wanted to regret? Then he’d give him reason to regret. His hands flew to Apollonas’s temples, freezing the younger god in place. Eros’s eyes glowed, twin pits of lava, and his voice boomed as he invoked his ancient power. “I curse you, Phoebus Apollona. May love be your enemy and your heart a traitor. May you be powerless to control the whims of your desire, and may you be the cause of pain to those you love, over and over until the end of time itself.”

Apollonas fell to the ground once more, struggling as the curse rooted itself deep in his soul, at the very essence of his being. By the time his throat had grown too raw for him to continue screaming, Eros had already flown away, leaving behind nothing but punishment. He found himself crawling back to the laurel tree, to Daphne, leaning his forehead against her trunk as he wept. He wept for her, for those before her, and for those after her.

“I’m sorry, Daphne,” he whispered, holding on so tightly the bark dug into his skin and realizing how powerless he really was. “I’d change you back if I could, sweet nymph, but I cannot. Instead, I swear by the river Styx, I won’t let you be forgotten. I bless you so that your leaves are never shed and instead will be woven in wreaths that will become a symbol of honor, the very thing I tried to steal from you. Let mankind see me to be the monster I am if that means your memory will live on. And even if your name no longer forms on the lips of men, they will live on eternally upon my own. This I vow to you.”

With this, he lay one last touch upon the tree before turning away, trudging his leaden feet back to Olympus. He heard the whispers as he arrived in the city, but he paid them no mind and made way to his house. Barely moments after he entered, his fingers scurried over the wall until they found the loose brick that he yanked out and tossed aside. His hands trembled in a moment of hesitation before reaching in. He grasped the bottle of his poison, his secret, his solace. Apollonas lifted it to his lips, tears running down his face, and drank his worries away.