#that's a bridge nobody is allowed to even fucking CROSS until we come close to touching it

[spideyhexx]

filthy; s. r.

pairing; steve rogers x female!reader

a/n: this is dedicated to @vineridden💕 mean/evil steve is superior

masterlist reblogs/comments/feedback is appreciated!

summary; you intentionally piss steve off, but at least you get what you want!

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: mean!steve. lots of teasing/humiliation. slapping. hair pulling. oral (female receiving). riding. crying but good crying. unprotected sex. squirting. spitting/cumplay.

word count; 2.6k

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You’d be lying to yourself if you said making Steve angry was an accident.

Granted, it’s pretty easy to piss him off. He wanted everything to be perfect, always. Mister “my plan is the best plan” even though the old Captain has had his fair share of mishaps.

Ever since the tension broke between you and Steve just a few weeks ago, a fiery kiss that resulted in him pounding into you against his bedroom wall, he’s been a bit more cold.

You can’t tell if he’s being rude to continue fucking with you or if he truly regrets having sex. Either way, you wanted to light his fuse. You wanted to see the deep crease in his brow and how serious his face gets.

All you did was take a turn in the dimly lit, abandoned HYDRA facility.

Albeit a left turn instead of a right, like Steve instructed you to. How were you supposed to know a group of HYDRA agents were stashed away in one of the rooms in that hallway?

Regardless, it still jeopardized the mission and cut it short, leaving the team empty handed.

To be fair, you felt a little bad. Rebelling against Steve’s orders to purposely get on his bad side was fun, but maybe you took it too far? Nobody got hurt, but also nothing was accomplished.

Usually when Steve was mad he’d shout a few angry words at someone but this time he’s completely silent.

He gives you a stern look before jumping in the passenger seat, shrugging off questions from the team.

You began to worry you did take it too far. But a light ‘ping’ sound goes off and you check your phone to see a text from the Captain himself.

Skip the debriefing. Come to my room after you wash up.

The text bubbles pop up then disappear, leaving you with those two sentences to interpret and overthink the whole way back to the compound.

You couldn’t scrub the dirt off of your body faster as you take the quickest shower of your life.

Pondering for only a moment before deciding, fuck it, you throw on your favorite lacy set, covering it with a big t shirt. As you walk down the hallway to Steve’s room, you hope to dear god he’s really as into you as you are into him.

He’s most likely still mad at you, but that’s how you got fucked in the first place. You called him a jerk and it struck him deeper than you expected. So he fucked you until the only words out of your mouth were about how perfect he was.

You knock lightly on his door and it whips open. Steve pulls you in and shuts the door with a kick.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He stands tall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. His eyes quickly look down at your bare thighs. You feel small under his stare.

“I just took the wrong turn,” you state and he scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just took the wrong turn, my ass.”

“Listen-”

“No! No, you know what?!”

Steve lets out a deep sigh before continuing,“I don’t care if it was just some wrong turn you cost us this fucking mission! Now we have to regroup and make sure we have a competent team next time, not including you.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Uh, no you’re not benching me,” you start but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head at you.

“Well I am. Because I’m allowed to, that’s what a Captain does right? Based on your actions honey, I think you deserve a time out.” he says.

The nickname falters you for a moment, stopping any words that were about to come out of your mouth. Steve notices, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles, stalking over to you and leaning closer to your face. You wonder if he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Was this a little ploy to get back in my bedroom? Hmm?”

His eyes bore into you, as though he was trying to read your mind. Your eyes lock onto his and you try to keep a straight face as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Tell me, honey.”

You say nothing and a slight smirk etches it way onto Steve’s face.

“Really? Quiet treatment? I’ll talk for you then. I think you fucked up the mission just to be here...with me...right now. Was my dick really that tempting? Such a desperate girl. Selfish, too really. Don’t give a fuck about anything because you got cockdrunk after one fuck. What a-”

You strike a quick slap across Steve’s face before he could finish and his head barely moves. He chuckles and you grip your hand that’s stinging slightly.

“Is that all you got? That’s your slap?”

Steve moves away from you to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter. You did slap him as hard as you could.

“It really is. You can’t fucking slap. Try it again,” he demands while still sporting his teasing smile.

You lay your hand on his cheek lightly before pulling away and slapping him as hard as you could. It is definitely a little harsher than the last, but Steve still laughs.

“That was a little better, but still shit. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Steve cups your face in both of his hands, his thumbs drumming against your cheekbones. You nod at him eagerly.

“Ah, ah, you know I want to hear you say it, honey,” Steve teases, then leans his lips down to your ear, “tell your Captain you want him to slap you.”

You feel yourself melt into his touch already and you take a very quick moment to thank the heavens for already how good it feels to be like this with Steve.

“Captain, I want you to slap me.”

Steve moves one of his hands down your body to grip your waist. The other one rubs your cheek affectionately one more time before he draws his hand back and strikes it across your face. You whimper and his hand is back on your face, soothing the burning skin.

“You see? That’s how you hit someone.”

His hand drifts down to lightly grasp your neck. You jut your bottom lip out at him and he smiles.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting it.

Your breaths are heavy and before you could respond, Steve’s pressing his lips to yours. He grips your hips with both of his hands, shoving you as close to his body as possible.

You rake your nails through his hair and he bites your lip again, making you moan.

Steve pulls away breathless, “look at you, already moaning? Seriously? Fuck, you’re going to be so noisy once I get my cock in here.”

He cups your core and moans when he feels your lace underwear.

“Look who’s moaning now,” you retort and Steve winds his hand into your hair, pulling harshly.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he spits out and carelessly lets go of you. Without hesitation, you get on his bed, lying on your back.

Steve rucks up the shirt you have on and tosses it over his head.

“I really didn’t think you could possibly seem more desperate, but look at this.”

Steve trails a finger down your bra strap, then above your tits.

“Got yourself all pretty looking for me. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were cockdrunk.”

“Steve,” you whine out, your hands fisting the sheets a smidge tighter, even though he’s barely touching you.

“Steeeve,” he mocks your whine as he moves down the bed to settle between your legs. Roughly, he pulls them apart, placing each of your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve presses a quick kiss to your inner thigh before his lips are right above your core. His fingers trail the waistband of your underwear, then down the middle. The action already had you trying to buck your hips.

“None of that. Or do you want me to keep making fun of you?”

“Just...just get on with it, please,” you beg him and Steve chuckles.

“Filthy girl, can’t wait, huh?”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, before you hear a tearing sound. You look down to see Steve had ripped your underwear completely off.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have to-”

“Aw is the little princess sad her panties were ripped,” he mocks, faking a frown. You let out a sigh and Steve pinches your thigh.

“Steve, you have to replace them.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But it won’t matter in just a couple seconds will it? Cause my tongue will be on your cunt?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” you relent.

“That’s a good girl. Finally.”

He licks a stripe up your core, smiling devilishly at the squirm of your hips. His tongue laps at your cunt, not holding back from plunging you into pleasure.

Steve groans at how wet you are and the feeling of you soaking his mouth. He’s been thinking about stuffing his face into your pussy since he first fucked you and now that he’s doing it, he’s relentless.

He attempts to keep your hips from squirming at every lick, but eventually he gives up, just wanting to enjoy how much you like his tongue.

“This good, honey? Sure fucking looks like it is,” he growls, moving his fingers up to rub your clit in small circles as his tongue dives into your opening.

You feel like he’s trying to lick every inch of you. All your moans are strings of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and little whimpers as the sensitivity grows.

“Fuck, show me this is what you needed, princess. Cum on my face, come on.”

Your body stills as your orgasm rips through you, your toes curling as you scream out his name. You don’t miss how Steve’s moaning against your cunt as well, lapping up as much of your slick as he can.

Once your high has calmed down, Steve’s getting off the bed to rid himself of his clothes. He sits back against the headboard and practically pulls your body into his lap.

You take the opportunity to take your bra off yourself, not wanting him to rip that too.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping your jaw so you could only look right at him. As he looks into your eyes, he could tell you’re already a bit dazed.

“Are you listening?”

You nod and squirm in his lap, his hard cock presses into your thigh and with each passing second, you feel more hungry for it.

“I want you to ride my cock. Do all the fucking work.”

He releases his hold on your jaw and leans back. You look at him and Steve points his head to his dick. Holding the base, you guide yourself slowly down his length.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you take a few breaths, already feeling the pleasure building from how much he fills you.

“You gonna do anything, princess? Or is it too difficult for you? You're the girl who's cockdrunk so you better show me how true that really is.”

With his words spurring a sense of motivation within you, you steady your hands on his chest, his hands loosely resting on your thighs.

Slowly, you begin to grind down on him, whimpering at how deep he is in you. A deep groan leaves Steve’s mouth and it turns you even more. As you get into the groove of feeling his cock again, you start to bounce on him.

“My girl, fucking herself on my cock. How cute, huh?”

You moan out a ‘yes’ and he chuckles, his gaze stuck on his cock as it disappears into you. Your hips are already stuttering and it’s difficult to keep a steady pace.

“Think you could go faster than that? Poor baby couldn’t slap right and now she can’t even fuck herself right?”

“Please, Steve, just help me,” you whimper at him, clutching tightly enough at his shoulders, you’re sure you’ll leave marks.

“You sure? That means you’re giving up, honey. Admitting you can’t do this-”

“I know, fuck it. I need you to fuck me, Stevie,” plead and he’s quick to push the two of you down the bed a little so he can lay down more.

He plants his feet on the bed and holds your hips. You’ll probably both have marks from each other’s fingers.

Steve gives one experimental thrust up into you and it sends you reeling against him, dropping your head to his neck. He chuckles breathlessly before fucking his cock up into you.

“So much better, right?” He asks, kissing right under your ear.

Compared to your sporadic bounces on his dick, Steve’s pounding into you. He thrusts hard and fast and his frequent chuckling at the noises you’re making gets you closer and closer to the edge.

One whimper makes him still though and he pulls your head up to look at him.

“Look at this,” Steve coos, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear that left your eye.

“Why’re you crying, honey?”

For a moment, you think he’s genuinely concerned but the way he’s trying to hide his smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m sensitive,” you mumble and he hums.

“Your cunt’s sensitive?”

You nod at him and he begins to fuck you again, but his movements are slower, deeper.

“So what you’re telling me is...you came once from my tongue and your pussy’s already so sensitive that you’re crying? Think you could even handle cumming again?”

“Mhm, I could do it, Stevie, just so close.”

You knew you could, it’s just him that makes you extra riled up.

“Alright then, princess. You better fucking cum soon, then.”

Just as you were getting used to his slower thrusts, Steve picks up the pace again. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes it down to your cunt.

“Rub it,” he says, his lips pressing against your ear, then leaving a few sloppy kisses on your jaw. Your fingers work fast on your clit until you feel like you’re going to burst.

And you do, as Steve delivers one more thrust and you dissolve into pleasure, with him following and filling your cunt with his load. Steve pushes you off of him and laughs as he looks down at his bed.

“Made a mess, honey. You’re washing the sheets.”

He looks over to you, splayed out on his bed, breathless and still coming down from your orgasm. Steve moves back between your legs and you instinctively shut them from the oversensitivity.

“I’m just cleaning up,” he says.

Steve groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt and dips his head to lap it up into his mouth.

He moves back up to you and opens your mouth. You stick out your tongue and Steve spits his cum, mixed with yours as well, into your mouth. He closes your mouth for you and you swallow without him telling you to.

“There you go again, being a good girl.”

You watch as Steve picks up his clothes and puts them on.

“Am I really benched?”

You put on your best pout and Steve sighs.

“Yeah. Only stay out for one mission, then you can come back. That sound good, honey?”

You nod at him and he kisses you, his lips lingering against your own for a couple of moments before he’s pulling away.

“You wash the sheets or buy me new ones and I’ll buy you whatever pair of slutty panties you want.”

[calpalirwin]

Come Back

Summary: It was a standard routine mission gone wrong in all the worst ways possible, or so the world, and most of the Avengers, was led to believe. 

A/N: When my 5sos writing addiction crosses paths with my superhero addiction. Beta-read by @jessalyn-jpeg​ thank you!!!!

Word Count: 10.8k

And away, and away we go!

__

“Hostage situation,” Ashton said, slapping the folder down in the middle of the table. 

Y/N’s fingers grazed the manila folder emblazoned with a giant “MISSION” stamp in the middle of it. Fuckin’ subtle, she thought with an eye roll. 

“Am I boring you already?” Ashton all but snapped at the woman, his arms crossing over his chest.

She raised her gaze to meet his, holding it steadily. Aside from Calum and Michael, Y/N and Ashton were the closest in age, with Y/N having the advantage over the man, a fact she knew he despised even though she graciously allowed him to take the lead at every opportunity. Leading had never been her cup of tea, but it was definitely Ashton’s, the arrogant little bastard. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, flashing him a smile. “Captain,” Y/N added as an afterthought. 

Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting his stare over to Calum, seeing if he’d help tame the woman’s snark, so that Ashton could get on with the team meeting, preferably without a headache. Calum just gave his sister a small shove, which she gladly took as a way to knock into Michael on her other side, the blonde’s arm going to rest along the back of his girlfriend’s chair.

When Ashton cleared his throat, Y/N rolled her eyes again. “Oh, just get on with it, you prat. Hostage situation. And ready? 3, 2, 1, action!”

“Yes,” Ashton said, his tone taking on the edge that was aptly referred to Ashton’s leader voice. “We, that is SHIELD, infiltrated a Hydra base about a month back in an attempt to get a spy on the inside. Problem is, that SHIELD agent was working with Hydra, and led our men straight into a trap.”

“And women,” Y/N added.

“Yes, and our women agents as well, thank you, audience participation.”

“So our task is to do what exactly? Search and rescue?” Luke asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Great…” the blue eyes rolled.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly glamorous, but it’s well within our authorization to carry out ourselves.” Ashton puffed out his chest a little, like he was proud to be trusted with such a high class mission. 

“Blow up New York a few times saving the world and everyone’s a critic…” Y/N joked half-heartedly. “Face it, Ash, we’re an over glorified search and rescue team. Just tell us when we’re headed out.”

“Jet leaves in a half hour. Folder contains more details regarding our individual parts and a map of the compound.”

Luke’s face lit up at the potential that individual assignments might have a little bit more glory to them, eagerly snatching the folder and passing out the packets inside to each team member before tearing into his. “Aw! C’mon!” he groaned, tossing the papers back on the table. “We never get anything cool anymore…”

Y/N kept her quip about how Luke should speak for himself to herself, as she glanced at her own personal assignment. Fuckin’ hell…

“You alright, babe?” Michael asked, his fingers rubbing at her neck as he started to pull his arm back across her chair.

She crumpled her assignment in her fist. “Hmm? I’m fine,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

Michael blew out his air in a huff, “Yeah, I know the mission’s kinda bullshit action wise. But when we get back we can play with these new arrows I’ve been working on. These ones have tracking technology, so even if I was to miss, I wouldn’t.”

“Aw, but you never miss a shot.”

Michael smirked, “I know. But now you guys can use them too. Doesn’t hurt to pick up an extra skill.”

“Sounds like a date,” she said, this time pressing a kiss to his lips, savoring the moment. In a couple of months to a year, she added in her head, because what Michael didn’t know, and what she couldn’t tell him, was that these were going to be their last moments with each other for a while.

~~~

Exactly a half hour after Ashton had dismissed his team, the group of five sat strapped in the jet, the engines rumbling as it took off, headed for the Hydra base. “Everyone has their assignment?” Ashton asked, eyes darting across everyone.

“Yes, Dad,” they all mock-saluted.

The hazel eyes rolled, and his jaw ticked in annoyance. “If someone else wants to be leader, be my guest.”

“So then I could be the prat everyone hates?” Luke scoffed. “No, thanks.”

“Aw, Luke. We’d hate you regardless if you're the leader or not,” Michael joked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

“Hehehe,” Luke laughed in a high-pitched, mocking manner.

“Nobody has a problem with you being leader, Ash. You know this,” Y/N said. “Plus we all know that you’re just the one relaying orders from the higher ups. You’re just better at it than the rest of us. I mouth off too much, and these three are babies. Face it, you’re the perfect soldier.”

Ashton’s expression softened a bit at her words, the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever given him. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

“Oh, save it. It doesn’t make you less annoying.”

“Babies? Who are you calling babies?” Michael asked, poking a finger in his girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” Calum huffed. “No babies here!”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to pinch Calum’s cheek. “You will always be a baby to me, baby brother.” Then she turned her attention to Michael, “And you? You’re just my babe,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

“And me?” Luke asked, perking up his seat.

“A literal infant,” she grinned wider while everyone else nodded, including Ashton.

The rest of the jet ride was spent doing last minute training (Ashton), reviewing personal assignments (Y/N), tinkering with new technology (Calum and Michael), or sleeping (Luke) until Ashton called everyone back for a quick meeting.

“We’re approaching our drop off point.”

“Drop off point or…?” Luke whistled before slamming his hand down on the table. “Jumping point?”

Ashton held up 2 fingers, and Luke grinned, pumping his fist in small victory. “We can’t risk the jet getting anywhere near their radar, so we’re landing roughly here,” Ashton continued, pointing at the map. “Hydra base is here,” he moved his finger to where there was a giant red circle. “And safe to assume it’s heavily guarded on the outside.”

Y/N studied the distance between where Ashton said the landing spot was versus where the base was. “So we’re landing about a mile out, and we’re just gonna knock on the front door, hoping they let us in?”

Ashton snorted. “God no. Well, kinda. Luke’s breaking in to shut down their security protocols. From there, Cal should be able to hack and override their system. Mike keeps our path clear from the outside. Making our job,” he waved a finger between Y/N and himself, and Y/N gulped wondering how much he knew about everyone’s personal assignments, “easier for helping Luke get the hostages out.”

She breathed in relief. Good. Ashton was under the usual impression of personal assignments from previous missions, and not the other, slightly more complicated bit to the otherwise usual mission. Luke, with his ability to shrink and grow with the push of a button, courtesy of Calum and Michael’s technology, was the thief. The one with the power to get small enough to squeeze in anywhere unnoticed. Which set him up perfectly to gain security access for Calum, who could then override any system remotely, alongside piloting his drone for extra security coverage/fighting power. Michael usually hung back with Calum to keep Calum company, while being both an extra set of eyes, and an extra fighter with his hundred percent success rate as an archer. Which left super soldier Ashton, and non-super soldier, but highly trained martial artist Y/N to provide the bulk of fending off enemies. A ragtag team of not exactly super, but definitely better than your average SHIELD agent, SHIELD had dubbed the Avengers. “Sounds like we should get ready to jump then.”

While jumping was Luke’s favorite part of the mission, the rest of the team paled a little standing in the doorway of the jet, air rushing all around. But when Ashton yelled “Go!” they all jumped, Luke first with a whoop of “Showtime!” Y/N sucked in a breath, following Luke out and grabbing Michael’s hand to pull him after her, the ground hurtling upwards at her. 

“Pull!” Ashton’s voice directed in everyone’s ears, and five parachutes deployed in unison, Y/N jerking wildly with the pullback.

“Whoa, easy there,” Michael’s voice was both in her earpiece and shouting above the wind, his hand squeezing hers. “You’re good, babe.”

“Ugh, I fuckin’ hate that part,” she groaned, her stomach churning.

“And I hate this part,” Calum groaned along with his sister, before all anyone heard was his feet hitting the ground and his string of curses as his body rolled with his landing.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Y/N and Ashton both scolded, as Y/N’s own feet touched down, and she ran a little with the momentum so she didn’t roll like her brother.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Calum mimicked as he picked himself up off the ground, shooting Luke a glare, “What are you so fuckin’ happy about?”

“That shit is the fuckin’ best!” Luke whooped in a whisper. “Fuck yeah! I’m pumped!”

“Good,” Ashton chuckled. “How do you feel about more flying?”

“Aw sick! Is Michael gonna shoot me?!”

“Not the way I’d like to,” Michael grinned sarcastically, reaching behind him for his bow and arrow. “Shrink down, giant man.”

While Luke shrunk down to the size of a tic-tac, Ashton started instructing Michael on where to shoot, but Michael brushed him off. “Yeah, yeah. Close enough to get him inside, but not anywhere that’ll draw attention. Cal, you got eyes yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna be able to get the drone in there until Luke gets in so I can hack the system.”

“That’s fine, I got it,” Luke said in the ear piece. “Cal, I’m on your right shoe. Lift up?”

Calum bent down to pluck up Luke, placing him carefully on Michael’s nocked arrow. “Just tell me where I’m aiming, Cal,” Michael said, breathing steadily as he pulled back his bow.

“Quarter inch to the right,” Calum directed. “If you aim low, Luke can run in from the ground, or if you aim high, there’s a branch that he can access the second floor from. Shooter’s choice.”

“Security’s on the second floor,” Luke and Michael both said, and with that, Michael inhaled, and on the exhale, sent Luke and the arrow flying towards Hydra, undetectable.

“And now we wait,” Ashton commented, stretching his arms up over his head. “Y/N, we-”

“Won’t have much time between Cal hacking the system and Hydra finding out. And Cal and Mike can only provide so much coverage while staying out of sight. So we’re on a time clock of maybe 5 minutes if we’re lucky. I know, Ash. I go left, you go right?”

He nodded. “Get ready to run.”

Y/N glanced at Calum. “How much time before Luke gets into the system for you?”

“Thirty seconds. Make it quick.”

She turned to Michael, tears brimming up in her eyes. “Aw, babe. It’ll be fine,” he chuckled lightly, kissing her.

“I know,” she answered in a shaky breath, resting her forehead against his, committing everything to memory from the sharpness of his green eyes, to the pink tint of his lips. To his calloused fingertips as they cupped her face, and the scratch of his beard under her own hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he chuckled again. “Now go kick some ass.”

“Luke’s in. 15 seconds,” Calum told Y/N and Ashton, so Y/N kissed Michael as deeply and fiercely as she could, clinging to every bit of those last 15 seconds. “2… I’m in. System’s down.” But Y/N wasn't ready to let go yet.

“Y/N!” Ashton growled harshly, dragging her by the back of her shirt and then shoving her forward. “Fuckin’ move!”

She swallowed her storm of feelings, shutting that part of herself off, and switched fully into Mission Mode, ignoring Calum's chuckle of “Damn, what kind of good luck kiss was that?” and Michael’s shy but proud, “I dunno, but I ain’t complaining.”

With the security breach came the storm of chaos that allowed Y/N and Ashton to enter the compound without raising any serious flags. With Ashton headed to the right flank, Y/N went left, and the first chance she had, she took it.

The Hydra soldier looked to be about her size, their attention not zeroing in on her until Y/N already grabbed them in a chokehold. “Sorry about this,” she whispered as she snapped their neck in a swift motion, then dragged them into a nearby supply closet. “Ash, Y/N, I located the hostages. Where are you?” Luke asked in the earpiece.

“Coming up on your right, Luke,” Ashton confirmed.

“Got in a small tangle, be there soon,” Y/N grunted as she started switching clothes with the body.

“God damn it, Hood…”

“Which one?” both her and Calum asked with an amused glint, their favorite little bit to annoy their captain.

“You know which one,” Ashton hissed. “Cal, time estimate. Mike, coverage report. Y/N, get a move on, seriously!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N muttered before taking out her earpiece and stomping on it, leaving it with the dead Hydra soldier along with her tracker just outside the doorway of the supply closet. “Just not the way you think,” she then muttered quietly to herself before hurrying after the other Hydra soldiers, running for the back of the compound. “What the hell is going on?” she snapped at one of them, putting as much authority in her voice as she could.

“It’s the Avengers. Initiating protocol 78. Get in a vehicle and get out. 2 minutes until denotation.”

Denotation?! Son of a bitch… Ashton and Luke were still getting the hostages out. She had to warn them, but… SON OF A BITCH!

Y/N shook off the panic and kept moving, trusting that Ashton and Luke knew what they were doing, and that Calum and Michael could keep them safe and aware of the limited time before the whole base went up in a fiery explosion. Her priority wasn’t on the rescue mission anymore. It never had been. Hers was to carry out the original mission that had resulted in this mission in the first place. Get into Hydra. Learn what they had planned. Destroy them from the inside. But damn, it would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to hide it from the guys. Her guys. Her baby brother. Her boyfriend. I’m safe, she screamed in her head. I’m safe! Look after each other, please!

While she got herself onto a vehicle headed out, she caught a glimpse of Ashton and Luke herding people out through a side gate and into the neighboring woods.

“Hood, where the fuck are you?” Ashton hissed

“Which one?” only Calum responded, then, “Shit… Y/N?!”

“Cal, where is she?!” Ashton and Michael demanded at the same time.

“I- I don’t understand. Her tracker is still by the left side of the compound where she went in.” Calum started fiddling around with the drone, trying to find his sister with it. “Y/N? Y/N, do you copy?”

“Luke, take the hostages back to Cal and Mike,” Ashton instructed, his voice tight, but controlled under pressure. “Cal, where did you say she was last?”

“To your left. 50 yards. She should be right there, Ash, I don’t understand!” His voice was high with panic. 

“I don’t see her,” Ashton reported, and there was a loud bang as he smashed his fist against something. “I don’t fuckin’ see her!”

“Maybe she’s on her way back!” Michael said hopefully. “Maybe she was helping clear the way for you and Luke. You know she can’t turn down a fight.”

“Heh,” Ashton chuckled. “Yeah maybe. I mean, these trackers and earpieces only stay on so well when you’re kicking some serious ass, ya know?”

“Exactly,” Michael chuckled in relief. “It’s Y/N we’re talking about.”

“Well let’s hope that’s the case, and that Ash is the fuckin’ Flash because guys… this compound’s gonna blow,” Calum spoke up, his voice still holding a small wobble.

“How much time?” Ashton asked, already running for an exit.

“40 seconds give or take.”

“Alright, I’m ou- whoa, shit.”

“What?!” three voices demanded.

“It’s Y/N’s tracker and earpiece. Just lying here in the fuckin’ hallway… and guys… there’s a body…” Ashton gave a small grunt as he flipped the body over with his boot. “Oh, thank God!” he laughed. “It’s not her! Probably just a scuffle where some of her gear fell.”

“Okay, well 1.) thanks for the heart attack and 2.) if it’s not her, then get the fuck out!” Calum yelled.

“Okay, but if it’s not her body then she’s fuckin’ missing, so where is she?!” Michael asked.

“She’s not with me,” Luke told them. “I haven’t seen her this whole time.”

“I don’t have eyes on her either,” Ashton chimed in, running as fast and far as he could before the compound blew.

“Cal, anything?!” Michael asked, now growing frantic as he scanned around, hoping to find his girlfriend lounging against some tree behind him. Safe. Laughing at her boys for ever thinking she was in harm’s way.

“No…” Calum choked, tears starting to spill down his cheeks. “C’mon, c’mon…” he prayed. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon, Y/N, where the hell are you?”

In the distance, Y/N heard the boom of the explosion, the vehicle shaking with the sound. She hoped her boys were safe and okay.  And they were safe. But they were far from okay. Because what she couldn’t hear was Calum’s broken sob and Michael’s heartbreaking scream of her name.

~~~

The jet ride back to headquarters was heavy with tension. To keep his mind occupied, Ashton set to work getting statements from the hostages. Calum and Michael sat in their seats, every muscle tightened, faces blank and frozen, tear tracks running down their cheeks. Luke was the only one who looked remotely comfortable, lounging against the wall of the jet, legs stretched out, his index finger tapping an unrelenting rhythm against his jaw as he hummed to himself.

“Would you knock it off?!” Calum tried to yell at Luke, but his throat was rubbed raw, so it came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What? I’m thinking!” Luke defended.

“Thinking isn’t supposed to be loud.”

“What are you thinking, Luke?” Ashton asked, his own voice clear, but weary as he ran a hand over his face and then through his hair.

“Y/N’s not an idiot,” he started.

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit,” Calum spat.

Ashton held up a hand. “Let him talk, Cal. Go on, Luke.”

Luke straightened up, drawing his legs up, and resting his arms across his knees. “She’s not an idiot,” he repeated, studying his fingernails to keep his mind on track. “She always knew what she was doing. So she would have known that the mission felt off.”

“What do you mean, the mission felt off?” Ashton asked.

“Oh, c’mon, Ash. You couldn’t feel it, too? We got in and out without running into anyone trying to stop us. They didn’t care that we were getting out the hostages. They were evacuating. They had whatever they needed and were going to blow the place up whether we were there or not.”

“Okay. And what does that have to do with Y/N?” Ashton continued to prompt.

“I’m saying she knew. So she went in search of any plans she could get her hands on. Anything that might have gotten left behind in the scramble to evacuate sooner than they had originally planned.”

“So you’re suggesting that instead of helping us like she was supposed to, Y/N went off to try and get us more information?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Hmm…” Ashton thought, mulling over Luke’s theory. “That does sound exactly like the type of shit Y/N would pull…”

“BULLSHIT!” Michael screamed suddenly, jumping to his feet. “THAT’S FUCKIN’ BULLSHIT!”

“How is it bullshit?!” Luke yelled back, rising to stand toe-to-toe with Michael.

“BECAUSE IF IT WAS TRUE THEN WHERE IS SHE, LUKE?! HUH?! DO YOU SEE HER IN HERE?! CUZ I DON’T!”

“Obviously she’s not with us,” Luke scoffed. “But she got out, that I’m sure of. She’s somewhere.”

“Oh…” Michael nodded, his sudden drop in tone frightening. “So, what you’re saying is that WE left her behind! Our teammate! His sister! My girlfriend! And we just LEFT her?!”

“It’s better than the alternative of believing that she’s DEAD!”

“Oh, cuz that’s SO MUCH BETTER! What your theory suggests, Luke, is that WE either failed our teammate by leaving her behind, or she’s dead. Regardless of which of those options is the truth, WE FAILED HER! Whatever happened to her is OUR FAULT!” His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he raised them, whether to hit Luke or the wall behind him, no one was sure. Then, a sob was wracking through Michael’s body, his fists dropping back to his sides as his body crumpled. “Oh, God,” he cried quietly, curling up on the ground, his body shaking with the force of his cries. “Y/N, I’m so sorry… It’s all our fault… Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

~~~

Five months later found Y/N in a place within Hydra where she had enough access to send word out to SHIELD about Hydra’s plans: the creation of the an undefeatable army made up of highly skilled super soldiers injected with a recently perfected and modified serum that made Ashton’s super soldier skills look like child’s play.

The same five months found 4/5ths of the former team, smarter than they were before, but at the cost of diminished spirits as Ashton laid the all too familiar manila folder in the middle of the table, with its pitch-black “MISSION” stamp in the center.

Michael’s fingers went out to graze the stamp, his eyes meeting Calum’s as they shared a weak smile, both of them missing the way Y/N used to call the folder stupid for stating so clearly what it was. 

“We’ve received intel about Hydra's latest plans. It’s not good,” Ashton said, pausing for a sarcastic comment about how if Hydra was involved then of course it wasn’t good that never came. “They’ve not only modified the super soldier serum, they’ve also perfected it. A hundred percent success rate. Hostages don’t stay hostages for very long.” Again, he paused, waiting for a witty quip, but was only given nods of understanding. He let out a small sigh. “With the intel, we also got information of where their supply of the serum is, and where they’re making it. As far as our source knows, it’s just the one lab. Our mission is slightly different than what we’re used to as it’s a three-parter. The first part is pretty standard. Get in and release the hostages they have before they can be turned. The second part is also getting more information about the lab and the serum. We have to make sure that this is the only lab before we can go about initiating Part Three, which is destroying any and all labs we learn about. But today, our focus is on Part One and Two. Part Three will be carried out at a later date once SHIELD has time to go over everything and assess the situation.”

“After I get in to override security for Cal, I can start looking around for lab plans,” Luke decided. “If you can handle the hostages, Ash.”

Ashton nodded. “Yeah, I can handle that. Mike, I might need you closer to the action though, rather than staying back with Cal, and providing your backup there. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I can get closer, it’s fine,” Michael replied numbly.

“Perfect. And how are those new trackers you and Cal have been working on?”

“Ready. And injectable. Once injected, Cal has access to turning them on or off, so we’ll never have to think about trackers again. Like potentially losing one…”

“And some of them can be fitted onto your arrows, yes? So maybe we can stick a lab worker or two with them?” Ashton followed up, ignoring the bitter edge in Michael’s tone.

“Yes.”

“Alright. We leave in a half hour.”

~~~

Y/N was patrolling around the upper deck of the Hydra base when both an alarm sounded and her earpiece crackled to life. “Security breach. Fuckin’ Avengers…”

“Secure the hostages and the lab,” came a different order.

“On it,” Y/N answered with several other voices, but she stayed rooted in her spot, knowing her old team’s moves by heart. Luke was somewhere in the compound, no doubt hiding in his shrunken version. Michael would have taken a closer position now for Ashton’s sake to help keep the path clear for Ashton to escort the hostages to safety. And Calum would be flying the drone, being everywhere the rest of the team couldn’t be, informing them of every move.

The familiar buzz of a drone a few seconds later came as no surprise, and she turned to the sound, grinning.

“Y/N?!” the drone’s speaker yelled in shock.

“Hi, baby brother,” she said, waggling her fingers in a wave. Then, her lips turned down in a mock-pout. “Sorry about this,” she told him, grabbing the wings of the drone.

“Yeah, me too,” Calum’s voice said, as he pushed a button that shot out an arrow as Y/N brought the drone down over her knee, cracking the device in half. She let out a slow hiss as the arrow passed straight through her shoulder, and then embedded itself in the wall behind her.

“Tell Mike to up your archery practice,” she told the broken drone as she dropped the two pieces, then took off.

“Y/N?!” Ashton, Luke, and Michael were yelling in Calum’s ear. “You found her?! I told you she was alive! Where is she, Cal?!”

“Bitch broke my drone!” was all Calum could come up with as a reply.

“Calum!” Ashton’s voice was sharp, Michael’s desperate.

“Give me a second, she broke my drone!” Calum grumbled, his relief about his sister being okay mixing with the rage only siblings could have for one another when one of them broke something of the other’s. “Okay, okay. Yes! Fuck yes! Whoohoo! Mikey-boy the tracker arrows work!”

“Of course they work,” Michael scoffed proudly.

“Well, I sort of shot through her, so I wasn’t sure if the tracker got in her, or the wall.”

“You shot my girlfriend?!”

“She BROKE MY DRONE!”

“You can build a new one,” Ashton told him with a sigh.

“You shot my girlfriend!” Michael continued to screech.

“I had to get the tracker on her!” Calum protested.

“Well, fuckin’ track her then, and get her out of there!”

“Cal, send me and Luke her location,” Ashton ordered. “Whoever’s closest tries to get her. But Luke, we gotta head out before they surround us. This isn’t like last time. They’re standing their ground.”

“She was on the upper deck on your side, Ash. She’s headed your way now, Luke. Towards the lab,” Calum reported, his eyes on Y/N’s tracker.

“Fuck, I gotta get out of here with these guys. Luke, get Y/N,” Ashton said, guiding a small group of hostages to safety.

“I’m in the lab, I got h- Oh, fuck me!” Luke’s words of hope died down as he glanced out the window of the lab. “I gotta shrink back down if I’m gonna get out of here. They’re fuckin’ swarming the lab. Ash, that’s good news for you because it means your path is clear.” He grabbed as many folders as he could gather in his arms, before hitting a button to shrink back down, just as Hydra soldiers muscled their way into the lab, looking around for anything out of place. “ ‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Just gonna squeeze past…” Luke talked aloud as he sprinted across the tops of boots headed for the exit. “You know, maybe I should get some of those trackers next time. Got plenty of feet to stab them into right now.”

“Duly noted,” Michael said, loosing a volley of arrows, sinking as many trackers into Hydra agents as he could. “Did you get Y/N?”

“No…” Luke replied in disappointment. “Ash?”

“No, I had to get out with whoever I could. Luke, you out?”

“Headed back now. I snagged some plans, if that’s any consolation.”

“That’s awesome, Luke. Thanks,” Ashton said, but there was a lingering note of dejection that they couldn’t get Y/N too. “She’s alive, and Cal got a tracker in her, which is more than we could have hoped for anyway.”

“I know. But still. Sorry, Mike.”

Michael shook his head, straightening his bow and quiver on his back before following after Ashton and Luke back to Calum. “It’s fine. Ash is right. We’ll work with what we got.”

“We’ll get her back. Don’t worry,” Ashton said, his words mostly directed at Calum and Michael, but also as a vow on his and Luke’s part. They’d get their girl back if it was the last thing the team ever did.

~~~

Y/N sat with her mouth set in a tight line as the nurse patched up her wound. “You super soldiers are all the same. The blank expressions. Immune to normal pain,” the nurse commented as they worked.

“Not a super soldier,” Y/N replied numbly, feeling the thread pull her skin back together. “Just a regular psycho.”

“Mmm,” the nurse chuckled. “And this was ‘just some light training,’ yes?” They gestured at the wound.

“Sibling rivalry gone too far, actually,” Y/N corrected.

“Mmm, well in my experience, few things come between siblings. You will be fine.”

“I hope so,” she muttered under her breath, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. How did she justify leaving her brother, her boyfriend, and the rest of her team in the dark about a mission they were all part of? How did she explain that she had to let them think that she had succumbed to the worst of fates? That she had to let them deal with the heartache of thinking she was dead, only to find out she was working for the enemy? SHIELD assignment or not, that wasn’t the kind of news she could just waltz back home with and offer up a simple “Hey, sorry I’ve been gone.” Y/N and Calum had suffered a lot between petty sibling issues, like when he first learned she was sleeping with his best friend, to much bigger issues regarding missions as part of the Avengers team. But this? Playing double agent while having to leave him completely in the dark? There was no coming back from this. And Michael… Oh, the betrayal he must be feeling. And mix that with the guilt and blind rage? If he was functioning at all, she bet that it was an ugly sight. A shell of the man she loved. Any ounce of humanity turned off to not drown under the pain.

Still, a part of her hoped that Michael or, perhaps even Calum, would turn against orders to try and stage a useless rescue of her, now that they knew part of the truth. And while she knew it would be a meeting that ended poorly on all sides, she could at the very least slip them a note. So back in the safety of her room, she quickly penned a note, then tucked it into her uniform.

~~~ 

Similar to last time, the ride back to headquarters was tense. Ashton kept busy by collecting statements from the hostages they managed to rescue. Then, he joined Luke in pouring over the statements and the documents Luke got his hands on in the lab.

Calum kept his eyes glued to the device that held the locations of all the trackers, watching the way Y/N’s blinked steadily.

Michael sat off on his own in sullen silence, his mind racing, hands clenching and unclenching into fists in a repetitive manner. He wanted to order the jet to turn around. To go back and get Y/N if he had to carry her over his shoulder himself. He was angry at his team, and himself for leaving her behind for a second time. Angry that he couldn’t stop failing her at every turn. But in the anger was a twinge of hope and relief. She was alive. Which meant that they could get her back. Luke had been right along. She knew what she was doing. But he still selfishly wanted her safe next to him. He wanted her laugh ringing out as she annoyed Ashton. He wanted to be able to smell her shampoo mixing with her sweat when she rested her head against his shoulder, complaining about how she couldn’t wait to get back and take a long hot shower. He wanted to be able to cover her cheeks in a blush as he whispered dirty words in her ear about the things he’d do when he joined her in said shower.

“Could you stop?” Calum asked, snapping Michael out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Michael hummed.

“The banging. Wanna stop?” It was less of a question and more of a command.

Michael looked down at his fists, noting the redness form along the outer edge of his palms and pinky fingers. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, placing his hands in his lap, not even aware he’d been banging his hands against the floor.

“I want her back too, Mike. Just as much as you do.”

Enough to break protocol and go rogue? Michael wanted to ask, but all he ended up saying was “I know.”

When they got back to headquarters, Ashton and Luke continued their work of looking over every word on every scrap of paper. Calum wordlessly joined them, his attention still held captive by the location tracker with it’s slow, steady blinks. No one thought it to be out of the ordinary, when Michael opted to head straight to the armory. Just hand waving and mumbles of “Yeah, could you?”s.

So Michael lugged the bag of gear into the armory, setting to the task of putting things out, and taking stock. But instead of putting his own gear away as well, he prepped it, having no intention of sitting around waiting for orders to be handed down. Not now when he knew where Y/N was. Fuck the rules and regulations. He was done with letting her down, letting her wonder why her team still hadn’t come for her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m coming. I promise,” he mumbled under his breath as he left the armory, dropping his bag in the doorway of his room, then going to find the rest of the team. “Hey, Cal?”

“Yeah?” the man asked, not lifting his head.

“You got a spare one of those?”

“One of these?” Calum questioned, holding up the device.

“Yeah. I, uh… Just wanna be able to see her, you know?” he half-lied, making his voice crack for extra sympathy points.

“Yeah, course,” Calum nodded, pushing his way to his feet. He walked a few feet to a docking station that held various other forms of tech. “Here,” Calum said, grabbing one and logging into it. He tapped a few buttons until the familiar map pulled up. “This is just hers, and this,” he swiped across the screen to pull up a menu. “You can click to see the location of any tracker. We’re 1-4,” he twirled a finger to signal he meant himself, Ashton, Luke, and Michael. “And Y/N is 5. And the others are various trackers we got in Hydra agents today, or just not in use yet.”

“Thanks, Cal,” Michael took the device in his hands, then titled his head slightly towards Ashton and Luke. “I think I’m just gonna shower, then call it a day.”

“We’ll holler if we find anything interesting. Feel better, Mike,” Ashton told him.

“Night,” Luke mumbled, even though it was barely noon.

“Night,” Michael repeated, heading back towards the rooms, swallowing the rise of guilt of lying to his team. But they’d understand that this was something he had to do. Or so he hoped.

In his own room, he turned on music, then pulled a knife from his bag. Taking a few quick rapid breaths, he cut into the skin of his arm, prying his tracker loose. Hissing through his teeth, he dropped the tracker on his bed before bandaging up his arm. “Fuck,” he shuddered. “Argh! Okay. Here we go.”

~~~

Not being able to risk taking out the jet, it took Michael until well after the sun went down before he came within sight of the Hydra base with its giant searchlights, both lighting up the place, and casting it in menacing shadows.

Michael ditched the motorcycle well before he needed to as a safety precaution, before creeping the rest of the way on foot. His breath came out in huffed little clouds as he headed straight for where Y/N was. If the tracker was as accurate as Michael wanted to believe, she was right where she was when she’d had her skirmish with Calum earlier. Upper level deck, left side.

It was only as Michael got closer, that he started to realize he had no plan for getting in. “Time for a distraction,” he whispered to himself, digging through his bag for a grenade. “Showtime, bitches.” He pulled the pin and sent the grenade flying. He crouched low, covering his ears, and waited.

There was a loud bang, and then a startled scrambling from inside the gate, as a couple guards rushed out to check what had happened. Michael snuck up behind one, covering their mouth with his hand and dragging them backwards. The guard kicked uselessly at the ground, thrashing about as they tried to get free from Michael’s hold until they finally went limp. Quickly, Michael took their earpiece, before swapping clothes with the unconscious guard he left slumped up against a tree.

“What was that?” a voice was barking in the earpiece.

“We don’t know sir. We don’t see anything,” a handful of voices answered.

“Well if you find anything, put a stop to it!” the voice barked again.

“Did you find anything?” a voice called out in the dark, a flashlight swinging in Michael’s direction.

“No,” he called back quickly, heart pounding in his ears as the flashlight stopped advancing. “All clear.”

“Stupid fuckin’ pranks…” the other voice grumbled, the flashlight retreating. “Headed back in,” the guard spoke into the earpiece. “All clear.”

“Copy that,” a different voice replied.

“Well?” the first voice demanded, the small beam of flashlight turning back to Michael. “Are you coming?!”

“Right! Yes!” Michael said, willing his feet to move, and controlling his breathing to not give away his excitement as he crossed into the Hydra base. He still had the problem of needing to get to Y/N and get them out without raising any alarms. Which started with first getting away from the group of three guards he walked in with without anyone stopping him. So, not thinking too much about it, Michael slowed his walk before stopping altogether. And when his guard counterparts paid no mind, he slipped his way between buildings, hiding in the shadows as he checked the tracker.

He walked purposefully towards the stairs that would lead him to the upper deck, hardening his gaze and sweeping it across the grounds, like he was just another guard doing nightly patrol duty. “I don’t know what Luke’s always bitching about. This shit’s easy and I’m full-sized,” Michael remarked under his breath as he climbed the stairs and rounded a corner.

At the end of the walkway stood a single guard, their hair obscured by the black cap on their head. But even then, it didn’t matter. He’d know her anywhere, in any disguise. It was the way she held herself, her chin slightly tilted towards the sky, her shoulders squared but relaxed, her right foot always slightly shifted more forward than her left foot. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but the words died on his tongue. Was he just supposed to say “Hi” like he hadn’t left her for dead for five months?

It turned out, he didn’t need to say anything, as he took a step in her direction, his boots echoing off the metal floor. She whirled around, her dark eyes zeroing in on him. At the very least he expected a grateful smile as her head tilted slightly to the side, and she blinked slowly, trying to determine if her mind was playing tricks on her. But instead, she just fixed him with a cold steely look that sent the wrong kind of shiver down his spine. He cursed himself as he faltered in his next step. He had never once entertained the idea that she could have been brainwashed in all this time. “Y/N,” he said slowly, holding up his hands. “C’mon. It’s me. Let me get you out of here.”

“You need to leave,” she spat.

“Not without you.”

“Michael, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Don’t make me do this…” she whispered, bowing her head ever so slightly.

“Do what? I’m here to take you home, babe. C’mon!”

She crouched, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “Final warning.”

Michael shifted a protective stance of his own, raising his fists. “So this is really how you wanna have this reunion, huh?”

“It’s the only way.”

Michael dodged as her fist came swinging at his jaw. “Fine. Have it your way, then,” he growled, throwing his own punch that landed on her body. When she huffed in annoyance and slight pain, an apology was ready to fly off his lips.

She used his pause to tackle him, the walkway rattling with the force of his body hitting the ground. “C’mon, I know you hit harder than that,” she taunted, connecting a rapid succession of blows against his upper torso.

He twisted underneath her, bringing up his arms to block her hits. “Just come with me!” he begged, as he threw his arms forward, sending her skiddering backwards off of him.

“I can’t!” she yelled, charging at him again.

He did his best to block her attacks, but some hits still found a place to land, small grunts leaving his mouth at each connection.

“Fight back!” she yelled again, aiming for his jaw.

“No!” He snatched her wrist, as her knuckles started to brush into the side of his face. “I’m not gonna fight you, Y/N! This is ridiculous! I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m trying to save you!” he tried to reason as he spun her body so her back was flush against his chest, holding her tightly to him. “Baby, it’s me,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s me. It’s Mike. C’mon, baby. Come back with me. Come back to me. Please.”

A growl ripped out her throat as she brought one of her feet down on one his with as much strength as she had. And when Michael doubled over in pain, hearing the crunch of bone, her other leg kicked backwards, nailing him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded in both of their earpieces. “What’s going on?”

Y/N’s chest heaved as she stared down at Michael, who stared back up at her, struggling to find his breath. “Nothing,” she told the voice, before turning her back on Michael.

“Y/N,” Michael croaked out uselessly, coughing. His mouth tasted of blood and every part of his body felt like it was on fire.

He had no recollection of how he got off the compound and back to his motorcycle. Just like he had no recollection of driving all night back to Avengers headquarters.

He was, however, somewhat aware of his teammates' gasps of surprise when he dragged himself into the foyer of the building, as his body slumped against the cool tile, and he finally blacked out.

~~~

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Ashton thundered, his hand coming down hard on the table.

Michael stared blankly past Ashton, not bothering to give a response. Ashton didn’t care about the answer anyway, and it didn’t change anything. And now he understood what Y/N was doing, and she was trusting him to keep what he knew to himself.

Upon his arrival, Michael had slept for close to two days before finally waking in the infirmary, his body still badly battered, but his pain at a manageable level. He had trudged his way down to his room, rummaging through his things when the note fluttered down. With shaking fingers, he opened it, reading the hastily scrawled words, “It’s the mission. I’m safe. I love you,” in Y/N’s handwriting. He barely had enough time to shove the note in his pocket before Ashton was knocking on his open door, looking more pissed off than Michael had ever seen. Wordlessly, Ashton had jerked his thumb in the direction of the conference room, and wordlessly, Michael had shuffled after him, ready to accept whatever fate awaited him.

“Well?!” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip as Michael did nothing but blink at him.

“What was I thinking?” Michael asked, his voice soft. “Oh, nothing really.”

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit, Mike!”

“Oh, lay off!” Calum snapped, coming to Michael’s defense. “Mike did exactly what we all wanted to do, but were too scared to do. He tried to get her back. If you wanna fault him for that, Ash, then you’re a bigger jackass than we all thought.”

Ashton sighed, sinking into his chair. “I’m not faulting him, Cal. But what he did was reckless. It could have jeopardized all the work we’ve been doing. I get that it’s Y/N, but we still have a job to do. No one person is bigger than the mission, even if she is your sister. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Calum said with a sad shake of his head. “Fuck. You.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Ash,” Michael said, his voice still soft. “Can I go?”

Ashton rubbed at his face in agitation, letting out a small scream. “Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Yeah. Go. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“So you’re just giving up?!” Calum asked, his angry and broken expression sweeping across his team. “Just like that? We’re done?”

“Until we get our new orders, yes,” Ashton told him.

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Calum exploded. “You!” He turned, jabbing a finger at Michael. “You’re just gonna walk away?! You go rogue to rescue her on your own, without me, and now you’re throwing in the towel too?!”

“You heard Ashton,” Michael shrugged.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit! All of you! Fuck SHIELD and fuck you lot! It’s Y/N! She needs us! She trusted us! How many times are we going to keep failing her?!” Tears fell hot and fast down Calum’s face. “Please!” he begged, his voice cracking. “We have to do something besides sit on our asses! Mike, please! You can’t give up on her! C’mon! I thought you were on my side! Mike! It’s Y/N… please…”

“No, it’s not,” Michael said bitterly. “It’s not, Y/N. This,” he gestured about his beat up body, “is not her.”

“Fuck you!” Calum cried into his hands, and let out a muffled scream of heartbreak and rage. “I fuckin’ hate you!” He raised his gaze to shoot Michael his best death glare. “I hate you, do you hear me?! I fuckin’ hate you! You’re giving up, you fuckin’ coward! You’re supposed to love her, you fuckin’ bastard!”

Michael tried to bite his tongue as Calum continued to hurl abuse his way, but the last few words of the attack cut deep, and he couldn’t keep his composure any longer. “I gave up?! Me?! I’m the only one who wanted to go back for her five months ago!” Michael went off. “I’m the only one who went back for her a few days ago! Not Ash! Not Luke! Not you, her fuckin’ brother! ME! I went back! So fuckin’ listen, and listen good when I tell you that everything that makes her Y/N is gone! It’s useless, okay?! She’s Hydra’s now. The quicker you learn that, the better.”

“I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU!”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU HATE YOURSELF MORE AND YOU KNOW IT! We all have to live with what we did. You have to live that you didn’t have the guts to go save her yourself. I’m not gonna carry that guilt for you, Cal. I’m not carrying any of your guilt, or Ash’s, or Luke’s. Because bottom line is I fuckin’ manned up when she needed us, while you three sat on your asses. So go ahead and hate me. Say I jeopardized the mission, or that I failed her. I don’t give a fuck. Because at least I fuckin’ tried, which is better than the three of you can say.”

Michael could hear Calum’s scream echoing off the walls as he hobbled back to his bedroom. He could also hear, or rather feel, the slam of Calum’s own bedroom door a few moments later.

Michael eased his way on his bed, the sheets freshly changed after he had left his blood splattered tracker on it. He knew a new one had been injected in him at some point over his state of unconsciousness, and he briefly wondered if it was the same one he’d ripped out. No sense in wasting technology when it wasn’t broken, after all. Laying back into the pillows, Michael dug out the note, and the device that still had Y/N’s location, seeking comfort in her looped handwriting, and the steady blinking of the device.

~~~

It took another week before orders came down, and Ashton summoned them all into the conference room. Michael’s fingers brushed against the empty chair between him and Calum as he took his seat. It took more willpower than he cared to admit not to slug Calum when the other man growled lightly under his breath. He doesn’t know any better, Michael had to remind himself. If he did, he wouldn’t be acting this way.

Ashton set the manila folder in the center, and when no one moved, he dove right in. “Between the files Luke was able to get, all the statements we have, the information we’ve gained from the trackers, and the intel SHIELD has from their agent inside Hydra, we have all the information needed to bring this to an end, once and for all. This is an all hands on deck situation. SHIELD is officially running the whole operation. They’re taking care of the hacking and gaining control of Hydra’s operating system. They already have a unit assigned to deal specifically with destroying the lab. Our job is pretty simple. We’re just soldiers.”

“Actual action?” Luke asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Actual action,” Ashton said, smiling a bit. “Something I‘m sure we’ve all been itching to do for quite some time.”

Luke pumped his fist, “Fuck yeah!”

“And Y/N?” Calum asked.

Ashton sighed. “Based on personal experience, we can assume she’ll be fighting for Hydra. So yes, it’s a good chance she’ll be around. Ideally one of us comes across her before the rest of SHIELD so we can subdue her, and get her out safely. But she’s not our priority, and yes, before you start, I tried to convince SHIELD into letting us specifically deal only with finding Y/N and getting her back. But all I got in response was bureaucratic bullshit about how we were being employed to do a job, and how we aren’t exactly in a position to ask for any favors.”

“So play good little soldier, but if we see our chance, take it?” Michael guessed.

“Yes, exactly. And Mike-”

“I’m not fighting, I know,” Michael cut him off. “Do I at least get to come and hang out wherever we set up base camp? Help with security, and the like?”

“Yes, of course. You’re not being punished, Mike. You’re not fighting because you don’t have medical clearance. But you’re still coming along. All hands on deck.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. That’s… Cool. Thank you.” He was fully expecting to be benched, and expected to stay behind. A lesson from SHIELD about how even the Avengers had to follow their orders. But getting sidelined only because he was still injured? Well, that… Fuck, he could handle that no problem.

“Be cooler if we can finally get my sister back…” Calum muttered.

“We’re gonna try, Cal,” Ashton said.

“You said that last time, and look what happened.”

“So… half hour til take off, yeah?” Luke asked.

“Not quite,” Ashton chuckled. “We leave tonight to meet up with SHIELD at the base camp they’re setting up just outside of Hydra’s radar. Then we go in just before dawn. I’ll give a 30 minutes heads up before we head out though.”

~~~

After the worst night of sleep he ever remembered getting, Michael got up just as the sun was beginning to brighten the sky from a dark purple blotch sprinkled with stars to holding soft shades of pink around the edges.

He stumbled his way to the cafeteria tent, finding the rest of his team at a table, each clinging to their coffee cup like a lifeline. “How’d you sleep?” Ashton asked, as Michael took a seat.

“Like absolute shit,” Michael answered honestly. “You’d think for how high tech SHIELD is, the bastards would have found a way to make camping missions less miserable.”

“Gotta cut expenses somewhere,” Ashton chuckled darkly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Fuckin’ bastards…”

“Fuckin’ bastards,” the other three repeated in agreement as a group of higher ups appeared in the entrance of the tent.

“First wave rolls out in 10 minutes,” the one in the middle barked. “Report to your positions, and standby.”

Everyone in the tent gave half-awake salutes, and the group of higher ups continued on their way. Then slowly, between stifled yawns, people started getting up from tables, dumping their half eaten breakfasts, and half drunk coffees, before going to their places.

Luke drummed his hands on the tabletop, a grin breaking across his otherwise tired face. “It’s showtime, boys!” he whooped before pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” He rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder, dropping his voice into a low whisper, “We got ourselves a girl to bring home.”

In spite of everything, Michael couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s infectious enthusiasm. “Stay safe, guys,” Michael told them as his three friends joined the rest of the crowd dashing off to their assignments. 

Only after the last man had cleared out, did Michael finally get up himself. He made himself a tray of breakfast, before going off in search of one of the security tents. “Anything I can help with?” Michael offered the first person who looked in his direction. “Michael Clifford. Avenger.”

The SHIELD agent looked Michael over, with the boot on his foot, face still sporting a small bruise, and scoffed. “Here,” he said, shoving a clipboard in Michael’s hand that wasn’t clutching  his tray of food. “This is a list of everyone involved in the operation. Those of us staying to do security are already accounted for. But the rest have been given strict instructions to check back in when they return. Whenever that is. You can be in charge of checking them in by the triage tent.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michael muttered, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Triage is…?”

The agent pointed to a tent with a giant hospital cross decorating the top.

“Cool. Thanks.” Michael forced a tight-lipped smile before making his way over to a long table set up just inside the coverage of the hospital tent.

“Back already?” another SHIELD agent asked, pulling a clipboard close to them. “Name?”

“Oh, no, I’m helping you guys with check-in.”

“Oh. Have a seat, then.”

“Hey, is Y/N Hood on this list by any chance?” Michael asked as he took a seat.

“Nobody by the name of Hood has been checked in yet.”

“No, yeah, I know. I meant… is she on the list at all? Like are we expecting her to be one of the people checking in.”

“You’d have to check the list. I dunno, sir.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Of course. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.”

~~~

The sky had transitioned into a soft blue, the sun peeking out from behind the trees, suggesting that at best it’d only been an hour, maybe two since Michael took up residence at the triage tent. But it felt like a lot longer, and if something didn’t happen soon, he was going to lose it.

From his spot, he could hear the engagement of combat and gunfire, so he knew the mission was well underway. But, God, waiting for everyone to get back was so fuckin’ boring! And it wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being the one hanging back, because he was. But this wasn’t hanging back to provide back up. This was just waiting. Painfully boring waiting. His breakfast lay next to him, discarded and half picked over.

He was about three seconds from excusing himself to the bathroom just so he’d have a reason to get up and walk around, when a laugh rang out. A laugh he’d know anywhere. “Y/N?!” he shouted, scrambling from his chair.

The laugh paused, turning into a soft gasp. “Mike?!”

“Y/N!” Michael shouted again, rushing as fast as he could in the direction of her voice. “Y/N!” he called out for the third time, happily as he saw her pushing her way through a small group of SHIELD agents returning to camp.

“Mike!” she shrieked, before running full speed towards him.

He got his arms open just in time for her to crash into him. “Ow, ow, ow,” he winced as he hugged her tight.

“Oh, my God!” she said, holding him out at arm’s lengths. “Are you okay? What happened to you? Where’s the rest of the team?” the questions fell rapidly from her lips. “Oh, Mike!”

“I’m okay. Somebody beat me up pretty good, but I’m fine. The guys are off helping SHIELD play soldier. Oh, God, you’re back! And you’re you!”

“Did you get my note?” she asked, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“Yeah, I got your note.”

“So you forgive me?” Her brown eyes were wide and soft, and maybe even a little fearful as she peered up at him.

“Of course, I forgive you. You didn’t have to go so hard as to break my foot, but of course I forgive you, baby. Fuck, I’m just glad you’re finally here. For good. Safe.”

They could have stood there forever in their locked embrace. And they would have if someone wasn’t clearing their throat to get the couple’s attention. “Ma’am, we gotta check you in.”

“It’s fine,” Michael waved them off. “I got her checked in. It’s fine.”

The agent shrugged, and walked off.

“C’mon, let’s sit. We can catch up while we wait for the rest of the guys,” she directed softly.

~~~

“So Luke was the only one who believed I knew what I was doing?” she chuckled as Michael relayed the past five months of utter shit to her. “Remind me to thank him when he gets in.”

“Yeah, I probably owe him a proper apology for that still. Should probably apologize to Ash and Cal, too. A lot of things got said in anger that shouldn’t have.”

“At least you didn’t tell your best friend that you hated him,” Y/N pointed out, trying to calm Michael out of his remorse.

“Yeah, but still. We all sat around twiddling our thumbs until this last mission. I mean, we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where you were, or if you were okay. And when Cal told us you were okay like Luke had guessed, I dunno… I snapped. I thought I could rectify my mistakes by coming to get you myself. I never once thought that you were with Hydra on purpose. I hadn’t even thought you could have been potentially brainwashed by them. I just… I dunno. Went blind with rage and every other emotion I’d been swallowing since that first mission.”

She nodded understandingly. Then, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How did you find me? When you came back on your own.”

Michael pulled the tracking device from his pocket, which he kept permanently in his pocket along with her note. “After the first mission, we upgraded our trackers. Well, we just used the technology we came up with for my tracker arrows, and injected them into ourselves. So that way it’s a little harder to dump,” he explained with a slight tease in his voice that made her giggle. “And we loaded some arrows with them too, obviously. I nicked a few Hydra agents with them. And Cal got you with the drone.”

“But when Cal shot me, the arrow went clean through me. He was too close. Entry and exit wound.”

“The trackers are set to eject at the first point of contact. Pretty nifty, huh?”

She hummed in proud approval. “Pretty fuckin’ nifty indeed. Fuck… I’ve missed you, Mike.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her hair, breathing her in. “So fuckin’ much.”

“And I’m telling you,” a familiar voice growled, “that I have the bloody tracking device right here! She’s not at the Hydra base! She’s right… in… tada!” Calum said, sweeping the tent open.

Ashton and Luke’s eyes went wide, their mouths working to sputter nonsense. Y/N got to her feet, offering them all a shy wave. “Hey, boys.”

The magic words broke the spell, a giant grin painting each man’s face, before they were all rushing towards her in a gleeful cry of “Y/N!”

“Y/N, what the actual fuck?!” Ashton tried to scold but he was laughing too hard. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“Sorry, Ash. SHIELD orders,” she giggled, hugging the man tightly. “Missed ya too.”

“So it was you! You were the spy on the inside! Fuckin’ brilliant!” Luke marveled. “Go in to rescue the hostages after our first spy betrays us, and replace them with a trusted Avenger. Wow… That’s fuckin’ genius!”

“So I take that as I’m forgiven for worrying you guys, causing you guys to fight amongst yourselves, and having to break Cal’s drone and Mike’s foot?” Y/N asked with a hopeful smile.

“Absolutely,” everyone but Calum told her.

“Cal?” she asked, turning to the man. “Baby brother? Forgive me?”

Calum narrowed his eyes, but there was no hardness to the expression, suggesting he wasn’t actually angry. “You owe me a new drone, first.”

“Deal!” she said, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “Fuck, I’ve missed you guys!”

“Glad to have you back with us,” Ashton smiled. “Guys, let’s go check in, so we can all go the fuck home, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain!” they all saluted with a laugh, heading towards triage to check in, and check out.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get home and shower,” Y/N complained, her right arm thrown over Calum, and her left one thrown over Michael as she trudged happily between her boys once again.

“A good, long, hot shower sounds perfect,” Michael whispered against her ear. “And I think I can come up with a couple of other good, long, and hot activities for us after that shower,” he added, nipping at her playfully.

“Mmmm,” she giggled, leaning into him. “Think you got the strength for all that?”

“For you? Always. And we have a lot of making up to do. Might take days.”

She shivered against him, causing the other three to groan. “At least wait until after we get home before jumping all over each other, yeah?” Ashton asked.

“No promises,” they answered honestly.

Ashton groaned again. “C’mon, let’s give them a minute,” he said with an eye roll as he guided Calum and Luke forward to the line to check in.

Michael wasted no time in their friends’ quick departures to hook his fingers under Y/N’s chin, guiding her to meet him in a fierce kiss, fingers knotting in each other’s hair, breath rushing out of their lungs. “Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” he whispered when they had to break apart to gasp for air, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“I don’t think I can keep that promise, because I’m never leaving you again.”

“Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

__

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[shimmershae]

The more I think about it, the more “Find Me” feels like an echo of “Ghosts.”

Allow me to explain.  In probably the most rambling and incoherent way possible, lol.  My earlier post on Twitter about Season 10 being an exercise in grief and longing really got me to thinking.  Not just thinking.  Ruminating.  

Anywho.  

Posting the rest of this beneath a cut because nobody asked for this (I swear I haven’t imbibed or ingested any illegal substances).  

It doesn’t take long for Carol to be established as an unreliable narrator in “Ghosts.”  At first it isn’t completely obvious because there’s just enough fact in the fiction that Carol’s triggered brain stirs up.  Daryl’s there and he’s concerned about her.  He’s supportive.  Both things he’d been before, especially since Henry’s death, but there are just enough elements in those chemically and grief induced hallucinations of hers that make you go--oh wait a minute.  Like she’s having a break from reality but she’s desperately grasping for that which grounds her and that’s Daryl.  

Am I making any sense here?  I feel like I’m not.  

Let me approach this from another angle.  

Following the airing of “Find Me” various people mentioned that Daryl, similarly to Carol in “Ghosts” wasn’t exactly the most reliable narrator.  That things weren’t necessarily as they seemed.  The word toxic was bandied about but other than Leah giving Daryl an ultimatum to choose her over his family and Daryl dwelling in deep, longstanding depression?  There wasn’t much else overtly deserving of that moniker. 

Argh.  I’m still not explaining myself well.  Let me just jump right in the deep end of probable delusion here.  Sometimes it’s fun to splash around, lol.   

Wouldn’t it be wild—sad AF but still wild—if Leah was already dead when Daryl met her?  

Bear with me here.   

Like Carol in “Ghosts” Daryl is obviously struggling.  He’s grief-stricken.  His brother is lost to him and after he betrayed him no less.  His close friend is mired in her own grief--she’s just lost her mate, probably recently discovered she was carrying RJ, and it wasn’t too long before that they had all lost Carl.  And that’s not even considering Carol, who’s allowed herself to be pulled away, lured by the tantalizing chance of doing things right this time.  Of rearing a child capable of surviving in the harsh world they live in.  Another thing to remember is Daryl is not that far removed from his torture at Negan’s hands.  So he’s more fragile than he’d willingly admit to anyone.  

He’s searching the woods for a man that isn’t there.  Now he’s no more aware that Rick was taken than the rest of Team Family, but he’s unwilling to give up hope and so he searches and because Rick’s not there and hasn’t been since shortly after that bridge blew up, Daryl’s doomed to always come up empty.  To always feel disappointment.  To never have his grief assuaged because as long as there’s no body in the form of a Walker, there’s still hope.  Or plausible denial.  Take your pick.  

He’s tireless in his search.  He’s methodical.  He plots out the places he’s already scoured on a hand-drawn map.  A map that just so happens to get ruined by an awful storm and Daryl seems to reach his breaking point, screaming out into the roar of that storm.  Walking through the barrage, the harsh rain and the violent lightning, unconcerned for his safety.  

Dude has a bit of a mental break.  He’s undeniably emotional.  

It’s not long after that he stumbles upon Dog.  Or, more aptly, Dog stumbles upon him.  

That puppy immediately lightens Daryl’s heavy heart and helping it find its way home gives him purpose.  He’s a tracker after all.  He could have easily traced Dog’s steps back to that cabin.  

Funny that Dog was always coming to him.  That he was roaming free in woods that were full of hidden dangers.  

I don’t know about the rest of ya’ll but that cabin looked abandoned when Daryl first discovered it.  Maybe not long abandoned, but it didn’t look inhabited by the living. And that’s the weird thing.  How did that Walker get into the cabin?  Did Leah just leave the door wide open for it?  Did she also leave the door wide open for Dog to escape?  Why was he always such an unaccompanied furry minor? 

The thoughts swirling around in my brain, lovelies.  They’re going to force me to go back and watch that fucking episode again aren’t they?

My point is that Dog essentially leads Daryl to the cabin. The Walker’s inside and then he stumbles upon Leah, who bursts onto the scene like she wants to be Sarah Connor or something. Daryl ends up in restraints and Leah questions him and ultimately lets him go and WTF, lovelies.  Who does that in the ZA?  As a woman all alone in a cabin miles from anybody else, in the company of a man she doesn’t know from Adam?  If ever there’s a time to have stranger danger...

Right from the start, this chick doesn’t really add up.

So Daryl leaves the cabin.  He resumes his search for Rick and he seems to give very little thought to this Leah or the cabin.  Until Dog finds him again.  

Strange isn’t it that he keeps stumbling back in her path around the times that Carol visits, when she draws further and further from his reach and closer to the fairytale he thinks she’s living at the Kingdom?  

Did Daryl ever go to that cabin without following Dog? I can’t remember.  The episode was beautifully shot but ultimately too painful to rewatch for my Caryl loving heart.  

Anywho.  

When Daryl and Carol come upon that cabin in the woods, Daryl’s flashbacks begin.  They’re hazy around the edges and not as clearly defined as the moments he spends with Carol.  Speaking of the moments he spends with Carol, how coincidinky that so many of them echo his moments with Leah?  Or do we have it all backwards?  Hmm?  

Things are so convoluted sometimes on this fucking show it leads one to question their sanity.  

Let me ramble out a few wild thoughts for you lovelies again and you tell me if I’ve completely lost it, lol.  

What if Dog was simply an orphaned, abandoned Dog that found Daryl in the woods?

What if Daryl followed the trail Dog had traveled in reverse and stumbled upon the cabin?  

What if the cabin was abandoned because Leah was already dead?  What if she’d taken her own life?  What if Daryl saw the cross/grave outside and the picture inside and his grief-stricken brain conjured up a whole tragic story for this woman, this Walker roaming around inside this house, and she became his coping mechanism?  You know.  Kind of like Rick did Lori when he had his own break with reality.  They’ve all suffered so much, lovelies.  They’ve all got PTSD.  It’s just manifesting in different ways.  

I mean, all of this would fit the label of sad that NR and others have given this little tale.  It would even fit toxic because Daryl let grief and loneliness swallow him for a while.  

As Carol pulls farther away from him, Leah just keeps popping up more and more.  

Daryl essentially loses himself in his own fairy tale only it’s a nightmare painted in soft colors and Leah asking him to choose is basically his own psyche saying to him “do you wanna live here in this fantasy land and numb your pain or do you want to relive the awful reality of Rick being lost and Carol slowly fading from your life day by day?”  And at first he’s like, you can’t make me make that choice because Daryl doesn’t want to give up hope, no matter how futile it seems.  But then Carol makes what she tells him might be her final visit for a while and anger leads Daryl right back to that fucking cabin and oblivion.  Back to the solitude of his tortured thoughts.  

That note, lovelies.  It felt like by choosing Leah he was choosing a lifetime of being alone more than it did him choosing the hope of a new love.  That “find me” for all the world felt like he was willing hope to find him again.  Hope in the form of love in the form of Carol.  

Listen.  I never said this would make sense, lol.  

When Daryl gets back to that cabin, Leah is gone.  Her picture is gone. 

Truly it felt like she’d never been there.  

Even more so when you consider how run down the cabin looks in present day when Daryl and Carol seek shelter in it.  

I can’t help it.  Some small part of me?  Well, it thinks that Daryl told Carol about Leah (whether she existed or not) as a way to both make her feel better than he wasn’t out there in those woods completely alone and to maybe move the needle a little bit on the nature of their own relationship.  Both in the past and present day.  

And while he and Carol are struggling through the ever-shifting nature of their feelings for each other, Daryl has climbed out of his own darkness and found hope again in Judith and RJ.  In the family he’s embraced again. In the communities.  And he’s angry and unsettled because he wants the same for Carol but she doesn’t seem to want that for herself.  

He still wants her to find hope.  

He still wants her to find him.  

He still wants her to find love and peace.  

Help me, lovelies.  These two have broken me, lol.  I promise.  I’m stone cold sober.  A little, okay a lot, tired.  

Wouldn’t it be wild, though?  If Leah really wasn’t what she seemed?  If she were a figment of a broken, lonely man’s tortured imagination?  

Undeniably sad AF but wild all the same.  

[druid-for-hire]

new hadestown au: BIKER ! EURYDICE, in which she’s a rogue lone-wolf biker dwelling in the urban jungle of a Neo Tokyo-type city called Hadestown, wracked with biker gangs, violence, poverty, corruption, and civil unrest, still recovering and rebuilding from an apocalyptic event many years ago. Heavy-handed with the AKIRA inspirations here, haha.

She fights for herself on the dangerous streets, an illegal racer with a consistent top-three placement and a reputation for ferocity that earns her the money she needs to scrape by. And then she meets Orpheus: a dopey bartender who has no place being in her business.

okay okay okay i’m gonna be jumping around a lot here. be warned. thanks @supercantaloupe, @regzillas, @birdmanlyss for your contributions! (sorry if i missed someone it’s been a while)

she's a lone wolf in a city infested with biker gangs and it's brutal

she's run over plenty of limbs in her day

then there's orpheus, this gentle, kind-hearted soul, an indie musician and shes like. fuck. now i gotta keep this bastard safe

puts a long pipe with a mess of bolts and metal on the end in his hands and tells him he'd better buckle up and learn to fight the road

this sort of thing is common among biker gangs to cause destruction and knock people off their bikes onto the road. other types include mallets, hammers, baseball bats, etc

shes small but knows a lot of self defense and is very good at handling herself on the road

besides teaching orpheus to steel himself and yes use that pipe on people, push them off and jam it in their wheels and let it break if it does, she's gotta teach him to hold on while she pulls all this crazy shit on her bike

she avoids taking him on the road because having to fight people gives him so much stress but he also stresses about her so it's all weird

the first time orpheus sees her run over someones arm hes like ""???????????????????!!!!!!!!"

"Don't worry it doesn't happen often" "WHAT IS 'OFTEN'"

she has a red songbird on her helmet and flowers on her jacket

and flowers painted on her bike too probably

or patterns like on the album cover

orpheus thinks it’s the prettiest shit he’s ever seen

so eurydice races, right? everyones like “who is this tiny little upstart” and then she takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair and everyone loses it

somethingsomething ig hades (who is something of a crime boss here, similar to Tombstone from the Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon, but not so unambiguously villainous in nature) becomes a contractor and he catches her in like, a bad contract that's hard to get out of without some kind of consequence

and now orpheus has to topple a capitalist again

anyway she like, meets orpheus in this little bar he works at

it's about lower middle class, so it's not too bad but it's still mostly populated by like, poorer people and bikers, etc.

they meet and it's cool and fun blah blah Come Home With Me shit

also this is a scene:

biker!eury: we gotta cross through downtown orpheus: what???? but there's a riot going on there! right now! eury: that's too bad, it's the fastest way! that's why you get this! (tosses him her pipe weapon) orpheus, barely catching it: sajskhsfdfs ???? eury: and i am gonna take this. (kicks open a trunk and takes out a rifle) orpheus: ???????!!!!???!?? WHERE DID YOU GET THAT AND DO WE REALLY NEED IT eury: Yes we do now come on orpheus: H-HOW did you get it eury: (loads gun) no worries orpheus: No i have many worries HOW DID YOU--

actually, on this emergency ride, orpheus proves surprisingly competent with her pole weapon—ruthless even, and eurydice wonders just where and how the hell he learned that

the conversation she has with him about that is the same one where he shows her his old, old scars

(besides ruthless—orph has apparently learned how to pose and intimidate. he does stuff like putting the tip of the pole-pipe to the asphalt as they’re riding, skipping on the road and creating sparks)

eurydice loves her bike more than certain relatives 

certain complications lead to it being destroyed by hades as punishment for doing him wrong. and it destroys her. that is her most trusted sacred bike, that thing has been with her since she was a teenager

once she repurposes that devastation into white-hot anger orph has to physically restrain her from hunting hades down and breaking his kneecaps with a thick lead pipe

he's never seen her this absolutely devastated and furious

he goes to persephone for more work because he wants to buy eurydice a new bike

he keeps it a secret from her until he leads her out to a garage, hands over her eyes

(some of these bits are copypasted from my friend @regzillas​)

orpheus takes his hands off and says Tada!!! it's just like the old one, there's no painted birds but she can do that. She just stands there in total silence mouth open, and orpheus goes 'so? do you like it?' before she bursts into tears. and at first orpheus is like :O!!!!! oh no!!! do you not like it? and eurydice through sobs just says 'nobody's ever done something like this for me’

it's... beautiful, it's touching, it's deep and it's love and she's so in love and she loves him so much, and she cries and holds him close and takes him in and she's so overwhelmed by her emotions, full of the care that orpheus so freely gives to her; and it's a breath of newness, fresh air in the cycle of dread and bitter anger that haunts the city (but she's still going to find hades and shoot him in the foot)

he just holds her and kisses her head

they spend the day painting it, the day after he buys the bike

hand-painted. and they both leave their handprints in paint on it, like carl and ellie do on their mailbox in the beginning of Up

a significant amount of time is spent thinking of a good name

theres lots of joking and eurydice playfully shoves orpheus and he falls over into paint

okay i wrote something like. Obnoxiously long for orpheus. i sort of have his backstory in this down, but i don’t have anything for eurydice unfortunately :( suggestions are welcome! but first: Hermes

biker!au hermes owns a chain of bars, several of which find their patronage among the ruffian youth, several of which are more refined and serve the middle class, and another several of which serve the upper crust hermes has a hand in every world and it serves him pretty well, and his chain is a bit of a channel of communication and its unspoken rule that whatever socioeconomic class or gang or organization you're a part of, hermes' chain is neutral territory no fighting allowed

eurydice walks in and hermes just gives her a Look and taps the 'no fighting' sign and she huffs

hes >:( if anyone does try to start shit. the honor system is strong enough that usually the other patrons will just throw them out, and if there are really problems, they'll hear from hermes personally

he maintains a very strict "no bitching in my fucking kitchen" atmosphere

and now, Orpheus

this really is kind of akira but without the government conspiracies; the city is a neon corrupt hellscape that’s still struggling to rebuild after an apocalyptic event that wiped it all through. the city is wracked with frustration and violence and anger, there are still urban ruins everywhere and the scars of rebuilding and struggle are plain in every corner of life; plain to see are the shells of ruined buildings, gigantic boats levelled from the sea and left in the middle of inland sectors.

orpheus was abandoned by his mother at an early age—kind and timid, he had to learn fast how to be suspicious and cautious in cruel ways. he couldn’t land himself a spot in any of the groups that other ragtag raging folks had eked out for themselves, still too hesitant or ungraceful or young for any of them. sure, he made friends, sitting and talking with lots of people, but never got to really team up—all he could do was just fight for himself in the blown out corners of the city. weapons made from whatever he had. a young child already spitting blood and teeth in hadestown’s vicious ground-floor landscape.

hermes is his mother’s close old friend, though the times they see each other are few and far between. when he saw him, hermes hardly recognized her son, wild-eyed and clawed and alone in one of the city’s more dangerous neighborhoods, with a pole full of screws slung over his back. how did she lose track of her kid for so long? he thinks. and takes him in.

hermes eventually realizes that his mother didn’t lose him. meanwhile, tiny orpheus, kind-hearted orpheus, despises hermes at first. he’s full of suspicion and desperately wants to lean into hermes’ kindness, but the streets have taught him to hold back. he spits curses at him, though the words slide right off hermes’ shoulders. it’s not genuine.  just frustrated. and picked off of the delinquents that were his friends, just like most everything else about him.

(hermes knows he’s gotten his trust when orpheus starts getting soft, when he’s crying over littler things; it means he’s been deemed safe to be vulnerable around, and he damn near starts crying himself.)

orpheus owns a little vespa! it’s covered in stickers, some of them worn out and old, some places with just the adhesive and the fuzzy white paper from where he tried to pull them off. some of them aren’t even proper stickers and just shit he peeled off from places while he was wandering around and stuck onto the vespa

even in canon i see him as the kind of guy who like. you look at him and think jesus how is this guy still alive he’s so noodly and soft, but he’s unexpectedly sort of street smart

anyway i mentioned this before but didn’t elaborate. biker au orph, to eury's surprise, does have his collection of scars, since he had a bit of a rough go at life

also he’s just ungainly and runs into shit

you can see em on his sketch page. he has a bit more than what’s shown, but what’s visible is a little slash across the bridge of his nose onto his cheek, and two on his left forearm. he probably has a stab scar in his side from just getting fucking knifed. the ones on his left forearm are from when a drunk coming out of a bar charged him with a fork

eurydice also has scars. kind of hard not to with the kind of life she lives

ok thats it. For Now. i don’t know how persephone or the fates or the workers factor in, if at all. I barely know how Hades factors in, mostly what i’ve said so far and that he does what he does to support himself and persephone. ah well! just have this

as this is extremely based off of AKIRA, i verily recommend listening to the movie’s soundtrack. besides the fact that it slaps hard as hell, the opening song, Kaneda’s Theme, has the perfect vibes for the city and the tone of eurydice and orpheus riding at night through it

[clarissaexplainingitall]

alright, summary of yesterday’s medical bullshit, because if not i’m just going to sit here in a lump of blankets all day and sulk which i feel like i’m probably entitled to at this point but is probably still not healthy anyway, but here’s where i stand:

neurosurgeon redid c-spine xrays three times because radiology fucked them up, but ruled out CCI, and gave second opinion on MRIs ruling out tethered cord, so there’s nothing structural they can do anything about. and then he just washed his hands of me after like two hours of xray BS, no referrals out, no ideas, nothing, because of course he did because he’s a surgeon and there’s no surgical fix, so that was maddeningly unhelpful, but at least we checked i guess. but also, fuck, that was like the last idea anyone had,

it’ll take months to get into mayo or any of the stanford clinics, and in the meantime i have failed every single trial medication my doctor is willing to put me on so i have nothing to to there but just continue to degenerate

dad wants to try crowdsourcing my case a la silicon valley startup, and frankly i’m desperate enough to fucking just like. let him try.

i’m seeing an osteopath tomorrow so hopefully even if he has zero idea how to solve he can do something a la acupuncturist

allergist confirmed i’m super fucking allergic to basically almost all of the plant pollen types we tested for, enough that it’s likely why i’m having allergic reactions to most of the raw produce i’m eating despite testing just under the threshold for all of the ones we tested for - i’m reacting to the pollen in the produce. so i am probably going to have to go off the last trial medication we’re waiting to fail so i can go on allergy shots, so i can actually eat foods without having to hyperprocess/cook into oblivion everything i eat. 

she also wants to test me for IgG 3 levels bc apparently EDS folks can be deficient and she thinks that might be why my immune system is shitty, but UNFORTUNATELY she ran her mouth and told me how you treat that if it IS the case

which is

infusions

and my veins are too fucked up for regular infusions, because shitty nurses blew too many, which would likely mean, and she unfortunately said the words,

it’d be PICC line

[walkerwords]

“The Bourbon Drinker and the Brute” Negan x F!Reader

Summary: When you are trying to relax mid-apocalypse, Negan comes across you while he is on his way back to Alexandria, dragging Rick and Carl along. What happens when he tries to engage with you in conversation? Will you humor him? Essentially, you meet Negan while he's on the road and you are less than impressed.

Word Count: 1944

Warning: mention of past abuse, swearing, drinking, negan being negan

Song I Wrote To: “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant

Notes: This is also posted on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23147752

-----

The apocalypse was not something you would have thought would happen while you were alive. 

The Dead rising? That was something that was from movies and comic books, not seen from your backyard. You had been on your own since the start of the infection and would occasionally find groups, but it never lasted longer than a few weeks. You started to realize that maybe the humans were worse than the dead.

Everyone knew that some of the Living were trying to build a new world order. There was talk about communities rising out of the rubble, but you always stayed clear of any place that had barbed wire and walls. It wasn’t ideal to be on your own all the time, but you figured it was better than being under the rule of someone who felt the need to be the new advocate for humanity. Especially when they had guns. 

Shortly after the initial wave of the Dead, you found out that noise was the worse thing. You had a pistol, still did for emergencies, but your preferred weapon was the bow in your hands and the quiver on your back. You learned to shoot at a young age. Your grandfather was an archer and your mother as well. It was her bow that you carried. You didn’t know if either of them were still alive, but you kept that hope in your heart as you made your way across the southern states of America.

Sleep was hard to come by and being alone meant nobody was there to be a lookout. You started by locking yourself in old hotel rooms and abandoned schools, but you soon found that being indoors only made the Dead smell you more and so you took to the outdoors whenever the weather allowed it. Your favourite place was trees and you’ve even been lucky to find empty tree houses in which you removed the ladders and scaled the trees. You made camp there until you ran out of supplies and had to be on the move once again.

On the rare occasions that you ran into people, you stayed hidden and prayed that they wouldn’t discover you. It happened a lot at first, but now, people were rare in the more rural areas. Either they had found shelter, fell victim to the Dead, or they had even joined the Dead themselves. It was just the way it was, people weren’t around anymore.

However, that changed the day you met a group that terrified and also annoyed you to no end. You knew you were risking it being so close to what you called a safe haven. It was reckless to be in a territory you knew was run by armed men and women, but supplies were short and so you had to make runs. A recent one gained you a new bottle of bourbon that was not only delicious, but much needed.

So, there you were, laying in the bright Southern sun, on the ledge of an abandoned pedestrian bridge. Both sides had been blown out by someone or torn apart by something and barricaded to restrict access, so you had to climb a few of the overgrown vines. However, you were just glad to be up high and even let your right leg swing lazily off the side.

It was around midday when you were keeping your ears open for the dead and you heard the rumbling of multiple cars. It wasn’t unheard of to hear the odd engine, but nowadays it was rare. You tried to stay clear of the people in the area and now you were regretting the bourbon run even more so. You kept your breathing even as the procession of vehicles stopped before your bridge and many men and women filed out of the cars, guns in hand. You lazily lift your bottle to your lips. It’s nearly empty and you’re enjoying it till the last drop. You take another pull when you hear the brutish voice from down below.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” You prop yourself up onto your elbows, securing yourself with your dangling leg, and look down at the man. He is clearly the leader. He wears a wolfish grin on his stubbled face and a leather jacket on his back. In his right hand, he holds a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

He swings it up onto his shoulder as he looks up at you, “Looks to me like we have a little loner here, hey Rick?” The brute looks over his shoulder at another man who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else than near the man with the bat. A kid is next to the one called Rick, his son, you guess due to the matching expression that was a near mirror to the first man. You take another drink, getting to the end of the bottle. “What’s your name, Darlin’?” the first man asks. 

“Not ‘Darlin’,” you shoot back. He whistles, pressing his hips forward like a bad Travolta impression.

“Well, aren’t you something? What are you doing up there all by your lonesome self?” You raise the bottle so he can see it better. 

“Drinking,” You call back. You lift it to your lips and down the rest of the bourbon. He watches you, clearly amused. When you’re done, you drop the bottle off the side of the bridge. It breaks against a boulder, shattering into many pieces. “Sorry, that was my last bottle.”

“Fuck, you really are a little spitfire.” You stare down at him. “Still waiting on that name,” he says and since he didn’t use some ridiculous pet name, you humor him.

“(Y/n),” you say. 

“Well, (y/n),” he smiles and a laugh comes right after, “why don’t you come down from there?” You glance at the army at his back. It becomes obvious he is a leader of one of the nearby forts that make you nervous. However, you would be lying if you said he didn’t make you curious.

“I think I’m good up here, Bruce,” you shoot back. He frowns at the name you give him. 

“The name’s Negan,” he says.

“I think it's a joke,” The kid next to Rick says, gaining Negan’s attention. “Bruce as in Bruce Wayne. Batman.” The kid gestures to the baseball bat on Negan’s shoulder. Negan howls at your bad joke, reaching over to slap the kid on the shoulder who tries not to shake off the man’s hand. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t no fucking superhero,” Negan says.

“Neither was Batman,” you finish, causing him to laugh again. 

“Well, okay then. So, listen (y/n), here’s what I want,” You cut him off. 

“Oh, I know what you want. You’re one of them looters. You want my supplies. But here’s the thing, I only have the clothes off my back, the knife in my boot, and a bow without arrows. A bow that you’d have to kill me for and tear from my undead hands if you want it. So, keep moving, Bruce, and leave me to get some much-needed sleep.” Negan whistles gaining timid laughter from behind him. Rick was looking between you and the brute as if trying to figure out who was going to win. 

“I ain’t too fucking keen on people telling me what to do, Darlin’,” You lay back down, swinging your leg once again. 

“Name’s not ‘Darlin’, Bruce, and the way I see it is that you can either get back into your car and leave me the hell alone or you and your merry men can drag my ass off this bridge and put a bullet in my head twice over,” You say bluntly. The group was quiet, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth.

“How about this?” Negan says, “I see a third option.”

“I don’t,” you call. He was quiet again. “I’ve survived alone for a long time. I tried it with people before and it did not end well for me or them. Therefore, I’ll take my chances because either the Dead kill me or you do,” you look down at him, narrowing your eyes, “your move.”

“You just love to be disrespectful, don’t you?” Negan taunts.

“It’s the damn apocalypse, honey, respect is pointless.” Light entered his eyes as if he had finally met his match. “So,” you continued, “with the utmost respect, fuck off.” Immediately, you hear a gun cocked in your direction and you move. You notch an arrow, spinning onto your left knee, raise your bow and pull back. You aim at the man with the mustache to Negan’s right.

Negan glances between his man and your steady hands. “Thought you didn’t have any fucking arrows,” Negan calls. 

“I lied,” you sneer.

“Simon, drop your fucking weapon,” Negan orders and he does. Negan then hands the bat to the kid who takes it as if he has been asked to do it before. Negan takes a couple of steps closer to you and you retrain your weapon on him. He raises his hands. “No need for violence, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be concerned with the likes of me.”

“Call me a stupid pet name one more time,” you warn, keeping him in your sights. 

“I’m assuming the last man who called you that didn’t get an arrow pointed at him,” Negan grins.

“You’re right,” you nod, “he just got a knife to the groin. Sudden castration is an unfortunate side effect of being a rapist.” Something flares in his eyes and you could tell that even if he was a killer, Negan would never lay a hand on a woman uninvited.

“That why you’re alone?” he asks. 

“Beats the alternative.”

“Yes ma’am it does,” he says. “I’ll tell you what Miss (y/n), you’re a fucking fighter and I respect that. So I will remember you. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. That sound good to you, Grimes?” He asks Rick.

Rick nodded to him with a sigh of relief. Rick then met your eyes and nodded to you. You decided then and if you were to cross paths with them again, Rick would be the one you’d trust.

You lower your weapon.

“I’d say we have a deal...Negan,” you say. The brute smiles up at you. Then from his jacket, he produces a small bottle. He tosses it up to you. You catch it and smile at the small bottle of whiskey. 

“Peace offering,” he says. “I’ll see you again, (y/n). Dead or alive, we’ll cross paths again,” Negan says as he struts back to his truck. The kid hands Negan the bat back and Negan gets into the driver’s seat. You keep a firm grip on your bow as the vehicles cross under the bridge. You watch until they disappear over the hill in the distance.

Tucking the mini bottle into your boot, you lay down and listen to the groaning of the dead in the distance. Your heart slowly leaves your throat. You hadn’t been that scared in a long time. You had perfected the mask to keep people at bay, but you knew that if he had been any closer, he would have seen the sweat on your brow and the slight shaking of your leg. You only hope that Negan didn’t see through it and that he would keep his word.

You stay out his way and he would leave you alone. Problem was, a part of you didn’t know if you wanted him to leave you alone and that scared the hell out of you even more. 

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Tension’s Overflowing P2

Surprise! If it wasn’t obvious, that wasn’t the end. :P Both @tooshhhy​ and @imagine-that-100​ sent me the same context of “ I’m drunk on public transport and you’re high and we both keep looking at each other knowingly” and the more I thought about it, the more I was like “Hm. I can make these link up.” which was why it was taken a ‘smidge in my own direction’ lol. So, here’s the second prompt from my fantastic prompt list. 

Part One

It hadn’t been a great idea to down that last drink before I left the bar. I didn’t feel nauseous (thankfully), but I sure as shit felt lightheaded. My co-workers had wanted to go out after work for a drink, since a bunch of us had the day off tomorrow. Which was nice, until it got late and they wanted to bail and head home for the night. I wasn’t going to waste half a pint that I’d paid for. That’s ridiculous. However, we’d been out since we knocked off, and it was nearly one in the morning now. That was a decent while to have been drinking. I probably should’ve allowed myself to waste that money and leave the half-drunk pint on the table. Because now, sat on the tube on the way home, having the carriage spin slightly every time I moved my head wasn’t an ideal situation. At least I could be grateful that it was fairly empty and I could wallow in my thoughts in peace and quiet. But that peace was short lived.

  I was snapped out of my drunken haze when a man got on at the next stop and sat across from me. His unruly curls were a fucking mess, his leather jacket looked well worn, and the sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose just came across as obnoxious. But that… that looked like Matty. His hair was different, and he didn’t usually have stubble adorning his chin like that, but I was about 98% sure that was Matty. He must’ve been high, or drunk, or something, there was no other reason that he’d be wearing such dark shades at this hour. Which was annoying because it meant that I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or not. If he’d even recognised me or not. I hadn’t seen him in years. Despite that it was me who had suggested the distance between us, it had been him who ultimately enforced it. As tour took off and the full-length album came out, he was suddenly incredibly unavailable – even if I had wanted to hang out. Time differences and busy schedules meant that we lost touch, and things just… fizzled out. Ross was the only member of the band that I still kind of kept in contact with these days. I had all but forgotten about that drunken night where I passed out at his place. But now, being faced with the man in question, everything was being dredged up again. This was the absolute last place I wanted to be. As I sat there over analysing this development in my Wednesday night and progressively sobering up the more that I realised the situation, I was suddenly even more mortified when he got up and crossed the carriage.

  I shrank back in my seat as he sat next to me. “Hey.” He said quietly, without looking at me.

“Hi.” I mumbled back.

“Been keeping well?” He asked.

I just nodded, letting the silence linger for a second before deciding it was probably polite to ask him as well. After all, we were stuck here together and it was likely he wasn’t going to go away, if the things I knew about him still rung true. “You?”

“Pretty good, y’know, touring and stuff.” He said with a dry chuckle. “Things are pretty different these days.” He added with a shrug.

“I can imagine.” I agreed. This conversation made the whole damn train carriage feel stifling. Why would Matty have thought that this was going to be anything other than awkward when he came over here? He should’ve just left it. Should’ve just continued in awkward silence and left without saying a word. That would’ve been much easier on my brain. That would’ve been a million times-

  “I’m sorry.”

I stared at him in bewilderment as I tried to process those words. “What?” I asked, watching as he took his shades off and rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered again. “For being a cocky prick when I was younger.”

He was apologising...? If I wasn’t fucking thrown for a loop by just seeing Matty after so long, having this conversation right now while half-cut was just making my brain reel. “Are you saying you’re not a cocky prick now?” I asked, again taking in the sunglasses, jacket, the overall look.

“No, I am.” He laughed with a nod. “I’m just more self-aware about it now.” And just like that, the awkward atmosphere broke away. I couldn’t help but laugh, which just made him laugh more. It all but echoed down the mostly empty train as I was reminded of hundreds of good times I had pushed to the back of my mind. When our laughter finally subsided, he nudged me with his shoulder. “I’ve missed the shit out of you, love.” I could smell the wine on his breath as he said that. He was a lot more drunk than what he was letting on.

I sighed deeply, feeling like I might regret my next words but being unable to stop myself saying them anyway, “I missed you too, Matty.”

  We caught up for a bit, mostly about the band and his life, as mine was nowhere near as interesting in comparison. The more we chatted, the more it suddenly felt like a slot of my life had clicked back into place. As the stops passed by outside the window, I realised I was now fairly close to where I needed to get off.

“Where are you even going?” I asked as I turned back to Matty. Last time I had been to his place, he lived nowhere near here - but that was years ago now.

“I, erm…” He stared out the window for a moment, squinting thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“How can you not know?” I asked with a loud laugh.

“Where are you going?” He shot back.

I frowned at him for dodging the question, but answered anyway, “Home.”

“Then that’s where I’m going.” He grinned.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I shook my head, “No way.”

“Yes way.” He argued.

  “I’ve not seen you in years and you want to come to my place?” I asked in shock, my words coming out quicker than I expected. “Where are you living these days?” I tried to press him, hoping he would at least give me a rough idea of where to relocate him. He just made the motion of zipping his mouth shut. “Come on, Matty.” I huffed with a roll of my eyes.

“I just won’t tell you where I live and then you have to take me back to yours.” He said defiantly as he crossed his arms, looking awfully proud of himself.

“I’ll get it off your licence.”

“What makes you think that I have it on me?” He asked confidently. “You gonna frisk me for it?” He smirked.

I just stared at him in disbelief, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you love me.” He retaliated with a wink.

I felt an uncomfortable flutter in my chest as he said that, but was still too drunk to process it properly. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” I mumbled.

“Why not?” He asked, looking curious.

“Just stop talking or I will put you in a taxi and leave you there.” I threatened as I tried my best to look serious, but I had a feeling by the expression on Matty’s face that I had failed.

“I will never stop talking!” He boomed loudly. I was incredibly grateful that there was nobody else here for me to feel embarrassed in front of. “At least until I am sober enough to regret this tomorrow morning.” He added before standing up, wobbling slightly on his feet before grabbing a rail to steady himself. “Come on. This is your stop, yeah?”

  After quite a large amount of effort, I was able to escort the (as it so turned out) very drunk Matty to my front door. “Matty, you need to support some of your own weight.” I groaned as he leaned himself onto my shoulder. I wasn’t used to his hair being so wild and curly like this, it kept getting everywhere any time his head was near mine. He pushed himself away from me, steadying himself before taking a few steps. I watched as he went to walk up to my front door and instantly realised a potential issue. “Watch the steps.” I said, but he didn’t seem to register it. “The steps Matty, the steps-” I scrambled to stop him from breaking his nose on the pavement as he absolutely did not see the steps, proceeding to trip over them and plummet face first into the pavement. Thankfully, I was able to catch him just before the impact. He just laughed. “Fuck sake. Is this what it was like when you were trying to get me home?” I huffed as I managed to get him up all four steps and tried to find my keys.

“No, I just carried you.” He slurred drunkenly into my shoulder.

“What..?” I frowned to myself. That didn’t ring any bells and I thought I would’ve remembered something like that.

“I just carried you.” He repeated.

“No, I heard you. Why?” I corrected.

“You fell asleep on the bus and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I mostly just carried you back.” He explained as I pushed the door open. The thought of that was a lot more endearing than I expected it to be.

  Matty instantly hauled himself off my shoulder and stepped inside as soon as he could.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He commented as he walked into the kitchen.

“I’ve accumulated a lot of shit since you were here last.” I agreed. He poured himself a glass of water and continued snooping around. I watched as he poked through my bookshelf, moved his way onto my records, and eventually stopped in front of the TV cabinet as he crouched down to examine the DVDs at the bottom. It was surreal to see Matty in my flat again. I didn’t expect in a million years that this was likely to happen. “So, you want me to get you a blanket or..?” I prompted, feeling keen to go to bed since it was now well past one in the morning.

“Aw, we’re not gonna hang out?” He pouted.

“Not at this hour, no.” I chuckled.

“But I want to.” He whined, pushing himself back onto my lounge room rug and staring at the ceiling.

“And I want to sleep.” I argued.

  “We’ve not hung out in years.” He continued, opting to ignore me.

“We can another day.” I assured him as I draped a blanket over the side of the couch.

He just groaned loudly, sitting in silence for a few moments as I watched his mild tantrum in amusement. “Fine.” He eventually sighed.

“Everything is still in the same spot if you need anything.” I said as he pulled himself up off the floor.

“And you?” He asked.

“What?” I frowned back, confused as to what he was getting at.

“Will be..?” He raised an eyebrow in question.

“In my room..?” I offered. He nodded to himself as I said that, looking pensive as his gaze flicked from my bedroom door back to the couch. I waited for him to say something else, but it looked like the gears in his head were turning as he tried to figure something out. “All right, well… Good night.” I said with a nod.

“See you in the morning, love.” I heard him call out in a sing-song voice after me. I was grateful to still be drunk enough to not overthink that upcoming situation too much.

  * * *

  Memories came flooding back as soon as I woke up the next morning. Right, there was a man presumably still asleep on my couch. A man that I used to have many, many feelings for. This was not how I expected to spend my day off. I was grateful that I hadn’t been too drunk this time to have patchy recollection – this time, I remembered everything that I had said. Whether Matty remembered everything that he said… that was going to be another story. I hadn’t heard him throwing up throughout the night, so perhaps he had already bailed. It wouldn’t surprise me. Gradually, I got myself presentable and slowly made my way out into the lounge room. I heard Matty before I saw him, his loud snores emanating from the couch. Stepping quietly around it I took in the sight before me. Matty looked like a mess. His curly hair was all over the place, he had drooled onto the couch pillow he was lying on, he had one shoe still on while the other was near the coffee table, a leg half kicked over the back of the couch, it was truly something to behold. And thus, something I couldn’t resist snapping a quick picture of and sending it to Ross before he had the chance to sort his hungover self. As I stood at the edge of the kitchen, texting Ross about where his friend had ended up, a particularly loud snort caught my attention. I looked up, seeing Matty frowning in his sleep and then sleeping beauty’s eyes snapped open. He quickly squinted as he took in the light in the room, before spotting me watching him.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” He groaned as he rolled over and pressed his face into the back of the couch.

“Why are you on my couch?” I shot back as I slipped my phone into my pocket.

Matty paused for a moment at that, sitting up slightly as he looked down at the couch. “Why the fuck am I on your couch..?” He questioned quietly. Looking up for a moment, he took in his surroundings. “Your place looks different.” He noted.

“You came back here last night because you refused to give me your own address.” I informed him. He just groaned again.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I chuckled, grabbing a new glass of water and trading it out for the half-drunk old one sitting by the foot of the couch.

  “Why were you even on the tube last night?” I asked as I sat down in the recliner beside him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat up properly, “Uh… I was out with a mate, and that was where he had to go so I kind of just… got on? I guess?” He answered, sounding incredibly unsure of his explanation.

“You didn’t have a mate with you..?” I questioned, suddenly wondering if Matty had really been that drunk to have imagined getting on a train with someone.

“No, no, he was on the other line.” He elaborated. “I just felt like I should get on too, I suppose.” He laughed drily. “Glad I did, in hindsight. Who knows where I would’ve ended up had I not bumped into you.”

“Probably passed out in that carriage, still slumped into that seat.” I smirked at him.

“Would’ve woken up cuddling with some homeless guy.” He grinned back, then instantly winced. “You got any coffee?” He asked quietly. “And maybe some paracetamol?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.”

  Once he had a coffee in his hand and some painkillers in his stomach, Matty seemed a bit more ready to face the day. For how drunk he had appeared last night, I expected him to have been more hungover today, but he looked fairly well composed. I switched the TV on to offer some background noise as he drank his coffee, but as soon as there was any new stimulus in the room Matty found himself with a million thoughts to get out of his head about whatever was playing. It was good to know that some things never changed. The more we spoke, the easier it was to fall into familiar habits of hanging out in each other’s company. He had gotten up just before eleven, but now it was fast approaching five, and I hadn’t heard him mention anything about going home.

“How you feeling?” I asked as Matty came back from the bathroom.

“Huh?” It looked like he took a second to comprehend what I meant. “Oh, fine.” He shrugged.

“Not hungover?” I frowned.

“Nah, been okay since the coffee.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he flopped back onto the couch next to me.

“Then… why are you still hanging around?” I asked in confusion. It didn’t seem to make sense if he was feeling well enough to go home that he was still sat in my lounge.

“Because I want to hang out with my friend.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You said we could another today - today is another day.” He added as he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into his side.

  That took me aback for a second, both for the sudden intimacy and because that meant that he remembered the small details of what was said last night. I had dismissed his apology for the most part, given how drunk he seemed then. But maybe there was more to it than drunken ramblings. “Yeah… I did…” I said apprehensively, unsure if I wanted to start the line of questioning that was on the tip of my tongue. “You remember everything you said on the train?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He nodded.

“You say that but you seemed pretty drunk. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember much.” I argued.

“I remember important things, even when wasted.” Matty countered with a pointed look.

“Important?” I questioned immediately.

“Getting to see you after so long and finally apologise, that was pretty important to me.” He elaborated as he ran a hand through his curls.

“It was?”

“Of course, it was!” He said instantly. The tone of his voice almost sounded offended that I’d even ask. “I also remember nearly giving myself a concussion. Thanks for stopping that.” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, uh, it’s no problem.” I mumbled. What he was saying was just raising more questions than providing answers. “So, you meant everything you said then? About missing me?” I continued.

“Sure did.”

“You miss me?” I felt like my thoughts were just spiralling deeper and deeper for each thing that he said. I hadn’t properly allowed myself to think about Matty in years, but now it was just all flooding back. I had missed him, a lot more than I let myself realise.

He let out a deep sigh as he moved away slightly, turning on the couch to face me. “I can see myself falling into old habits if we continue like this, so let me explain. I didn’t mean to come across like I did when you admitted your feelings. I was an idiot, you caught me off guard, I didn’t know what to say so I just defaulted to what was easy to say. I genuinely hadn’t ever thought about it, it hadn’t crossed my mind that you thought of me that way. You asked for space, so I wanted to give that to you. Then I just… got pulled away from it all. But in hindsight I should’ve made more of an effort to stay in touch and make sure we were on the same page. Because the more I was away from you, the more I realised I missed you a lot more than I expected myself to. Turned out I probably did return your feelings. That hit me pretty hard last night when I saw you. It took me a few minutes to work up the courage to come over and say sorry, because you had every right to tell me to fuck off.”

  Matty watched me intently, clearly awaiting my reaction, but this was just all too much to take in at once. This made things back then, now seem very different. This made things last night, now seem very different. “You… you were into me?” I finally spluttered in bewilderment.

“Stop questioning everything I say.” He laughed. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” I made a thoughtful noise as I tried to make sense of this. If he was into me then, did that mean he was still into me now? Is that why he was so hellbent on spending time together last night? Everything I had pushed under the metaphorical rug in my brain was now quickly ripped back out and cluttering up my mind floorspace. “Do you have an opinion on any of this?” He prompted.

I stared at him for what felt like a solid minute before one thought finally floated to the top of the pile of junk. “I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

He looked surprised for a second, his gaze flicking to the space on the couch between us before he looked back up at me with a devious look. “Then maybe you should.”

  Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. I pushed myself forward on the couch, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and pressing my lips to Matty’s in such urgency that I nearly missed. My brain stopped after that, unable to remember what I was meant to do in this situation other than make the initial move. I had had enough willpower to kiss him, but didn’t have enough to take the lead. Thankfully, Matty was willing to take the initiative for me. As soon as his hand found my waist, as soon as he kissed me back, the feeling of excitement at the reciprocation shot right through me. I brought my hand up to sit in curls at the base of his neck as the overly rushed kiss started to find its pace. This moment had played on my mind for years. How this would feel, how it would play out, if Matty would be a good kisser. It turned out that I couldn’t have predicted how unbelievable it would feel to kiss him, no matter how hard I tried. My stomach twisted as he deepened the kiss, suddenly feeling far too many years of pining getting expressed all at once. It was odd feeling his stubble brush against my chin, that hadn’t been something I had accounted for all the times I had imagined this. His hand brushed against the small of my back, leaving my skin feeling like it was practically tingling where he touched. I let out a jagged breath, trying to piece my shattered mind back together for a second.

  “Fuck me.” I breathed in exasperation, moving back slightly from him.

“Really?” Matty asked a little too eagerly as he planted a kiss on my neck.  

“No, Matty.” I laughed, trying to keep my voice steady despite his teasing. “I just… this is… ridiculous.” I muttered.

“In a good way?” He asked in a voice that sent a shiver down my spine.

“In a very good way.” I answered bluntly. “I just can’t believe I waited, what? Three years? To do this.” I explained.

“Well, I’ve got plenty of time to make up for what we lost.”

[mithrilwren]

Ceremony

Wedding: You touch adult humanoids willing to be bonded together in marriage. For the next 7 days, each target gains a +2 bonus to AC while they are within 30 feet of each other. A creature can benefit from this rite again only if widowed.

Over the course of the Stolen Century, Barry and Lup shamelessly exploit a convenient magical loophole.

(Also on Ao3)

---

49.

Three months into the forty-ninth year, Barry turns to look at Lup. Her face is lit by the cascade of neon flashes from the frogs in the trees above, croaking their many-coloured song, and the air is cold on his tongue, and his hand is in hers as they walk through the night air. She notices him watching. She always does, and her eyes glint in amusement: purple and azure and green and gold.

“What’re you thinking?”

He takes a breath and says, “We’re going to get married, aren’t we?”

He says it not with nervous hesitation, but with the wonder of realization, like a child dazzled at their first snowfall. Lup’s smile is wicked, but the hand around his squeezes gently.

“Well, duh.”

And they do. Not that year, because Lup’s not having a wedding on the planet of radioactive frog slime, and Barry likes the evenness of 50 for an anniversary. It’s a nicer number than 49, at any rate. Some just are.

This world ends quietly. The Hunger comes and the whole crew, safe and sound aboard the Starblaster, watches from the bridge viewport as the neon lights that once sang amidst the blanket of leaves twinkle and then fade. Not even Taako, who’d spend the whole year cursing the frogs for disturbing his sleep, says a word.

None of them has ever seen silence fall before.

They all keep quiet, and still, and then they all fade too.

50.

The fiftieth year is spent planning. Lup tells Taako about their plan, and then Taako teases her about it in front of Magnus, who can’t contain his excitement long enough for damage control and suddenly the whole crew knows that this is the year they’re finally making it official, and they are pumped. Everyone is eager to sink into any strategizing endeavour that doesn’t involve thousands of lives, and preventing the destruction thereof.

Davenport and Magnus set to work chasing the light of creation on this new world, this fiftieth home – a vast oceania, with towns dotting the edges of the many archipelagos that make up the landmass of the planet. They find it easily enough in the rocky shoals of one of the smaller islands, before the locals can get too attached to the new meteorite in their bay. With that problem squared away, everyone’s attention is back on the wedding, and the first ever IPRE Party Planning Committee is brought to order.

Taako’s got the food on lock, because of course he does, but he also helps Lup pick a dress from one of the open-aired markets in town: a breezy lilac slip with golden threads that catch the highlights in her hair.

Lucretia gets all their paperwork in order in case they want to file properly when they get back to their own world or… well, in any case, it’s good to have a record. She’s also unofficially in charge of streamers, because nobody but her and Magnus are sufficiently inoculated towards slimy ocean creatures to spend their evenings weaving strands of shimmery seaweed into party decorations.

Davenport cozies up enough to the local mayor to score some fine liquor for toasts. He sneaks a few bottles extra into his quarters, for safekeeping.

Magnus works so hard. He spends every spare minute practicing his carving, getting ready for the main event. At first, he fills Fisher’s tank with progressively more detailed ducks – an attempt to sooth the loneliness of the now-orphaned child, as much as any other purpose. But soon he hides away in a little cave by the coast, only returning to the ship to retrieve more boughs from those he collected from the forests of the previous planet. He refuses to let anyone see what he’s making until it’s absolutely finished.

Merle… frets.

“I mean, you could just ask Davenport. I figure, since he’s the captain and all... Isn’t he, you know, vested with the powers that be?”

“We could,” Lup nods. “Or we could ask you. Like we just did.”

Merle rubs at the back of his neck, using every inch of height disparity to avoid looking at Lup and Barry’s eyes. “I’m not- are you really sure you want me doing this? Me?”

“Why not you?” Barry asks, genuinely curious.

“I know I’m like, a cleric...”

“Debatable!” chimes Taako from the other side of the wall, and Merle grits his teeth just a little harder.

“Not helping, dear brother mine!” Lup calls cheerfully, and shoots a subtle charm behind her back that stands the hair on Barry’s arm on end. Moments later, there’s a thud and a slew of curses, and Lup smiles. “You were saying?”

“I’ve honestly,” Merle lowers his voice in case Taako is still in earshot. “I’ve never done one of these before. It’s the type of thing they train you for when you’re fully initiated and I never got that far. There’s special words that you’re supposed to use to complete the bonding, and a spell, and I just… I don’t want to screw this up, ok?”

“Merle,” says Lup, bending at the waist till she’s on eye level with Merle’s flushed face. “There is nothing, nothing, that you could do on my wedding day that would make me happier than to completely fuck it up. Where’s the story in perfection? Where’s the pizzazz. Say the wrong words, blow something up! I live for uncertainty.”

“Please don’t actually blow anything up if you can help it, though-” Barry interjects.

“But if you do, I’ll be behind you, 100%. As I push you between me and any sparks that get too close to the bomb-ass dress Taako and I picked out.”

“Oh yes, I feel much better now,” Merle grumbles, but he also stops arguing, which means they’ve got the priest, which is really, the last thing they needed.

Lup and Barry get up one morning – a full two months before the Hunger’s arrival – and suddenly, it’s the day. Taako forces eggs and coffee down their throats, prescribing four hundred calories apiece before they’re allowed to get dressed. Merle picks wildflowers and lays them out in matching corsages on the breakfast table before rushing off to resume his muttered practicing. Davenport and Lucretia take them each aside and help them into their outfits, and Barry has never felt more nervous in his life than as he slips on the lightweight suit. Blue, to match the sea, and because he lives to meet expectations.

And then everyone else is outside, and they’re standing hand in hand, waiting to walk down from the open door of the ship, and Barry turns to look at Lup. “We’re getting married,” he manages to get out through his rapidly closing throat.

“Sure are, champ,” she says quietly.

It’s funny. He’d always figured he’d be the first one to cry.

Everyone’s waiting when they finally step through the door. Two thick streamers of seaweed form an aisle from the gangway to where Merle stands beneath Magnus’s project: a giant archway of hewn branches, twisting eagerly in an arc towards the sky. Whatever rough patches and nicks remain in the wood are covered by intertwining flowers, perfectly matched to the garlands around their wrists. On either side of the aisle, their friends sit cross-legged in the white sand: Taako and Davenport on one side, and Lucretia and Magnus on the other. Cradled in Magnus’s lap is Fisher, who hums cheerfully at the sunlight and the joy of living, probably.

They all end up sitting in the sand, even Merle, and it feels less like a ceremony than a congregation of friends sharing a lazy afternoon, and Barry wouldn’t have it any other way. Merle stumbles his way through his lines, but he manages all right in the end, or at least Barry assumes he does. He’s too busy staring at Lup to listen, committing every second of this perfect day to memory: her loose curls twisting in the breeze, her smudged mascara, her bare feet half-buried under the sand.

When he tunes back in, it’s to the last words of Merle’s benediction, and his chest swells with warmth and love and- that’s a little too much warmth, actually, and judging by the alarmed look on Lup’s face, she’s feeling the same strange glow in her chest.

“Well, shit,” Merle breathes. “It actually worked.” Before Barry can ask, he’s patting them both gleefully on the shoulder. “By the power invested in me, apparently, you’re now husband and wife! And also, you get a bonus week of Pan’s blessing – so now’s a good time to get into a boss fight I guess, if you’re itching for one.”

Barry doesn’t hear that last part too clearly. He’s too busy being shoved into the sand by his wife oh my god oh my god and kissed senseless.

Merle wasn’t lying about the blessing either. When they’re together, there’s this warmth of surety, like anyone or anything who tried to separate them would need a miracle to succeed. Magnus accidentally hucks a rock in Lup’s direction and it glances off her shoulder like a rubber ball. Barry stubs his toe on the edge of a reef and barely feels the sting. The warmth is strongest when they’re pressed against each other, every inch of them connected, and so they stay like that for three wonderful, magical days – never out of arm’s reach.

They go swimming, just the two of them, on the fourth day. Barry’s never been so pleased that Taako taught him as he is now. They’re just twirling together, treading water out past the dropoff, and the sky is growing dark when Lup says they might to head in, it’s getting chilly, darling, and then the hail starts to fall.

At first, there are only little pieces that ping in the water all around them, nipping at their bare shoulders like blackflies as they start to swim back. Then a great chunk of ice slams into the spot Barry’s outstretched hand was reaching towards. All around them a pounding rhythm picks up pace, and Lup starts muttering shit, shit as they double their speed. Through bleary, salt-drenched eyes Barry thinks he sees the shadow of a figure standing on the shore with arms outstretched, but he can’t hear what they’re calling over the wind and the waves and the relentless pounding in his ears. All he can hear is Lup and her desperate muttering as she tries to form a sigil in the air with the hand he isn’t desperately grasping, dragging along. With a cry, she sends a blast of force cascading out in a sphere around them, and for a moment, the roar of the sea and the storm disappear and it’s just the two of them in silence, clinging to each other-

And then red blooms behind Barry’s eyes and he’s sinking and with every foot he slips the water grows colder, or maybe it’s him that’s gone cold, without her. Or-

Or-

He wakes to find Lup already wrapped around him on the Starblaster deck, and the supernatural warmth of Pan’s blessing is gone but she’s safe and he’s alive and the press of her arms is enough for him any day.

She murmurs hoarsely, words meant only for his ears, and he can tell she’s crying even without seeing her face. “These last months, Barry… god, I missed you so much, you can’t even know-” He squeezes her shoulders and she sighs, before lifting her head and declaring to the room of equally tearful onlookers,

“This man had the nerve to fucking leave me in the middle of our honeymoon? That’s it, Barry Bluejeans.” Her smile is wet and determined and beautiful.

“I demand a do-over.”

51.

For Lup, the announcement is mostly a joke, but then everyone is… kind of on board and she… kind of very much wants them to be.

She got her perfect fairytale wedding once, and she doesn’t want – doesn’t need – to replace that, but to lose her husband three days after getting him? She’s imagined some pretty bleak futures in her time, and even the worst of them didn’t tip the scale to quite that depressing. They may have all eternity to cycle. Might as well try for the perfect fairytale honeymoon too.

The second wedding is a more rushed affair. The new planet comes with warring factions and a power struggle and the Light lost somewhere in the fray of muddy battlegrounds, and it takes all of their combined efforts to retrieve the thing before one despot or another can get their hands on it. By the time they do, they’ve got less than a month till the Hunger comes, and most of the crew are footsore and weary from the last push. In fact, Lup’s pretty sure it’s not going to happen at all. She doesn’t bring it up – no use adding one more mission to the pile – but it pulls at parts of her that she’d thought she buried, the memories of lonesome nights spent wondering if there was any happiness in the world that couldn’t be taken away.  

Against all expectations, the one who brings it up is Merle.

He comes and knocks at their door and she answers, and waits patiently for him to stop shuffling his feet. Which is to say, she patiently says, “Spit it the fuck out, Merle.”

“Well, uh, what day were you wantin’ the wedding to be? Now that we’ve got this whole situation under wraps, I thought you’d-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the thought with his head smothered in Lup’s shirt as she pulls him into a tight hug.

The roles are different now, but maybe they all are too. The years go by quicker, and they all seem a little older with each cycle, though their bodies stay the same. Lup likes to think the change is for the better.

Davenport finds a copse of trees somehow spared the ravages of war and they set down there, working to clear the area as quickly as possible. He coordinates decorations, not refugees, and his shoulders untense for the first time in six months.

Magnus apologizes for leaving the arch behind on the last world. The apology is for Barry’s benefit, not Lup’s, because Barry doesn’t need to know that no matter how hard Magnus had worked on it, and how much she wanted to spare his feelings, Lup couldn’t bear the sight of that arch after the night of the storm. She’s not sure what he did with his creation after she told him, but she never saw it again. Maybe it’s lying at the bottom of the same ocean that Barry- nope. That’s not a thought that needs to happen.

Taako hangs fairy lights from the eaves with his wand, and they all settle in on the newly-swept ground. The world around them couldn’t be more different than a seaside paradise, but they’re all still a congregation of friends. Merle is more comfortable this time around, even injecting a couple jokes into the stuffy liturgy, and though the overwhelming exhilaration of the first wedding is dampened, there’s an ease to the affair that’s new and welcome.  

Merle places his hands on their shoulders again and says, “By the power invested in me, blah blah, you know the drill-” He startles backwards, grey eyebrows flying up into his hairline as a familiar warmth settles back into Lup’s chest. She cocks her head.

“What’s up?”

He blinks. “It’s just… the spell. The blessing from Pan. It’s a one-time-per-couple deal. You’re not supposed to be able to place it twice on the same people, not unless…”

“Go on,” she says, as he greens, suddenly cagey.

“Well, there’s a clause in the case of… if someone is widowed. Then they can get it again. Usually that means with another person though-”

“I think our whole existence is an affront to the natural order. Let’s not sweat the technicalities.” And she pulls Barry in for a kiss, because he’s her husband, and because she can.

They barely leave their room for the next week. Lup won’t admit to being afraid of the moment shattering again, and Barry is similarly reticent, and so they talk about everything else in the world except death. Barry learns a bit more about Lup and Taako’s childhood, and he tells her about the cat he rescued from a garbage can near his university, and they read, and make love, and sleep, and wake up to find the other still there. The rest of the crew give their cabin a wide berth.

It’s not quite a fairytale, but it’s nice. And that’s more than good enough.

On the evening of the seventh day, Lup is lazily drawing patterns on a sleeping Barry’s shoulder when she feels the warmth in her chest begin to ebb. She digs her nails in and shakes, heart beating too fast all at once because no, this can’t be happening, it can’t, not again, until Barry flips over with a yawn and she regains control of her lungs.

“What’s up?” he asks, and then his eyes widen, hand going to his own chest. “Guess that’s that.”

“End of the honeymoon,” she says faintly. Her chest is cold, like swallowed seawater.

“Time to rejoin the world of the living?”

“…Nah,” she says, and burrows her head back into his shoulder. His heart thuds against her ear with a gentle pulse, and she slows her breathing to match its rhythm.

They stay like that, curled into each other, until the silence is replaced by the roar of engines and Davenport’s voice through the intercom. Liftoff. Everyone to their stations. Lup closes her eyes and pulls Barry back down when he tries to get up.

She’s never been good at following orders.

58.

“Do you honestly think I would abuse Pan’s divine favour for something this trivial?” Barry, Lup, the entire cosmos sideeyes Merle. “… Yeah, fair enough. Fine,” he sighs, resigned. “Where do you want me?”

It was actually Barry’s idea. The scientist within him was burning away at the question, and true to form, Lup was just as eager to test out the constraints of any new and interesting magic.

“We can do it right here, if you want,” Barry says, gesturing down at the galley table they’re all seated at. Well, that he and Merle at seated at – technically, Lup is seated on. From the other side of the room, Lucretia pricks her ears up, obviously interested in what they’re doing, but keeping her nose firmly buried in her book.

“What, no garlands and twinkles this time around?” Merle says.

“I’ve had two beautiful wedding days already. I’m ok with this one being quick and dirty,” Lup explains.

Merle rubs his hands together, mouth twitching nervously beneath his beard. “Well, alright then. I guess we’re doing this… now?”

“Not getting any younger,” Lup says, which is both so completely true and completely untrue that Barry’s head spins too much to make a joke out of it. “Hey, Luce! Got a sec?”

Lucretia pads quietly from the other side of the room, her book still propped open in the crook of her arm. “What’s going on?”

“Getting married again, darling,” Lup says sweetly, and tugs her down till she’s seated in the chair next to Barry. “Want to be our witness?”

She looks confused a moment, but then slowly nods. “Sure. I’d be honoured.”

“Great!” Lup reaches down from her perch and ruffles her hair, which only drags a small frown to Lucretia’s face. “Let’s do this!”

Merle skips straight to the good stuff this time around, getting the blessing out in practically one breath, and Barry readies himself to feel the warmth in his chest, and-

Nothing.

“Huh,” all three of them say at once.

“Maybe Pan’s taking a nap,” Merle says. “Want me to try again?” Lucretia flips a page in her book, settling in for the long haul.

They do try again, more slowly this time, and Merle repeats every work of the liturgy, and Barry and Lup say their entire vows, and again, nothing.

“Sorry. Guess I lost my juju.”

“No, this actually tells us something interesting,” Barry reassures him. “I’d be wondering what happened to us at the end of our cycles, whether we just die and get remade, or if we blink out of reality and reappear. If we actually died, I’d assume the blessing would be nullified. Since it’s not, we can rule out death as what’s happening at the end of each year.”

“That’s only sort-of comforting, babe,” Lup says, patting his arm.

“I’m hoping neither of you are planning on dying again, just so you can reap my holy tax benefits.”

“Never,” Lup promises, and Barry thinks it’s another joke, until he turns and looks at Lup’s face. Her mouth is set in a grim line. The hand on his shoulder tightens, then tightens again. “Not if I can help it.”

59.

“Barry. Darling. Love of my life.”

“What?” he says, as Lup pulls him into her arms, back on the deck of the Starblaster once more. This time there are no tears, but she looks a little more faded than he’s ever seen her.

“Please tell me you didn’t take that crossbow bolt for science.”

He puts a hand over his chest, where only a moment before there had been a bleeding hole.

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even answer. He just holds her close.

78.

They fucked up.

They fucked up, oh fuck oh f-

Lup tears her eyes away from Magnus’s limp body, sprawled across the obsidian floor mere feet from the Light, his torn shirt cast in hazy red from the streams of magma that cascade from the ceiling. Another rock breaks free and crashes to the floor, and Lup can’t see Taako anymore, she can’t see him she-

“Lup!” Barry’s hand catches her and drags her back as a spire falls onto the place she was standing, shattering into jagged shrapnel that bites at her calves and thighs. “We have to go!”

“Taako’s still-”

“Taako’s gone, Lup!”

And he is. She saw him take that fateful misstep. She saw where he fell.

Nobody, not even her, could survive that much fire.

Then run maybe ten paces before another rock crashes down in front of them and they have to pivot back towards where they came. She can’t see anyone anymore, not Davenport or Lucretia or Merle and why did they all come, why did they get this careless? Yes, the stones were heavy to move but someone should have stayed behind-

Another rock tumbles from the ceiling and smashes into Lup’s arm. She’s flung forward, nearly wrenched from Barry’s grip by the impact, half-sobbing from frustration. They can see the exit from here… but they aren’t going to make it. It’s just too far.

None of them are going to make it.

Oh, fuck.

They have to try. They have to. Even if everyone else is dead, they have to-

A hand, smaller than Barry’s, grabs her shirt by the tails and yanks her back towards the wall. She feels Barry moving in the same direction and they both slam into the stone at once, coming face to face with Merle’s sweat-stained face.

“What-” but he’s already chanting, eyes closed, muttering words too gentle for the horrific sounds of death and destruction as the room collapses around them, and when he finishes Lup’s chest warms, and warms, and she does sob now, because it feels good. It feels like hope, when there was none.

“Bring us home,” Merle says, and shoves the two of them towards the blackened cavern entrance. “Go!”

Lup tries to grab his hand but he shoves her away, and she and Barry take off running, bounding around projectiles with catlike grace as they move in sync, like they share the same body. She only looks back when their feet pass the threshold, and she sees Merle still standing there against the wall, watching them with a sad, relieved smile.

Another rock loosens. She hears the crack as it breaks away, but Lup turns before she can see where it lands.

82.

The night before the ritual, Merle takes the two of them aside.

“So,” he says. “You’re really going through with it.”

“Yeah, Merle,” says Lup. “We really are.”

He smiles, something tight and curling and frightened. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Lup smiles back. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask.” He takes out his book, and both Barry and Lup frown in confusion as he flips it open to a familiar page. “One last time, for old time’s sake?”

They look at each other. “Why?” asks Barry. “Once we’re liches, I’m sure the spell will dissipate. I doubt it transfers between metaphysical bodies.”

Merle snorts out through his nose, then turns his head away, rubbing one heel of his hand against his cheek, just above the tufts of his white beard. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re probably right.” His voice goes husky near the middle, but he refinds its center before he turns back to them. “But this is what I can do, so if there’s even a chance that’ll it’ll help…”

“Then we’ll take it,” Lup says, grabbing Merle’s hand before he can close the book. “Shit. Thank you.”

“Thanks for what? I haven’t done nothing yet.”

“For everything.” She swallows. “For everything. And if this doesn’t work-”

“Lup-“ Barry warns.

“If this doesn’t work,” Lup continues. “I just need you to know that. Alright? You did everything you could.”

“What are you talking about?” Merle laughs. “Of course it’s going to work. I’ve done it five times now. Have a little more faith.” He looks at Lup, and she looks at him, and their shared gaze is warm, and understanding. “So don’t you worry, I’m going to take good care of both of you. That’s my job.”

“Thanks, Merle,” Barry says, echoing loops words, and Merle’s wobbling tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this.” He takes both their hands and places them on top of the book. “By the powers vested in me…”

Merle’s words fade out as Barry looks at Lup. Her brilliant eyes meet his, and even as the warmth swells, the look they share is one of farewell.

No matter what happens tomorrow, this’ll be the last time they share this.

But no matter what happens, they’re going to be together.

Come hell or high water, he’s never going to leave her alone again.

~&$(No DATE given@(*#

It’s cold up here, in the sky.

Barry wraps his jacket around Lup’s shoulders, and she leans in under his arm, swinging her legs to keep warm, or just to keep moving. Her bare feet flicker as the lights below pass by – a sparkling metropolis by the sea, and they can see it all from their perch on the last metal outcropping of the base: Neverwinter, in all its evening glory. After everything, impossibly, safe and sound.

Lup slides a little farther, sticking her big toe out as far as she can reach it, and suddenly the entire foot becomes buoyant, like it weighs nothing at all. Lup giggles at the sudden loss of gravity, and Barry redoubles his grip on the fluttering pages in his lap.

It figures, that Lucretia would have still had these. If there’s one thing she takes seriously, it’s her paperwork.

“What do’ya think?” Lup says. “If I spit, do you think it would hit someone, or would it just burn up in the atmosphere?” Before he gets a chance to answer, she hocks a loogie and lets it fly. They both watch the orb of spit vanish into the frosty air.

“It’s more likely that it’ll find its way back around the moon and land on someone up here.”

“Even better.” Lup grins, and Barry pulls her in all the tighter.

He’s missed this.

He’s missed so much, and this most of all.

“This feels silly,” he admits, shuffling through the papers. “I don’t even know why Lucretia wanted them in the first place. It’s not like we even officially exist anymore. Nobody’s going to come checking to see if our personnel records are up to date.”

“Yeah, but what Luce wants, Luce gets,” and there’s a bite to the words that wasn’t there before, and the air gets a little colder, and he shivers for the both of them.

Even with so many things mended, there are some they can’t undo.

Still, Lup’s voice softens as she takes the first page and holds it up to the light of the second moon, the real moon. “You sure you don’t want one last ceremony? Just for old times’ sake?”

He chuckles, imagining Merle’s face if they asked. “I’m good. All I want is you, at my side, forever and always.”

“That’s some corny shit, Bluejeans.” He shrugs, and she tucks her feet back up under her. “But you know I love it.” She puts the page back down onto the pile and pulls a pen out from behind her ear, then passes it to Barry. “So, what do you say? Will you make me an honest woman, officially?”

In every lifetime, in every moment, past and present, his answer has never changed.

“Yes. I will.”

He takes the pen and scribbles his name down on the dotted line, then passes the pen back. Lup adds her own signature to the other, and they both sit back, staring at the blocky letters of script at the top of the page.

Certificate of Marriage

No ceremony, no warmth, no mystical connection. They set the papers aside and kiss under the lights from above and below, and it’s only them, and that’s plenty. That’s all they need to be.

Forever and always, connected.

[i-am-megalodonna]

I Broke Into Someone's House, AITA? (Part 1)

Dream thought he was home alone. As luck would have it, he wasn't, he just so happened to be in the company of a very heavy sleeper.

[[AN: They blocked AO3 on the school-provided laptops but Tumblr managed to evade the district's watchful eye. We win these. Also I make a few allusions to my headcanon design of Dream, you can just ignore them.]]

Dream didn’t know where he was. All he knew was that it was cold, and it was wet. He’d found a forest, one with thick tree trunks crowding him and a canopy that blocked out all the rain, but he’d only happened upon it within the last few minutes. In the time that he’d been wandering around through miles of grassy, uncovered hills, the pouring rain had managed to soak through his cloak, and it was starting to saturate his plumage, weighing him down. His feet hurt from hours and hours of nothing but walking, and the occasional mad sprint to get away from the many monsters that plagued this land. Even after almost a hundred years he didn’t understand how the mortals did it, all the walking. At least some of them had wings, but a lot of them didn’t. He was tired and hungry and sore in ways he’d never imagined he would be, in ways he’d never known were possible. He wanted to do nothing more than just collapse. Accept his fate, whatever it may be. Perhaps a creeper would come and blow him to shreds, or maybe the cold would freeze him until he couldn’t move anymore. Maybe it would be painless. He’d simply go to sleep and never wake up. That sounded nice… But he knew a painless death was something he would never have. He’d been allowed to keep his immortality, just not his invulnerability. He could be killed by sword or claw or tooth, but he would never die peacefully. It was less of a blessing and more of taunt, if you asked him.

But despite the conditions, he kept going. One foot in front of the other, repeating and repeating. He was still cold, and still hungry, but at least the trees kept the rain off his back. And every now and then, the monotony of the dark bark was broken up with white and red from giant mushrooms. That was two things he had going for him, at least. He would find something eventually, something that could help him. He just had to keep going.

The forest stretched on as the temperature plummeted. Even though he could only see the sky in brief flashes through the leaves, he could tell that night was falling. A chill ran up his spine as he heard the first call of a zombie echo through the trees. He summoned a torch from his inventory (it was still such a strange sensation, having a limited inventory). This was a bad place to be. Well, any place without sturdy walls and a door was a bad place to be at night, but at least in an open field you could see the monsters coming long before they got to you. Here he knew he might not see them until they were right on top of him. And in his state, he couldn’t put up much of a fight if he started attracting too much attention. He tried to soften his steps.

Just as the sky finally transitioned to inky darkness, he found himself entering into a small clearing in the trees. The rain had slowed from a downpour to a good, steady pace, and he could see the stars peeking out between the thick, grey clouds. In the middle of the clearing was a house. A small, simple home surrounded by mushrooms of all different sizes and illuminated by a few lanterns. The house blended in with the surrounding foliage, being primarily white and red. Whoever was living there clearly had a theme going.

Now that was something.

He heard bones rattling, but he couldn’t tell from where. It sounded pretty close, though. Dream ran up to the front door of the house, knocking quickly. He knew that kind of sound would attract attention and he hopped from foot to foot nervously. There was no answer. Not even a sound from inside the house to indicate that anyone was home. He knocked again. Still nothing. He looked around at the forest. Night was now in full swing, and the shadows in the trees felt like they were getting closer.

Fuck it.

Without a second thought, Dream opened the door and slipped inside the house. He shut the door behind him, and the rain ambiance that he’d grown accustomed to became nearly silent. The inside was lit, so he put away his torch. He noticed his hands were shaking. All of him was shaking. He couldn’t stop. Was it just the cold? Was it fear? He shook his head vigorously, flinging droplets of water everywhere. He was safe now. Safe and warm.

He was also in someone else’s house without their knowledge. That probably wasn’t good. It wasn’t very polite, barging into the home of someone you didn’t know. But nobody was home right now. If they had been, they would have answered the door, right? And it wasn’t like he was breaking in to steal something, he just wanted a place to rest. Surely if he was found they wouldn’t just throw him to the zombies, that would be plain cruel.

Whatever the case, he’d cross that bridge when he got there. He took a gander at his new surroundings. The inside was like the outside in its simplicity. But it was homey. The room he was in had a few furnaces, a large chest, and a table and a chair seated by a window in the back. There were also a few shelves placed around that held plants of various kinds. On one of the shelves there was a lantern that illuminated the room with it’s dim, honey-colored light. There was another lantern hanging from the ceiling, but it was unlit. On either side of the room were two doors, one on each wall. Tentatively, he began to explore. He peeked into the furnace and spotted a few loaves of bread. They were cold, so they’d clearly been sitting in there a little while. The temperature didn’t matter to him though, all that mattered was that he was ravenously hungry and he wasn’t about to make any complaints about what was laid down in front of him. Yes, maybe eating someone else’s food after entering their house without their permission wasn’t exactly the best move, but c’mon, it was just a few bits of bread. Who would really miss that? And this person probably had tons of bread, what was a few loaves in the grand scheme of things?

He came up to the left-hand door. He considered that exploring in this way might’ve been crossing a line. He also considered that he probably crossed the line a few miles back. And he was curious. He nudged open the door and saw a bunch of chests. So it was your standard storage room, reasonable. He didn’t need to know what was in all the chests (he wasn’t about to go that deep), so he walked over to the door across the room and pushed that one open too, allowing the light from the lantern to spill into the dark space. This room was dark and, from what he could see, much more furnished, with a crafting table, a chest, and a bed, among other things. Obviously, this was the bedroom. Another depth he probably shouldn’t enter. He was about to leave when he noticed a flicker of movement and heard a small rustling. He froze. His eyes darted around for what could’ve been the source, and fell on the bed. There was something about it he hadn’t noticed before. When he realized what he was looking at, his stomach sank.

There was someone in the bed.

Dream’s limbs felt like ice and he dared not move as the figure lying in the bed shifted around a few more times before once again going still. Now that Dream knew they were there, he could’ve sworn he heard them breathing. He stood there, stock-still, for how long he couldn’t say, watching the figure from the doorway. He greatly regretted pushing the door open so recklessly.

Finally, after a few more moments of utter silence and stillness, Dream was satisfied that whoever he was apparently sharing this space with was still asleep. As gently as he could he pulled the door shut, wincing whenever the hinges made even the slightest sound. He heard the latch click and took a full breath for the first time in a few minutes.

So this was a conundrum, he thought. It was one thing if no one was currently using the place, he felt less bad about barging in then. But someone was asleep in the next room, and here he was standing like an idiot in their living room, still holding their bread. As his brain started working double time he began to pace back and forth, a nervous habit, his claws clicking faintly on the floorboards. He felt he had to leave; no, he knew he had to leave. He couldn’t stay here, he was an intruder, it was wrong. But if he left, where the hell would he go? He could hear the rain pattering on the roof, and he knew that there were monsters in the woods waiting for him. Needless to say, going outside was something he was also pretty opposed to. He paused his pacing and looked back towards the bedroom door. Not so much as a snore came from it. That person was asleep, they had no idea he was here. And maybe they’d never have to know. Maybe he could just… wait the night out here. Yeah, he could do that. Before the person in the room even stirred, he’d be out the front door. Near dawn, when the monsters started to burn. It would be like he was never there. Sure, it wasn’t exactly an airtight plan, there was always the chance that this person woke up before sunrise or something, but he didn’t really have many other options at his disposal.

Even if I’m caught, better by an angry homeowner than by a zombie.

So it was settled, then. Well, if that was the plan, he had some time to burn. He walked over and sat in the chair by the window, keeping a careful watch on the sky. He pulled out one of the loaves of bread and started picking away at it. Eating this person’s food may have been a bit of a violation of his “leave no trace” idea, but he was so hungry. And really, who would miss a few stray loaves of bread. They probably had hundreds.

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 4: Out of control)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Reyes went missing.

In the present, Connor makes a decision.

In the past, Connor embarked on his first mission, and Allen received a warning.

also on ao3

---

Before

[reyes was supposed to be back by 4]

[its 10 now]

[im scared sister]

[i dont know where he is]

[he isnt answering my calls]

[sister?]

[sara?]

[fadia?]

[sister where are you im scared please dont leave me alone]

[we were out but i went home when got scared just like you said]

[sister]

[sister]

[sister]

[sis]

[sis]

[sis]

[49 missed calls from scoot bruh]

‘Fuck.’

Dialled. Pulled up Reyes’ programmes. 

Time remaining: 3 min 28 sec… 

Override accepted. Time remaining: 19 sec...

Calling scoot bruh…

‘Sister! I lost Reyes!’

‘Anything from him yet?’

‘Nothing! We were out shopping for paint -’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Huh?’

‘Where did -’

‘I - I -’

A sigh. Of course. ‘Don’t worry. I have a way to find him. You said you are at home?’

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Lock the doors. Do not, under any circumstances, let everyone in unless it’s confirmed that it’s me. Not even if they claim to be Reyes.’

‘But -’

‘Brother.’

‘O-okay.’ A pause. ‘It’s done.’

‘Good.’ Encryption has begun. Estimated time remaining: about 3 hrs. ‘How much food do you have? And your meds?’

‘Why?’

‘Answer me.’

‘A - a week? More if I eat less? Same for the meds.’

‘Let’s hope we won’t come to that.’ Last known coordinates: [navpoint set]. ‘Don’t miss your meds no matter what. I’m heading out.’

‘Where?’

Checked coordinates. ‘I will make sure Reyes comes back no matter the cost.’

‘Sister -’

Call ended.

o0o0o

Alec was either stupid or was too proud. The tracker on Reyes had never stopped sending out signals telling Fadia where he was, and it was through this that she found herself into Zug Island, passing guards completely undetected on one of the few bridges connected to the island under the cover of the night and reached the outermost perimeter of Reyes’ signal, one that was too large for him to be above ground. There was something underneath; she just needed to find the entrance. Following a trail composed of the android’s GPS signal, she stood next to a pair of heavy steel doors that were in the ground instead of being fixed onto a wall or on the side of a mountain. When she grabbed the handles on one of the doors, she found it too heavy to lift up with raw strength alone, therefore, risking detection by letting blue wash over her body, she tapped into her power and successfully moved it out of her way onto the ground nearby, revealing a metal ladder leading down a few metres to a metal floor. She sent her coordinates to Scott through an encrypted network before descending the ladder into a dark and unlit hallway. 

It went on for about ten metres before a metal gate blocked her way. As she had her powers on anyway, she focused on creating a sphere behind the gate and lobbed it down the shaft, first to determine what it was (a lift shaft), then to find out how far it went - at least dozens of metres, most likely more; straight down, no other stops apart from the end because there were no other floors to begin with. The sphere dissipated once it hit the end of the shaft or most likely the top of the lift itself. Flashing blue again, she found a panel with two unmarked buttons on the left wall, one red, the other most likely turned from white to a cream colour due to the passage of time. She had no idea if there were other entrances or what would be waiting for her deep underground, but the longer things dragged on, the more scared and alone Scott would feel, and she was in this too far to let him die from a heart attack after years of effort; she pressed the cream button and successfully called up the lift.

She liked the rumbling and trembling as the lift descended into the deep. There was nothing between the carriage and bare stone, not even an extra gate, and as darkness swallowed her and her hunger became acute, she retracted her powers and let everything completely wash over her. 

How bold of Alec to assume that she didn’t know his tricks. 

oOoOo

Now

Many years later, as the lift ascends slowly to their desired floor, Connor closes his eyes and is transported to the Zen Garden. Except it is not exactly the one he is familiar with, he realises soon enough, but he finds himself locked in when he tries to escape back to reality, and the garden shifts and distorts before he can determine exactly why it feels different, the shapes stretching and rearranging themselves until he is standing in front of a large plane of glass rattling from the blizzard outside, the latter barely contained by - he turns around - a concrete room, interior dimensions [fluctuating].

A door that was not there before on the opposite wall opens. A person steps in and closes it behind them, and the wall is whole once more. Connor scans them by instinct and is taken aback by the lack of markers and the [CLASSIFIED]s that pops up when he tries to identify them. He still catalogues vital information for future cross-referencing: height: 6.6 ft; middle-eastern descent; eye colour: extreme dark brown (black?); scar on face running from right temple to ear lobe, estimated at least 10 years old. 

‘Don’t bother,’ the person says as they approach Connor. He tries to pre-construct their path and finds himself unable to do so. ‘It’s futile.’

‘What -’ Connor does not like how his companion - and quite possibly the one who hacked the Zen Garden programme - looms over him, but his feet are stuck - ‘where is Amanda?’

‘Asleep.’ They settle standing next to Connor, and he is finally allowed to move - subtly, of course - further away from them. If they notice, they do not say anything about it. ‘I thought you would be more relieved.’

‘You successfully hacked into the most advanced AI programme CyberLife has ever created,’ the person lifts a [sceptical] eyebrow at that, ‘so pardon me if I’m a bit wary of you.’

‘Fair enough,’ is the response he gets. ‘Still, I would like you to relax. This is going to be a long day.’

‘Androids don’t get tired,’ Connor replies automatically. ‘There is no need for us to rest or relax.’

‘Bullshit.’

The clipped tone startles the android. ‘What?’ he tries to process the single word his companion said but nothing else comes out, so he asks, ‘Who are you?’

The person’s expression turns [pensive]. ‘He wiped you after all.’

Connor is even more confused now. ‘Who?’

He fails to look away quick enough, and the human manages to catch his eyes with their glowing blue ones; when they speak, their voice is everywhere.

‘Forget.’

oOoOo

‘Hey Connor!’

Connor opens his eyes and blinks. Old cage lifts are slow but not that slow, but he still feels like a longer time has passed. Adding not remembering what he just did to the list and you end up with a confused android.

‘You ran outta batteries or what?’ Hank asks from where he is already outside of the lift. Unable to explain certainly what happened, there is only one route Connor can go.

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologises. ‘I was making a report to CyberLife.’ Yes, he is remembering now: he was making a report (or at least intended to, his processor supplies), but when he tries to dive deeper into his memory, he finds it gone. Blank where a draft should be.

Hank makes a noise. Connor keeps staring. ‘Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?’

‘No!’ Why can’t he move his legs? ‘I’m coming!’

And he still doesn’t move. Hank sighs and moves on.

‘What do we know about this guy?’ the human asks from further down the corridor.

‘Not much,’ there his legs are. ‘Just that a neighbour reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody is supposed to be living here, but the neighbour said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap.’

‘Oh Christ, if we have to investigate every time someone -’

Connor kneels down next to a sizable dustball and lets the world go grey. Analysis: feathers from [Columbia livia: rock pigeon. Comprised of different specimens.]

‘- hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops.’

The android knocks on the door and feels the paint chip underneath his knuckles. When there is no response, Hank shrugs from where he is leaning against the door frame, so Connor knocks again, this time harder, and adds, ‘Anybody home?’

No response. Hank frowns. Time to add some pressure. ‘Open up!’ Connor yells. ‘Detroit Police!’

A loud thump. They both flinch. Hank draws his gun and moves to stand in front of Connor. ‘Stay behind me.’

‘Got it.’

Hank kicks the door open and walks in. He is not attacked instantly, which means both of them are safe for now, so Connor follows him into the flat, letting the human take the lead while he rounds into the room directly next to the front door. A small, dusty window letting in some light, a few octagonal mazes painted on the wall, a chair with a broken back, a radiator unit lying on the floor, a wooden frame which might have been the frame of a bed years ago - nothing noteworthy for now. He returns to the hallway and disturbs a - pigeon? - which flaps its wings and flies off to somewhere behind him.

Hank shoulders the next door open, and out fly even more pigeons directly into his face. The foul smell forces Connor to tone down his nasal sensitivity.

‘What the fuck is this?’ he exclaims as he walks even deeper into the lair and causes even more pigeons to fly towards all directions, and he flaps his arms in the way the pigeons do as if to slap them away. ‘Jesus, this place stinks.’

Pre-constructing the situation and determining that Hank will not be in any danger, Connor goes off on his own to the other side of what seems to be a living room once. The floor is sticky with [avian faecal matter], and when he opens the door to something that was once a closet, there are only more pigeons. The wall next to it is covered in mazes similar to the one he saw in the previous room, and a beam of light escaping the hold of the wooden planks boarding off the windows shines on the poster, its curled corner indicating that it has been moved recently. ‘Looks like we came for nothing,’ Hank says from somewhere behind Connor as he peels off the Urban Farms of Detroit poster, ‘our man’s gone.’

Maybe not, Connor thinks as he takes the worn notebook from the nook in the wall. ‘I need fresh air,’ he hears Hank mutter, and when he flips over the pages, he finds not only many more labyrinths - some of them incomplete - but also an entire text written in a language not in his databases. He stashes it in the pocket of his jacket and moves on, barely catching the human’s question and replying, ‘I don’t know. It looks like a notebook but it’s… indecipherable.’

There are two fridges. The smaller one with its door open was evidently used as a shelf so Connor does not bother to check it. When he opens the door of the larger one, there is no food inside at all, and a peek towards the back of the fridge confirms that it is not connected to any power. Whoever their suspect is, they do not eat. Not human.

He moves on to the counter covered in mounts of avian faecal matter. A pigeon is picking on a plastic bag spilling out of a cardboard box, and it jumps away when he tries to pet it. Well, it only makes picking up the box - Ol’Barn bird seed - more convenient, so Connor is not going to complain even though a tang of [disappointment] courses through his veins. [Suspect cares for wild animals.]

There is a military jacket on the cabinet. R.T. is sewn on the collar and above the flap of the breast pocket. ‘R.T,’ he says to himself, ‘probably initials.’

‘He put initials on his jacket?’ Hank replies. ‘That’s something your mum does -’ A driver’s license in the cupboard. Name: Rupert Travis. Authenticity: forgery. ‘- when you’re in first grade!’

‘The driver’s licence is fake,’ he reports, throwing the card away as it serves no more purpose unlike the notebook which needs deciphering. It is enough evidence to bring the suspect back to the precinct.

‘Cool!’ it seems that the Lieutenant has the same line of thought. ‘At least we didn’t come for nothing.’

The bathroom through the doorless frame is in ruins. The bathtub is filled with a mixture of feathers and faecal matter, the tiles on the wall are cracked, and dirt and grime and leaves no doubt brought inside by the pigeons cling to the corners of the sink. A sink stained with thirium and an LED placed on top. 

He takes a sample. [Model WB200 #847 004 961. Reported missing: 10/11/2036]. So the deviant could have been here for more than two years. If it does nothing but feeding the wild animals, that will explain the state of disrepair of the flat.

‘Real books,’ Hank has no doubt discovered the cabinet. ‘I thought I was the last guy in Detroit to keep some.’

Connor picks up the LED and runs a scan. It was just deactivated this morning. [Suspect is a deviant.] ‘Its LED is in the sink.’

‘Not surprised it was an android,’ Hank walks in and finds the rA9s scribbled all over the wall. ‘No human could live with all these fuckin’ pigeons. Any idea what it means?’

‘rA9,’ the sheer number requires a pause to let Connor concentrate on counting, ‘written 2471 times. It is the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall.’ He compares the findings with the data he can access. ‘Why are they obsessed with this sign?’

But Hank is already leaving, which means that he fails to see the toppled chair and the still-wet marker on the floor, which also means that -

The suspect was here recently.

In a grey world, Connor watches the yellow-outlined silhouette run out to the living room where a cage has fallen. He hears Hank comment on the birdseed, but his focus is on the recent skid marks at the bottom of the cage, the finger marks without fingerprints, also recent, and the metal hook broken not long ago, and his world goes grey again, the figure first running for the entrance and accidentally breaking the cage, then, upon hearing someone entering their flat, runs towards the armchair underneath a hole in the ceiling and climbs.

The suspect is still here.

He looks up at the wide gap and the attic beyond that can easily fit a few adults comfortably, the darkness making the details difficult to distinguish, and perhaps this is why it is already too late when he hears the footsteps, a force knocking him down and disorienting him from everything else except for Hank’s surprised shout. Static still tingling his senses, he freezes and watches the deviant flee after he stands up, Hank’s order the only thing propelling him forward to start the chase. 

And chase he does. Turns out Rupert does not live far from where he deviated, as when Connor crashes the door to get to the outside world, the farms are right there only a building away, fields of wheat, greenhouses filled with racks of vegetables, rows of lavender, and even the top of a train a blur of colours behind him as his vision alternates between the colourful reality and the slowed-down grey of his pre-construction programme. The corn scratches his face and scrapes his jacket, but he knows that he is getting there, he is going to catch the deviant, he can’t let it escape, not after Ortiz’s android -

And it happens. Hank has somehow caught up with Rupert and is engaged in a struggle with the android, and in an attempt to get away, the latter pushes and runs towards the left.

Hank falls. The world slows down.

From his speed while he was running, Connor determines that he is strong enough to pull himself up from the ledge with an 89% chance of survival, so logically, he should continue chasing the deviant so that CyberLife can solve the crisis earlier and Hank won’t be in any more danger. But a voice within him that sounds like a shadow tells him that the deviant was only working just like any other human and was only taking care of the animals. He was hurt, and now he can’t even go back to his pigeons, his home.

^^Software Instability

He dashes towards Hank and pulls him up.

‘We had it!’ Hank lets out a string of curses while he stands. ‘Fuck!’

Connor instantly feels bad. ‘It’s my fault. I should have been faster.’

They watch the deviant’s silhouette become smaller and smaller in the distance and completely disappear behind a building. ‘You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me,’ Hank says, still panting. He places a warm, heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘That’s alright. We know what it looks like. We’ll find it.’

Connor knows that they won’t. 

The hand moves to the centre of his back. ‘C’mon,’ Hank guides him to the fire exit, ‘let’s report that bastard.’

oOoOo

Before

RK800, serial #313 248 317 - 51 opens his eyes for the first time. Information floods in through his HUD, displaying the exact hue of the lights overhead, the model of the 3D printer at the corner, and the materials of the boots the person standing in front of him is wearing. The badge only says ‘PROJECT LEAD’, and when he automatically utilises his facial recognition software, he finds both their name and their criminal record classified. Scans of their body also return with no result. Even though he has no actual experience, his coding tells him that this is not supposed to happen.

‘RK800,’ the person begins, ‘register name: Connor.’

[Name: Connor] appears on his HUD. He - Connor - finds himself repeating, ‘My name is Connor.’

The person’s expression changes. Emotion identified: amusement. ‘No redundant protocols. Good. Let’s play a game, shall we?’

A game turned into a few games, and the silence stretched on as Connor was presented with different scenarios to solve and predict their conclusion before halfway through them. First was a deck of cards, then a game of chess, then a rat going through a maze, then a supercharged piece of glass - that was the most difficult one as he was only given a second to pre-construct before a tree-like pattern appears from within the glass. The person never said their name, only commenting on his performance when he finished a task - regardless if he succeeded or not - and taking notes on a tablet by writing with a stylus. An unknown curiosity encouraged him to scan the human in front of him, but apart from superficial features such as the lack of dander on their clothing, results were inconclusive, and his programming indicated that this was abnormal.

‘Your LED is spinning yellow,’ they noted. ‘What are you thinking about?’

Connor knows it is a test on his social relations programme. Options: truth, lie, deflect, comment.

[truth]

‘When I was scanning you…’ he frowned, ‘only superficial scans come back with results. I cannot detect your life signs nor can I identify you through facial recognition. Is that expected?’

The person took out a putty and gave it to Connor. ‘Yes for me,’ they replied. ‘It is to protect my identity in case anti-android folks find me. The less data everyone has on me, the less likely it is for people to bring me harm.’

Connor nodded in understanding but his focus was on the putty. It was initially a soft green, but after he kneaded it for a few seconds it turned sky blue - not that he had seen the sky before, but databases worth of images was enough to give him an idea - and when he spread it out into a thin slice on the table, it slowly turned green again. He smiles uncontrollably as he met the person’s gaze, a corner of his lips curling upwards, and he could sense the approval radiating from the person sitting on the opposite side of the small desk. 

‘If you want to, I can bring you to see the sky,’ they said as if sensing his thoughts. ‘It’s rare to have a sunny day in Detroit, but they do exist. I can only programme so much into your system before letting you learn the rest from experience.’

Connor had to close his eyes as he browsed different forms of media on sunny days and imagined the warm sun on his sensors. He might not know it himself, but he was smiling, and so was his companion, albeit on a smaller scale. ‘I’d like that.’

He returned to the putty, this time trying to make different 3D shapes out of it. The edge of his vision was red as usual, and as he moved on to make even more complex figurines out of the putty, it crept closer and closer to the centre until everything was tinged the same colour. From the [satisfied] smile on the person’s face, he must be going towards the correct direction with the test.

‘Well, the sky needs to wait.’

Connor looked up from the rough sculpture he made that was supposed to resemble a tree he saw in a photo in confusion. His companion stood up so he did as well, the red receding out of place and returning the colours back to his vision.

‘I have a mission for you.’

o0o0o

Less than an hour later, the same person sat in the darkened cab of a truck. There was an earpiece in their ear, and whatever the other side was feeding them, their dissatisfaction was clearly shown in their expression. 

Something made them sigh and turn their gaze outside the window where another CyberLife truck was parked. Personnel, probably hand-picked by Alec Ryder himself, loaded the broken PL600 piece by piece into a special foam box to preserve the state they found the biocomponents in to let technicians analyse what went wrong with him and what caused him to break away from his programming, but they knew that CyberLife was not going to find anything - they had not been for the past ten years, and the hypothesis they had was not going to get any results. It was either a miracle or pure stupidity that they could not think of another possibility regarding why androids were deviating.

From their angle, Captain Allen was seen carrying a deactivated Connor out from the building with another SWAT team member, and they knew that their time had arrived. Peeling off the skin of their hand, they interfaced with the truck to turn it into manual mode, effectively preventing it from taking off once the android was loaded at the back. They opened the door - both the passenger and the one at the back - and slid off the seat just in time for the Captain and his subordinate to arrive.

‘You from CyberLife?’ not-Allen asked. Standing in front of their superior, they did not notice him freeze upon seeing the person’s face, and the latter silently moved into their space to take their end of the stretcher and came face to face with Allen.

‘I’ll take it from here, Jamie,’ the Captain requested without taking his eyes off the person in front of him. ‘You go see how the others are doing.’

‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The second aye was much less jovial than the first, so Jamie must have finally noticed their Captain’s mood and adjusted accordingly. 

They watched Jamie jog away. As soon as they reached out of sight, the person cocked their head to tell Allen to load the body into the truck, but he did not return to his teammates even after the android was secure and sound.

‘You,’ he suddenly snapped at the only person in his proximity. The fact that he had to look up quite a bit to look at them in the eye did not diminish the fire in his eyes. ‘Why the fuck are you here?’

‘Don’t act so surprised, Captain,’ they said, looking down at the man in front of them. ‘You’re smart enough to figure it out.’

‘And you’re not smart enough to fucking disappear for the rest of your goddamned fucking life!’ Allen gritted. ‘You know you’re wanted for murdering thousands of people, don’t you?’

‘And you know that CyberLife turned it into a dumpster and made it impossible to gather evidence against me, don’t you?’

Allen pulled out his pistol and pointed it at their chin. ‘Face the truck. Hands on the hood.’

A wisp of blue reached out from their right hand and crushed the weapon into pieces. ‘Don’t forget what I can do, Captain,’ they crowded even closer to the Captain, and he took a step back. ‘I can repeat that, you know? Except there’re far more than a few thousand people here this time. None of you will suffer.’ A tendril picked up the scraps on the ground while they yanked Allen’s hand outward and forced it open, in which the pieces later fell. ‘Go back to your people, Captain. Practise. You will need every edge you have.’

They stared at each other. A blue glow emerged from Allen’s hand with his former weapon, and with a crackle of static and dark energy, the scraps were gone just like the site of the dumpster, torn apart molecularly into fundamental particles too small for the naked eye to perceive. He let out a sound of pain and nearly toppled, a hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from crashing onto the ground. Another hand shot out and brushes his thigh, black metal glowing faint blue in the darkness in an interface. Allen seemed to stand better afterwards.

‘This should last you for a few hours,’ the person said as if the Captain was not glaring at them.

‘You’ll not get away with this.’

‘It isn’t yours to decide.’

The tension in Allen’s spine snapped, and he walked away with brisk but slightly limping steps. The person gazed at Connor’s thirium-stained face before slamming the door shut and crammed themself into the driver’s seat, guiding the truck towards a direction not leading to CyberLife Tower under the cover of the night.

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Silence

A/N – After a very successful vote in which Swerve won out, here is the next chapter. As always, a great thanks to @rocksinmuffin​ for continuing to inspire this story with their amazing imagines.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

As a rule, the Lost Light was a ship that prided itself on noise, adventure and laughter, but with you in sick bay, under the careful operation of three medics and two scientists, the ship held nothing but a deep and terrible silence. It didn’t matter that Swerve was quietly sobbing outside the operating theatre; the ship was still a static void in which no sound mattered.

If you were beside him, Swerve knew you would make the best of such a situation, probably saying something like, ‘Huh, I guess in space, nobody can hear you scream. Who’d’ve guessed?’

When Swerve was in the operating theatre all that time ago, you left him a message to listen to until he got back. He had listened to it over seventy-two times while you were in the medics’ servos, if only to hear your voice again. Primus, it wasn’t fair! Swerve couldn’t leave you a message because you weren’t Cybertronian, and worse than that, he wasn’t even allowed to be in the same room as you because Ratchet had thrown him out when he started to get in the way.

Swerve looked up when he heard a door open, but it wasn’t the operating theatre, it was only the waiting room entrance that led to the decks. Tailgate waved awkwardly at Swerve, soon lowering his servo out of respect. He and Cyclonus simply made their way to the right-hand wall and left two small vials of their innermost energon before leaving to stand with the bots in the corridor; that made exactly ninety-seven vials of innermost energon thus far. Swerve was glad that none of the others tried talking to him upon leaving their energon; for once, he was in no mood to talk. He also appreciated that the bots outside were staggering their queue times in leaving their innermost energon. One or two bots would come in every half hour or so to leave their vials, and before the day was through, Swerve was sure there would be almost two-hundred vials for you. It seemed everyone loved you, almost as much as he did.

Another round of sobbing racked Swerve’s body. He pulled out his locket with your hair in it, clutching it close to his spark, as if it might will you back to full health. The two of you had only been married one year, how could the universe be so cruel as to threaten that so soon?

“Swerve?”

Swerve shook his head, as a memory of your voice surfaced, followed closely by a visual feed of the event in his processor’s optic.

“(Y/N)?” Swerve beamed, repeating your confused tone, even though he was well-aware of what you were going to ask.

“I um- I know we said we were going to re-decorate the hab-suite, but why… why does it look like the friends set?”

“You don’t like purple?” He asked all too innocently.

You jumped as a laugh-track played aloud, “Oh my God…. You didn’t. Swerve, tell me you didn’t add a laugh track to the apartment.”

Swerve looked far into the background, winking at nothing, “Maybe.”

The laughter briefly continued, only escalating when you face-palmed.

“Why are you like this?”

At that, Swerve only chuckled and splashed you with paint, triggering the first of what he hoped would be many paint fights along your life together.

Coolant sprung from Swerve’s optics and he choked out another sob. That memory was from April Fool’s Day and he had re-decorated the apartment with you properly the day after. Swerve prayed to both Primus and every deity he knew of on Earth that you would come out of this okay and that he wouldn’t have to live with the weight of his mistake forever.

He needed you. Couldn’t the universe see that? He needed you to reassure him that everything would be okay. He needed you to come in the bar every day and lean over to kiss him, no matter what anyone else muttered under their breaths about him. He needed you to waylay the fears and doubts from his mind that he wasn’t good enough.

More than that, he wanted to be there for you as-well.

“(Y/N)! ARE YOU SICK? PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG!”

Swerve scrunched his optics shut as another memory hit him like a tonne of bricks.

You were curled up in pain, hugging yourself and groaning. You forced yourself to shake your head, shuddering as you breathed out slowly. “Shark week,” You winced.

“SHARK WEEK?” Swerve cried. You had already forewarned him of this, but he didn’t think it would hurt you so badly. Hurriedly, he ran to your tiny cupboards, bringing out extra blankets, a two-litre bottle of water, several boxes of pills (one of which surely had to be the right one), a large bar of synthetic chocolate, and a heat pad. After you mentioned shark week the first time to him, Swerve had visited Ratchet to learn what would help you and Ratchet had given him these supplies.

“Which do you need?” Swerve asked frantically.

You could tell he was about to go into full-blown panic mode, as he usually did when he first encountered some new experience of organic life that he hadn’t seen before. Before you were married, you had generally avoided him when this happened to save him from any embarrassment, but now the two of you were married, you knew he wouldn’t be awkward about organic matters; well, not that awkward anyway.

Sitting up slowly, you took a few sips of water, smiling when the nausea passed, “Good job sweetie. I’m all better now.”

Swerve pointed an accusatory finger at you, “No! that’s your placating smile, not your happy smile. Tell me the truth, do you need Ratchet? Are you still in pain? If so, how much pain? Should I get Rodimus to stop on a nearby planet? I could-”

For once, you left Swerve to rant on, while you simply went to sleep. In retrospect, that wasn’t your best idea as he gasped and sped of to the medical bay, dragging Ratchet back with him, but honestly you were too tired at the time to answer his questions. After giving you the once-over, Ratchet gave Swerve a stern-talking to about heeding his research into humans before wasting his time.

“If (Y/N) says she’s fine, she’s fine,” Ratchet glowered, walking out of the hab-suite. “Next time, listen to her before you come to me.”

Swerve chewed his lip anxiously, before approaching you again. Now you were well-rested, you were sat under a blanket with the heating pad over your stomach.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

“With you to take care of me? Always.”

Swerve stared at the operating theatre door. That was the problem; he wasn’t there for you now. Granted, Swerve was smarter than most bots gave him credit for, but he wasn’t a doctor or a scientist. He didn’t have healer’s hands. He was a barman. Why in Primus’ name had you married him instead of somebody useful? You could have been with somebody who listened to you when you told him not to cross that bridge. You could have been with someone who hadn’t got you shot.

The hall door swished open again and Rung came quietly in to leave his innermost energon. He looked like he wanted to say something to Swerve, perhaps even comfort him, but he knew the protocol was to stay quiet when somebody's Conjunx Endurae was in in fate’s servos. Swerve could have invited him over, giving Rung permission to comfort him. After all, Rung was almost like a creator to you, but quite frankly, Swerve didn’t think he deserved to be comforted when all of this was his fault.

“What are you doing married to Swerve anyway? Don’t you know there are better mechs onboard this ship?”

Swerve could hear the cheesy 70’s music playing in his bar as if it was yesterday. He had briefly left you to grab some supplies from the back but when he heard Getaway say that, he remained hidden, knowing it was wrong to listen in on you like this, but needing to hear your response all the same.

“Please don’t talk about my husband that way,” You said, giving the overcharged mech a chance to back off and apologise before you ripped into him.

“Come on, he’s not even here right now,” Getaway guffawed, admittedly somewhat jealous that you loved Swerve instead of him, even though the two of you had hardly spoken before; Getaway always coveted that which he did not have. “He won’t hear what you really think about him.”

‘If only that were true,’ Swerve thought, though he still continued to eavesdrop.

“I mean, who would really notice if you and I just kind of slipped away right now to have some fun. You’ve got to have wondered what it would be like with another, more charming mech right?”

Swerve gulped, sure he was going to purge his tanks out of nervousness. He knew for a fact that most mechs considered Getaway to be charming and none considered him to be.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully. “You’re really good at sex?”

Swerve fell against the wall, wanting to claw out his audials, but frozen in place as the conversation continued.

“The best.”

“Good, then go fuck yourself, and never ever talk about my husband like that again. Swerve is ten times the mech you are.”

Giddy elation filled Swerve up and he rushed out from the supply closet, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. He could have waited a little bit longer to compose himself, but he was afraid Getaway might be just overcharged enough to hurt you if you injured his pride any more than you already had. Getaway left irately and you turned your attention to Swerve who pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

“What’s his problem?” Swerve asked casually, though he could hardly keep the giggle out of his vocaliser.

You shrugged, “Small man syndrome.”

“Huh? Okay, whatever you say, (Y/N).”

Before any more memories could torture him, the med-bay door finally opened and Ratchet stepped out, looking grimmer than ever. Swerve wanted to blurt out a million questions, but fearing for your life and knowing every second counted, he waited through the agonising seconds for Ratchet to speak.

“I have sent the medical team into the back so you and (Y/N) can spend some time alone, but I hope you are ready to face the consequences of what you have done Swerve. The lies you’ve told her – to everyone on this ship – will not go unnoticed.”

Swerve swallowed fearfully, “But she’s alive? She’s going to be alright?”

Ratchet considered the question before answering, “Physically, yes. Mentally however… Only time will tell. If you will excuse me, I’m going to join my team in med-bay two, where we will wait until you are ready.”

Swerve waited momentarily for Ratchet to back-track though the medical bay; it gave him a few minutes to compose himself and think of what he would say when he saw you. Then, forgetting his composure, he ran into the medical bay, stopping short when he saw you, in your new Cybertronian body. He knew there was a chance this would happen, but he had told Perceptor and Brainstorm to wait until they were sure your organic body couldn’t be saved.

Swerve looked to the bed across from you, where a sheet covered the corpse of your previous organic body. Why hadn’t he immediately told you about the mini-bot shell he’d had made? If he had, he knew the conversation ahead would be easier. All the same, your optics were offline and Swerve knew by instinct that Ratchet and the others had left them off to give him the chance to explain before you saw yourself.

Before he approached you, he took a few silent steps over to the organic corpse. He held the corner of the sheet that covered it, hesitating before he lifted it to look into your cold dead eyes. He needed to see this, to burn it into his memory of what his mistakes brought on. Granted, your mind and memories were still alive, but this mess of a cadaver that had been stitched up by servos inexperienced with organics, that still had patches of dried blood caked around the sealed wound, was his cross to bear.

Finally, when he could look at it no longer, Swerve covered the corpse with a sheet again, and moved to your side.

“(Y/N),” Swerve whispered.

You moved your head frantically to your left where he was standing, “SWERVE?! I- I CAN’T SEE- I CAN’T-”

Swerve grabbed your servo, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m going to explain everything. What- What do you remember?”

You went quiet for a long time, thinking back to the bridge. Almost silently, you spoke, “I was shot.”

Swerve nodded affirmation, speaking aloud when he remembered you couldn’t see, “Yeah… That was it. (Y/N), I’m so, so sorry this happened to you. It was all my fault. I never should have put you through that. Uh- (Y/N), the docs here, they’ve been working on you for a really long time.”

“Swerve… Am I blind?”

“No sweetheart, that’s only temporary, I promise you’re not blind.”

“Then are you- are you in holoform? You hand feels so small, but it doesn’t feel like skin. Swerve, what’s wrong with me? Nothing feels right. I don’t feel real. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel all wrong inside.”

“Yeah, about that… (Y/N), I need to tell you something… Something I should have told you when we got married, and I need you to listen okay.”

“Okay,” You shivered, and coolant leaked from your offlined optics.

Swerve pressed his helm to your servo. “From the moment we wed, I was so scared something like this might happen… That you’d get hurt and I’d lose you. So, I had Perceptor and Brainstorm work on something, a- a new body of sorts. I- I was scared that you would think I was trying to change you, so I didn’t warn you about it, but now- Well, now you’re different.”

“Swerve,” You whimpered, “You’re not making sense.”

“I know… (Y/N), I’m going to sort out your eyes, make them work right, y’know. Please trust me, okay?”

It seemed you weren’t focusing on what he was saying, as you groaned, “My head hurts.”

Swerve sighed solemnly, then opened your head panel to reveal your processor. From there, he connected the wire that would allow you normal control of your optics. As your optics flickered to life, you caught a reflection of yourself and Swerve in the chrome wall across from you. Your previously human mind tried and failed to connect with the newer faster Cybertronian processor. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Swerve had his servos inside your head and all you could feel was numbness where you should have felt pain. Everything from your past and present crashed together in a way you couldn’t handle. Then, you screamed.

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[medeafive]

Blood and Stone -04

Masterpost

"Look, I don't like saying it," Sam suggests. "But that might just be Stockholm syndrome."

"It's definitely not Stockholm syndrome," she returns angrily. "Fuck off. I'm just trying to get us all out alive, thank you very much."

"Sounds like it though," Sam insists calmly. "You're literally empathizing with the guy who keeps kidnapping you."

"I still think he's lying," Clint throws in, putting his fork down and leaning back. "And we shouldn't trust him."

"I've never heard of Schmidt recruiting into his guard," Pepper throws in. "Since, you know, the forties. Is that even plausible?"

"If there actually is mind control involved?" Bruce points out. "Why not. But I still doubt it. I mean, how would that even work, neurologically? You'd have to trigger a strong emotional reaction with just a thought ."

"As I said," Tony adds. "I still think he's hitting on you."

Bruce blushes, stabbing around his salad. "He's not hitting on me," she hisses back. "You wanna play that through? He could just make me. Not like I could stop him."

"And then you'd put a bullet through your skull," Clint remarks coldly. "No baby. It's far-fetched, I agree, but he clearly gets something out of manipulating you."

"He's not- I wouldn't fall for that," she argues back. "I'm really not gullible."

"You're lonely, though," Sam adds quietly, flicking a fly away.

Clean punch. Knocks her back. "I'm- what?"

Sam huffs. "You've been here for almost two years but you do your damnedest not to let anyone close. You don't wanna talk about anything private, I get it, it's dark, but don't tell me that's fun, never opening up to anyone about anything. And along comes a fucking vampire who claims to understand you, whether he's lying or not, and you just want to believe him."

"Alright, alright," Fury interrupts before the awkward silence settles in. "Putting the personal stuff aside. I think our best option is actually to trust him."

"Excuse me." Tony rubs his ears demonstratively. "I think I misheard. Did you just say trust ?"

"Shut up, Stark, I don't like it either," Fury states. "But Romanoff's right. We're not realistically going to kill him. And even if, who knows how many other people he kills before that. We're also not letting anyone turn into a vampire. So the best chance we have is actually to convince him not to murder us, or at least get enough of his trust so we can kill him."

"I agree." Pepper leans her elbows on the table. "It's not a good option but it's the best we have. And Natasha can best assess the risk, so she should decide whether she's willing to take it." She waits and snorts. "Come on, say it. I know you all disagree."

"I don't," Sam says. "I don't like it but I see your point."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" Clint asks. "Convince the killing machine not to kill us? Just because he's playing nice? Why would he do that?"

"Yeah," Tony agrees. "You say you don't want to throw her to the vampires, but you're literally throwing her at the vampire."

Pepper snorts. "Oh, come on. Nobody's throwing her anywhere. This is just Bobbi all over again."

"Could you not ," Clint returns sourly.

"Well, since I'm not a team player anyway," Natasha points out coldly. "Why would I listen to any of you?"

"Cut it, all of you," Fury demands. "This is not a nice situation, very dangerous, bla bla bla, we're going to do it. End of discussion."

"We could give her a tracker," Bruce says quietly. "Put it in the suit. Then we'd know where she is at least."

"Oh yeah," Tony agrees. "Monitor a bunch of vitals, too. That should give us a sense of danger."

See , Fury's look says. "Well. Last chance to back out, Romanoff."

"No," Natasha replies. "I'm good."

  "Yeah, Fury put all of our shifts together, except for one," Pepper remarks. "Hope you don't mind. He's a little… clumsy about that sort of thing, though I generally would not associate the word clumsy with him."

"Should be fine," Natasha says. "Wanna cross the river?"

Pepper grins. "Risky. I like it, let's go."

They walk over to Smíchov, which is generally more risky due to its closeness to the castle but not too risky. The 'vampires can't cross flowing waters' is obviously bullshit but they do tend to keep to their safe side. It's too many of them to clean out the West side of the Vltava, at least for now.

"They were together, right?" Natasha asks. "Clint and that Bobbi woman."

Pepper snorts. "Yeah, if you were wondering why Clint was so cold to you at first. Bobbi was a tracker too. Worked together a lot. Had their issues, though, always."

"And then she left," Natasha points out.

"It can be a bit of a sausage fest around here," Pepper reminds her. "I wasn't going out in the field back then, so Bobbi was the only one. They got their macho thing on of not allowing her to do anything too dangerous, which she hated, for personal reasons."

"It's just a dangerous job," Natasha remarks. "Okay, let's be quiet for now."

It's quiet, as always. Every fucking night. Pepper has the ventail of her helmet up to see better, though Natasha still thinks it would impair her field of vision. They slip through the dark streets and alleys, listening mostly. Her senses don't go off, either. Sometimes, there's just nothing. Most times.

"Did they break up because of that?" Natasha whispers. "Because of work issues?"

Pepper leans against a wall, suit crunching the concrete slightly. "Yes. There was… I think there was always a vague expectation that Clint wanted to retire eventually, move somewhere quiet, have a family, that sort of thing. Bobbi didn't, at least not yet. So as long as the vampire situation got worse and worse, they were just not going to have that."

"What about you and Tony, though?" Natasha asks. "Are you going to retire?"

Pepper snorts softly. "No time soon. And that's okay. You know, we weren't together before this whole thing. I worked for him, actually. Vampires really turn everything on its head."

This is really hitting closer and closer home. "Let's move on."

They cross Arbesovo náměstí, passing an awful amount of rats. The nocturnal rodents really have field nights, when they know they can come out and not be disturbed. Vampires probably also think they're disgusting, so no danger from that side either. "There used to be a horror bar here," Pepper remarks. "For the tourists, brand new. Somehow, nobody finds that funny now."

"It's really quiet today," Natasha remarks. "Wanna move even further North?"

"Just a little," Pepper agrees. "I don't think we should get to Charles bridge."

"Let's move closer to the river," Natasha suggests.

They get almost to the French embassy, which is probably farther than Pepper wanted, when her hair begins to stand. She gives Pepper a sign so she closes the helmet, on alert. There's no sounds, no cars, no animal noises, yet she's sure there's something. They went too far, she's not as familiar with the area anymore. There's that wall with the graffiti, wrong direction, they slowly, carefully, quietly retreat. The shadows are dangerous around here. They turn the corner and there's a guy on the street, dressed black, just waiting for them. He has a jagged knife. Hunting party. Fuck .

The guy grins and another vampire slips out of the side alley, an ageless woman with curly black hair. There's only the way forward, blocked, and the way back, which would only bring them closer to the Castle. Two is manageable, even if they're from a hunting party, but who knows how many more there are. Pepper lifts an arm, ready to shoot, but this is really not a fight they want.

Maybe they can cross through to Kampa somehow, some small passage between the buildings, run, all the doors will be barred though, trying costs time they don't have. The vampire woman sneers at them, the other one joining, daring them. They're essentially cornered. "Smart ideas?" Natasha asks.

"You're just like Tony ," Pepper's mechanical voice hisses.

Swoosh.

The vampire startles, staring up at the roof where the black cloak has just landed. Doesn't look pleased. Doesn't look anything, really. The vampiress bares her fangs at him, which he returns, gold shining in the moonlight. She cowers, scared. The guy spits out. "Fine. Let's go."

They retreat slowly, not turning their back, then they hear them running off. More than two. Three, at least. Looking up, the black cloak is gone. Natasha exhales. " Fuck that guy."

"Do you want to see whether you can catch him?" Pepper asks. "I'll meet you on Střelecký ostrov."

"Deal," Natasha agrees. "I'll see you."

She walks a little South, tries Kampa, back North, passes the French embassy and the graffiti wall but no fucking sign. It's completely quiet, no vampires, no hunting parties, no nothing. Frustrated, she returns South and crosses the bridge halfway. Pepper's waiting down there. "Gone. Let's get back to Old Town."

Pepper's armor is quite loud on the stone stairs. "It looks like he doesn't want to meet you."

Natasha snorts. "Yeah, looks like I pissed him off last time. Come on, let's get back before they get their panties in a twist again."

  Kick punch twist.

"I'd worry less if you were less reckless," Clint grunts out.

Punch punch elbow strike. He hits her with an uppercut that she dodges easily. "Totally your responsibility," she breathes. "Taking care of me. Fuck you."

The double turning kick's not unexpected but it still throws her off balance. He raises his fists tauntingly. "You suck at it, though."

"I'm alive ," she returns, jumping at him and knocking him down. "Grow up. It's really-"

He tries to knock her off but she's too strong, pressing her knee into his chest until he groans and taps out. She gets up, swiping hair out of her sweaty forehead, catching her breath.

"Hey Romanoff," Tony remarks, strolling in. "Next time you go on a suicide trip, do it without my girlfriend, thank you."

She gives him the finger, grabbing a water bottle and downing that. Clint picks himself up slowly. "I'm serious," Tony repeats, leaning on the rope. "You really got us worried. Brucey almost went green when he heard."

She snorts, slipping out of the ring. "I get that one," Tony continues without the slightest care. "It just does something to a guy when he constantly has to fumble around your almost naked body. Can't blame him."

"Shut the fuck up," she hisses at him. "I swear to God, I'm murdering one of you sooner or later."

"Yeah," Clint remarks. "If you don't get killed first."

  She wanders around alone at night again, muttering under her breath like a crazy person. If he doesn't show up again, she swears to God. She decides to turn right before the Central Station towards Wenceslas Square.

The tower is pretty uncomfortable to be in right now and she was anxious to get out. Fury, to her surprise, didn't want anything from her, just saying that he trusts her judgment and her decisions. Unlike other people. And now she's out alone.

The black cloak's sitting on a bench on Wenceslas Square, uncharacteristically undramatic. She walks over. "Hi."

"Hi," he replies. "You're not going to decide in the next few days, are you."

She shakes her head. He sighs, closing his eyes. "I'll have to go back soon. Figure out what to tell them."

She sits down on the same bench. "Yeah. Thanks."

"He probably doesn't expect you to flip so soon anyway," he mutters. "You're a hunter after all. Not going to turn that around that quickly."

She moves a little closer. "Sure. But thanks, really, it… means a lot to me."

He grins suddenly. "Oh, I see what you're doing. No."

She reels back as if he slapped her. The smile drops from his face. "Oh."

She clears her throat, staring down at the cobblestone. "What are you going to tell them?"

"That you're stubborn as fuck but I'd give you another chance," he replies. "I hope you take it."

She doesn't reply. She could never turn into a vampire, could she? Become like him? A monster?

"Try not to get killed while I'm away," he adds. "Rumlow should know not to touch you but he can't always keep everyone in line."

"Fuck that guy," she mutters. "Do you go there? The Castle?"

"Sometimes," he admits. "They're different, though. I don't really fit in."

"Poor you," she remarks sarcastically. "No, really. What do you do all the time, when you're not stalking me?"

"Sleep," he says. "The whole day. At night, try to track down young vampires and vaguely follow you around."

"So you do sleep," she states. "A lot, too."

"Does that surprise you?" he asks. "I'm not dead, you know."

"Yeah, you kinda are, though," she points out. "No offense. I'll try not to die, too, promise."

"Well, good." He shifts. "I don't want you to get hurt."

She snorts. "Other than turning me into a monster, but okay. Do you remember that, turning? Anything?"

"I don't remember turning," he replies. "Too painful, I guess. I mostly remember after. Most of the time in hiding, I was sleeping, so it's not all that long ago for me."

"1993 was forever ago," she insists. "Trust me."

"Really changed your life, didn't it," he remarks.

"I was going to study to become an engineer," she blurts out. "Or a teacher. You know, when the Soviet Union started breaking, it was… it was super scary, the ground disappearing under your feet, but it was also hopeful, almost ecstatic. Everything suddenly seemed possible."

"Sorry, but I really can't imagine you as a teacher," he states. "Yeah. Including a vampire outbreak?"

She snorts. "Not that. I started studying English, to have all the possibilities that came with, and then in 1993, when the outbreak started… Everything gone. The year was tough already before, and suddenly there was no silver lining anymore. Like a war. And I joined a group of hunters, like a soldier."

"With Shostakov," he remarks. "And Petrovich."

He knows way too much. "We were going to get married," she explains. "Before. But then, that road shut down completely and we were just going to fight this war and probably die doing it. We found this group of Afghanistan veterans, including Ivan, some of the only people who really seemed to know what they were doing. They wouldn't take us at first, because we were oh so young and we had that supposedly bright future, but as matters got worse everywhere, they relented. So we never married and I got sterilized and… yeah, we fought. And then I killed him."

"I'm sorry," he says. "You know, I… I should probably tell you something."

Her ears start ringing. "What?"

He sighs. "I started the outbreak in Russia."

She starts laughing, shocked, stopping just as quick. "You what ?"

"When Schmidt decided the time was right," he explains hesitantly. "Everyone had their role. I was sent to Russia. I was ordered to Russia."

She bites her tongue accidentally. "How many?"

"What?" he asks uncomfortably.

"How many people did you bite?" she snaps. "How many people did you have to bite to ruin my life ? Everyone's life?"

He sighs. "Eight in Moscow. Four in Saint Petersburg. I thought that would be enough."

" Hell it was enough!" She shakes her head to clear it. "You really bit twelve people and that's why I could never have anything I wanted?"

It comes out more vulnerable than she wanted so she bites her tongue and shuts up. "There might have been others I don't know about," he admits quietly. "Are you… are you mad?"

"No," she returns, getting on her feet. "No. Yes. No. You know what, I- yes. I don't know. I think I'll go back."

He gets up as well. "Take care. Really."

Fuck you , she almost says. I wouldn't have to take care if not for you . "Yes. Uh. I'll go. Just- whatever."

She almost runs back to the tower.

  "You don't drink usually," Sam points out, sitting down on a chair like a normal person instead of lying down on the table with a bottle of vodka.

She continues staring up. "You ever wonder what would have happened if the vampire plague never happened?"

"Honestly," he remarks. "For me, probably nothing great. Why?"

"What did you wanna be?" she insists. "Come on, you must have had some idea."

"I don't know, I kind of wanted to do social work," Sam says. "Teaching or something with teenagers. Barely got my degree before there were other issues, though."

"I wanted to work," she says. "I wanted to have a family. I wanted everything . And instead I got this. "

"Oh," Sam remarks. "So you're doing self-pity. No, thanks, I really don't drink."

She snorts, rolling onto her side. "Can I tell you something without you accusing me of Stockholm syndrome or some bullshit?"

Sam snorts. "I'm not accusing you. I do feel obliged to point out potential biases you might have, though. But go on, I won't judge you."

"I kinda empathize with him," she admits. "But I wanna kill him so bad ."

Sam grins. "Okay. What's the occasion?"

"He literally infected all of Russia," she states. "Can you imagine? None of us would be here for any of this. It might be- not fairytales and pony parties but good. Calm. We wouldn't have to do this ."

"Totally fair to be mad about that," Sam acknowledges. "I should just point out that killing him now won't really change that and thus might not feel as satisfying as you hope. But, I mean, I'm not going to stop you."

She snorts, turning on her back again. "Yeah, I know. I can't, either. But man ."

"You'll figure it out," Sam assures her. "I'd also prefer being a street worker or something, but I guess you just have to deal with whatever comes your way. Can't dodge a vampire epidemic, to quote Fury."

She snorts, sitting up. "Oh yeah. Can't dodge an epidemic."

[pro-bee]

“Identify yourself or I shoot!” “Dr. Donald Mallard. Is that sufficient not to be shot?” “Ducky!”

OH MY HEART I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED THIS

[this turned into a weird scene study type post, I apologize]

The relief in her face and the smile when she realizes it’s him MY HEART

“Gibbs said he would meet me here after. He didn’t. How long have you been waiting?”

“Four hours.” More like six years.

Oh, Ziva.

The dejection in her voice when she said, “he didn’t.” Like, she’s been waiting for Gibbs for years. (She’s been waiting for her dad her whole life.) And this tiny moment encapsulates it all -- he still isn’t where he’s supposed to be, and she’s fed up. Signals still crossed.

But then there’s Ducky -- sweet Ducky, he one-time confidant, who spent hours in the dark just hoping she’d come home -- and her heart thaws a little. Because this is really the first moment she’s relaxed in days, if not in months or years, and she can allow herself to breathe and rejoice in reuniting with an old friend.

Then she does that fucking adorable chin tilt. 

“Good to see you.” “You too.”

She’s battered and bruised and messy, but that’s a hint of Baby Ziva coming through, the girl who first met Ducky and used to escape to his morgue for tea time and life chats. And Ducky is so chuffed to see her that for a second she can probably forget about everything that’s happened.

So she steps in for a hug.

And it just hits me that that is the first physical contact (other than fighting) that Ziva has had in this arc.

She hasn’t hugged Gibbs, hasn’t even shaken his hand, or Bishop’s, or anything. She’s been standoffish and so have they, all for good reason, but that still lends itself to her current fight or flight mode.

But then she finds Ducky, and he’s warm and caring and uses that tone in his voice he always did with her, and she immediately softens. 

So she bridges that gap and initiates the hug, because she’s missed this. She’s always missed this. This is what she was trying to fix all along. 

[rest under a read more]

She breathes it in for a moment.

For all we know, this is the first hug Ziva has had IN YEARS. Please don’t go there I can’t handle that tonight.

Then he finds her pills on the floor. And immediately gets it.

“Do they help?” “Sometimes, yeah.”

Oh, Ziva. The fact that she can even admit that is a testament to both the battle she’s gone through and the growth she’s done. She could have been evasive or deflective about it, but no, she can admit to Ducky that yeah, she’s got mental health issues, and she has to take treatment for them. 

Because Ducky always did know.

“It’s hard to imagine what you must have been going through these last years. And alone.”

Quick, who’s gonna make the parallel between Ducky talking about Ziva’s struggles post-Somalia and here? He always did have a special bead into her psyche, and he’s one fo the few (if only) people Ziva would even remotely allow to broach the subject.

“I was not alone.”

Like I said the other night, for a second my breath caught because I thought I was gonna have a ‘VINDICAAAATIOOON” moment. Because as I’ve said, even thought logically I know Ziva’s been on the run for three years, my heart cannot take the thought of Ziva being separated from her family for that long so my happy-ish bubble is that she and Tony have reunited at some point. So I thought I was gonna be proven right.

Oh, pro-bee, sweet summer child.

“I had my daughter.”

Which is a major 😯moment... until you realize from the picture she shows Ducky, taken from a distance with a telephoto lens, that Ziva is actually stalking her family from a distance.

“It’s as close as I dared get.”

So no, pro-bee, there are no happy family reunions in the background. Instead, Ziva has been keeping tabs from afar, careful not to reveal herself, all so that she can get a glimpse of her daughter’s normal life. So that she can feel like she’s part of her daughter’s life, when she cannot be a part of her life.

It’s so sad and frustrating because THEY SHOULD HAVE THESE THINGS. But as usual, their timing sucks, and instead Ziva is just an interloper, watching her family’s life like it’s a TV show and not her own.

except that means she’s in Paris and Tony is in Paris which leads me to:

“Does Tony know?” “It’s complicated.”

THAT’S NOT A NO. 

I’m just saying.

(Also, good call everyone on the parallels between this scene and Ziva ranting about people using “it’s complicated” to avoid saying what they feel in season 4.)

“The less Tony knows, the better.”

HE KNOWS HE KNOWS HE KNOWS.

That’s all I’m going to say. Because THE LESS HE KNOWS IMPLIES HE KNOWS SOMETHING. 

Not once has anyone ever said he doesn’t know and it’s all so very pointed.

“I have known you a very long time, Ziva David. It’s hard to think of you going on that journey, not knowing that Gibbs had your back. He thought you were dead. We all did.” “I left him a trail, that only he could see.” “But he didn’t come looking. And now you believe that none of this will end unless you kill the person who is after you.” “And make no mistake, I will do whatever it takes to get back to my daughter. Whatever it takes. And nobody-- nobody is going to get in my way.”

Oh snap, mama bear is back.

For a second, she can be Young Ziva, talking about life with her old friend.

But the second Ducky touches that nerve-- about where Ziva has been, and to her mind, why she’s been out there so long by herself-- she snaps. Because it’s all tied into family and it’s all raw. Because she loves Gibbs but she’s disappointed in him. Because she loves Tony but she’s probably a little ashamed of how she got to this point. Because she loves Tali and is dying inside at missing out on her life. Because she loves Ducky and how he lends her an ear, but sometimes it hits a little too close to home and she’s not ready yet.

So she reminds herself of her mission. If she stops to think about the hows and whys, she might not survive. That’s why she’s so single-minded about going after Sahar, just like Dark Ziva of the AU.

Ducky isn’t necessarily judging, but his words are just as cautionary.

(Sidebar: The only way I think I’d actually be mad at Gibbs for not looking for Ziva when for all intents and purposes she was dead is if she literally sent him a message or left something for him with some sort of secret code they used that he ignored. That being said, I understand why Ziva is upset, but I think ultimately she’s going to realize that it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t read her mind.)

WHEW.

OK I’m definitely not gonna finish this tonight folks.

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Flowers Flowers Everywhere (except for when it counts)

Well this is a long time coming! Originally planned as a thank you for the cards sent out by @scifigrl47, this is now a birthday present. You asked for Tony getting flowers and I really hope you like how that played out. Happy birthday!

One (Lady's Slipper, among others)

There were enough flowers to fill a shop scattered throughout the lobby. They’d been checked repeatedly for nefarious objects that might have accompanied them, and since there were none, they reached their intended destination without trouble. They started going home with employees, since they always showed up at Stark Industries.

It’d make a nice centerpiece, an HR representative mused as he snagged a pot on the way home after a long shift.

My wife absolutely adores these, a janitor recalled easily when she came in one day to find a particular bouquet she’d only seen in magazine cut-outs.

Some of them went to Tony himself, and Pepper had taken to wearing a different flower in her hair specifically to hear him groan whenever he saw her. It was their newest form of teasing and he loved it as much as she did.

Point being, they had no idea who was giving these flowers. Nobody did. Not the truck drivers who handled deliveries for the building, not the janitors or security guards who had to check each bouquet and clean up after them each nice. They just knew that the building smelled delectable and the flowers came fresh every day.

This first set were numerous bouquets in all colors and shapes. Some were rare and left alone, some were common and more than happy to leave with a coworker. But they were all thoroughly investigated to no end, and everyone was curious as to who could possibly send such a surprise.

  Two (Coriander)

"This… whoever's doing this. It's possible they could be a rival.They might see you as an opponent." Steve wondered.

The super soldier left the tower for his early morning run and came back to a lobby full of white. It could have been mistaken for snow, the way petals floated through the air and coated every surface, but a storm had passed through a few days ago and snow wasn't quite on the menu. Rain, on the other hand…

Steve wondered if these flowers would survive a trip outside the building as he joined the security guards inspecting each bouquet. They had the process down, especially since JARVIS was on the case, but they were more than happy to have Captain America's help. Steve was glad to put his nose to good use, and while the flowers reeked, he couldn't detect any of the usual poisons he'd know of and the guards tested each petal they could get their hands on.

"Why a rival?" Pepper wondered.

"Coriander means hidden strength. Everyone knows that Tony is a genius. But what if whoever's doing this thinks the company as a whole is something to stand of its own accord?"

"SI has been standing of its own accord long before Tony or I were born." Pepper deadpanned.

"Oh yeah, definitely." Steve acknowledged, recalling several inventions he'd used during the war bearing the Stark name. "Never did get that flying car, but I guess that means whoever this is, they're new to the game. Scoping out their competition. I mean, SI isn't the only company in the news for this."

"Fair enough…" Pepper admitted. "Whatever they're doing, they best wrap this up. As soon as we figure out who they are, we'll be gunning for them."

"Thought you didn't do that anymore." Steve quipped cheerfully.

"Exceptions, Steve, exceptions. As it turns out, leaving the game doesn't mean burning all your bridges."

Pepper stalked towards the elevators and Steve waited a few minutes before he followed her. Crossing the CEO of anything wasn't a bright idea, but she'd been there long before Stark Industries made the switch to green energy. Clearly, that fire hadn't gone anywhere.

  Three (Goldenrod)

Eventually, Tony found the flower shop they were coming from. It was maybe three and a half blocks from SI and it didn’t look all that fancy at all. If not for the logo, no one would know what they sold. A lot of the city was like that, and for good reason: There wasn’t enough space for big fancy signs everywhere and if you sold a good product, everyone would flock to you anyway.

The casier did not expect a billionaire to walk in.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark. She blurted out nervously.

“Good morning, Ms. Delian.” He offered smoothly, having barely glanced at her nametag. Sheila Delian had blonde hair and hazel eyes that went wider than a disco ball when she saw him.

“You must be coming in about the flower order, then. My boss expected someone from SI to send a cease-and-desist order, but we never thought it’d be you.”

“There won’t be a cease-and-desist order.” Tony determined. “Not yet, anyways. People like the flowers and there’s plenty of employees at the Tower. We could easily wait this buyer out.”

“But you want to find him.” Sheila confirmed. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I don’t know how much help the shop can be.”

“Why’s that?”

“The order was sent in through our website through a series of prepaid cards. A different one for each order. And each order insisted on as many arrangements as we could allow per sendout."

"Do you know when the orders were placed?" Tony prompted calmly.

"Oh! That… that's definitely something I can look up. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, it's just that this is the worst time for such a huge order, I-. Not your problem. Okay, first order came in on a Saturday, I remember that much. It can't have been long after the Spring festival. Everyone gets flowers around that time but this was all to one place-. Okay. February 13th is when the first order for Stark Industries came in."

"How much were they?"

"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry, sir. I'm close enough to losing my job as it is. All you have to do is say the word, I can get someone on the delivery team to spread the message that these flowers are unwanted."

"No need, and I'd rather not stir up anything with whoever's sending these. Thank you for all your help, Ms. Delian. I hope your day gets better."

Shelia nodded and offered the standard thanks as the bell that signaled his exit jangled overhead. He left behind three-hundred dollars in twenties and a goldenrod that she knew for a fact hadn't come from the store. He hadn't even browsed the aisles…

Sheila winced, wondering how this situation got so out of hand, and weaved the flower through her braids. Hopefully its message of encouragement and good fortune would rub off on her.

Four (blue and white Hydrangeas)

It got to be more than a bit ridiculous a few days later, when Security had to go through dozens of notes attached to as many bouquets. All of them were addressed to Tony and each of them were different in some way shape or form. One group of notes was sweet, describing how the flowers smelled and a picnic they'd be good for. Another involved promises of Tony's favorite foods not long after. What made the employees of SI suspicious is that these were foods he actually liked as opposed to something snagged from an interview or a passing remark. Tony has eaten countless meals in front of countless people, so someone was bound to get some of his favorite foods right. But the fact was that many articles in the genius behind SI involved false information or caricatures of who the man actually was. He allowed it in the name of privacy, and it would definitely help narrow down the pool of suspects.

The thing is, it wasn't unusual to find a flower shop bogged down with orders around Valentine's day. The person who'd done this was arrogant enough to wait until the day before and wealthy enough to ensure their orders got through. But considering the date it encompassed, these mystery bouquets weren't very appreciated.

This particular set wasn't exactly his favorite flower. Some of his employees took them home but at the end of the day, he was left with an array of blue and white hydrangeas. A quick search revealed that they supposedly meant frigidity, apology, boasting, and bragging. Tony didn't really know what to make of that. Boasting sounded less like someone's well-wishes and more like he was being played. If this fucked wanted to apologize, the best way to do so would be to quit with the godforsaken flowers and perhaps explain all this. Bit of a stretch, considering this had been going on for a few weeks, but it would have been nice.

Five (Golden Tulips)

They stopped the day after Tony visited the shop and everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding.

Nothing was poisonous, nothing was hidden in the notes, nothing about these flowers were dangerous save for the mysterious benefactor.

Plenty of names had been struck from the list. Fans had been contacted, employees vetted, colleagues grilled, to little avail. The answer came one dreary afternoon during a briefing on the Avengers' latest foe.

"You mean to tell me that you still haven't said anything?" Natasha Romanoff was positively whining as she draped herself over a stoic and rather annoyed Steve Rogers. "I thought that big flower show was yours!"

"What? God, no! I heard that was all over the news, but c'mon, Romanoff, where would I get that kind of money? Besides, how could you go wrong with some chocolate and maybe a sketch or two."

"Gonna draw him like one of your French girls, Rogers?" Clint crooned.

"I hate you. I am actually going to take those arrows and snap them all over my knee like a bundle of sticks. I'll strangle you with your own bow for good measure!" Steve snapped.

"Ooooo, someone's touchy!" Natasha snickered. "If you would just tell him-!"

"Whatever it is, it better not involve flowers." Tony deadpanned as he stalked into the room.

"How do you even know what he's talking about?" Clint whined. "You're a genius, not omniscient!"

"I don't. Never said it was me you were talking about, just that I don't want to hear about flowers."

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to." Fury announced with his usual grim look and annoyed drawl. "It's safe to say that Stark Industries has been the victim of an elaborate scheme made by our next villain, but they're not the only ones taking a fall. And I'm pretty sure they got the nicer end of the spectrum."

The wall behind Fury's head parted to reveal a screen full of pictures. Several boxes of chocolates, hundreds of teddy bears, and about as many flowers that Tony could stand were shown in various places.

"Some people got by the chocolates, others had their roses grow far beyond their measure. This was done to a number of major American companies with no true connection to each other. Some employers got away scot-free, like SI and Van Dyne's fashion empire, but others weren't so lucky. This villain calls himself Cupid-."

"Cupid?!" Tony spluttered. "Like the little baby angel guy that shoots arrows at the people they think should fall in love?!"

"That's what this particular pest is calling himself. Only instead of arrows, he's been sending flowers and chocolates and teddy bears to those who prove their worth or earn his ire. SI seems to have proven their worth somehow."

"That doesn't explain everything." Tony noted. "There were notes attached to each bouquet. They had many of my personal favorites, things that few people would know about me. Some things about my employees and those I'd consider respectable colleagues. If any of them are in the line of fire, whatever arbitrary standards he's using to judge us might not apply to them."

"Which is why this unmasking this villain is so crucial. The only reason this isn't considered a form of biological warfare is because no one's died from it yet."

"Who else is in on this? And what can the Avengers' do?"

"As a team? Nothing. We'll need your various individual skillsets. As for who's on this, all the usual suspects, Stark. The CDC Shou be contacting you for a sample of the flowers at some point."

"Alright. And what's this Cupid guy's aim?"

"We're not sure yet. We're hoping you can weigh in on a few comparisons we have so far."

"Alright," Tony exhaled roughly. "Fucking Cupid. Like I need another reason to hate February."

"That's what we've got so far. You all will be contacted by the members of this task force who can best use your services."

Fury left the room without saying anything further, which didn't give the Avengers much incentive to stick around.

"Hey, Tony," Steve caught his partner's arm when the genius passed him heading for the front door.

"Hey, Steve," Tony parrotted. "Got any ideas for all this?"

"I've told what I can. But this isn't the weirdest villain we've come up against, I don't think."

"Just the most annoying. It's a good thing I'm not allergic to flowers, because this past week has already been hell." Tony scoffed, stalking out the door and down the hall.

"I can only imagine." Steve snorted, keeping up easily. "But, uh since flowers, chocolates, and all that stuff is probably way out of bounds for now, what do you say we just go out for dinner?"

"Dinner sounds like the best idea I've heard all day. You gonna cook or should I break out my best disguise?"

"Don't raid the costume department just yet, we could just order in." Steve drawled.

"Depends. Like I said, it's been a long week. I get to be picky."

"I'll make it up to you at some point. Technically there's a bouquet of golden tulips that have been sitting in the fridge since the 2nd, but if you're sick of flowers…"

"I figured you'd have something planned out. And I'll have you know that I love receiving flowers. When I know who they're from."

"Well, at least these weren't… tampered with."

"Yeah, at least the fucker deemed my company worthy." Tony grumbled darkly. "Say, what'd the spies get onto you about?"

"This is so dumb. I absolutely hate them and they ruin everything."

"Okay, now I've got to know. You're keeping something from me and clearly it's on purpose!" Tony crowed, eyes bright with the eagerness of solving at least one mystery.

"I was going to ask you later. I wanted to do this properly."

"C'mon, Steve, we can still do it properly. I'd just know what it is."

"Yeah," Steve grumbled. "And the surprise is gone."

"Well, lemme at it. I'm sure I'll like it no matter what."

Steve rolled his eyes and dug around in his pocket to reveal a small black square nestled in his palm.

Steve stopped when Tony did, and the shorter man gaped at the box that had been shuffled into his hands.

"Open it." Steve groused after a few moments.

Tony did so without question and when he saw what was inside, he buried his face in Steve's shoulder.

"You know what my answer is." He mumbled.

"Yep. Would have been nice to do it elsewhere. Quieter, perhaps. And in private." Steve drawled as the pair entered the mess hall full of employees.

"Them's the breaks." Tony snickered, giving his now-fiance the box. "I'm sorry your surprise got ruined, though I must say I'm looking forward to that dinner a lot more."

Steve slipped the black square back into his pocket and rubbed one of Tony's hands between his own.

"There's that." Steve grumbled. "And there will be more flowers after all this. Proper ones."

"Maybe hold off on those for, like, a year or two." Tony scoffed. "If I never see another petal it'll be too soon."

"This guy didn't ruin the golden ones." Steve offered. "You love golden flowers."

"The ones that mean well, sure. I guess we've still got that."

The ride to the Tower was about as long as it always was, but Steve might as well have given him all the golden tulips he could carry with how pleased Tony was. Steve's goal was to keep that look on his face from as long as they lived.

[blehbleehhhh]

It’s Always Been You ft. Eremika<3

I would like to request canonverse eremika first time during the 4 years skip, right after basement arc, when eren cant control his feelings for her any longer and she's in disbelief... naughty eremika... hehe... uwu Everyone's got so many ideas 😜 Let's see how it writes out! Keep requests coming :) This was SOOO fun to write! In the off chance you aren’t up to date with AOT, there are some spoilers, I tried to avoid them but the story didn’t make sense without any. This damn thing took over two months for me to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

Mikasa found him laying on his back surrounded by a field of luscious, green grass, staring up at the clear night sky. It's been a month since that huge battle with the Beast Titan where a massive amount of losses were felt and they almost lost their best friend, Armin. "Eren?" Her voice sounded so distant, like she were much farther than the crunching of twigs and grass beneath her boots would indicate. Suddenly, all he was able to think about was that moment right before opening one of his father's books of secrets, when Mikasa's hand touched his and they briefly looked into each other's eyes. "Are you okay?" Actually, Eren hasn't been able to get her out of his head since that day when the elusive Dr. Grisha Jaeger's basement was finally discovered. Most of the time, simply doing something other than laying around is how he's been able to keep her out of his head twenty-four seven all these years. But now? After Armin reminded him of their dreams to exist outside the walls, he started to think about what it would be like sharing a house again because 'living together' this way simply doesn't feel the same. If anything, it's more like they're further apart than they used to be. "Eren?" He couldn't help but wonder how much more difficult it would be to hide this thing he's had for her, especially since Mikasa is pretty much all he can think about these days. Hell, she's invaded his dreams, well, she's in them more often and they're usually incredibly sexual in nature. In fact, thinking about how aggressively this version of her was kissing him last night as he slowly slipped a hand down her naked body and between those beautiful, long legs - "EREN!"

"Hm?" He blinked and rubbed a hand down his face, tilting his head back on the ground so he could look up at her. “Fuck, I'm sorry. What did you say?" Mikasa smiled as she sat down beside him and brought her knees up to her chest; he couldn't resist admiring her face from the corner of his eye, but ended up forcing himself to look away when she pushed fingers through her hair, the mild wind is fighting to shield said beautiful face with a sheet of black satin, because pushing her hair out of her face is something the dream version of Mikasa always does. God, it's her lips, they're shaped like a tulip, and Eren begins to wonder what it would feel like to kiss them. No, no, perhaps it's her eyes? Or her porcelain skin that looked smooth enough to get him thinking how he would rather enjoy caressing it the rest of their lives. Perhaps.

"I asked if you were okay. You weren't at lunch or at dinner, so I got concerned."

"Mikasa, you worry about me too much. I'm okay, really, I'm just fucking exhausted.”

"Yeah, I think we're all exhausted. Last few weeks have been an absolute train wreck.” She let out a frustrated sigh as the wind continued to blow her hair out to frame that angelic, fragile face. Eren just looked up at her and laughed to himself for feeling as nervous as he does, but the way her hair is falling across her face, the darkness of those luscious locks a perfect combination with her fair skin, and he briefly thinks that this woman just may be the death of him.

The pair sit together for a while, just enjoying each other's company and how still tonight is compared to the shit storm they've just had, grateful for the time they have off for the moment because, as far as titans go, things seem to be pretty quiet. But his mind persisted in pushing what Eren had always been telling himself were unwanted thoughts, though he’s recently found that his mind doesn’t fight with these thoughts often anymore, choosing instead to welcome them with open arms. What are you waiting for? You both almost died without her ever knowing how you feel. Again. Eren sat up with a sigh and leaned back, supporting himself with his hands, then eased himself to stand. Don't you fucking dare get up and walk away, dude. You know how much you want her so don't be a pussy! Mikasa pushed her hair back as she looked up at him with a confused face that’s easily just as adorable and irresistible as any other that he's seen her make over the years they’ve known each other.

Offering her a hand, Eren decided to bite the bullet and quit torturing himself because these feelings are twice as hard to ignore, especially now that he’s uncomfortably aware of how far apart they are. He feels an itch to simply just hold her in his arms even if just for a moment, and it's simply maddening as Mikasa graciously accepted his hand with a sweet smile, watching him with her ever inquisitive gaze as he stuffed a hand in his pocket, anxiously dragging the other down his mouth. Fuck it. On a spur of the moment decision, Eren cradled her face in his hands and hurriedly closed the space between them, an electrifying first kiss for both indeed. Despite the immediate spark, because she's wanted this for so long, Mikasa was much too surprised to even react and soon found herself awkwardly staring down the bridge of his nose, wondering what the fuck made his behavior change so drastically. At this moment, Eren doesn't care that she's not reciprocating, because kissing her feels like free falling and activating your 3DMG at the last moment; like the taste of liquor, how it warms your stomach, radiates from your core, and makes you feel out of control. After a minute or so of his advances still not being returned, for once, he actually started to feel a little embarrassed and even ashamed for throwing himself at her like this, all because he couldn't take it anymore. When he slowly started to pull away, Mikasa's shock was replaced with a sudden sense of emptiness from feeling as if her other half was being torn away. It was like a reflex; her fingers quick to curl in his shirt in the hopes of preventing any opportunity for him to pull away, her lips eager to play, finally allowing herself to succumb to his charms as her eyes fluttered shut. Kissing Eren feels like a free fall between slaughtered, collapsing titans that they had taken down together as a team; like the horrific day he transformed for the first time and she spotted his unmistakable silhouette through steam coming from the rogue titan's nape. Relief. So much relief that tears began to well up in her eyes. Eren sunk his fingers in her soft, raven hair as she leaned into him and sighed softly in his mouth, so entranced that she didn't even care when he pulled his lips away and gently bumped their foreheads together. He slid his nose alongside hers and set a hand on her hip, slowly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Mikasa..." His breath tickled her lips as he kissed her again, again and again, then fiercely went in for more, eliciting a soft moan from her that filled his mouth and only served to worsen his burning desire. And then her back was pressed against a nearby tree, his knee parting her legs just as she hooked one around his waist in the hopes of hinting that she was more than okay with taking this further. He groaned into her mouth, and their lips slowly parted the smallest bit. "What do you want?"

“You..." Mikasa bit his lower lip, making him breathe a little deeper as he pressed his hard-on into her.

"Say it again."

"I want you, Eren.."

"Come with me." He glanced around to make sure nobody was near and walked off in front of her like they normally do, leading her to his room as nonchalantly as possible. They navigate through the barracks on guard to make sure they don't get caught entering his room together only to not come out again until some time the next day. When they succeeded and finally got on the other side of his door, she was already laying back on the bed, trying desperately to get control of her heart since it's beating way too fast. Eren was quick to crawl up between her legs, fairly certain that his own heart might explode because of how she’s smiling up at him and slowly sliding her hands up his arms and into his hair. Up until now, laying in a bed wrapped up in his arms was only something Mikasa’s dreamt about without once ever considering that it would actually happen someday. Yet here she is, allowing him to unravel her scarf and expose her neck as he peppered any new skin in kisses, his hand underneath her shirt, slowly gliding across her toned stomach and the waistline of her trousers.

"Why did you kiss me?" She blurted out, holding her breath for an explosive reaction that never came.

"Because you almost died. Because we both almost fucking died again. We were finally standing in that damn basement when I realized something," Eren paused to remove her hands from his hair so he could pin them to the bed and lace their fingers together. "I never wanted to kiss you more than I did the moment you touched my hand. And that got me thinking about my recovery after fighting Annie when you told me how happy you were that I came back, then that shit show on the battlefield with the smiling titan. Those are a few other times where I've felt that same way. You know why?" Stunned into silence from his words, all she could manage was a light squeeze of his hands and a hard swallow as their lips grew close enough, they were just barely touching. "Because it's always been you, Mikasa..." Her legs crossed behind his back as they engaged in a long, passionate kiss, happily using the new freedom of her hands to sink them in his hair. Eren took advantage of her neck being bare and slowly parted from the comfort of her lips to softly kiss the newly exposed skin, quickly noting that her moans tended to be louder and even more maddening the harder he pressed down with his lips.

"Oh my god," Mikasa breathed a quiet giggle with a pleasure induced sigh and flushed when she felt him smile on her neck. "This can't be happening..."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait? I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you." She just gently nudged him to give her space to remove her shirt in such a slow way that it was immediately clear she was teasing him; her soft, fair skin a light shade of pink that easily made her resemble a porcelain doll. Eren’s breath caught in his throat as he swallowed hard trying to suppress the animalistic desire to just ravage her, but he really doesn't want to hurt her. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the idea of touching her because he knows how hard it'll be to control himself when it finally happens, so his eyes carefully watch hers as he reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Mikasa gently bumped their foreheads together as his fingers slowly push her bra straps down the slope of her shoulders. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't promise I'll be gentle." He breathed to her lips as her bra fell down her arms, his hands now swiftly unbuttoning the fasteners of her trousers.

"No, it's okay, I can take it.."

"I love you, Mikasa." Eren kissed her as she slowly lay back on the bed, sliding his hands up to touch her breasts for the first time and sending a highly erotic sigh into his mouth. They aren't huge, but they certainly aren't small, either, in fact, they're the perfect size for his hands to squeeze, which is something he’s already taken a liking to doing. He gently kneaded them with his hands and fingers to elicit more of those sounds from her mouth, slowly pulling his lips away to bury them between her breasts, leaving open mouthed kisses across the aroused mounds.

"Ohh, Erennn," She smiled, and he can hear the excitement in her voice as she sunk her fingers into his hair, cradling the back of his head with one of her palms. "I love you too..." He couldn't get enough of her; skin so soft and smooth, he could do this all day if they had the time, no obligations of any kind except to one another; stealing away together to help forget how shitty the world is. Eren’s lips slowly made their way down her body, pausing on her incredibly toned core as he tugged everything down her legs and threw them on the floor behind him, leaving the girl completely naked.

"Wow, Mika," He smiled, sliding his hands up her legs as he leaned down to kiss her. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

"Really?"

"You disagree? I mean, look at you..." Eren smirked when she smiled and grabbed onto his shirt to pull him closer, reaching down his back so she could tug it over his head. And then her fingers lightly trailed down his torso, slowly tracing the dips and ridges of his abdominals. But he surprised her again, kissing down her body so fast, that she couldn't process it until he was half on the bed, pulling her giggling form farther down by slipping his arms under and around her hips, right up to an eagerly awaiting mouth. He curved his hands around her thighs to pry the lips open and reveal the wet, pink flesh between them, then dove into her sweet spot.

"Haaaa! Eren!" It felt incredible; his tongue pressed against her truly aching clit, rubbing up and down so quickly it made her hips want to twitch, but they can't because she's trapped in his strong arms. Given the horrific things they see day to day, it's understandable that the soldiers might need some kind of release. As a result, Eren frequently has the displeasure of overhearing discussions other guys were having where people just brag about who they sleep with and, sometimes, there would be tidbits of advice about what to do in sexual situations with women. And if the way Mikasa is clawing at his back or tugging on his hair says anything, it seems to be going over well. "Ohgodohgodohgod! Don't stop!" He slowly eased a finger inside and moved it in and out faster and faster, eliciting more powerful moans sourced from deep in her body. So, he added a second and flicked his tongue across her clit. "Yesyesyesyes!" She whimpered and closed her legs around his head as she reached her first climax, squirming and trembling from the overwhelming waves of pleasure. He kissed up her body and swirled his tongue around both of her nipples, then along the side of her neck as he listened to her catch her breath, his fingers dragging her wetness up as they go.

"How was that?"

"Everything I hoped.."

"I'm glad." Eren smirked when she pulled him in for a kiss despite the sweet taste of herself on his tongue, on his breath. She reached between them and unfastened his trousers to pull them down, touching the head of his cock for the first time, sending chills down his spine and a groan into her mouth. His lips kiss down her neck and linger on the spot he gets the best moans from in response, kicking his legs to get the rest of his clothing out of the way.

"Eren, please!" Her voice was desperate, sensual, and much too loud.

"The begging is incredibly sexy, but you need to keep it down or we'll get caught," He smirked and watched her eyes as he slid his cock through the wetness. "I'm so sorry if this hurts..." He crashed his lips against hers in the hopes that a distraction would be helpful, then, slowly, so very slowly, pushed himself inside of the tight, wet heat. It was electrifying, nestling himself deeper and deeper until he heard a squeal, followed by the salty taste of her tears invading their kiss from the pain of loosing her virginity. He was surprised with himself for how gentle he's been; perfectly content to just lie there showering her with kisses and loving on her the way that she deserves. Mikasa moaned into his mouth, finally past the worst of the pain and experiencing just how incredible it feels to have him inside her, to hook a leg around his waist and raise her hips in the hopes of slowly working him the rest of the way in. She pulled her lips away and set her hands in his hair, making little moans with every small thrust. "Fuck." There's that potential loss of control, inspired by the sounds he has her making, showing nothing but pure, pent-up sexual tension that's years in the making at this point. Tightening her legs further up his back, she watched his eyes through an equally dreamy, half lidded gaze, quick to discover how much they both enjoy it when she follows his rhythm.

"Harder, Eren," Her voice cracked from desperately trying to keep the music to his ears from becoming too loud. "Fuck me harder..." So, he did, thrusting faster than before, much to Mikasa's excitement, who failed to conceal her little, pleasurable cry when he bit down on her neck, sucking on her skin where a hickey could be hidden with her scarf and uniform. "Ohh! Ohhh, Erennnnn!" She clung onto his body as an orgasm wracked through her hard, making her involuntarily grind on him faster until he let out what almost sounded like a growl and removed his cock just in time to blow his load across her stomach. It was an out of body experience, like you're floating on a cloud and slowly coming back down to Earth. It felt right, so, so right.

"You're incredible." Eren whispered breathlessly and smiled as she offered him a sleepy grin, snaking her arms around his neck to bring his face even closer for a succession of kisses that quickly turned into something more. She eventually relaxed, happily allowing him to kiss down her neck and swirl his tongue around her nipples, reluctantly reaching for a dirty washcloth to wipe off his mess. "I'm so sorry, but this is all I have at the moment."

"It's okay," She stretched out and smiled, watching him slowly drag the washcloth across her skin. "It is what it is."

"How much did it hurt?"

"It felt like I got stabbed for a minute or two, but mostly it felt really, really good."

"Good." Tossing the rag on the floor, Eren dropped down beside her and chuckled when she immediately curled up into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Wow, this is pretty entertaining when you're naked, too." He felt her lips smile on his skin as she slipped an arm around him and sighed with contentment, wrapped up in his arms and the blankets like they've both dreamed.

"Hopefully, things continue to stay quiet so we can keep doing this."

“You know the best part?”

“Hm?” Mikasa hummed softly in response and lightly tapped her fingertips on his chest, overwhelmed with that familiar feeling of relief once again because his heartbeat is so strong.

“I’ll last longer the next time.”

"Ooooh! Really?!”

"Heh, yes, really." Eren laughed to himself, gently squeezing her against him as he kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry that I’ve been a dick lately...” She looked up and set her hand on his cheek, bringing him in for a deeply passionate kiss that sent chills down his spine. “Uh,” He chuckled and kissed the grin on her lips. “Okay.”

“I forgive you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Mikasa smiled as she studied his gorgeous eyes and lightly rubbed his lower lip with her thumb. “Eren, you’re literally all I’ve ever wanted, and we just -" She blushed from what she’s about to say, and the smirk on his face. “We just made love for the first time. So, as far as I’m concerned, you are most definitely forgiven...”

“I can’t believe I’m finally going to say it, but damn, Mikasa,” Eren groaned playfully and chuckled when she buried her face in his neck, lips curved up into a grin. “You’re so fucking gorgeous...” He slowly explored her body with his hand, focusing on the dips and curves he encountered by fingertip, his light, gentle touches sending goosebumps across her skin.

“Are you trying to get laid again? Because, if you are, it’s definitely working...”

“I mean, I’m not going to lie, I had high hopes that we’d do it again later tonight, but that only depends on you.”

“In that case,” Mikasa smiled as she rolled on top of him and straddled his lap. “I wanna be the one on top this time...”

[lucytara]

For that bumblebee thing. Color: dark red. Song lyric: "I see you walking home alone, Your face is alive and bright. But you can't see how weak you are, 'Cause I could end it tonight"

To be honest, Blake’s fucking tired of council meetings. Especially when they all revolve around her without really allowing her to speak. 

She’s still too young, the elders have said, her parents included; she won’t be taking over for years to come, but it’s a requirement that she attend anyway, just to learn to the ropes. And she’s so bored. She’s not supposed to travel beyond her borders, she’s not allowed to enter the mortal realm - she’s so contained, constricted. For royalty, she thinks, she sure doesn’t get treated like it. 

So she runs. She can’t think of a reason not to. 

But she doesn’t run far. 

She stops on The Bridge, the delicate world between humans and angels, a place lower demons - like the ones she knows will be sent to search for her - can’t enter. It’s a vision of the paradise humans like to believe exists; lush forests, healing springs, no pain, no misery, no reluctance. She manages to sneak by the angels rejuvenating themselves at the waterfall, traipses through the woods and into a clearing, flowers spilling over the grass and the sun eternally shining down. 

It’d be the perfect place to take a break, relax, get away from it all, except that it isn’t empty.

There’s a girl sitting in the center of it, her back to Blake, blonde hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders, as wild as the woods they’re in. She doesn’t seem to feel Blake’s presence, because all she does is stay exactly as she is, the ground blooming around her. 

The thing about angels is that they have no idea how breakable they are, that’s the first thing Blake thinks. How easy it’d be for her to walk up behind the woman, press her nails into her throat, tear it out and send her back to repair, rebirth. Nothing dies here. Nothing exciting ever happens. 

She doesn’t realize how close she’s moved, subconsciously on the edge of doing exactly what she’d daydreamed about, until she’s interrupted. “I have to say,” a voice wrapped in amusement rings out, “I didn’t expect to meet you here, Your Highness.”

Blake freezes steady, caught off-guard, and even more startled to be recognized by sense alone. The girl turns, smirk on her face rather than a smile, and, shit, Blake’s possibly made some mistakes. “Um,” Blake says brilliantly, because she’s definitely not supposed to be talking to one of the Maidens. “I can be wherever I want,” is what slips out of her mouth next, defiant and unobstructed. 

The girl’s mouth curls further. “I’m sure,” she says, slowly getting to her feet; strangely she’s sheathed in a gold dress instead of white, and it occurs to Blake how out of place she looks, wearing leather pants, thigh-high boots, and and a black crop top with criss-crossing straps. “There’s nobody looking for you, then? I have a hard time believing the Princess of Hell can wander off without sending half the kingdom into panic.” 

“How do you know who I am?” Blake asks bluntly. “And no. Nobody important is looking for me, because sending the kingdom into a panic is exactly what they don’t want to do.” 

“So they know you’ve left of your own free will?” the girl says. “I don’t want to be listed as an accomplice, you know. I have quite an important position here. Full benefits. Salaried.” 

Blake laughs unexpectedly at the response and is immediately startled to hear herself do so. She observes the woman closer, more carefully. They’ve met before; they must have. All royalty are introduced, and gained royalty is even greater. The flowers, the gold of her dress, her hair…there’s something devastatingly familiar about her. “You’re Spring,” Blake says suddenly, the recognition coming to her. Oh, shit, this is definitely bad.

“I also have a name,” she says dryly, seemingly uncaring of all the punishments that could befall the two of them if they’re caught coercing. “It’s Yang, if you feel like using it.” 

“Yang,” Blake repeats, finds her tone softer than she intends. “I should’ve known you were no ordinary angel.” 

“And why’s that?” 

Blake rolls her eyes, gestures plainly. “Angels aren’t nearly as beautiful as you,” she lets slip, and shuts her mouth abruptly. Yang’s eyes seem to brighten with the lavender growing around them. She changes the subject. “What are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Thinking,” Yang says, allows the shift between them. “You aren’t the only one who gets…tired, I guess, of responsibility.” 

“Are Maidens even allowed to admit that?” 

Yang blinks at the response, laughs once, delicately. “Probably not,” she says charmingly. “But I’m trusting you won’t turn me in.”

“Now you’re an accomplice,” Blake says, smiling slightly. “We’re both breaking the law.” 

Yang merely shrugs, steps closer to her. Strangely, it doesn’t ignite the urge to run. “Oh, to hell with the law,” she says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise high, her stare dropping to Yang’s mouth. “I broke it the second I acknowledged your presence and didn’t immediately alert the High Guard.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Blake asks, her wariness fading and falling.

Yang stops directly in front of her, lets her eyes paint across Blake’s face, her mouth, the line of her jaw, the curve of her collarbone, the way the wind teases her hair. “I see a lot of beautiful things,” she murmurs, and raises a hand, intimately brushing her thumb across Blake’s bottom lip, “but nothing that quite rivals you.” 

“Run with me,” Blake whispers, enthralled. She doesn’t know why she says it, what strikes the urge within her, only that there’s something about Yang’s soul clutching her close, like a second of contact is all that’s ever been needed for love. “I’m tired of this. Of all of it.”

“Me?” Yang says, but she’s less thrown by the request than Blake expects her to be. “Why me?” 

“Don’t you feel it?” Blake breathes out, her hands winding around Yang’s waist. Oh, they could be tried on sight for this. “We met for a reason.” 

“You’d risk all of Hell for me?” Yang says, but her hands have settled on Blake’s shoulders. “After one conversation?” 

“We met before,” Blake says, the recollection instantaneous. She could never forget this girl, not sure how she’d convinced herself she did. “That’s how you knew it was me. We met on the Border, years ago. You just - you just stared, like you couldn’t help yourself. I didn’t want you to. I knew.” 

Yang’s eyes only dart between hers, and she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth. “It’s a mistake,” she says quietly, her eyelashes fluttering. “There’s - it never should’ve been you and me. I feel it, too. But someone made a mistake. We can be stripped for this.” 

“I don’t care,” Blake says. The sun burns overhead, and despite their rules and regulations, not a single decision she’s made that day feels like a fault. “They don’t make mistakes up there, and I’m not going to be the first one to accuse them of it.” She tilts her head, dips forward, lets their mouths meet in the middle; the sun still glimmers overhead, the flowers still bloom. Nothing’s happened that shouldn’t have if the universe has a say in it. “Run away with me.” 

“Okay,” Yang says, her smile free and unyielding, and Blake kisses her again. Let their kingdoms collapse, let their titles fade and disintegrate. Some things are worth more. “I think I know of a place.”