Hmmm. Having a predicament and I am curious to see what I should do cuz like:

So one of my players will not be available to play in the next session of our fairy tale ttrpg game. Not a big problem, but we have had this planned for weeks as it was one of the only times all 6 people are avalible to play. Now, we could just catch them up later.

But last session I thought it was about time to reveal some big plot things to the players (ie their world is not real, they are characters in a book, the world has just been destroyed and now they have to figure out what to do next as a group, they believe everyone they know to be dead, they arent but they dont know that yet, there are wars going on abt things they dont even know abt yet). And we couldn't play the week after the big stuff, so now we can finally play.

But I dont want to leave anyone out of these big things, as I am going to be revealing even more stuff abt how the world works now and going thru some individual character story arcs with them. I could just put off doing those things till later, not that big a problem usually. But I have also been doing that since the very first session.

And also everyone is really really eager and wanting to play again, and this is not the first time someone has had to miss a game, actually we havent had all 6 players there for a session together since the first one, and that was 5 months ago. Every other time I put off revealing the big things, but now I already did, and cant really put any more filler in it for them (and last session when the world got destroyed, I had anticipated all players to be there, and 2 couldn't make it at the last minute and I went through with my plans anyways, and caught up the others later in individual sessions. And that worked out well enough, it was just alot to do, and now that things are more serious I anticipate ill be doing that for everyone who misses a session, because things are going to be moving at a much faster pace now.)

And I am also very very tired of planning out things for them, and then having half the players be there, and having to come up with new things and not being able to continue or create any bigger plot points, and now seeing as we are in the bigger plot things going on, I kinda really would like everyone to be there from now on. But also. I do not anticipate being able to get everyone there for any session, as it has been an impossible feat for the entire campaign.

I AM going to be consulting with the group to see what they would like to do as a whole, but you know. I am curious to see what other people would do tbh.

Confidental Composition//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY !!!

This is the first part of my little 'Teachers Pet Series' (I will add the link once I got all parts covered and the right ideas).

Summary: A simple task fucked up late at night as you send the wrong version of a piece of homework to your English literature teacher Mister Bakugo. Of course, he would want to see you after class the next day. But not for the reasons you might think. Pairing: Docent!Bakugo x afab!student!y/n // Words: 4.2k+ Side note: Insert a friend or random name you want for X :)

TW: nsfw: slow burn (sorry), spanking with a ruler, hair pulling, being bend over a desk, calling him sir, spitting, choking, dirty talk, degrading, slight praise

„Write an essay about the worst description of a woman or coitus. In the essay, explain why it is bad and then rewrite it. At least 30 pages, max. 60 pages (sources and any other extras you please to include, excluded). Due Date: 8 weeks from now on, 35% worth of your end grade. Questions can be asked per E-Mail, or, if you must, I’m free every Wednesday afternoon for meetings strictly for this essay and this essay only.“

A sigh left your lips as you starred at the piece of paper for the tenth time today ever since he handed it out to you and your classmates. The options you had were endless, you knew so many bad pieces about both topics and could write more than 100 pages about them as well. Everyone in class you talked to had decided on their topic already, some were even further. It was X who told you to just write the topics on a piece of paper and let fate do its work.

Black ink on a badly ripped blue note decided that you were going to write about a sex scene. Just now that you thought about it, rewriting something like that for your professor to read was an awfully stupid idea, yet you decided to listen to a small piece of paper.

At first, you were going to go with Fifty Shades of Grey but you felt like the choice was chewed up and spat out. It took you three days to finally decide on a book and once you settled there was no turning back. Considering your ignited interest in this topic you weren’t surprised when you were done within the first four weeks. Knowing the editing is going to take another week, maybe even a week and a half, you decided to take a small break, just one or two days off. On your second day, you decided to visit the new coffee shop that had just opened up around the corner.

Never had you expected to see your professor near your living spot. You were about to greet him when you noticed his pissed-off expression on his face and only now did you spot the woman behind him. She grabbed his arm and made him turn on the relatively small and empty street.

„Suki you can’t be serious,“ she was angry and hurt, while he seemed to be angry and annoyed. Not much of a difference than to how you see him on the daily, to be honest. „Are you fucking stupid? Of course, I’m fucking god damn serious. It was your choice to cheat on me and now I choose to throw you on the streets where you apparently belong, go ask one of your little boy toys to take you in for all I care,“ you were frozen in place, not entirely sure what to do. Right now your eyes were glued on his chest that was clad in a tight, black pullover, rising up and down heavily as his nostrils were flared caused by his anger. „Because you gave me no choice! If you like that sort of weird, rough shit then paddle your own canoe! I need something soft and tender-,“ before she could finish her sentence he laughed. Cold and slightly maniac in a way.

„Then get some fucking chicken! If you don’t like how I’m in bed then break up with me and piss off but don’t send my best friend a nude to ask him to come over. Even a ten-year-old would see how stupid that is,“at that moment your eyes met. His eyebrows were furled together, red eyes expression furry and disgust. Blond hair usually styled like he was going to be on the cover of Vogue, like he had been before, now slightly messy. Plump lips slightly apart to let his teeth shine through slightly before wetting them with his tongue. Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were doing you waved at him, making him cock his eyebrows in confusion for a second before noticing it was you who he was looking at. Turning on your heels you walked past busy crowds of people as you walked back home, trying to understand what you had just seen and why your angry professor had turned you on more than anyone had done before.

It was a stupid idea to ditch the next teaching unit of his but you had absolutely no clue how you were going to look at him. You knew teachers had a private life themselves, but never would you have guessed that you would run into one of them in your small area. As far as you knew he lived across town according to the very, very few private stories he had shared in magazines.

„Dear Professor,

down below is my finished project as an attachment in form of a PDF. I know you request it to be printed as well and I had planned to hand it in today, but sadly I came down with the flu. I’m looking forward to attending your next unit in the following week.

Have a nice week,

Y/N Y/L/N“

Maybe he had forgotten that you were there already and you were worrying too much about it. You were his student, nothing more, nothing less. Bakugo could care less about you, right? The flu did go around a lot right now, so it wouldn’t be completely unthinkable that you were sick. Itching eyes signaled you that it was time to go to bed now, so you closed your laptop and went to bed, not knowing what the next day will hold for you.

X had waited for you at the main entrance the next day to give you all the information you might need and ask why you weren’t there, considering it was obvious that you had the flu for one day only. At first, you were hesitant to explain what you had witnessed, it was messy already and you doubt Mister Bakugo would want the fight to go viral at his workplace. „Just one of those days you know? I had my mind completely full and felt like crap,“ that was the best excuse you could come up with, a white little lie that wouldn’t harm anyone. „Glad to see you’re doing- Oh, hello Professor,“ X smiled at someone behind you. There was no need to turn around to know who it was, the scent of his very expensive and extremely beguiling perfume clouding your mind. „Hello,“ his gruff voice greeted your friend shortly as you turned around, met with his muscular chest. You didn’t expect him to be so close to you, but here you were, tilting your head slightly as you looked up to him through your lashes, feeling not just your cheeks growing hot. „Good morning Sir,“ your voice sounded a lot more confident than you were feeling. Bakugo clenched his fist around the fake leather of his bag, his red eyes starring right into your soul as you had no chance of escaping whatever was going to happen next. „Miss Y/L/N, just the person I was looking for,“ fuck. „You were?“ X and you said at the same time, but your friend decided to excuse themself after a single glare from the older man. „How may I help you, Professor?“ You asked after swallowing down the anxious feeling that threatened to rise. „I received your Mail yesterday, with the PDF,“ okay, why did he search you just to tell you he got your assignment? Was it that bad? „But I’m relatively sure that it was the wrong one, considering I doubt that you want your teacher to know that 'this shit is so bad, but I wouldn’t mind being bent over a writing desk like that' with a smirking emoji at the end,“ only when his finger pushed your chin upwards gently you noticed that it was agape, shame filling every molecule in your body as you already planned your escape out of this country. Nobody was near you to see the weirdly intimidating scene happening between you and your teacher.

„Also I know you didn’t have the flu. I don’t appreciate being lied to. Tomorrow five p.m. in my office, don’t be late or you will get in more trouble. Send me the actual version tonight so I can grade it. I won’t let something as unprofessional as this slide again, understood?“ You nodded, taking in all of the information given to you, and somewhat in all of this mess felt thankful that he was giving you a second chance. The man in front of you rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, ordering you to speak up. „Yes Sir, thank you,“ you sounded more confident than you felt inside. „Good,“ was all Bakugo said before he turned around, leaving you behind in the big hall dumbfounded and confused… And horny.

As if Chronos himself felt immense joy in your misery, minutes appeared to be hours and the panic inside of you only grew the closer you came to five in the afternoon. You tried everything, watching a show, listening to podcasts and audiobooks, reading a book you had put of for so long, went outside, cooked something, worked on another assignment, stopped yourself from destroying your hair, made the phone call you so desperately had put off and it’s still only ten p.m on the same day. How was that even possible? As you laid in bed you tossed and turned, the thought of your really hot teacher all angry, breathing heavily, his hands roaming your body. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when those thoughts turned into a very lucid dream, but when you woke up in the morning, already an hour too late to your first period, all you wanted to do was scream into your pillow.

Considering first class is canceled, you wanna go grab breakfast? X texted you.

Canceled? Checking your mails you saw your teacher had sent out a mail, excusing themselves and explaining they came down with the flu. A blessing in disguise. You let X know that you would meet up at the building and go grab something near it. Once agreed, you took a quick shower, a moment of peace given to you as water hit your body. There was no way you could do anything between your last class and the meeting with Professor Bakugo, so you tried to look your best possible for the next upcoming hours.

Suddenly time flew by and the closer you got the more you begged for a little bit more time, for him to postpone it, anything. But no, here you were, five minutes early and looking around to spot the blond man with no luck. „Miss Y/L/N. Step inside,“ you jumped slightly as his voice boomed up behind you, not expecting him to be in the office already.

Once you walked inside you were stunned about how clean everything was, no matter where you looked it was neat. His books were sorted alphabetically with marks between them to let him know when a new letter began. As far as you could tell he used cherry wood for his pieces of furniture, a big, black carpet in a corner underneath a small seating area, and some books placed on the table. Even his paperwork was stacked in order. Big glass windows allowed the evening sun to fall into the room, its warmness kissing your skin while you were seated in front of him, a big writing desk between the two of you, on it your work.

It was quiet for a short moment, before he leaned back in his chair, red eyes mustering you up and down which didn’t help at all. „What would you like to talk about first? Your assignment or the fact that you lied to me?“ Why was he so bothered by your lie? You knew plenty of students calling in sick every once in a while even though they aren’t. „I apologize for both of it. It shouldn’t have happened and I learned from my mistake,“ you were hoping that it would ease his anger a little bit but he seemed more worked up than usual. „Although I don’t understand why you are so angry at me for it? Plenty students lie-,“ „Yes, but they aren’t stupid enough to make it so obvious,“ he interrupted you. „I could care less about who’s missing my class, it’s their fault in the end if they decide learning is unnecessary. However you are one of my top students, I expected better from you. You could have excused yourself with no explanation. But you chose to add the feeble lie about being sick for what?“

You took in a deep breath, feeling as if another lie would be caught immediate, so you had no other choice but to tell him the real reason: „I heard the fight you had with the woman you were with, in the café, and I didn’t know how to react when I see you in your class,“ there was a small moment where he looked honestly confused before something clicked in his brain. „So it was you who I saw. What did you hear?“ „I can’t really rem-,“ „One more lie and I will lose my temper, don’t test me,“ shit, why was he turning you on so much right now. He’s your teacher for god’s sake and angry at you, this wasn’t the right time. „That she doesn’t agree with certain things in your private life,“ „Like?“ he knew you tried to talk around it, yet he wanted you to talk about, to see you embarrassed again, he liked that look on you. „The way you fuck,“ it was said before your brain could even comprehend the words, another apology laying at the tip of your tongue but his next question cut you off before you could say something else. „Why were you there in the first place? I’ve been there a few times and never saw you or any other student,“ he explained. „Because I live close by?“ It sounded more defiantly than you had wanted, causing your opponent to cock his eyebrow.

„I feel like you’re forgetting who’s the authority figure here,“ he walked up to his door, locking it before coming back. Now he was right in front of you, slightly sitting on his desk and the sleeves of his button-up shirt pushed up a little. „No sir, I’m sorry,“ „You see, the problem is, I don’t really believe you,“ with that he pulled you up, bodies pressed against each other, letting you feel his toned torso while the muscles in his arms flexed slightly.

„You lied to me once already, I think I have to teach you a lesson,“ everything happened so fast and you suddenly found yourself face down on his desk with his hand between your shoulder blades, the other one grabbing his wooden ruler. „If I recall correctly this is what you wanted right?“ His voice was low, slightly above a whisper as his upper body was pressed against your back while he pulled a few hair strands from your face. „Yes, but Professor I don’t think this is a good idea,“ your inner voice yelled at you, saying this was the best idea ever, angry that you possibly ruined your dreams coming true.

„Tell me to stop and I will do so immediately. Your choice. There will be no consequences if you worry about that,“ he reassured you, waiting for you to get up and run, but you didn’t and the current position allowed him to feel you clench your legs. „So?“ He asked again, the ruler in his hand basically burning with the anticipation of hitting your skin. „No, don't stop,“ you breathed, awaiting his next move.

„Good,“ with that he exposed your raised ass, your underwear the only thing between your bare skin and the wood that came down upon it, one foot raising in the air because of the sudden pain. „From now on if you say stop I won’t listen, you will tell me how you feel through colors. If it’s too much you tell me red and I will drop everything, understood?“ Another spank was delivered to the same spot.

„Yes,“ another one. You weren’t sure if he hit harder or if your skin turned more sensitive with every blow.

„It’s sir to you,“ you could feel him lunge out but shortly before the ruler came down he stoped, laughing slightly at your small jump.

„Yes sir,“ another one.

„You’re going to apologize every time my ruler paints your cute ass even redder, got it?“ You nodded your head, a moan escaping the back of your throat as he spanked you yet again.

„One more thing, be a good girl and stay quiet, wouldn’t wanna get caught now do we?“ He knew it was going to be torture for you to follow his order the more he continued and in a way he wanted you to fail. There was so much build-up inside of him and it appears that you were willing enough for him to use you as he pleased. That’s why you were his favorite. Bakugo knew what he was doing was wrong and he never expected to feel this way for one of his students but forbidden fruit tastes the best.

You stopped counting after the seventh blow, sorries, sirs and small whimpers fall from your lips as if they were your whole vocabulary. At one point you started crying, tears mixed with mascara running down your cheeks. He tried to remember something that turned him on more than the sight of your messed-up body with no luck. Everything build up inside of him, everything itching in his hands, the inner desires he had to soften for his ex, it all was going to come down on you. His thick girth twitched at the simple thought of finally being surrounded by your dripping wet cunt.

A warm soft hand rubbed over your bruised flesh while the other one found its way into your hair to pull you up to him, your back arched.

„What are you sorry for?“ Your mind was clouded with pleasure and pain, the only thought right now was the feeling of his dick print right between your sore cheeks. „I asked my little bitch a question, I expect you to fucking answer,“ this time he spanked you with his hand but it was just as intense as his ruler. „I don’t know,“ you breathed, a soft moan slipping out of you when his thumb barely circled your throbbing clit. „You’re just apologizing because you want me to use you?“ You could hear him chuckle lowly before he pushed your underwear to the side, his middle finger now playing with you. „Yes sir,“ Katsuki couldn’t hear a single ounce of shame in your voice and he wondered how long you had been thinking about him like this before.

„I never expected you to be such a dumb, cock hungry whore,“ The sound of his belt hitting the floor was dull like it was far away from you but at the same time, you felt him closer than before. Strong hands around your waist turned you around and once again he lifted your head with his finger underneath your chin, studying your ruined make-up as if he was memorizing every little detail he never wanted to forget. The blond, muscular man lifted you with ease, your behind getting a small moment of cooling as it hit his wooden desk.

Bakugo dried your tears slightly with his thumb, smearing it even more. „Only for you,“ you whispered and in that moment he couldn’t stop himself, he just had to kiss you. Not sweet and gentle, but passionately and hungry, like he was poisoned and your kiss was the antidote. The hand behind your head traveling to the front as you were laid down completely.

„If I had known before I would have fucked you so much sooner,“ with one hard thrust he was buried deep inside of you, one hand over your mouth because he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet and the other one around your throat, squeezing shut and watching you struggle against it slightly. Your professor was thicker than what you were used to and you didn’t know how good it would feel until now. With the first few snaps of his hips, you knew you never wanted to feel something else anymore.

Your hands went to his arms and you tugged on them, causing him to let go as the blood found its way back to your brain. „Color?“ he asked, afraid you weren’t able to handle him. „Green,“ was all you could get out before another moan cut off your ability to talk.

„Good girl,“ he whispered into your ear, kissing down from your earlobe to your shoulder before sucking on a rather sensitive spot. Both of your wrists were held over your head with his left hand, with the explanation that he doesn’t appreciate being stopped while using you however he pleased. The right hand was going from between your chest after he admired your bouncing tits thoroughly, to your stomach to connect with your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Bakugo switched from circles to eights, from fast to slow, but the harshness of his hips never haltered.

„I know you wanna scream right now, but I can’t allow that. Can’t let others hear what a dirty slut you are for me right now. I promise I will fuck you in my house if you behave now. You can moan my name as much as you want. Or maybe I will gag you, watch you drool all over yourself. Maybe I will tie you up and edge you for an hour straight until you’re begging me to fuck you, you like the sound of that, huh? I can feel you squeezing around me,“ another chuckle left his plump lips as he watched you struggle to stay up on your feet.

„Maybe I will let you choke on my dick while I work on something for the next lesson. Gonna use you as my little cum dump. Let you think about it again when I talk about it in front of the whole class. Do-,“ you were so close when a sudden knock on the door startled you both, but he never once stopped what he was doing, if anything he went even harder, whispering into your ear to be quiet for him.

„Hey Kat, your ex is outside and says she wants to talk, want me to send her in?“ It was the psychologist professor Shinso, his voice as done and deep as usual. „No, I’m occupied,“ Bakugo saw your mouth open after you fought so hard against it, he couldn’t let you moan, not right now. He did the first thing he could think of, spitting into it and watching you swallow. Oh, he would definitely film you do this with his cum covering you everywhere and the thought brought him slightly closer to his release. „Still grading papers huh? I don’t get where you got all of that energy from,“ his voice was blurred out by Bakugo whispering into your ear. „Do you want me to tell you what we're doing right now? Let him know I’m fucking my little toy stupid right now?“ And while you were shaking your head no it was the last straw for you and you found yourself grabbing his hand to put over your mouth, biting your lips until you tasted blood to muffle the scream you couldn’t stop. Bakugo cursed under his breath when he could feel you throbbing around his dick and your nails digging into his arm. „Tell her to leave me the fuck alone, she’s already forgotten,“ his voice sounded strained and you knew he was close as well. „Ah, I see. Well then have fun,“ his laugh was fading away the further he went.

„Can’t believe that made you cum, you’re even more perfect than I thought, such a dirty girl, tsk,“ both his hands are on your hips and he pulled your body against him with every thrust. You were still coming down from your orgasm when you felt his thrusts turning sloppy before he stopped completely, his dick now pulsing while he was holding you tightly. Breath uneven and getting stable on his feet again he turned you around, careful so he wouldn’t hurt you.

„Next time I gonna make sure you can’t walk but right now I need you to be able to leave the building,“ he pulled his pants back up and added: „Sadly,“ before walking around his desk.

It was still hard for you to stand so you sat down, wincing as the usually soft cushion now felt like thousand of tiny spikes on your bruised ass. Before you pull your bottoms up again he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, once again with a stern expression on his face you were so familiar with.

„I apparently really fucked you stupid if you think I let you leave like this,“ having him put cooling cream on your bare bum felt more intimate than having him be balls deep inside you. „Sorry I just thought-,“ „Well, you thought wrong. I don’t know what kind of boys you had in the past but now that you have me there are going to be changes, got that?“

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

__

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

__

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

__

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

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damirae week 2021 tuesday, May 4th - enemies to lovers & dark fantasy/ fairytale

title: bewitched

summary: “There’s a sly and satisfied smirk playing on her lips, and for a moment, he knows she has bewitched him, body and soul. This girl— this demon— is going to be his downfall. " Ao3 // ffnet

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It is a moonless night when the most powerful members of the League of Assassins are gathered in the catacombs of the sacred city of Eth Alth’eban. There are at least 20 men wearing dark-green hoods to cover their faces, each holding a lit candle in order to provide just the minimum luminosity for the ceremony that is about to take place. Their leader, Damian Al’Ghul, stands straight as he holds his powerful countenance, his emerald eyes never leaving the deteriorated book in his hands. A conjuring circle has been drawn with the ancient sand of the white desert, and at this moment, all the preparations have been concluded.

At last, the time has come. After spending years studying the dark arts and reading countless manuscripts on the matter, Damian is finally ready to take the next step towards a prosperous future. He is about to do what his predecessors never had the guts to, and with this action, a new era for the League is about to begin. He will make his grandfather proud by rewriting the history of their organization. He will be respected and his name, finally, immortalized.

“From hell, I, Damian Al’Ghul summon thou. Break the gates, unleash thy power and come forward. Step into this world now that the shadows cover this land. Be mine, demon, and my heart shall be yours for eternity.” He closes the book, handling it to one of the servants standing next to him. His hand reaches for the dagger in his belt, and in a fraction of a second, he tears the skin of his right hand. Red blood oozes from the sash and he lets it drip over the circle, tinging the white sand into a bright crimson. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos.”

The last words come as a whisper and a profound silence envelops the room. A couple of seconds pass, and though he can practically touch the thick anxiety of his subordinates around him, there’s no room for hesitation in his core. His pulse suddenly increases and it’s as if he can feel his heart constricting inside his ribcage. It’s not painful, not in the least. In fact, it gives him a feeling of fulfillment, and as he embraces this feeling, the ground beneath his feet starts to shake.

A dust of wind invades the catacombs, the lights of a few candles fading in consequence. Suddenly, an ominous fog swirls inside the circle, delicate at first, but quickly escalating into a dark vortex. Breathing gets harder, as if all the oxygen is quickly vanishing, and from the corner of his eyes, he can see some of the elder man falling on their knees, holding their throats and gasping for air. He doesn’t move, though. He can’t, for his feet are suddenly too heavy and something tells him he shouldn’t move a single muscle.

So he doesn’t. He stands his ground for what feels like an eternity, but eventually, the turmoil ceases and a dark sphere appears over the circle, floating steadily. His ears capture the sound of his men recovering, and some even take a step closer to him, as if to offer their prince some support. They have their blades ready, but Damian knows they won’t do anything unless he commands them to. There’s no need for violence. At least not yet.

After almost a full minute, the orb then dissolves and a small figure is now kneeled on the floor, the runes of the circle now shinning with a purple aura. His men are left in pure awe at the scene in front of them, but Damian doesn’t let those feelings take over him. His eyes are slowly studying the figure, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize the demon he has summoned has a human form— the form of a woman, apparently.

Her head is lowered, dark hair falling forward. She’s naked, her bare skin pale as the finest porcelain and slim curves outlining her figure. Her arms are wrapped across her chest in a protective way, and he is quick to notice the way she’s shivering. She’s cold, he thinks. It’s mid winter here, and perhaps, she must still be used to the warmer temperatures of hell.

“Bring me a source of fire. Now.” He orders, and his subordinates don’t question, quickly lighting a brazier. In a swift move, then, Damian unbuttons the cape that falls over his shoulders and wraps it around her. He’s crouched now, his feet invading the circle and his face just a few inches away from hers. When he reaches out for her now covered shoulder, she trembles under his touch. His eyes squint a bit, and slowly, he watches as she finally lifts her face.

Their eyes are connected now. His emeralds and her amethyst clashing and he can’t find it in himself to look away. She’s enticing, seductive, even. Her eyes are as deep as autumn’s starry skies, and her rosy lips are slowly parting as she studies his expression. There’s a red crystal on her forehead, and it’s as if flames are dancing inside of it.

Damian is mesmerized by her ethereal beauty. She’s probably the most beautiful creature he has ever seen, and for a moment, her pure looks make him forget that she is, in fact, a demon. A demon he has summoned to help him achieve his goals.

Once realization strikes him back, he blinks and breaks eye contact. He stands up, his imposing figure now towering over her body as he reaches out, offering his hand to help her stand. At first, her eyes are just staring at him, but eventually, she accepts his gesture and he can properly feel her icy touch clashing against his warm skin. Though her legs are still shaky, she manages to stand up, and as expected, she’s smaller than him. She lets go of his hand once she’s confident enough to stand alone, and though her eyes were only filled with confusion until this point, now, he can see a new flame behind her irises.

She’s examining her surroundings now, and he wonders if she’s either planning a way to escape or to kill all of them— for their sake, he hopes it’s not the latter. The demoness takes a deep breath, then, and her attention returns to him.

“So you’re the one who’s summoned me.” Her voice is low, almost velvety, and he senses an inch of growing confidence in it.

“Yes.” He confirms. “You will help me achieve my goals.” His eyes are determined as those words roll out of his tongue, and that determination evokes a smirk on her lips.

“Oh, is that so? How can you be so sure of that? Tell me what’s stopping me from killing you and all of your men?”

The lack of hesitation in her voice causes a turmoil in his men, and they were quick to unsheathe their blades. Rage fills their hearts, and their blood-thirst is almost palpable now.

“Just say the word, your majesty.” One of them says, and it’s clear that they only need the minimum approval from Damian to slit her throat.

“Is this your pathetic excuse for backup?” She huffs, not bothering to spare them a single glance. They’re growing more irritated, but she pays them no mind. ”I see why you needed a demon, then.”

“You devil creature! How dare yo— “

“Enough.” He says, firmly, with a reprimanding tone towards his men. If anything, he won’t let them fall for her tricky games so easily. He’s glaring at her now, yet she doesn’t seem intimidated by him in the least. “If you wanted us dead, you would’ve done it by now.”

“Very astute, your majesty.” She mocks, finally turning her amethyst orbs to his men. “At ease, gentlemen. No one needs to die here tonight. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak alone with you, Damian Al’Ghul.”

“Very well.” He turns to his men. “You can leave now.”

“What?! Master Damian, we shouldn’t have done this. We can just kill her and get back to the way we were before. We can—“

“Don’t you dare finish this sentence, sergeant.” He speaks, harshly. “I forbid you or anyone else in this facility to bring her any harm. Have I made myself clear?” There’s a screaming silence after his words, but eventually, his men bow their heads in acceptance. Hands are clenched into tight fists, and at last, her smirk fades from her face. For that, Damian is thankful.

In less than a second, all the men surrounding them leave the room. The light from the lit fire outlines their silhouettes as they now stand face to face. She’s still wrapped around his green and golden cape, and there’s a serious expression decorating her features now.

“So, Damian…” She starts, squinting her eyes in defiance. With her powers, the magic book he’s used to conjure the spells comes floating to her hands, and she’s quick to start flipping through its dusty pages. “You might be aware of this already, but you have used a pretty powerful grimoire to summon a demon like me. The mage who wrote this spells certainly knew what he was doing, for he’s found a way to turn the tables against us, evil creatures.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we can’t just fool you, humans, into doing whatever we want like we’ve been doing for the past centuries.” She smirks. “At least not so easily anymore. With the spells in this book, giving you my real name or stuff like that makes absolutely no difference.”

“And what is it? Your name, I mean.”

Her eyes stare at him for a while, and though she takes a couple of seconds to try and read him, eventually, she gives in. “Raven. You can call me Raven.”

“Raven.” He tests her name in his own voice, and unconsciously, he finds himself enjoying the way it rolls out of his tongue. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” She replies, finally closing the book with a loud noise. “Well, you’ve summoned me from the depths of hell, Damian. You don’t need to tell me your reasons for it, but please, do tell me, what is it that you want me to do? How can I serve you?”

He nods at her, and even if Damian knows better than to simply trust a demon, he believes she’s being genuine. Though there are still a lot of things he has yet to learn about dark magic, he knows that the book he’s used gives him the higher ground against her. There are taming spells there that can subdue her to his wills, and if anything, she’s not allowed to kill him. They’re bound together for as long as he wants to, and giving her his heart in exchange for that felt quite acceptable.

They’re each holding the strings of each other’s lives, and with that, he believes they will find balance.

“I want what all the humans in my position want, Raven. I want enough power to protect my man and the things we stand for. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Nothing more, huh?” Her brows quirk, and she takes a few steps closer to him. Her eyes are on his, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t spot a certain curiosity in her demeanor. “Don’t you want to rule the world, Damian? Don’t you want to be feared by nations and create your own empire?”

“No.” He says, promptly. “A true leader should not be feared, but respected.”

“How very honorable for a human.” She teases, finally returning the book to him. “But this is none of my business. I’m in no position to defy your wishes. I’m bound to consent if that’s what you want.”

She turns away from him, then, and he watches as his cape dances around her slim legs. She stretches her arms and neck, and that’s when he reminds himself that, even if she’s a creature from hell, Raven still has her own wishes and desires. They’ve made a contract, and even if the odds are in his favor, there must be something in it for her, too. He refuses to believe that a human heart is enough to pay for what could be a life of servitude.

The leader of the Assassins takes a deep breath, then, as he decides to venture unexplored territory. His intentions are noble— at least he thinks they are— and he doesn’t hesitate before speaking. “And what is it that you want, Raven?”

“Me?” She asks, curiosity lacing her voice. She turns to face him once more, and he catches a glimpse of interest in her amethyst eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you what is it that you want. What will you get from helping me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asks, her tongue instinctively running across her lower lip. “I’ll be finally free, Damian.”

“Free?” He arcs his brows as he tries to understand her words. “Can you really be free while bounded to a human?”

“You humans have a very idealistic sense of freedom. We are bound together, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean you’re taking away my freedom. It’s quite the opposite, in fact.”

“How so?”

“You took me away from hell, Damian. And though it might not be the worst place for us, demons, it’s still pretty hard not to lose control when all of those suffering souls are screaming inside your head.” She smiles, weakly, but genuinely. “Now that I’m only connected to you, it’s easier to think straight. My mind isn’t crowded anymore, and that alone sets me free. If you are to put me in a cage for the rest of your life, so be it. At least I will some peace.”

His lips go agape after her words, and he feels his heart skipping a beat. Though he initially believed to know enough about demons due to his previous studies, Damian now knows that there’s a lot more about them he has yet to understand. They’re creatures with thoughts and emotions, and some of them might still carry some traces of humanity. Though malice and wickedness might prevail in their core, perhaps— just perhaps— some of them can come to comprehend feelings such as mercy and happiness.

Perhaps, together, they can eventually comprehend the meaning of love.

The heart inside his chest, though no longer his, beats faster as his eyes continue to stare at her. A sense of dignity and justice takes over him, and before he knows it, his hand is already placed over her shoulder. His touch is tender, and he watches as bewilderment spreads around her face. “You won’t be trapped in a cage, Raven. I want you to rule by my side, and we will stand together against whatever might come for us. I will give you anything you might desire. I will keep you safe.”

As his words sink in, a slow smile takes over her lips, and she uses her right hand to remove his from her shoulder. “A human protecting a demon… How amusing.” Her small fingers are now holding his, and he notices how foreign her touch feels. Still, she’s gentle. “Not trapping a demon in a cage, huh… You might regret this decision later, Damian.”

“I won’t.” He nods, his grip on her fingers tightening. “You will be free by my side. I give you my word.”

His promises come out almost as a whisper, and he watches as her expression, though still very strict, shows signs of excitement. Her amethyst eyes seem to shine brighter now, and her thin lips are slowly turning upwards. Right now, Damian is captivated by her genuine beauty and he can’t control the sudden desire to have her that has grown inside of him. Perhaps it’s part of the original contract or even a curse she’s putting on him. Whatever it is, he can’t find it in himself to fight against this urge.

Raven blinks one more time, and slowly, her hand slides from his and she’s now cupping his cheek. Her thumb slides across his olive skin, and he can’t help but allow the weight of his head to rest over her palm. Their eyes are connected and he can feel a soft breeze coming from her slightly parted lips. She’s incredibly close now. So close that if he leans in, his lips might brush hers. The thought of kissing her crosses his mind, and though it might seem too misplaced, it’s not completely absurd.

She’s the owner of his heart, after all. Though the meaning of it might not be the same for her, he is still human. He is still a man.

“Raven, I—“

“Shh…” She silences him, her eyes now only half opened. “Don’t say anything you might regret later.”

“I— “

Before he can even finish his words, Raven is the one who closes the gap between them. Her lips are pressed firmly against his in a soft and chaste kiss, and his body is quick to respond to her action. His arm slowly snakes around her small body, bringing her closer so they can deepen the kiss. Damian can feel the curves of her bare breasts against his chest and he can feel his body warming up at her touch.

Their tongues brush softly against one another, and once he adds a little roughness to the kiss, he’s able to elicit a soft moan from the depths of her throat. She responds to him promptly, their lips moving in perfect synchrony. Though it might not be natural for two extremely different creatures to engage in such actions, the desire running through his veins seems to be controlling his movements, and he doesn’t think he has the strength to break free.

His mind is revolving around her right now, and though it might feel a little clouded, Damian doesn’t think he has ever felt more powerful or sane in his entire life. He can barely feel his own heart beating anymore, but the power that now courses through his body is making him feel incredibly alive.

What is she doing to him? He doesn’t know, not really. However, he doesn’t really care about it right now.

He’s entranced by her, and there’s no turning back anymore. At least not until his heart stops beating.

His need for air forces him to retreat momentarily, their foreheads resting against one another. His lungs are desperate for fresh air, and judging by the way her ribcage is moving fast, he assumes she’s just as needy.

“What have you done to me?” He asks, still breathless. The turmoil inside his body seems to be fading, and at last, he can think straight again.

“Nothing your heart didn’t wish for, Damian.” Raven answers, sliding her hand across his chest, until it’s placed over his heart. She can feel it beating against her palm, and he notices how focused she seems. There’s a sly and satisfied smirk playing on her lips, and for a moment, he knows she has bewitched him, body and soul. This girl— this demon— is going to be his downfall.

And the worst part is that he’s looking forward to it.

fin.

----------

a/n: day 2 and here we are! Ngl, I had this idea while watching a weird show and I’m pretty happy with the result. Both Raven and Damian are such amazing characters to play with, and I think it’s our duty as shippers to explore them and their love. Well, what did you think? Hope you’ve enjoyed it! Thank you for reading it, and see ya!

1300 miles | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | It’s my birthday, so to celebrate I’m sharing chapter one of my new WIP. This started its life as a one-shot but then my enneagram 4 brain took over and now it’s looking like it’ll be a multi-chapter short. Enjoy!

Also, feedback – comments, likes, etc. – is always appreciated, my loves.

AO3 link | 1300 miles playlist

_____

The sun is just starting to sink in the sky as Sam and Bucky finish the latest repairs on the boat. Sam has spent the last hour pestering Bucky about things he’s missed over the last 80 years — things he needs to do, shows and movies he needs to watch, music to listen to, places to go. Bucky is considering the consequences of putting his vibranium fist through the new Captain America’s face.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to New Orleans?” Sam half-shouts at Bucky in amusement.

“Sam, besides the airport, when would I have been to New Orleans?” Bucky sighs.

“We’re going. Tonight.” He stands up. “But none of that Bourbon Street bullshit. I know a place,” he says.

_____

The bar is crowded on a Saturday night, but they manage to find a table near the small stage where a band is setting up.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sam says, heading to the bar.

“Sam said he knows the owners?” Bucky asks Sarah.

“Jo and Danny. Yeah,” Sarah says. “Danny served with Sam on his last tour. Real young kid when he served. Took some shrapnel to the chest and face in an RPG explosion and got out early. He and Sam kept in touch.”

Bucky watches Sam talk to a man with a mop of curly, brown hair and an auburn beard behind the bar. From where he sits, Bucky can see a jagged scar peeking out from the top of the man’s beard over his cheek, stopping just below his right eye.

Sam returns with three beers. "Danny says hi," he tells Sarah. "Says he'll come over when he has a free minute."

"Jo around?" Sarah asks.

Sam nods toward the stage. "She's playing tonight. Danny says she's in the office rewriting the set list."

Bucky sips his beer and looks around. When they entered, there was a wave of enthusiasm as people recognized Sam as Captain America, but it seems to have died down and now no one is paying them much attention. Bucky prefers it that way, though he’s happy that people are excited for Sam.

“Speak of the devil,” Sam says, smiling and nodding toward a woman emerging from a door beside the bar marked ‘Employees Only.’ She’s wearing a loose-fitting white tank tucked into light-wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of black combat boots. Her wavy, dark hair fans out behind her as she rushes towards the stage. She's clutching a piece of paper in one hand, and the smile on her face makes Bucky's heart stutter for a moment.

Sam catches the way Bucky is watching Jo as she jumps onto the stage. He elbows Sarah and nods at the lovestruck look on Bucky's face, and they share a smirk. Bucky doesn't notice the exchange. He's too busy studying Jo. Her arms are covered in tattoos, from shoulders to fingers. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, Bucky can see the row of piercings adorning the curve of her ear. There's a gold ring between her nostrils. Bucky's seen some of the kids in Brooklyn with that piercing, but he doesn't know what it's called. He's seen plenty of women like her since moving back to New York — with tattoos and piercings and dark hair — but there's something about the combination with her green eyes and soft smile that makes his mouth go dry and his palm sweat.

He takes another sip of his beer to ground himself.

Jo picks up an acoustic-electric guitar from its stand, swings the strap over her shoulder, and plugs the guitar into a small amp at her feet. She raises her right hand in the air and sets a count with her fingers — one, two, three, four. The band starts, and Jo strums the guitar, smiling at the crowd. When she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, Bucky is surprised at how sweet her voice sounds. He was expecting it to be rougher, but it's gentle and warm, and he likes the way her mouth looks as it forms the words to the song.

Next to him, Sam taps his foot along to the music. Bucky can't remember the last time he saw a band play live. God, he thinks, it was before the war, before everything. He takes another sip of his beer before Sarah hands him a fresh bottle. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left the table and gone to the bar. He smiles and nods his thanks.

Sarah leans over and whispers to Bucky just loud enough for Sam to hear, as well, "You should ask her out after the show."

Bucky grimaces and shakes his head. As he told Yori once, there's a dance to these things, and he's eighty years out of practice. Plus, his last date didn't exactly go as planned.

But he can't stop staring at Jo's painted black nails and tattooed fingers as they move across the guitar strings. LOVE is written across the top knuckles of her right hand, HATE on the left. A series of lines and dots decorate her lower knuckles. There’s a snake curling around her left wrist, its inked head resting on her hand, and several large peonies cover the back of her right hand and up her forearm. Bucky wonders what her tattooed hands would look like wrapped around his cock. He also wonders where else on her body she has tattoos and what that voice would sound like when he's between her thighs. Fuck.

The band transitions into another song, and Jo's eyes land on Bucky. She's used to people staring at her, especially when she's on stage, but she's caught by the way his eyes never leave her, never wander to look at the band's female bassist or to Sarah sitting next to him. She's certain his stare could burn a hole right through her, and she wouldn't even complain. He’s fucking gorgeous.

She knows who he is, of course. She’s seen the recent footage of him with Sam in New York and read the Times article detailing his move from assassin to almost Avenger. Plus, her twin brother, Danny, was a bit of a history nerd as a kid so she’s definitely seen a Captain America documentary that mentioned the Howling Commandos. And they may or may not have hidden a fugitive Captain America and Falcon following the Accords.

Jo tears her eyes away from the super soldier and focuses on the rest of the audience. She can see Danny behind the bar, flirting with the man he's been trying to sleep with for the past two weeks. She catches his eye and smiles her encouragement between lyrics. Get his number! she tries to say with her eyes. Danny's usually pretty good at reading her mind. She doesn't know if it's a brother thing or a twin thing or just a Danny thing, but when he holds up his phone in surrender and smiles back at her, she knows he got the message.

The first half of their set ends with a crash of drums and a long guitar riff. Jo takes a swig from the mason jar full of water she keeps on stage. Her eyes meet Bucky's again as she swallows, and he licks his bottom lip. Heat curls in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what else that tongue could do.

Willow, the band's bassist, steps over and whispers in Jo's ear, “If you don’t fuck him after the show, I’m going to."

When Jo looks at her, she can see the amusement dancing in Willow's eyes. She rolls her own eyes and avoids looking directly at Bucky for the rest of the set.

_____

After the last song, Jo thanks the crowd and helps the rest of the band tidy up the stage, unplugging amps and turning off the mics. She's still trying not to look at Bucky, even though she can feel his eyes on her.

"You have to stop staring, man," Sam whispers to Bucky.

"I'm not staring," Bucky grumbles.

Sarah laughs, "You're definitely staring."

“Here," Sam says, "I'll introduce you." And before Bucky can protest, Sam is waving Jo over. "Josephine," Sam says, hugging her.

"Samuel," she returns, smiling. "Congrats on the new gig." She punches his shoulder lightly. "Better you than that John Walker douchebag," she says. Bucky snorts, and she catches his eye and smirks before turning to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah." They exchange pleasantries while Bucky tries to get his tongue to turn back from lead.

Sam points at Bucky, "This is—"

Bucky stands. "Bucky. Barnes."

Jo smiles and shakes his gloved hand. "Jo. Landry," she says, matching his cadence.

Sam was right. Bucky can't stop staring at her. This close, he can see there's a bit of gold in the green of her eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth. She smells like sandalwood and citrus and just a little bit like pot.

Jo returns his stare. His five o’clock shadow doesn’t hide the dimple in his chin, and she briefly imagines pressing her lips against it. She’s trying to name the exact shade of blue of his eyes when Sam clears his throat.

She’s not usually so easily flustered by attractive people, but Bucky's blue eyes and chiseled jaw have done a number on her self-control. “Let me grab a drink,” Jo says, turning quickly.

“No need,” Danny says, appearing in front of her and handing her a glass. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “He’s cute.”

“Please fuck off,” Jo hisses in return, widening her eyes at him. She’s only half-serious, and Danny knows it. It’s a twin thing.

When she looks at Bucky again, he’s smirking, and she wonders if enhanced hearing is a super soldier trait. Bucky pulls out the fourth chair at the small table for her to sit, and Jo can't remember the last time someone did that for her.

"The show was great," Sarah says, grabbing Jo's attention.

"Thanks," Jo replies. "Took a while to get back to it after…” she snaps her fingers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

"You were snapped?" Bucky asks.

Jo nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Cheers," she says sarcastically, raising her glass in a toast. She shakes her head again and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Five years just," she holds her hands open, "gone. Danny was still here, holding all this together by himself."

She tucks one leg under the other, and her knee bumps Bucky’s beneath the table. When she moves to pull her knee away from his, he places a gloved hand on her thigh, holding her leg in place.

Bucky surprises even himself with this move. He hasn’t been this forward with a woman since an auburn-haired nurse in Italy during the war. With her, it was all hands and mouths and skin on skin because he was certain he was going to die any day. Now he supposedly has all the time in the world. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do with it.

But in this moment, he's comfortable here, in this tiny bar, with a beer in his hand and Jo's knee pressed against his. He's confident that Sam would never introduce him to someone he couldn't trust.

Bucky's flirted with Sarah, sure, but that was mostly to irritate to Sam. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the thought of something happening between himself and Sarah and then ending badly and ruining his relationship with Sam makes his stomach hurt. Pursuing Jo seems safer in that regard. She and Sam are friends, but if — when, he thinks — he ruins things, he can just go back to New York instead of losing his only friend.

Jo asks Sarah about AJ and Cass to distract herself from the butterflies forming in her stomach at Bucky’s touch, and Sam starts a story about the boys' latest interests. Bucky is content to listen to the three of them talk, his eyes barely leaving Jo. When she flicks her gaze over to him every now and then, she doesn't seem phased by his staring, and she hasn't pulled her knee away from where it's softly touching his. After a while, Danny emerges from behind the bar and joins their table, introducing himself to Bucky with a firm handshake.

While Danny and Sam trade updates about people they know, Jo leans towards Bucky and asks, “You want another drink?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies.

Jo doesn’t say anything else, just nods her head toward the bar, stands, and offers Bucky her hand. He takes it, the leather glove of his right hand warm against her palm. He wishes he could feel her skin without the gloves between them. He doesn’t usually wear them around Sam and Sarah and everyone in Delacroix, but he wasn’t sure how the metal arm would be perceived at this bar he’s never been to. Sam told him not to worry about it, but Bucky doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Jo leads him through the sea of tables to a barstool, then moves behind the bar and grabs him a fresh bottle of the beer he's been drinking all night. "Unless you want something stronger," she says, pausing before she hands it to him.

"This is good," Bucky replies.

She pops the top and hands him the bottle. He takes a sip as he watches her maneuver around the bartender on duty to fix herself another whiskey sour before taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

"Full disclosure; because it's only fair," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes. Not the whole story, but bits and pieces."

Bucky pauses. He searches her eyes for the fear he's expecting but finds none. "And you're okay with that?" he asks.

Jo quirks the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile and says, “If Sam trusts you, I trust you."

“I’m not great with meeting new people, and I was telling myself the same thing about you," Bucky admits, almost sheepishly.

“You know we can never tell Sam about this, right?" Jo says, conspiratorially. "We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Never,” Bucky agrees, and knocks his beer bottle lightly against her glass in understanding.

They talk for a while, just the two of them alone at the end of the bar. Jo asks him how he likes Louisiana ("Hot, but the people are friendly"); where he's staying ("Sarah's"); when he's heading back to New York ("A week from tomorrow"); what he likes to do for fun ("Still figuring that out"); his favorite place ("Wakanda") and favorite book ("The Hobbit"); and a myriad of other questions — some of which Bucky answers easily and some that make him pause. He makes her give her own answers to each one in turn.

Jo leans close to Bucky so she can hear him over the noise of the room, and he takes the opportunity to study her features more closely. He's practically mapped all of her face when her eyes leave his for a brief second and land on Sam, Sarah, and Danny staring at them from the table across the room.

"Don't look now," she whispers, leaning even closer, "But we seem to have an audience."

Bucky makes a big show of looking over his shoulder at the group.

"I said 'don't look!'" Jo laughs and swats casually at his arm.

Bucky takes the opportunity to pin her hand with his own, holding it tightly and licking his bottom lip before smiling at her. He can see the blush paint her cheeks and creep down her neck and chest.

He likes Jo, likes how easy it feels to be around her. He isn't used to that. He isn't used to feeling comfortable with people. Hell, he thinks, I barely feel comfortable with myself. But there's something about Jo that makes him feel safe and calm. Of course, there's attraction there — plenty of it — but he's sure it's more than that.

For her part, Jo is enamored with Bucky. She likes his hard edges and his snark, but she also likes the small glimpses he's given her of the man beneath all of that. She doesn't usually fall for people so easily, but she's found herself drowning in the sea of blues that make up Bucky's eyes, and she doesn't want to be rescued. How fucking cliche, she tells herself.

"We should probably go back over there," Bucky says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.

They both stand and make their way back to the table. Bucky pulls Jo's chair out for her again, but this time, he makes sure to pull it a little closer to his chair in the process. This doesn't go unnoticed by Sam who smirks at him. Bucky returns the smirk with a thin-lipped smile of his own before scooting even closer to Jo.

Jo finds it hard to focus on the conversation in front of her with Bucky's warm body so close to her own, and she realizes she misses the pleasant feeling of his gloved hand around hers. She places her own hand on his thigh and hopes he gets the hint.

Bucky’s fascinated by even the slightest movements of Jo's tattooed fingers, and when her hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, he thinks the sight alone might kill him. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the glove off his right hand and links his own flesh and bone fingers with hers.

Jo doesn't look at Bucky — she's trying not to draw attention to her hand in his lap — but Bucky watches the corner of her mouth quirk upwards into a smile, and he squeezes her hand in response.

The conversation continues a bit longer before Danny leaves the table to check in with his bartender. Jo excuses herself to get another drink, and Bucky watches her pop behind the bar to fill a glass for herself.

"I need to get home, relieve the babysitter," Sarah says when she finishes her beer.

"We're heading out then," Sam says, then turns to Bucky, "You coming?"

Bucky looks toward Jo and says, "No, I'm gonna stick around. I'll get a cab back or get a hotel room in the city."

Sam smirks. "I don't think you're gonna need a hotel room, man."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just promise me you'll use protection," Sam laughs. "We don't need any little super soldiers running around just yet."

Bucky gives him a sarcastic smile, but realizes Sam's probably right, and he definitely doesn't have any condoms in his wallet. He's not planning on sleeping with Jo tonight — he just met her, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet — but if the army taught him anything, it's to be prepared. As if reading his mind, Sam pulls out his wallet and places a condom in Bucky's palm before pulling him in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Have fun, man," Sam says.

Sam and Sarah say their goodbyes to Danny and Jo on their way out, and Bucky joins Jo at the bar, sitting on the barstool next to her where they sat earlier.

"Sticking around, soldier?" she asks. She reaches for his dog tags and tugs them gently. The drinks have been strong, and she's feeling more flirtatious than she would otherwise.

"If you don't mind," Bucky replies.

Jo smiles and reaches for his hand this time. "Not at all."

"Are you gonna finish your interrogation of me?" Bucky asks, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jo laughs in return. “I thought I'd read your palm instead," she says, turning his hand over in her own.

Bucky snorts but doesn't pull his hand away. "Is this a trick you use on all the guys?"

"And girls," Jo says, meeting his eyes. Then she studies his hand carefully, running her index finger across the lines that crisscross his palm.

"Your dominant hand," she continues, "determines your future, while your non-dominant hand is tied to your past."

Bucky snorts again at the truth of it all.

"I'm not making this up!" Jo laughs. "I mean, someone did, but I'm not!" She can see the laughter shining in Bucky's eyes, so she goes on, "Your head line is deep, meaning your thinking is clear and focused, but it's also curved downward which indicates a creative spirit and an appetite for literature and fantasy." She looks up at him, "Explains the love for Tolkien."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this," Bucky says.

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're gonna give me a hard time over palm reading," Jo laughs.

"The aliens were real," Bucky deadpans.

"And in New Orleans, palm reading and psychics and crystal balls and voodoo are real," Jo says, still laughing. "But I promise not to read your palm again or read your aura or get out the tarot cards."

Bucky likes the way her slight accent makes New Orleans sound more like Nawlins. He also likes the sound of her laughter and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She's still holding his hand in her own, so he turns his palm over in hers and brings her tattooed knuckles to his lips.

_____

Meanwhile, the bar closes, and Danny and the bartender clean glasses and close up for the night.

Danny points at Jo as he comes around the bar. "I’m locking up then heading upstairs," he says.

"Thanks, love," Jo replies.

Danny walks the bartender out and locks the front door, then retraces his steps to the back of the bar. On his way past Jo, he stops and kisses her on the cheek, saying, "Be good. And set the alarm."

He turns to Bucky. "And you, Sergeant Barnes," he says, pointing at him now, "I know you're an Avenger or whatever, but if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Bye, Danny," Jo says, rolling her eyes as he disappears through the door marked 'Employees Only.' "Don't worry about him," Jo says, turning back to Bucky.

“Older brother, right?” Bucky says. He understands; he was an older brother once.

“Twins, actually,” Jo smiles.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer. "Sarah said Danny served with Sam," he says.

"Yeah. Afghanistan. A lifetime ago," Jo says. “He only had one more mission before he could come home so he switched with someone. An RPG barely missed the helicopter he was in, and he was pretty badly injured in the explosion and the resulting crash. Almost lost an eye. He came home, got out of the Air Force, went to business school. Now we own the bar..." She pauses to take the last sip of her drink. "...and the building. Sam's really helped Danny get past everything."

"He's good at that," Bucky says.

"Another thing we can never tell him," Jo laughs.

"Agreed. So, when do I get to ask about your tattoos?" he questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asks.

Bucky licks his bottom lip. "Anything."

He likes her dagger tattoo the best. It’s inked on the inside of her right forearm, nestled amongst the peonies, the hilt facing the crook of her elbow and the knife’s tip pointed toward her wrist. It’s feminine and dangerous and incredibly sexy. She blushes when he tells her how much he likes it. He doesn't tell her it reminds him of one of his favorite knives, currently tucked at the bottom of his backpack back in Sarah's living room.

"In some ways, they're my armor," she explains. "When I'm on stage, people look at the tattoos, not me, and I kind of like that. It lets me be whoever I want to up there."

Bucky understands the desire to hide better than anyone. But she knows who he is so there's really no point in hiding from her any longer. Plus, he feels like his arm is something she would understand, something she could accept — not just because of her brother's military record but because of her own unique body modifications.

He pulls his left glove off and shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing the vibranium arm beneath his black t-shirt.

Jo takes in the black metal and gold details. "That," she says, pointing to his arm, "is lovely."

"It's lethal," Bucky warns.

She cocks her head to the side and says, "If you're trying to scare me, it won't work, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky can't stop the corner of his lip from pulling up in the slightest hint of a smile.

"Okay,” she says, placing her palms flat on the bar top. “You want another beer?" she asks.

Jo stands and turns to move behind the bar, but Bucky's vibranium hand on her arm stops her. She looks at him curiously, and he slides his arm behind her back and pulls her flush against his chest. She settles between his open thighs, her palms resting gently on top of his legs. He's staring at her so intensely she's convinced he willburn that hole right through her, but she can't bring herself to look away.

He leans in, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky finally asks, his flesh hand moving up to cup her cheek.

"Please," Jo whispers, desperately.

Bucky closes the distance between them, and his lips meet hers. He's hesitant at first, but when he feels Jo respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing even closer, he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens them for him. She tastes like bourbon and lemon from the whiskey sours she's been drinking, and Bucky loves it. His tongue sweeps along the roof of her mouth, and Jo moans. Bucky is determined to hear that sound again.

He kisses across the corner of her mouth and over her jaw. The hand that was cupping her cheek moves to her hair to angle her head backwards and give him better access to the bare skin of her neck. He laves his tongue over the corded muscles there, then nips at the skin with his teeth. She moans again, and Bucky is on fire.

Jo's right hand weaves into his short hair and tugs until his mouth comes away from her neck. He catches his breath while Jo nuzzles his nose with her own and places a soft kiss against the Cupid's bow of his upper lip. His eyes meet hers, and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

The need to kiss her again is overwhelming. Bucky’s lips find hers, and Jo somehow leans even closer into his body, her hands tracing down his chest to his waist. Bucky lets his own hands move to Jo’s ribs, resting just beneath her chest, his thumbs teasing the underside of each breast. Jo gasps when Bucky’s right thumb moves across her taut nipple.

Fuck, he thinks, I need to slow down. While he’s shared kisses with the handful of women he’s met on dating apps, he hasn’t done anything this intimate in a lifetime.

Bucky pulls away, panting. He rests his forehead against Jo's and stares into her green eyes.

"I should leave," he says. “I’m getting carried away. I…I want to do this right.”

And he does. Desperately. He wants to buy her flowers and take her out and learn what makes her swoon. But he also wants to map every tattoo on her body with his fingers and tongue and then fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Jo laughs breathily. “We don’t have to do anything, but it’s almost three o'clock in the morning and your ride already left. You can sleep on my couch if you want to be a gentleman.”

Bucky groans. “I should be a gentleman."

She kisses him again, lightly, then moves away to set the alarm and turn the rest of the lights out. She leads him through the 'Employees Only' door and up a set of stairs to her apartment.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Jo asks, as she unlocks the door.

"No," Bucky says. As far as he knows, he's not allergic to anything thanks to the knock-off serum, but he doesn't say that.

Inside her apartment, Jo kicks off her combat boots at the door, and Bucky does the same, leaving them both in their socked feet. There's a fluffy black cat sitting on the back of the green velvet sofa.

"That's Toulouse," Jo says. "Or Louie. He doesn't answer to either, so it really doesn't matter what I call him."

The cat regards Bucky with indifference before standing up, stretching, and leaving the room.

"Guest bathroom’s just there,” she nods. “Let me get you some blankets and pillows for the couch," Jo continues. "Unless you've changed your mind about being a gentleman." She smirks at him.

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

Jo leaves the room for a moment, which gives Bucky a chance to look around. He's standing in her living room; one wall features a set of French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street, and the opposite wall holds bookcases stuffed from floor to ceiling with books, framed photographs, and various knick-knacks. From where he stands, he can see a small room with an upright piano and guitars hanging on the walls. The exterior walls of Jo's apartment are brick, and everything else is set in jewel tones. He likes it. It's dark and cozy, and from what he knows of Jo so far, her living space matches her well.

When she returns, Jo is holding a stack of blankets and pillows. She sets them on the ottoman and moves across the room to close the curtains.

"There are some sweats and a t-shirt there that should fit you" she says, turning to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, smiling softly.

Now that they're here, in her apartment, Bucky isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. He can still feel the heat of Jo's lips on his, and he's painfully aware that the condom Sam gave him is still in his pocket.

Jo must sense the hesitation rolling off him because she crosses the room to stand in front of him and takes his hands in hers.

"Get some sleep, Sarge," she says, squeezing his hands in tandem before dropping them.

"Goodnight, Jo," Bucky returns.

_____

Bucky lays on Jo's couch in the dark beneath blankets that smell like laundry detergent. He wishes they smelled like her. He unlocks his phone and looks up the distance between New Orleans and Brooklyn. Just over thirteen hundred miles. He sighs and drops his phone onto the coffee table before closing his eyes and reliving each kiss as he falls asleep.

On the other side of the wall, Jo falls across her bed, deflated. She likes this guy. She wants him — painfully so. But leave it to her to fall for the one guy in her bar who lives half-way across the country.

_____

next chapter

Let's Kill Tonight

summary: You're a bit out of practice, but being entrusted with the retrieval and return of Helmut Zemo shouldn't be too hard, right? Even if he is your old sorta-boss and you still are nursing unfortunate loyalty towards the team. You can manage. And him being... slightly more attractive than how you last left him won't be a problem.

Right?

warnings and a/n: i have.... no clue what this is if not a complete rewrite of mcu canon purely for self-indulgence. reader has a kinda shady past and in result will talk graphically about violence in later chapters and there's lots of gun action in this one. very fun, very cool! alright. i hope y'all enjoy teehee

—

The weather where you're at doesn’t usually vary much from a sunny sky, but alas, you’re absolutely drenched by the time you step inside the diner. You hadn’t expected the rain. Your usual five minute walk to work turned into a hike through muddy sidewalks and water droplets that kept hitting your eyes, and by the time you tied your apron around your waist the day felt over before it even started. Your boss gives you a closed-lip smile and glances at your empty section of tables, and you just know you’re going to be late on rent again.

For what it’s worth, Lüleburgaz isn’t the worst place to slip under the radar. It’s not underpopulated by any means, but it makes it perfect to blend in with the crowd as best you can. Honestly, you're just trying to make it a day without a proper therapist. Your roommates are great listeners, don't get it twisted- but all they really know about you is you're Sokovian and they don't really need to hear about the stuff that happened before your country was crushed by some guys in tights and iron suits. They don't ask you much, and you're grateful.  After an unfortunate five-year gap in employment (which isn’t your fault- it’s kinda hard to find jobs when you’re reduced to dust unexpectedly) you were lucky to find somewhere that was willing to hire you without a legally issued identification card and that was also willing to pay in cash under the table. You broke out the books and attempted to learn the language as best as you can, and while you're struggling a bit, you can at least understand the menu and what a customer is ordering. It was far from ideal- ideal would be completely erasing any trace of memory regarding you and your… history, so to speak, from anybody who has the potential to be a threat to you. Ideal could also be an island somewhere, maybe Praslin or Nassau, where you could swim in clear waters and drink copious amounts of fancy fruity drinks instead of whatever liquor your roomies had hiding under the counter. But until that happens, being on the sorta-run for some questionable past career choices seems to stick.

Said questionable career choices led you to be introduced to a network of interesting people, some less horrible than others, but all of them carried the same unmistakable signal of danger displayed in flashing lights above their heads. When you hear the bell to the restaurant door jingle, signaling the arrival of someone new, that weird gut feeling activates and your eyes flicker up to see a pair of high heels and sunglasses, even though the sun hasn’t been out all day. Everyone else eating their food don’t even spare a glance to the door. This should comfort you, it should tell you that you're fine and that there's nothing to worry about, but it absolutely doesn’t and suddenly you’re inconspicuously making your way to the back, muttering something to your boss about taking your break early. Ripping off your apron, you throw it to the side and let it land on the ground next to you, and you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. Your fingers are twitching as the pressing issue of impending doom continues to rise in your gut. You barely register the creaking sound of the back gate opening.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Suddenly, you’re in fighting stance as an unfamiliar voice speaks less than a foot away from your ear. You don’t recognize this new face, but she looks expensive and entirely too out of place for a diner that receives in its eggs already prepared and frozen.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she continues, and fishes a lighter and pack out of her coat pocket. “Good choice. These things will kill you- and so will this godawful food you serve here. What a relief that after today you won’t step foot in this place ever again, huh?”

Your mouth opens to say something, but you decide against it. Instead, you slightly lower your fists, keeping your eyes trained on her seemingly unbothered expression. She takes a long drag of her cigarette before giving you any more information. The silence is deafening, and you mentally take note of the clear path you have through the open fence and towards the street if you chose to run. Something tells you this lady didn’t arrive here on foot though, and she probably had an expensive vehicle waiting out front waiting to catch up to you if you chose to make a break for it.

“You’re jumpy- probably a little bit out of practice from the whole ex-assassin thing, right? I can work with that. I have to applaud you: as far as hide and seek spots go, this wasn’t horrible. We’ll have to improve your people skills, but-“

“Who are you?”

You grow increasingly frustrated as it starts to sprinkle again, leaving you cold and wet as your company opens an umbrella she had previously stored away in her coat.

“I don’t like being interrupted, so let’s not make it a habit, hm? My name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and you’ve become annoyingly important to my cause. Come on, we’re leaving.”

She begins to walk towards the gate, but you stay put, beginning to toy with the idea of unsheathing the knife stored in your boot.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, lady.”

This makes her turn around and sigh in frustration.

“The way I see it, you have two choices. Go back and finish bussing tables so you can make an extra couple dollars, or come with me so we can talk real business. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one between the two of us that poses a threat. I’m not the one with weapons hidden in my clothes, am I?”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t argue. Instead, you hesitantly join her in her path towards a gaudy car (you knew it) that looks way too out of place to be in this parking lot. For a split second you consider going back and giving your manager somewhat of a notice of your absence, but Valentina’s walking so fast that you don’t really have time to continue considering.

“By the way, I distinctively said my name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine- I don’t like to repeat myself, don’t make me do it again.”

-

You barely have time to sit down before Valentina is barking directions at her driver and scolding you for getting rain water in her backseat. You remain silent, and a little bit uncomfortable as Val finishes her cigarette completely before bothering to inform you of whatever the hell she’s got going on.

“Tell me what you know about super soldiers,” she finally gives, crossing her legs and glances at you expectantly.

You search her face for any kind of indication that she’s kidding, but she seems serious. It kinda feels like your soul is being stared into and you want to look away but you can’t. What does she not know about super soldiers that she can learn from you and not from literally anywhere else? Admittedly, all you know is what clips of newspapers would give you. Something about rogue experimentation, something-something Winter Soldier, and then, most recently, the Flag-Smashers and the rumors flying around that they've got some serum floating around. All of this seemed to be public knowledge though. Nothing a woman who’s willing to corner people in the backlots of their jobs couldn’t find out from a simple Google search.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“I can’t say I know much.”

For what feels like the millionth time in the span of twenty minutes, she sighs, bringing out her cell phone and starts punching some buttons.

“And what about this man? Does he ring a bell?”

You do your absolute best to not look as tense as you feel when out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face in a tiny, grainy picture. She shoves the device in your hands, and right there center of the screen is-

“Zemo, right? That was a trick question. Hard to forget the face of your old boss, I’d assume.”

Suddenly, you’re upright in your seat, the earlier feeling of danger settling right back into place. Valentina, of course, just lets out a laugh, while you’re planning on swan-diving out the damn window.

“The Colonel isn’t my boss,” you protest, and a burning sensation makes its way to your throat.

“Isn’t he though?” Valentina is now fully turned towards you, her hand reaching to grab the phone back. More buttons are pressed, and she’s reading your name from an official looking online database. “It says here you’re wanted in a lot of countries, huh? I wonder why that is- oh, look at this, would you? Seems like your name and EKO Scorpion are mentioned in the same sentence at least three times just on this page.”

Your eyes narrow, and you waste no more time in grabbing your gun from your coat pocket, and Valentina seems to have the same idea, the phone  in her hands is now replaced with a much newer and nicer pistol than you’re carrying. It’s silent in the car for a few seconds, and the driver in the front dares not move a muscle. Val is the first to break, and she lowers her weapon with a shit-eating grin you’re growing tired of seeing.

“Let’s start over. You’re associated with an elite death squad assigned to defend the interests of a country that’s no more than a pile of rubble and dead memorial flowers on the ground. You never had an official invitation, but they paid you good enough money for you to get your hands dirty for them. Too bad that without a leader, your little syndicate fell apart, didn’t it? Unfortunate, what happened to him really. And how inconvenient it must have been for you- I’m sure the law doesn’t usually side with individuals associated with terrorists. Luckily for you, you had a five-year break from being on the run.”

The urge to fall back into old form and pull the trigger at the slightest sign of trouble starts to rear its ugly head, but you take a deep breath and try to align your focus to your current situation. This doesn’t have to be deadly. She knows your history, she knows your name. She could just be blackmailing you. Easy fix, offer her better information on individuals that are far, far away from you. You’re sure you can think of something juicy enough to entertain her and fray her interest in you. This doesn’t have to end in a gunshot. She has access to all of the shit you’ve done. You don’t know what she knows. She could be from the American government. Kill her, and lessen the risk of being thrown in a prison cell to rot.You’re desperate, and you’re scared, and it’s making you vulnerable. You take another deep breath in, and lower your gun.

“What do you want?” Valentina falls back into her seat, clearly very amused by the entire situation now that guns weren’t drawn.

“The Flag-Smashers are becoming increasingly difficult as they’re forming alliances with seemingly every gang of mercenaries for hire. The serum belongs in the hands of someone who knows what to do with it, don’t you think?”

This lady is clearly out of her mind, but you’re too far in now and you don’t feel like questioning her on her morals or the ethics of this situation.

“I don’t want any business with Morganthau, and I don’t care about super soldiers. If that’s all you need me for, you might as well find someone else.”

“Who said anything about you dealing with Flag-Smashers? No, for you,” she starts, grabbing the phone once more and resuming that annoying clicking as she searches through various links, “I have a slightly less… hazardous task. No killing involved, sadly. I’m sure your lovely skillset will keep until it’s needed, but you will be finding Zemo for me, where I can pay him far too much money so he’ll kill the Flag-Smashers for me.”

It’s your turn to laugh, now. “In case you haven’t heard, Helmut Zemo is rotting away in prison for the rest of his life. How is he going to be of any help to you?”

Valentina doesn’t bother giving you a verbal response, just shoves that damn phone in your face again. You glare at her before your eyes skim over the article. Breakout. Zemo. The Falcon. Prison. You curse internally, and she lets her arm fall back to her side. You realize you haven’t been paying too much attention to where the driver was taking you both until you feel the vehicle holt to a stop, and you look up to realize you’re in a parking garage, and the faint sounds of airplanes fly overhead.

“As of now, you and I are a two-man team, but this won’t be the case for long. Zemo is with Sam Wilson and James Barnes in a safehouse in Riga. You and I aren’t the only ones looking for him, however, which makes your job a little tricky, but I don’t have much faith in the guy assigned in returning him to Berlin.”

“Who is he?”

“I assume the name John Walker doesn’t need an explanation?”

You shake your head.

“Walker can be of use to us, and we’re gonna need him- just not yet. What I need from you at the current moment is to make sure you get to these coordinates,” the driver is suddenly handing you a slip of paper with numbers scribbled on it, and you take it, “before Walker gets Zemo.”

You inhale, and Valentina gives you a look.

“I assume you have a question?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get Walker on your side sooner? Maybe if you could say the right thing, persuade him to bring Zemo to us-"

Valentina cuts you off with a scoff. “What? That if we tell Captain America to hand over an international prisoner so we can extract information and hire him to kill for us he’ll do it? Walker wants one thing right now: he wants that serum. Coincidentally, your friend Zemo wants that serum gone. IF we get to him first, which you will, he’ll be more than happy to oblige. Walker is at a tipping point, but he’s not useful to us. Yet. We just have to wait until he's vulnerable.”

She takes your silence as an okay to continue. “Get to Latvia, find Zemo. Use that pretty face of yours to charm him into coming with you, maybe share some war stories around the campfire. I don’t give a damn how you get it done. Walker’s already halfway there by now.”

You are really starting to question how Valentina is getting her information, but before you can say anything else, she’s motioning for her driver to slide another piece of paper in your hand. Your eyes go wide at the numbers listed after a dollar sign.

“I assume this would be enough to cover your services?”

You look up at her, nodding your head slightly.

“Half now, half when you bring him to me,” she finishes, and the driver is unlocking your side of the car. “It looks like we’re in business then.”

Do Angels giggle?

Warning: Mentioned death of multiple people, a teeny tiny bit of angst, swearing, but otherwise you should be fine Word count: 4k (sis snapped again)(I should really stop doing this tbh) Summary: A rumor of an angel kidnapping criminals and leads them to a path of justice and Jason is on the suspects track. He hasn’t expected to be caught and he surely hasn’t expected what met him there...

This was requested by @middevil465​: 'Babe did you fall from heaven bc you seem to be a chaotic ever shifting sphere of eyes & wings making a sound not of this earth and I’m kind of hoping God sent you because this is terrifying' with jason x reader

Jason really didn't plan on this to happen. He didn't plan on getting caught while spying on the current suspect in a case of criminals disappearing only to re-appear with no memory of what happened and babbling of being lead to a better life by an angel. And he certainly didn't plan to end up in a warehouse that was decorated with a clearly religious altar and other things that heavily reminded him of the church. The only thing that wasn't church-y was the fact that he was tied to a - honestly not uncomfortable - chair in front of the altar. The worst fact was that he, too, couldn't remember how he ended up here. He had some flashes of memories, about how Bruce assigned him to the case, about how he found a man that all the criminals who found themselves 'victim' had met sometime before their disappearance and how he'd found and followed him before he blacked out.

And now he was here. He wasn't really afraid as much as he was concerned and curious about what was going to happen next. Bruce could easily track him as soon as he noticed he wasn't answering so there was also not much reason to try to escape before he knew what was going on here or if he was in any serious danger. Jason wasn't sure what to expect. Tortue, drugging, brainwashing? He knew the man must have some kind of secret weapon that made him able to re-write these criminals to his liking, but he wasn't quite sure why. Everyone in the cave had different theories. Bruce and Dick thought that he maybe got information about their 'businesses', deleted the memory and sold the info, Damian and (surprisingly enough) Tim thought that the criminals had been involved in something bigger, all of them involved somehow, and the person (or people) who hunted them down and changed their memories and life choices, were on a hunt for information. Steph and Cass had agreed that it was a cult or a conspiracy and Barbara had said that she wouldn't make any theories just yet, or rather not reveal hers. Jason had a more sinister thought though. He knew about the criminal world better than most others in his family, once having been a big part of it too, and he thought that whoever was able to do this, was slowly building an empire, first taking out smaller criminals, snitches and errand boys, maybe as to test their methods, before going for the big fish and re-writing them to take over their territory. It was honestly a good plan, but the fam wasn't really happy about it. Having an enemy that could delete and rewrite memories and demeanours could be a real threat. That was why Jason needed to find out how they did it. But he didn't see anything in the warehouse room that would implicate what they used for their plan, only all that church stuff, and Jason considered that it was probably something to harden the illusion that it was an angel who showed them the 'light'. 

"I've seen thou have been awakened, man in the blooded hood," a male voice echoed through the large space and bounced off the walls. The man he had followed stepped in front of him in a robe that reminded him of a monk. "It's crimson, bitch," Jason snarkily responded and couldn't help the smirk on his face, but it didn't seem to even slightly faze him. "Many have found the devil in their words in this city, but we, the church of hope and new ways, have made it our mission to bring thou, wrongdoers, to a path of justice and good, to a path of the angel." So Cass and Stephanie were right after all? A cult, really? "So that's all very noble and all, at least in theory, but ya know, I'm kinda on your side. With hunting and jailing criminals and all that jazz." "Thou words are full of sin that thou not even recognize, but don't fret, we will free you of them, free you of the devil within and bring you on a path of belief and light, we will bring thou to face with the angel that hath shown us the way too." Now that was next-level crazy, Jason thought and rolled his eyes under his still worn helmet. "Well, knock yourself out," he sighed and leaned back in the chair. Seemingly listening to Jason, the man disappeared through a door and suddenly all the lights in the room went out, leaving Jason in complete darkness, unable to turn on the night vision in his helmet. He heard another door on the other side opening and light steps echoed through the room, but whoever came in didn't make any other sounds but that. Then he was blinded by the brightest light he had most likely ever seen and what his eyes saw when the light simmered down a bit and he got used to the brightness made him freeze to the core. The words that left his mouth next were the result of habit more than thought, but he said them nonetheless: "Babe did you fall from heaven because you seem to be a chaotic ever-shifting sphere of eyes and wings making a sound not of this earth and I'm kind of hoping God sent you because this is terrifying." He wasn't wrong though. In front of him was, in fact, actually an ever-shifting sphere of eyes and wings that was making sounds that were clearly not human, neither anything that he had ever heard off-world and even though Jason was by no means religious, he had heard enough about how the angels in the bible were described to identify this thing in front of him as an angel. Suddenly the ever so brave, fearless and cocky Jason Todd stared at that being in front of him and his hidden face was drawn by fear and terror. He could deal with torture and pain, he could deal with technology and drugs, but he couldn't deal with whatever would be happening next. What would be happening next? Well, whatever it was that he expected, it sure as hell wasn't what happened. The sphere that he feared more than he had feared anything in the last years started to giggle. GIGGLE! Do Angel's even giggle? How would I ever know if angels giggle? The glow died down and the shifting intensified, the eyes were closing and drawing together, the wings merging too until there was only one pair left and the sphere turned into a different form, something longer and more humanly shaped, until it did a final change and turned into a girl. And what a girl she was. Jason's breath was stolen by her and the atmosphere surrounding her. She looked stunning in every sense of the word, from the Y/S/C skin that was basically glowing with angelic shine, her hair that was somehow looking like a halo even though it was nothing like one and her face that seemed to be sculptured by whoever created this hellhole called life themselves. And don't let him get started on the pair off wings that she was still sporting on her back. It was quite honestly gigantic. So big that its lowest part was reaching the floor and the highest part was still a few inches higher than her head. He could imagine that they would fill out the entire room if she was to stretch them out and the thought alone made him somewhat fuzzy in his head. He wished he could describe their colour, but he was sure that it was none of the ones he had ever seen on any planet, ever, he wasn't even sure if his eyes should be humanly able to comprehend the colour and yet there he sat looking at them. He was so impressed by these celestial limbs that he didn't even notice the fact that the girl was, in fact, completely naked. But even if he'd notice it, he wouldn't have seen her body as something sexual. The way she was moving like it was completely natural would more likely make him feel ridiculous for ever thinking of a naked body as something as intimate. And then her voice. Her voice was even more divine than anything else, making his whole body tense up and relax simultaneously. "You are full of darkness, but your darkness is unlike anything else they have shown me," she stated matter-of-factly and she came close to him, rounding him a few times with curiosity in her eyes, "And not just your insides are different than the ones they showed me, your head seems to have a sort of protective shell, how magnificent." Is she talking about my helmet? Does she think it is a part of me? "Uhm, Miss Angel, that isn't a part of my body, it's removable," he said, surprised that he was even  able to talk with his heart basically having stopped beating. Her eyes widened in child-like wonder and she kneeled down in front of him, her wings spreading out slightly beside her to accommodate the change in height. "Would it be okay if I were to take it off?" she asked in innocence that Jason has quite honestly never seen before. "Uhm, sure," Jason answered, completely having forgotten the whole reason that he was here in the first place.   Her delicate hands slowly found their way to were his helmet laid over his ears and she looked into the general direction of were his eyes were, her Y/E/C orbs seemingly shifting colour every time she moved even an inch. "I'll try to be careful," she hummed and started trying to get it off, changing her tactic ever so often when she noticed that it wasn't working, but instead of telling her what to do, Jason just looked at the angel and couldn't find any words. Finally, after about two minutes, she managed to pull it off and carefully laid it down beside the chair, before finally leading her gaze to his now, except for the domino mask, uncovered face. She didn't say anything, just bringing her hands up to his face and tracing it, including every scar, no matter how little, and every edge. Even though he had been in awe before, now he could almost comprehend why the criminals changed their ways, hell, at that moment he'd burn the city down without hesitation if she'd asked for it. Finally, her fingers wandered over the edges of his mask and when he gave her a small nod of consent, she somehow managed to peel it off and free his eyes for her to see. He didn't mind that she now knew what he looked like, that she could now identify him, but to be honest, he didn't think much about it, too caught up in that moment and that moment only. Their eyes met in a moment of complete silence whit the only sound present in Jason's head was the pounding of his heart and the rushing of his blood. "You are really unlike the others aren't you?" her voice broke that moment, but he somehow knew that he wasn't expected to answer. For a few heartbeats, the two off them stayed in place, before the angel ruffled her feathers, the sound echoing through the warehouse, like dozens of birds flying away. She raised back to her full size, her wings folding back to where they had originally been. "Tell me, why do my saviours want me to bring you to the light? I can see that it is already in you, it may be clouded and darkened, but it is there," she asked him and her hand was cupping his cheek in an act that seemed unnoticed by herself as if she was doing it unconsciously. Jason wasn't quite sure how to respond to that question, but he noticed something else in what she said, something that formed confusion in him. "Your saviours? Shouldn't it be the other way around?" "How do you mean that?" the angel asked with honest naive confusion written over her face as she cocked her head to the side and folded her hand in front of her bare stomach. "Well, uh, I'm no expert by any means, but you're an angel right?" She nodded but kept quiet as if that question didn't give her a clue as to what he meant. "Uhm... Angels are creatures sent by God and...uhm...they are over humans, right? So how is that guy and whoever he works with your saviour? Is he Jesus or something?" What she answered was something he didn't even remotely expect. "Who?" "Jesus? Your Boss's son? God sent messiah to free all humans? Allegedly forgave us for our sins and got killed for that?" Jason rambled and tried to count down everything he still remembered. The angle put her hand in front of her mouth in shock at his words. "That sounds horrible, is he okay?" she asked in a tone that made it pretty clear to Jason that she did, first of all, not know who Jesus was, and second, had no idea what killing actually meant. "Uhm, sure, he's great, somewhere up there with his dad, I guess," Jason just shrugged, not really caring about that topic anymore and more focusing on all the facts about her being an angel that didn't add up. "Can you tell me about yourself?" he just boldly asked her, but it didn't seem to phase her at all, in fact, she brightened up at the possibility to tell him about her. "Uhm, I can't tell you much, but I was saved by the church of hope and new ways when they found me after what they called a miracle, they took care of me and explained to me that I was sent to them to be their tool to re-shape the world," she explained with a somewhat proud undertone, but Jason's feeling got cemented. The feeling that she had actually no idea what was going on around her and what she was used to do, and the feeling that she may not really be the sort of angel he, and seemingly she, believed she was. "Re-shape the world?" he investigated further, a small voice muttering theories in the back of his head. "Mhm," she nodded and her right wing folded itself slightly in front of her as if she was nervous or shy, "They bring men who are filled with darkness and they have me look into them, look if they have light and make me watch their mind, then they have told me to bring them into the sun, I show them the way that they tell me is right, make them believe in the church." Her words were slightly wary and Jason could recognize the doubt in them. She wasn't doing this voluntarily... "Do you want to do that?" he asked to clarify things for himself, and maybe also her. Her eyes wandered to the door the mock-monk had disappeared in and Jason could have sworn he saw something like fear in them. "I- Uhm- Yes," she nodded, but couldn't look at the man in front of her, she had almost turned her whole body away from him. "I don't believe you." "Why?" her voice wasn't as childish and curious and innocent anymore, it was small and fragile. "I'm not sure, but I think they are lying to you, I think you aren't an angel. I mean, you're sure as hell no human, but you're not an angel, at least not one in the...uhm..traditional sense." This seemed to gain her attention in a way that had her turning around again and made her take a step towards him. "Do you really think so? Because... I have tried to tell them, but they said no to all my questions, they told me that I am the tool for the church, that that is my only task and that I would be lost without them, but I can see it in them too. The darkness, they tell me to turn into light, is in them too, but they don't let me change it, they tell me I must see something that isn't there... And not only that... I have memories, memories of the Miracle. I see flashes of other people, people that make my heartache, and flashes of a building, one that looked like this room here on the inside. "And then there are other flashes, flashes I have at nights when I'm resting, there are loud noises and heat is licking at my skin, at my back, at my whole body, and there are so many screams." She seemingly didn't find the connection between those memories, but Jason sure as hell did. It was mainly a theory at that point, but he believed that she had been at church with her family when it burned down, maybe there was magic involved or she had the meta-gen inside her, but while her family burned she must have turned into the angel she was now, losing most of her memory in the process. The people that must have found her and figured out of the great powers she had, had decided to use her for their own sinister plans and she was none the wiser, Jason couldn't know if she had always been that naive and innocent, but she was now and, even though he had only known her for a matter of maybe half an hour, she had grown on him if he was being honest. "Can you see into other people's heads? Can you read other people's memories too?" he asked, a small plan forming in his mind. She looked at him in thought, but she seemingly was somewhat intrigued. "I believe so, I have only done it one or two times." "Read my mind, read my memories," he almost commanded, but she was taken off for other reasons. "Why would you want me to do that? My saviours tell me that it isn't my place to do so..." "I know this is confusing and what you will see will shock you, but I hope you will be able to trust me after that, trust me to help you, get you out of here." The prospect of being away from her 'saviours' seemed to make her interested, but there was something else that she had to know beforehand. "Will you stay with me? Will you take me with you? I can't be alone, I don't know where to go, what to do, I can't- don't think that I can survive all alone," she looked away and he could see the fear and pain, of not knowing what the future would hold in her whole demeanour, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, but the restraints that were still binding him to the chair were keeping him from doing so. "If you don't want to be, you won't be alone, I will take you with me, we will go through this together, okay?" "Okay," she smiled slightly and came to him, her hands hovering over the rope around his chest and, in a for Jason surprising turn of event, her palms started glowing and the rope basically disintegrated leaving him free to stand up, having to physically restrain himself from holding her. "This won't be happening to me too?" he asked gesturing to what was still left off the rope. And she giggled again. God, he had almost forgotten how heavenly that giggle was. "No, I don't think it will," she said in a tone as if she was honestly questioning her statement, but before he could say anything about it her hands found themselves on the sides of his temple and the last thing that echoed through the room before the angel fell unconscious in his arms was her scream.

When the angel woke up she felt utterly exhausted. She had seen everything that had ever happened in Jason's life, including his death and every time he had killed, and she had felt it like she was it who experienced it. It had literally drained her, but Jason was correct, as she woke up again, she trusted him with her life and more. She knew him now. Possibly better than anyone else in the world. And not only that, when her eyes opened he was the first thing she saw. She was laying in his lap, something that was astounding enough considering the giant wings that were spread out beside her and partly over Jason, and somewhere along her time of being in his memories he had taken off his brown leather jacket and had put it on her and zipped it up, keeping the, in normal standards, intimate parts of her body hidden from sight. What the angel couldn't see were the bodies of the people who had, in Jason's opinion, used you for the past few months that were stacked in the backroom and, if he was lucky, not dead. "Sorry you had to see this, but I wanted for you to be able to completely trust me," Jason whispered, his hands caressing through her hands. "It's okay, I understand," she hummed back and they both knew that she meant more than just the statement about him wanting her to trust him. "Can we leave now?" "Of course," he smiled and helped her up, having been made aware earlier when she passed out that her wings added more to her body weight than he had anticipated, but that was to expect, they were robust and spread out almost twice as big as Jason in width. The angel, who Jason really needed to find a name for, had the wing on the side opposite of where Jason stood beside her, drawn in, but the one that was on his side was spread out behind him like a shield, curling around him slightly, but he just smiled and slightly shook his head at that. He honestly really didn't know what it was about the girl, his angel, or the whole situation itself, but a really small part of him wanted to believe that maybe there was something like a bigger picture, maybe not necessarily a god, but something that had brought them together, something that had wanted to make him know that the two of them knowing each other was meant to be.

Can’t Sleep Without You [One-shot]

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Jim Kirk x reader (but not really), Leonard McCoy, mention of Spock Words: 2359 Warnings: Use of medication, use of possible addictive medication, insomnia, nightmares, almost graphic description of a disturbing dream

Note: A somewhat self-indulgent story that I posted a little while ago, but had panic about after a few hours and then deleted. It felt too personal, too self-indulgent, amongst other things. I planned on giving it some time, and then rewrite it so it was less personal. I did give it time, but I haven't rewritten it, just edited. And now I'm giving it another go, hoping that I don't panic this time around and telling myself so fucking what if it's self-indulgent. And hopefully people enjoy it because I do like this story.

Summary: Having suffered from insomnia for a long time, Jim is the only thing that manages to calm me enough to function when it gets bad. But Jim is off on a mission...

"You look like something the cat dragged in, Commander."

"Thanks a lot, Doctor." I glared up at Leonard McCoy as he towered over me. Even if I couldn't stand the stuff, I was now on my third cup of coffee of the day. But I was also on my fourth day of barely any sleep, and I was desperate for something to keep me alert.

"Have you had trouble sleeping again?"

I downed the last of the coffee, cringing as the bitter liquid made its way down and sat the cup down on my empty lunch tray. I closed my eyes for a moment and grit my teeth, trying not to snap at the obvious question. "Looks that way."

The doctor sat down at the other side of the table and looked at me with worry, not even phased by my annoyance. "I've seen you getting worse the last few days, Commander. Why haven't you come to see me?"

"What you gave me three days ago made me wake up after four hours with a nightmare from hell. I'm still seeing ghosts in broad daylight."

He pursed his lips. "Please stop by the medbay at 2200 hours. We'll try something else."

I sighed, knowing that there was only one thing that would help, and it was not something our Chief Medical Officer could provide no matter how good he was. But I nodded. "Yes, doc." Then I pulled myself to my feet, grabbed the tray and went to put it back in the replicator for recycling.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had some form of insomnia. It hadn't been a problem when I was younger, I had been more energetic, more durable, not to mention more careless. But as I got older it got worse. Most of the time I managed to keep it under control, but sometimes it took on a life of its own. And when it did that, there was no medication, meditation or treatment that worked better than the captain of the ship, my boyfriend.

There was just something about Jim that calmed my mind like nothing else.

Funnily enough, insomnia was what brought us together. I had been wandering around the ship one night, after several nights of little sleep. Finding myself in the briefing room, I had sat down in the chair reserved for the captain, put my feet up on the table and gazed out at the streaking stars. After a few minutes of silence, the door had slid open and Captain Kirk had walked in. We were already on friendly terms, so I hadn't bothered taking my feet off the table or giving him the chair, even when he made a joke about it being his.

He'd been having trouble sleeping too, claiming his mind was running at warp 5 after an exhausting meeting in that very briefing room earlier in the day. He'd chosen to go back there in the hopes that it would clear his head.

We sat next to each other, him in the First Officer's chair and I kept occupying his, and chatted for a while. All the while we both seemed to gravitate more and more towards each other and I got sleepier at the same time, until I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. He had gathered me up in his arms and ordered a site to site transport, dropped me off on my bed and pulled a blanket over me, before going back to his quarters, falling asleep as well. After that, our friendship had shifted and things escalated quickly from there.

Now though, he and Spock and several admirals were trying to work out a peace treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. We had dropped them off on a colony near the Neutral Zone and had then gone off to survey a newborn nebula a couple of systems over. We weren't scheduled to go back for them for another two or three days, the trip itself took a whole day. And my body was kind enough to refuse to sleep properly without Jim now, no matter how much in control of the insomnia I was.

I made it through the day somehow, with at least two more disgusting cups of coffee. Thankfully, there was more than enough to do in Engineering that I decided to not leave once my shift was over, it was better to keep working than sitting in my quarters and feeling like I had been in the middle of a warp core breach. As soon as Jim and Spock came back, Starfleet wanted us to check out an uninhabited planet that a passing cargo ship had detected held large deposits of deuterium and our long-range sensors had detected too much atmospheric disturbance for transporting, so we had to adjust the shielding on several shuttlepods. I was barely conscious when I stumbled into the medbay at 2200 hours.

"Not looking any better, I see." Bones appeared out of nowhere and would have scared the daylights out of me if I hadn't been so sluggish.

"Your bedside manners are always so lovely."

He ushered me over to a biobed and pulled a tricorder from one of his pockets.

"There's no need to scan me. We both know what's wrong. Just give me what you think I need and I'll be off." I looked at the tricorder with annoyance.

He didn't answer but started scanning me anyway, so I sat there patiently, closing my tired eyes and listening to the whirring of the device. "It's a wonder they haven't found a cure for this yet, after 200 years of research," he muttered to himself.

I looked up at him and saw him analysing the results. "You've found a cure for some pretty serious viruses on your career, why don't you find the cure for this?" I argued.

"This isn't a virus, sweetheart."

"Still, I'm sure you're brilliant enough to find a solution." Bones always said that flattery would get you nowhere with him, but I found that more often than not, he enjoyed having his ego stroked. He was that good too.

He just huffed and went over to a cabinet. I saw him pull out a vial and fill up a hypospray. "I know you have tried this before and it didn't work so well. But that was a few years ago, it might work better for you now." I nodded and obediently bared my neck to him. One touch of the cold metal to my skin and it was done. "I want you to go straight to bed now. It should work quickly and you have to be in bed when it does."

"Yes, sir."

It did not work. Or, I did sleep through the night, but the dreams had me waking up more exhausted than if I hadn't slept at all. It had been worse than last time, the irrational, weird and disgusting dreams had just come at me, one after the other. I would honestly prefer good old-fashioned nightmares over this. I called Bones as soon as I had showered away the night and he was at my door by the time I had dressed.

"Sit down," he barked, the tricorder out and a deep furrow between his brows. "What happened?"

I told him all about the night, even gave him some snippets of the nasty dreams for emphasis, each one of them still crystal clear and disturbing in my mind. The way he cringed at some of it, told me just how disturbing they had been. It wasn't normal to dream that you're pooping out severed arms, after all. *

"This is very strange," he said after he was done scanning. "Barely any light or deep sleep at all. Dream sleep almost all night. I've heard about a few phenomena that cause a person to not have any dream sleep at all, but not nothing but dream sleep. You're not getting any more of this medication, and I'm making a note in your medical file."

I sighed, trying to think about what I could do to help myself that night. But Bones had suddenly gone very quiet. I looked up at him and there was a deep furrow between his brows, his eyes gazing down at the tricorder, but it looked like he was mentally lightyears away. "What's wrong, doc?"

He didn't react right away, but then he blinked and looked down at me. "There is something we can try, but it can be highly addictive if the dosage is off by even a fraction. Call Scotty and tell him you'll be a bit late. I need to take some blood for analysing."

All through that day, I felt a bit apprehensive about what Bones was planning on giving me later. And I missed Jim so much it ached. This was the worst it had been without him and it was also the longest we had gone without each other since we got together. I missed him because of his absence, of course. But in my sleep-deprived state, it felt a million times worse. It felt like there was a gaping, bleeding hole inside me where he should be. I needed him to calm my mind, to kiss me and tell me it's okay if I can't sleep, that I'll sleep when I'm ready and he would be there with me all the while. I needed him to breathe with me. I needed to feel him. He was able to relax me enough that I could function.

After working well past my shift again and forcing down too many cups of coffee, I forced back tears of exhaustion and desperation and went to the medbay, got the mysterious hypospray and went straight to bed.

Apart from the fact that I woke up every ten to fifteen minutes, this one worked a lot better. In the morning, I felt less like I had been hit with a meteor shower and more like I had just tumbled through a thick atmosphere without a spacesuit. Bones came to check up on me in engineering after lunch and I asked if I could get a higher dosage, hoping that maybe that would finally be what helped me sleep through the night. But he refused, he had given me as much as my body could handle without becoming addicted or suffering other nasty side effects. In defeat, I told him if I couldn't have a higher dosage, I didn't want it at all. Then I started counting the hours until Jim came home, and drank all the coffee I could stomach so I wouldn't feel like a zombie.

I was just starting to doze off. It was probably just an hour or so until my alarm, but I let sleep take me. I would take anything I could get. What felt like just a minute later though, the computer spoke to me.

"The time is 0630 hours. The time is 0630 hours."

"No no no," I moaned in annoyance, screwing my eyes shut to the illumination in the room becoming stronger. But then a pair of lips landed on my cheek.

"Forgot to turn that off," someone said.

I didn't process this right away, but in the back of my head I knew that voice and knew it was important, so I forced myself to open my eyes to the way too bright room. Jim was there next to me and judging by his one barely open eye, he had just woken up too. "Hi..."

My heart was beating wildly in my chest, the room seemed to be spinning a little, my vision getting blurry, but then he smiled with his eyes closed and started to clumsily kiss my cheek and jaw and everything cleared up.

"When did you come home?" I whispered.

Jim didn't answer but kept trying to kiss me, but he was struggling, he too seemed exhausted, not able to aim. "A while. Laid down minutes ago. Tired. Want lips."

I made a happy sound and rolled around to face him. He opened his eyes a fraction, revealing the brilliant blue I loved so much. His lips landed on my nose, then my cheek before finally finding my lips. The gaping aching hole inside me seemed to vanish. I moved closer, pressing my lips and my body to his and everything inside me seemed to settle down, mind was quiet, all tension washed away. When I needed air, I pulled back just enough so I could stare into his eyes and see every little shade of blue in them. "You're home."

"The time is 0635 hours. The time is 0635 hours."

"Home and tired." His breath washed over me when he spoke and I wanted to breathe nothing but him for the rest of my life.

"Ditto. Haven't slept since you left."

"I know, Bones told me. I'm so sorry, Supernova."

"'s okay. Just missed you." My voice broke, and all the frustrations from the past week made a few tears fall. Jim snuck one of his arms around my waist and I moved even closer, burying my face into his neck, breathing in the smell of stars and nebulas and galaxies. "How were the peace talks?" I asked between lazy kisses to the soft skin on the side of his neck.

Jim didn't reply right away. Instead, he kissed my hair, breathing it in for a moment. "Exhausting. I'll tell you all about it later."

"The time is 0640 hours. The time is 0640 hours."

"Have to get up," I mumbled against his skin, but my entire body felt like lead in Jim's arms.

"Computer, turn off the alarm." A gentle beep confirmed it was now turned off. Then Jim pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "Bones told me to tell you that he has declared you not fit for duty today and that he has ordered bed rest, and if you disobey his orders, he will not hesitate to have you strapped to a biobed with a force field."

I blinked. "But..."

"And your Captain concurs. He recommends you spend the day with him in bed and sleep." He was grinning at me. "He's been flying fancy admirals in a shuttle all night and is in need of some tender loving care from the love of his life."

I knew there were things I had to do in Engineering. It would take time and almost all the Engineering staff to get the shuttlepods ready in time for exploring the deuterium planet. But as I looked into Jim's eyes, I felt exhaustion all the way to my bone marrow, and there was no point arguing with that, or the Captain and the Chief Medical Officer. I teared up with relief and buried my face in Jim's neck again.

Jim settled down on his back and pulled me halfway on top of him. I swallowed down my emotions and rested my head on his shoulder, tangled my legs with his, and laid my arm across his stomach. Peace filled me and I barely had time to mumble love you before I was fast asleep.

Note: * Yes, I have actually dreamed that as a side effect of taking melatonin.

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part Three

Master List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 2,527 Warnings: none? A/N: Here’s the third part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! Special thanks to the best bestie in the world, @arrowsandmixtapes​​ , for making sure all of my work isn’t absolute garbage! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

Sophia lost track of how many times she listened to Steve’s message over the next few days as her head and heart battled each other. Though she wanted to call him back, at least hear out his explanation, she refused to return the phone call and be the girl who caves to a guy only because he’s good-looking. 

“You could just call him back, ya know,” Lucy mentioned, as casually as possible, while the two women were having lunch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sophia speared a cucumber in her salad and crunched into it, pretending to be innocent of the subject at hand while also trying to convince herself that good looks was all she had seen in Steve the night of the public event. 

Lucy reached across the table and snatched Sophia’s phone. Sophia tried to stop her, but she wasn’t quite quick enough. 

“Sophia, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m so sorry about not making our date tonight. Something important came up and I couldn’t get out --” 

Sophia ignored Lucy’s knowing look, set down her fork and leaned over the table to snatch her phone back. She cut off the message and shoved the phone back in her purse. She went back to her salad as though she hadn’t practically crawled over the table in a public place. 

“I can’t call him back,” Sophia stated. “In case you forgot, Luce, he stood me up, then gave a vague, thoughtless excuse. Aren’t you the one who told me that men are only vague when they’re lying?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I said most guys. And anyway, is sitting here, repeatedly listening to the message and driving yourself absolutely insane, really any better than calling the guy back and going on one little date?” 

“Yes.” 

Lucy shook her head, taking a bite of her own salad. Since Sophia had apparently dug her heels in on the matter, she took the conversation in a slightly different direction. 

“You know, Colin in marketing has had his eye on you for a while. Why don’t you accept his offer?” 

“Because I’m not looking for a date,” Sophia replied. “It’s not like I’m lonely and looking for someone to save me from my misery. Steve just so happened to ask me out in a moment of weakness -- I was in the mood to go out, that’s all.”

Lucy took the last bite of her salad before wiping her mouth. “I’m not saying you have to marry Colin or even accept more than one date with him. But, Colin doesn’t seem like he’s looking for anything super serious, either. Maybe going out with him will at least get you to delete Steve’s voicemail so you can move on with your life.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair and huffed. Lucy always had her best intentions at heart, and that motivated Sophia to give what her friend was saying a moment of real consideration. Maybe Lucy was right; maybe Sophia needed to go out with someone else to get over the nothing she’d had with Steve. 

“Fine, I’ll go out with Colin,” Sophia relented, drawing a grin from Lucy across the table, “Next time he asks me out, I’ll say yes, but I am not going to seek him out.” 

“That’s fair. I do really think it will be good for you.” Lucy leaned forward and gave her friend a comforting smile. 

Sophia assured Lucy that she knew her friend had good intentions. With a plan in place, Sophia was able to finish her lunch without Lucy pressing any more on the subject of men and dating.

Steve couldn’t think of anything or anyone else except for Sophia and the fact that she hadn’t returned his call. He threw himself into work, even going so far as to ask Director Fury for extra missions with S.H.I.E.L.D -- ones he really wasn’t needed on -- but the distraction failed. Though he knew that she had to be upset about being stood up, and rightfully so, he had been so sure that she would call back. 

Calling again crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to bother her or press the issue if she didn’t want to call him back. Their time together at the public event had been short, but Steve knew that they could be a good thing. Missing his date with her had left him missing out on a good thing, which was another thing he couldn’t stop his mind from reminding him throughout the day.

“Just like Peggy, all over again,” Steve sighed to himself. 

His work with S.H.I.E.L.D was important. Steve knew that. If he hadn’t known that from the beginning, he never would have agreed to be part of the supersoldier program in the first place. His need to serve his country, to live up to the duty he had been called to fulfill, did not escape his knowledge, either. But, he was realizing the cost of service and duty now: his personal life was being greatly affected by this work he had been called to do. 

The walls of his apartment were closing in on him, and his mind was only racing faster by the minute. He needed to clear his head, to get out and find something else to think about. After pushing his arms into the sleeves of his worn, brown leather jacket, Steve double-checked that he had his keys and his wallet, and walked out the door, making sure to lock it before he walked away. 

Present day New York City was still a sight Steve was getting used to. The buildings were far more numerous, not to mention taller. Traffic was more dense and faster and -- well, chaotic, really. Out of all the things he had to adjust to in this new time period, the city traffic was something Steve wasn’t so sure that he would ever be able to wrap his mind around. 

There was a coffee shop a few blocks down from his apartment building; Steve decided on a whim to stop there for a cup of coffee. Starbucks was all right, and maybe it was the old-timer in him, but he preferred these little local places. So that he could remember it for next time, he looked up, trying to read the name on the building as he pulled on the door handle. Still trying to commit the name to memory, he wasn’t quite paying attention when he stepped into the shop -- and abruptly bumped into someone preparing to walk out of the shop. The woman he bumped into dropped the small purse in her hand as a result of the interaction. 

“I am so sorry,” he quickly apologized, feeling a little ridiculous for not having his head on straight. He picked up the purse and handed it to her. “Sophia?”

“Steve?” She looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. 

Steve thought his mind had been racing before, but now it was reeling out of control. Sophia was standing right in front of him, looking more beautiful than he even remembered. He stared for a bit too long before registering that her arm was hooked through that of the man standing next to her. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. Steve’s heart dropped, followed quickly by his stomach. No wonder Sophia had never called him back; for all he knew, she hadn’t shown up that night at the restaurant, either. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to knock into you,” Steve apologized. His voice was trembling a bit, so he cleared his throat. “Good to see you again, Ms. Hawkins.”

“Yeah, you too, St -- Mr. Rogers.” Sophia seemed confused, and Steve wondered if he hadn’t also imagined the tremble in her voice.  

Steve walked past her quickly and joined the line to order. So much for making sure he remembered the name of the shop. He’d never visit here again, if only to avoid the possibility of seeing Sophia with another man again. 

He ordered his coffee to go and went straight back to his apartment. As he walked, his mind slowed -- not that that meant much as it only returned to its normal racing speed from the last few days. The slow down helped him think things through. That man with Sophia wasn’t necessarily a boyfriend, he could have been someone else she was on a date with. Maybe it was serious, maybe it wasn’t. 

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” he muttered. 

The walk and the coffee had indeed helped to clear Steve’s mind. By the time he reached his apartment door, he had decided to give Sophia another call and ask her one more time to go out with him.

Sophia surprised herself by enjoying her lunchtime coffee date with Colin, and quite a bit at that. 

Until she ran into Steve. 

Seeing him standing right there, within inches of her, in the coffee shop had sent her directly back to square one. Do not pass go, do not collect a fresh outlook, do not move on. Fortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on the unexpected meeting, as swamped as she was when she returned to work. There were messages to return and vendors to secure, reservations to take for the latest benefit hosted by the firm. 

On top of all of that, her desk phone had been ringing off the hook since she had sat back down at her desk. Making a note to talk to someone about maybe hiring an assistant or receptionist, she rejoiced when things finally calmed down. The lull allowed her to finalize the seating chart for the guest list. She forwarded the chart over to Lucy for a second look, to be sure, and then, inevitably, the phone rang again. 

“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath. She allowed herself a frustrated groan and considered letting the call go to voicemail. She didn’t recognize the number anyway, and calls could always be returned. Then, she remembered that a couple of new vendors had been hired for the event. With the most upbeat voice she could manage, and even going so far as to plaster a smile on her face, Sophia picked up the receiver and greeted the caller. “Thank you for calling Rockefeller PR, Sophia Hawkins speaking.”

“Sophia? It’s Steve. Uh, Rogers. Steve Rogers.  

The phone slipped from her hand, but she caught it before her shocked reaction could be detected from the other end of the telephone line. “Steve. How did you get this number? And why are you calling me at work?”

“I looked the number up,” he replied simply, leaving out the fact that he’d had to track down a phone book to do so because the internet had been too complicated in his worked up state. “And, I’m calling you at work because I want to ask you again if you would consider having dinner with me. Before you say no or anything else, you have to understand, I know that I messed up last time. I should have called you before our scheduled meeting time. But, I swear to you, I really could not get away from the important thing that came up. I hope I can tell you about it someday, but we can’t get to know each other better and get to that point if you don’t go out with me.”

“Generally, I won’t and don’t get myself all dolled up again for a guy who stood me up, regardless of the circumstances.”

“Sophia --” He started to protest, ready to give another amazing speech, but Sophia interrupted him.  

“But for you I will consider it. Give me some time, and I promise to let you know whatever I decide. How does that sound?” 

“Much better than a flat-out no,” Steve answered, releasing a sigh of relief. “I’ll wait for your call.” 

Sophia promised Steve she wouldn’t let too much time pass before she called him with an answer, and they ended their phone call. Ironically enough, the phone call with Steve helped to calm her nerves and Sophia found the remaining hours of her work day flew by. After setting the phone to go directly to voicemail, she gathered her things and met Lucy in the hallway for the short walk to the subway. 

On the ride home, Sophia filled Lucy in on her lunch date with Colin, and then continued on into the phone call with Steve. Lucy listened intently, allowing Sophia to tell her everything before replying. For once, Lucy’s tone was rational and calm and, before Sophia knew what had happened, Lucy had managed to convince her to agree to the second-chance date with Steve. 

Sophia waited until they were in the quiet of their apartment to make the phone call. She dropped the couch, not even taking her jacket off, if only to get the phone call done with before she changed her mind. Steve answered on the second ring. 

“Hey Steve, it’s Sophia.”

The smile in his voice was evident, though it was fringed with hesitancy. “I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you so soon.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to call so soon,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Listen, here’s the deal. I will go out with you, on one condition.” 

“And what would that condition be?” Steve asked.

“We make it a double and you find someone to set my friend Lucy up with,” Sophia replied, stifling her laughter at Lucy’s shocked expression. “This way, if some important circumstance comes up again, I won’t be all alone.” 

Sophia thought she might have sounded a little harsh and hoped Steve would understand that was not her intention -- 

“I think that’s more than fair,” he ceded, “I can find someone for Lucy, no problem.”

Shaking her head, Lucy disappeared into the kitchen while Sophia finalized the plans for the double-date with Steve. Once off the phone, Sophia went to the kitchen where Lucy was waiting at the bar with a glass of wine. 

“I didn’t know that I was going to be punished for encouraging you to go on a date with this guy,” Lucy commented through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to help me feel this situation out, Luce! You have to be there with me to do that. And, if he doesn’t show, I don’t want to sit there alone, drinking away my humiliation like last time.” Sophia took the wine glass from Lucy’s hand and drank down most of what was left. “You hungry?”

Lucy nodded. “Starving, actually.”

“Oh good,” Sophia grinned, corking the wine bottle and putting it back in its proper place on the counter. “Because we’re meeting Steve and his friend downtown in an hour.”

Lucy finished off the contents of the wine glass and set it in the sink, then headed to her room to freshen up and change her clothes for an evening she hadn’t planned on. Sophia kept grinning as she followed, but Lucy narrowed her eyes at her friend. 

“You are so lucky you’re my best friend, you know that?”

@arrowsandmixtapes​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​ @growningupgeek​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​ @kitkatd7​​​ @patzammit​​​ @sagechanoafterdark​​​ @what-is-your-plan-today​​​

Friends Day In

Word count: 2.3k

Prompt: You and Jason planned to spend the day together, until Roy called asking him to babysit.

I might rewrite this one in the future with a different character because I like the prompt. Hope you enjoy it!

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It was relatively cold for a summer day in Gotham. There was a breeze blowing and it didn’t smell like smoke. The sky was a rich blue and filled with white clouds. The sun was shining over the city. It was weird. But the good kind of weird. You weren’t used to Gotham looking this pretty, and neither were you used to playing dollies with a five-year-old, so nothing about today was normal. But you liked It!

The night before, you convinced Jason to take day off from everything and spend some time with you, because you hadn’t had a best friend’s day out in a very long time. He had been busy on missions away from you and you really missed him. Not as much as he missed you though. You hadn’t heard someone say yes that quickly in your life! The two of you had decided on meeting up at his place and going out later. The evening would end with dinner although you hadn’t decided if it would be a ‘takeout and movies’ kind of night, or the ‘chili dogs and strolling down the street’ type yet. You supposed you’d let the magic of the moment bring you to a decision, because either way if you were together you had something to enjoy.

That morning you hopped out of bed with a spring in your step. You were definitely more willing to get out of bed than you usually were, but who could blame you? You hadn’t had any quality time Jason in weeks. The idea of seeing your best pal and crush after that long was enticing enough to get you to pick out your clothes, finish a shower and breakfast all in under an hour. Somewhere around 12:00 pm, you headed oto your car, or should we say, skipped to your car and made your way downtown, opening the windows and enjoying the cool air.

Jason was in a similar position. He too, woke up feeling more energized and got through his morning routine much quicker than necessary, but he couldn’t help himself. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, paired with his favorite leather jacket, to give him the boost he knew he’d need today. Jason was looking forward to seeing you today for more than one reason; the first obviously being that he missed you, and the second being that he realized he didn’t want to have to miss you as much as he did and today would be the day he would confess how he felt about you. He had been in love with you for about year, and now he wanted you to know. So, he stared at his TV, not really paying attention to what was playing. He only glanced at his phone to check the time.

The next time he picked up his phone it buzzed it his hand. Roy was calling. “Hey, Roy. What’s up?”

“Jay, there’s an emergency.”

“What’s wrong?” Jason’s casual tone shifted to something a little more serious.

“There’s something going on in Star City. Oliver needs me.”

“Oka-,”

“Of course, I’ll watch her, don’t worry about it. And Roy, in our line off work, there isn’t exactly time off. Will you drop her over?” Jason could hear the panic in Roy’s voice and kept his own soft. This must be really bad. The last thing he wanted was to give Roy another reason to worry and taking are of Lian was the least he could do for his best pal.

The unfortunate downside to this would be that he would miss out on his time with you. He knew you would understand but the pang of guilt in his chest still stayed. He was just about to call you when he heard his doorbell ring. He opened the door to you, wearing that slightly apologetic look and you knew something was up.

“Hi, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N, I’m really sorry. Somethings come up.”

“That’s okay, but… What’s going on?”

“Roy needs to leave town for an emergency, and he needs me to take care of Lian. There was no one else he could find in time.”

“That’s alright, Jay. We could meet up another day.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He had an idea. “But you know you’re welcome to stay. We can have a friend’s day in!”

“That sounds great, but what about Lian?”

“We can hang out while she’s here. She’s an absolute angel. When did you meet her last?”

“Well it’s been a while, I haven’t seen her in like a year.”

“You should stay. We can babysit together. She’ll love you.” He flashed you his signature smile, dimples and all. You were a little hesitant, you didn’t want to take up too much of his time if he was busy. You knew what Roy and Jason did wasn’t easy and things often came up, so you were more than understanding. Jason then added a, “Please?”

“Okay.”, you said, putting your purse down the table.

Only minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jason opened the door and saw Roy with duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and his daughter in his arms. She had a little Dora the Explorer backpack with her and she was smiling, flaunting gaps in her baby teeth.

“Uncle Jay!”

“Hey kiddo!” Roy put her down and she hugged Jason’s legs. He smiled down at her adorable behavior and crouched down to her level, “Why don’t go inside and turn on the TV? We can watch Power Rangers.” He watched her speed away into his apartment and then stood back up. “Roy, be careful Ok?”

“When am I not?” He smirked. “Don’t worry its nothing too crazy, so I’ll only be gone for a few hours. Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem.”

While Jason was and Roy shared their well-wishes, Lian and ran into the living room at speeds that could rival the Flash, and then stopped. She was looking at you, visibly confused.

“Hi! I’m Y/N. You must be Lian. I’m friends with your dad and Jason.” She nodded plopped herself on the couch, one cushion away from you.

“Do you like power Rangers?”

“I do. Which one’s your favorite?”

“Blue one.”

“Blue’s my favorite color.”

“Me too!” She’s so cute. She rummaged through her little backpack and pulled out a small blue whale and two barbie dolls. “Your name is Y/N?”

“Yeah.” You wanted to think it was just something kids did, but something seemed odd about the way she started staring at you. Right on time Jason waked into the living room. He took in the sight of you intently watching power Rangers and holding a doll in your hand next to a small child plying with a whale plushy.

“Anyone hungry?”, he called out.

“Me!” Lian responded.

“PB&J like usual?” She nodded cheerily in response. “Anything for you, Y/N?”

“Can I get a PB&J too?” You asked.

“Anything for my favorite girls.” He said with a breathy laugh and disappeared off into the kitchen. He could kiss his plans of confessing today goodbye, but on the bright side now he had a little more time to plan it. He made four sandwiches and cut the crust off of one. He decided to go the extra mile and cut the sandwich into a heart just to see Lian get excited over it.

He walked back to the living room and put the plates down on the coffee table. He looked up for you and Lian, but you weren’t in the room. He walked around a bit and heard a giggle from the second bedroom. His heart melted at the sight. Lian was sitting on your lap while you were braiding her hair, tying it with a bow hair tie. “Pretty as a princess!”, you called her. Jason had no idea you were that good with kids. It was endearing.

Smiling lightly, he said, “Lunch is ready.” Lian jumped off of you and walked to the living room, picking up her heart-shaped sandwiched. She gasped,

“Thank you!” and began eating her sandwich. You stood next to jason and looked at the little girl in awe.

The day consisted of Pokémon marathons, hide and seek, and a game of tag that ended up with Jason picking you up and running around the apartment. You did the same with Lian the next round. The cheerful energy of little children was very contagious, but at some point, the energy burned out. The three of you sat down to take break before putting Lian down for a nap. Today you saw a side of Jason you didn’t even know existed. He was always calmer and goofier when you were around, but when he was with Lian, it was something else. You fell for him even more, if that was possible. Seeing him with her made your lips involuntarily perk up at the corners. And then it happened.

“Hey uncle jay?”

“Hm?”

“Is this the girl you’re always talking to Daddy about? The soulmate?” you saw Jason stiffen. You were very intrigued though. Jason talked about you to Roy? “Her name is Y/N too. Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not my girlfriend.” He was genuinely mortified.

“I think she wants to be your girlfriend.” Now it was your turn to stiffen. How did she-? “She hugs you a lot.”

           “Lian aren’t you tired? Let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay. Uncle Jay, you should kiss her.” Jason picked her up and hurried into the guest bedroom, leaving you a blushing mess where you sat.

He returned around ten minutes later, looking pretty tired himself. “I. Am. Exhausted”

“Same here,” you replied. “You’re really good with kids.”

“So are you.”

“Lian is such a sweetheart! Roy is going to have to deal with me a lot more now.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I want visit Lian all the time.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He nods.

“What was Lian talking about when she said you spoke to Roy about me?”

“Well,” I guess confessing is back on the table. “I talked to Roy about you because I wanted his advice.” You gave him the ‘please elaborate’ look. “I like you.” He finally blurted out.

You looked up at him feeling butterflies. “I like you too, Jay.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you could feel your heart racing. Jason met your eyes, grinning ear to ear and asked,

“So, does this mean I can ask you on a date?”

“I believe it does.”

“Y/N, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Yeah I would.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I am a little concerned though.”

“About?”

“You were trained by the world’s greatest detective, and yet, a five-year-old figured that I liked you before you did.” Jason’s expression turned into one of both shock and disappointment and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Todd, you’re losing your edge. You were beaten by a toddler.”

“Huh, so were you!” The two of you joked around quietly as not to wake the toddler in the other room. “You know it’s only 6:30. Feel like staying for dinner?”

“I’d like that.” You were looking up him due to the height difference.

The phone rang. Roy was calling to let Jason know he would be by to pick Lian up soon. The two of you sat comfortably and put on a movie.

“You sure you don’t want to watch power Rangers? I know how much you love the blue one.” He teased, which earned him a light punch to the shoulder.

Soon after, Lian woke up from her nap and crawled in between you. There was comfortable silence in the room. Jason had his arm around you, and you nuzzled into him holding Lian. The way Lian held his hand made your heart swell. He was going to be the best father one day.

Just then the doorbell rang. “That’s your dad.” She climbed down and walked with Jason to the door.

“Daddy!”

“Hey princess!” He lifted her into his arms. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah! I played with Jay and Auntie Y/N.”

“Oh, wow.” Roy looked at Jason with an eyebrow raised. “Auntie Y/N?” as if on cue, you showed up at the door.

“Hey, Lian you forgot your backpack.” You said handing it to her. “Roy! Oh, my goodness I haven’t seen you in a month! You have got to come over more.” You said, hugging him.

“I definitely will.” He said, hugging back with one arm.

“Good. Bye guys! I’ll see you soon!” And with that you, turned back and made your way to the kitchen.

“Roy how’d everything go? Is the city Ok?”, Jason asked.

“Yeah, yeah. City’s fine, Ollie’s fine. What’s up with you two? Did you finally tell her?”, Roy asked expectantly. With a smirk and a dramatic sigh, Jason replied,

“All I will say is that your daughter is a much better wing woman than you.” He punctuated his sentence by high fiving the little girl in Roy’s arms.

“ARE YOU GUYS DAT-?!”

“Bye, Roy! Bye, Lian! See you guys later…!” And he closed the door, fully expecting his phone to be flooded with messages in an hour, but in the meantime, he planned on taking advantage of some much-needed alone time with his new girlfriend.

“So, princess, where would you like to go for dinner?” Snaking your arms around his torso, you said,

“I don’t know, what do you feel like having?”

“You in my arms.” Your face heated up.

“I meant for dinner! And I’m already in your arms.” He chuckled lightly.

“Chinese takeout?”

“Chinese takeout.”

“And movies?”

“Of course.”

“…. Cuddles?”

“Like we don’t do that anyway.” All in all, that day did not go as planned but you weren’t about to complain.

Haggling the High Stakes

Everyone knows that Aang loves to haggle.

It certainly had become a running joke among their friends at least. Thankfully Aang’s haggling abilities had improved in spades from the first time Katara had witnessed him trying to negotiate with a pirate. Skills improved, he still brought just as much enthusiasm to it now as he ever did.

Katara found it pretty ironic, that for a guy who put so little stock in “worldly possessions”, the act of bartering brought him such great joy. Truthfully, Aang really did care little for “possessions” – he didn’t own a lot of things, keeping his life almost monastically lean. But there was something about the act of haggling -- the game and theatrics involved in getting the best price -- that would bring out the shrewdest of tradesmen in him.

Aang “talked price” in a way that was so obviously airbender. The way he and the vendor would flit from topic to topic, bantering good-naturedly, talking about seemingly unrelated topics that would then circle around to either drive up or down the price. The way he would feign interest in another item at the stall to, in a round about way, pull down the cost of the original. Or even walking away to examine another vendor’s wares to then be called back by the first seller, who suddenly appeared more willing to part with a product he earlier claimed he couldn’t bear to part with. Aang’s tactics weren’t as directionless as they might appear from the outside; he knew the price he planned to end at, he just employed a lot of weaving and schmoozing and crafting in the getting there. It was rarely strait forward and involved a lot of dramatics, but in the end, almost always, Aang walked away with what he wanted and for a price few others could hustle.

It was not uncommon for Aang to spend forty minutes or more wrangling price with a vendor at a bazaar, only to turn around and give whatever he had bought away without thought. “It’s the quest, Katara! Not the prize…”

Since Aang rarely shopped for himself, he was notorious for offering his “skills” to others, to spend their money for them. “Oh, Suki… I saw you looking at that saber over there. Want me to negotiate a good price for you?!” “Hey Sokka, I see that bag does look great with your new boots, but don’t buy it unless they throw in the belt for free!” “Toph, let me help you out here. I’m sure I can find something here for better quality and half the price!”

It was not unknown for him to approach perfect strangers in an effort to keep them from paying too much. “What’s the problem, Katara?! That peddler was clearly gouging that guy! I’m pretty sure it’s part of my duty as the Avatar to keep people from getting ripped off!” “Sure, sure, Aang,” she’d placate him as she’d steer him away from other people’s shopping business.

The glow on Aang’s face after cutting a great deal was almost Avatar State-esk – a wide toothy smile, self-satisfied smugness, lots of backslapping and handshaking post-haggle with any truly artful hawker. Katara found it hard to hold back a laugh with how truly pleased her boyfriend got after “whittling a great bargain”: chest puffed up, arms swinging proudly as he would recount the play-by-play of the exchange, his footsteps barely touching the ground.

Aang claimed that he had learned from the best. “Monk Gyatso didn’t love things, but boy did he love the process of bargaining for things! And no one was better at it, Katara! Monk Gyatso was a real master of the art. Wish you could have seen him in the zone!”

A nostalgic, far away look coming to Aang’s smiling eyes, “Did I ever tell you about the time Gyatso traded his glider for a couple of hopping lamas? Well he bought them from a one-legged butcher who thought Gyatso’s glider staff would make a perfect crutch. Well Gyatso took the lamas and sold them in the next town over to a soybean farmer for twenty whole silver pieces! The farmer’s fields had gotten infested with chokeweeds (and everyone knows hopping lamas LOVE to eat chokeweeds!). The farmer was so happy he gave Gyatso a big batch of his fresh made Tofu as a bonus!

“Well Gyatso took the twenty silver pieces to the local carpenter and bought a mahogany peg-leg (complete with a built in boot) which he took back to the one-legged butcher to trade for his glider back. The butcher was super happy! Gyatso gave him some of the tofu too (with a suggestion that it made an excellent substitute for meat). Not only did Gyatso save two hopping lamas from certain death, get a big basket of fresh tofu, AND help out a cripple, he did it all without loosing a shilling!

“But that was just the beginning! Gyatso took the tofu to the All-Nomad Airball Tournament and gave it to Cook Lhakyi to add to the pre-games feast. Gyatso knew that Monk Sangyal, one of the Head Monks from the Northern Air Temple, had a thing for tofu, but he also knew it gave him some serious gas. You see, Monk Sangyal was scheduled to referee the match between the Southern and Northern Air Temples, but we all knew he never called a fair game for the South. But once he’d loaded up on tofu, let me tell you there was NO WAY Monk Sangyal could stay in his seat when he was gassy – we’re talking shooting ten feet in the air every time he, you know, uh, broke wind… so he had no choice but to bow out of that match as referee, which left Monk Dhondup as the backup referee (and he was always more fair). PLUS with Monk Dhondup refereeing, it freed up his front row seat for Gyatso, which is what Gyatso wanted all along! PRIME spot to watch the championship tournament, which was why he went to the market to buy the lamas in the first place! I tell you, the man was a haggling Master…”

Occasionally Aang would get so caught up in nattering a deal, however, that he would completely loose track of his larger goal. Once at the end of shopping for traveling supplies (and taking way too long to do it in Katara’s opinion) Aang proudly held up what looked like a pair of pirate eye patches he had just spent the last twenty minutes negotiating for. “Look what I got, Katara! I really walked away with a steal for these! Not only did I get a great price, but I got the guy to throw in the second one free of charge!”

“What are you going to do with one eye patch, Aang? Let alone two!” Katara asked in exasperation.

Sokka joined in, “Yeah, wouldn’t two eye patches kind of defeat the purpose? I mean, if you need patches for BOTH eyes, why not just wear some dark glasses?”

“Or go all natur-al – like me,” Toph added pointing a confident thumb to her blind eyes.

Aang’s posture deflated as he looked down at the patches in his hands. “I guess I just got a little caught up in the moment…” he admitted.

“No point in being a cheapskate chaffer if you end up buying useless junk, Twinkletoes.”

But Katara had laughed out loud a moment later when she turned to see Aang and Momo both wearing matching eye patches and chittering out of the sides of their mouths like pirates together. Katara was beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter how much older Aang got, he was likely to be a kid-at-heart forever.

And admittedly, she loved him all the more for it.

But when the two decided to get married, and it came time to negotiate the bride-price, Katara began to dread Aang’s affinity for haggling with a new kind of apprehension.

Honestly, the fact that paying for a bride was still a tradition at all in her village rankled her. But it was common practice in both Water Tribes for the prospective groom to pay a bride-price to the woman’s family upon engagement.

“It’s archaic, Dad!” Katara had argued heatedly. “Not to mention humiliating! To be… bought… like a good canoe or a new polar-bear dog saddle?! Its completely demeaning.”

But Katara’s Gran Gran had stepped in and put her foot down, “It is tradition! Tradition as old as memory in our culture. Paying the bride-price is a covenant that helps to solidify a marriage union, to make it a promise between more than just a man and his wife, but between the couple and their tribe. And you will not rewrite thousands of years of history in one fell swoop, Katara!”

And so the couple had begrudgingly agreed to go through the motions of negotiating the bride-price, which was done in a sort of ceremony, in front of the whole tribe.

………

The sun was just setting over the horizon as the tribes people gathered in the large rounded gathering hall for the negotiation. Given the high profile of who was getting engaged tonight, the turn out had been nearly comprehensive – most of the village’s families were in attendance to Witness. The tribes people sat close together, shoulder to shoulder with their children on their laps, all straining to see and hear the impending negotiations. The prospective bride and groom would enter last.

Aang flew in on Appa just a few minutes before the negotiation was scheduled to begin, giving the couple little time to talk before it all began.

As the two entered the assembly chamber Katara grabbed Aang’s elbow whispering in exasperation, “Cut it a little close, didn’t you Aang?!”

Aang shifted the knapsack on his shoulder and kissed her forehead in apology, “Sorry! I got held up gathering… well never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

As the two entered the packed room, the chatter quieted down, all eyes on them. Chief Hakoda sat on a mat to the east of a fire in the center of the room; Gran Gran knelt by his side on the south. Katara looked at the empty place by Hakoda’s side, knowing that if Sokka weren’t at Kyoshi Island today he would be sitting with their father. For a fleeting moment, she missed her brother terribly; feeling that somehow if he were here then perhaps he could help diffuse this feeling of dread in her chest.

Aang was directed to sit on a mat directly across the center fire from Chief Hakoda. Katara knelt down next to her Grandmother; Kanna reaching out a withered old hand and gripping Katara’s hand in hers. “It will all be okay, my little Snowflake,” Gran Gran whispered.

But Katara was not feeling like it would be okay. Her stomach clenched in nervous dread. She had no idea what to expect from tonight. Traditionally, a bride price would be paid in trade: a good pair of sled dog-foxes, or a two-week supply of tiger-seal meat, perhaps a leather handled hunting spear thrown in for finesse. However, with the end of the war, and the prosperity and commerce that had returned to the South Pole, money exchanges had become more common. And given that Katara’s father was the Chief (and Aang unlikely to pay in meat), a money price would be the most likely exchange.

To date, the prices in coin generally ranged from twenty to thirty gold pieces, although last month a man from the North had paid the unheard of price of forty-five gold pieces to secure the hand of a girl from Katara’s tribe!

Katara looked over at Aang and groaned. He didn’t look at her, his face serious in the flickering firelight as he regarded her Father. She thought she could see his brain figuratively warming up for the negotiations ahead; preparing for the haggle of a lifetime! She had to look away.

Katara imagined Aang driving such a hard bargain that he would manage to buy her hand in marriage for a warm winter blanket. Inexplicably the thought made her chin tremble as she bit back tears of shame. This whole thing was so humiliating!

Katara knew that these events were anything but quick. Sometimes, when an agreement could not be decided upon right away, they would retire and continue the negotiations the following evening. Katara sighed thinking of Aang’s incredible bargaining stamina, and wondered how many days this would take. As the ceremony began, she tried to prepare herself for a long night…

A large basin of water and a small ceramic jug were brought in and set on the floor opposite the fire from Katara and her Grandmother. Aang and Hakoda both dipped their hands in the water: the washing of hands symbolizing the washing away of any past ills between them. Then both drank from the jug, first Hakoda, then Aang, as a promise to bring no deceit to their bargain and as a show of goodwill between the two parties.

Hakoda cleared his throat, preparing to recite the traditional opening words. He spoke as much to the gathered tribe as to the man seated across from him, “Avatar Aang, what brings you to sit at the fire with me this night?”

Aang responded also from rote, “Chief Hakoda, I sit with you this night to ask for the honor of marrying your daughter,” Aang’s silver eyes caught hers for a moment, “the esteemed Master Katara.”

Everyone there knew of their history. How she had left the village to rescue the Avatar, had helped to teach him to waterbend, had fought with him to end the Hundred Year War, and how they had fallen in love in the process. The two had been a couple for years now, this moment coming as a surprise to no one. But tradition called for certain sentiments to be expressed regardless.

Hakoda spoke up boldly: “Katara is my only daughter, my strength and support, my one great reminder of her mother who I loved with all of my heart. To part with her would be to loose a piece of my own soul. What merits do you claim, Avatar Aang, to be worthy of the hand of my daughter?”

Although she knew this type of speech was all part of tradition, Katara was nonetheless moved by the genuine emotion behind her father’s words. Back strait and tall, Hakoda sat with the confidence of a proven chief. But even with his chin held high, Katara could see that his eyes were soft, even a little sad.

This tradition was part of protecting his daughter, of ensuring that she would be cared for. Although she still did not like the idea of a bride-price, Katara began to appreciate the value in the ceremony. For her Father’s heart, if for nothing else.

All eyes now turned to the Avatar. It was his turn to respond. To build himself up, to lay out the many reasons that he could and would be a suitable match for Katara. To prove that he was powerful enough, capable enough, to protect her and provide for her needs.

But Aang said nothing.

Katara’s eyes darted to his face as he stared into the flickering fire, trying to read his expression, to understand the unexpected pain behind his furrowed brow.

She was fairly well acquainted with Aang’s griefs, and she had a pretty good idea what kind of insecurities he was wrestling with right now. She knew that he worried for her safety, that he worried that somehow her affiliation with him might put her in danger. Aang had worked hard to forgive himself for running away before the war, knowing that he had been just a child, afraid and lonely. But the knowledge that whether he had run away or not, he was the reason his people were massacred, plagued him. As much as she tried to reassure him otherwise, he worried that she would somehow be the same. His anxieties had gotten so bad a couple of years ago that he had even tried to cut ties with her; to break up in a half-baked attempt to keep her safe. Of course she hadn’t bought it, and truthfully he hadn’t really wanted her to, but it had dug up some intense buried pains for both of them. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever be free of his twin demons: grief and guilt.

After an uncomfortable silence Hakoda cleared his throat and asked again, this time his voice a bit softer, “Aang, what makes you worthy of my daughter?”

Aang looked up, locking eyes with Hakoda, and spoke quietly, “I’m not.”

Hands covered mouths as whispers were exchanged among the Witnesses, an audible murmur rippling around the room. Katara was sure she could hear her brother slap his forehead in exasperation all the way from Kyoshi Island!

“Aang…” Katara started to speak, but was silenced by her Gran Gran’s firm hand on her own. Of all the times to leave your Air Nomad humility behind, Aang, it would be now! Be Water Tribe and proudly proclaim who I know you are!

“I am not worthy of Katara,” -- another murmur rippling through the crowd -- “But I will do everything in my power to keep her safe and to make her happy. She means everything to me…” Then sitting up straighter, he added with conviction, “And there is no one who would love her more than I do.”

Although this was a discussion of marriage, it was strangely taboo for declarations of love to be expressed. This event was more about practicality than sentiment. Katara could see some people shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

Even though it was supposed to be Aang trying to convince Hakoda of his merits, Hakoda spoke up for his soon to be son-in-law, helping him to save face in front of the Tribe. “I know, Aang. I do not doubt either you capabilities nor your motives.”

As though worried that Aang might declare his adorations again, Hakoda quickly pushed forward the process. “As you know my daughter is dear to me, and her leaving my household will be a great loss to us all. In a demonstration of your capabilities to care for my daughter, and as a small way to alleviate our disadvantage at her loss, I propose that we agree to seventy-five gold pieces as a bride-price for your engagement to Katara.”

There was a loud buzz of surprise from the onlookers. Seventy-five gold pieces?! Starting a negotiation this high was unheard of! Katara looked at her father in surprise. Why?

The noise grew steadily until the tribe members shushed one another loudly to hear the Avatar’s response.

Katara knew this was when the counter offers would begin. Somewhere well below the first offer but with room to go up in price as the two parties would parry back and forth until landing somewhere in the middle.

“Chief Hakoda,” Aang began, his voice carrying throughout the room, “No, I couldn’t pay seventy-five gold pieces…”

Katara’s forgotten embarrassment returned as she looked down to her lap, remembering why they were here, waiting for “Aang the Haggler” to begin bargaining in earnest.

“… I simply could not feel right about paying any less than five hundred gold pieces.”

There was a collective gasp from the room… before it exploded in noise!

Some people got to their feet, some yelling out, still others sat in astonishment, mouths hanging open stupidly. Cries of “Has he lost his head!?” and “Clearly this foreigner does not understand!” and “FIVE-HUNDRED GOLD PIECES?!” could be heard.

Hakoda himself sat back in silent bewilderment.

Katara, finally overcoming her own shock, hissed at Aang, “Do you even HAVE five hundred gold pieces?!?” before her Gran Gran slapped her hand again with a “Hush!” and “It is not your place to speak in this!”

Aang, face stoic, (although the edge of his mouth showing the slightest hint of a grin) looked at Katara and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Then, reaching into the rucksack at his side, he pulled out two full drawstring pouches, and set them before Hakoda with a heavy jangle.

Hakoda looked down at the bags in silence, then up at Aang like he would protest, but couldn’t seem to find his voice. Aang sat at the ready, as though prepared to offer more. Surely this was the strangest bargaining in the grand history of bride-price talks! This night was destined to go down in tribal history: a story to be told, and retold, for generations to come!

Aang spoke again, “No amount of money or treasure could ever compare with the privilege of spending my life with Katara. No matter the agreed upon price, I will forever be in your debt. But I hope you will accept my offer -- but a fraction of what I wish it was -- that I may receive your blessing and permission to take your incredible daughter, Katara, as my wife. I promise to honor her, and respect her, and to cherish her with all that I am until my soul moves on from this life to my next.”

The room was still loud and chaotic as Hakoda, his voice seemingly still unrecovered, looked back down at the bulging coin bags in a stupor. Then nodded once. Twice.

And that was that.

Technically, the bride-price was agreed and the engagement was official. Too bad there was too much disbelief and chaos in the room for the usual congratulations to be extended.

Gran Gran pulled on Katara’s elbow, leaning into her with a husky laugh, “One thing I like about your Airbender, Katara – he never ceases to surprise me!”

Katara couldn’t agree more.

……..

Having received Hakoda’s nod of approval, Aang wasted no time in grabbing Katara by the hand and pulling her out of the hubbub of the still startled and excited crowd. Running and giggling the two stole out into the chill night, only slowing once the din from the assembly hall became but a distant hum.

The moon shone her beautiful beaming face brightly upon them, as though sending her congratulations. They listened to the music of the back and forth of the waves on the icy shore. For a time they just walked in silence, holding hands and bumping shoulders, smiling widely. The glances they shared were, for some reason, unexplainably coy, like their new official change in relationship status hadn’t had time to feel real yet.

At long last, Katara broke the silence with a tease, “Not your most impressive performance as a haggler back there, Aang.”

Aang, unable to hold back his radiant smile, looked down and laughed. “Ah, but even a good haggler would never low-ball a truly fine treasure when he finds it. I could never insult your Father with an offer so far below its worth.”

Unable to hold back her smile, Katara raised a flirtatious eyebrow at him, “Oh yeah?” She couldn’t help but feel important, and so, so loved. Contrasted with the humiliation she had felt earlier at the idea of being bargained for, the difference was stark.

“Yeah.” Aang sighed with a dopy grin as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. “Besides,” he began, his mouth close to hers, his breath coming in warm puffs on her lips, drawing her own mouth to tilt upward seeking his.

“I still walked away with a steal!”

……………

A/N: I must admit that I based some of this on my own love of haggling =) So… how much for a review, eh? ;)  ;)

I wanted to ask you what were your thought in Melby. Because tho I don’t really care about them, I do care about sapphic treatment in shows. And there are two options with Melby as for right now.

1) they actually plan to stick with the ship and it’s just straight out bad treatment and double standards compared to the straight couples. Or,

2) they are just kinda using it to fill the void and have a little bit of drama until they can have abimel progress. And don’t get me wrong, I’m ALL for gay drama, episode 306 was so funny to me, I love the dumb gay drama. Give me more. But if this is the case, it still feels a bit, I don’t know the proper word, but just a bit weird ? (Idk, just meh) that they use it as a way to fill the void while giving it zero effort. Does that make sense ?

Anyway, I just wanted to know your thoughts because I do feel they’re building abimel but right now their treatment of Melby just seems a but weird ? Especially cause we know that in ep 14 they are still together

Hii hi, yes, what you’re saying makes sense! And this is exactly why I like to think Abimel is the end goal here. Because Mel is one of the three leads, and so I have this expectation for her romantic relationships to have equal importance, focus and screen time as the other two. And right now, what we have with Melby, I can’t even go as far as saying it feels secondary to Hacy and Verachase — that’d be too generous. Melby feels like an afterthought at best, and that’s IF they’re even lucky enough to be given any thought at all.

To your question, if Abimel is indeed endgame then I don’t really feel like it’s necessary for the show to fully invest in Melby’s relationship — because if that’s the case, it automatically makes Melby temporary. And while I personally always prefer to have well-rounded side characters and whatnot, I also understand that sometimes when it isn’t essential to the plot, a lot of writers won’t bother, and I can also understand why they wouldn’t put in effort into something that won’t last, more than they need to for whatever purpose Melby might have, whether it’s a filler relationship or if it’s leading to become a source of conflict or roadblock for the main ship or something else. The bottomline in this scenario is that arguably, if we’re talking about the treatment of wlw relationships then they’re actually putting in a lot of time and energy into the one they’re supposed to: the main ship, Abimel. It’s pretty typical for shows in general to not really put a lot of focus on temporary ships.

I will say though — the writing for Melby has been awful regardless, which I think is what you’re most concerned about and I have to agree.. Filler or not, it’s so inconsistent, viewers always have to fill in the blanks because half the time we’re jumping from one significant point of their relationship to another. One minute they’re talking about being casual, we don’t see Ruby for five episodes save for one name drop, and the next time we meet her they seem to be in a serious relationship. We’ve also gone from them breaking up because Ruby wants nothing to do with witches and the magical world, to them being together without even so much as addressing that fact. As my friend has pointed out, Mel and Ruby have broken up maybe half the number of times that they’ve had episodes together. This relationship was established to be one-foot-out-the-door from the get go, and if you ask me that still hasn’t changed. It’s weird, it’s messy, it’s lazy writing. I mean come on, the best they could do for the one episode they’ve had her this season was give them a recycled version of Hacy plots & scenes. 

Which is why, I have to think they’re the filler. Because otherwise then, wtf. For one, as a filler I can forego the lack of screen time but they at least deserve consistency. Second, if this is endgame… is that really the best they can do for their wlw audience? I mean wlw ships often get zero development and get sidelined for het ships but this is a whole new level of bad especially for a show that likes to pride itself in its representation. And it’s not like they’re not capable of writing semi-decent wlw. Melko, Melda and Melkat. At this point, if they choose to go for Melby as endgame it’d almost feel like such a stab because it’s easily the most poorly written out of all of Mel’s canon relationships. And for me, it’s just kind of too late to fix it. The damage has been done, the crappy development is canon and unless Mel’s gonna cast another spell to rewrite history lol, nothing will change the fact that we can’t really undo the very non-existent build up for them. And I’m not saying this just because I ship Abimel. Even without Abimel, I’d still prefer they just introduce someone new that they’ll actually put effort into. It’s tiring to keep having to make do with whatever hole-filled plotlines writers give wlw relationships. 

But I mean yeah, we know Ruby’s still around so hopefully at the very least we can start seeing them write Melby better from this point forward. They still deserve that. 

The Secret Life of MDC | Part 5

Part 5 – Haha, wait you’re serious?

Fun fact: This rewrite was supposed to be five parts, but as I was writing and changing things, I have no idea how long this is going to be.

Parts 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

What a relaxing evening the couples group plus one was having. Everyone but Jon and Damian was wearing a disguise of some sort. Marinette in her usual lace netted veil, Chloe with her hair down and sunglasses on, and Adrien with a dark wig and punk clothes. It was never easy being out and open like this, but it was relaxing.

“I’m telling you, she’s not worth it.” Marinette states before taking a sip of her ice coffee beverage. She doesn’t know how or when their conversation regarding the upcoming gala turned into a revenge plan to reveal the liar that has made her life miserable back in Paris.

“Angel, she is making up stories about me. How can I not make her suffer any more than she had made you?” Damian asks taking her hand into his own. Marinette huffs unsure what to say.

“C’mon buggy, even Luka agrees with him. Let him take over for a moment.” Adrien comments showing the designer his phone with a series of messages from Luka on the screen.

Marinette still doesn’t reply. Instead, she looks up to the sky as of it hoping for a miracle. Nothing was working.

“Kagami even she said she’ll help hide the body. Just give me the okay and she’ll be on the next flight here or I’ll go get her with Kaalki.” Chloe adds in taping away on her phone as if she wasn’t paying attention.

“Absolutely not. Look, guys, we have three weeks left here and I don’t want to spend it worrying about the class despite being the damn TA for this exchange. I already need to finish the touch-ups on our dresses and grade like a shit ton of assignments.” Marinette groans leaning into Damian’s chest. He places a kiss on her forehead before resting his chin on her head.

“Why are you guys even like this?” It’s Jon’s turn to cry out in frustration. Everyone turns to him with an eyebrow raised. The half-Kryptonian should no better by now than to question anything his boyfriend and friends do. “Alright, alright, I fold. What do I need to do?”

“Stay my handsome hero.” Adrien absently adds swooning in Jon’s arms looking upward to the hero. Shaking his head, Adrien turns to Marinette and blinks. “Did I really just say that?”

Marinette tries to hide her giggles, nodding. However, Chloe didn’t even try to hide her laughs causing the model to blush.

“I actually liked it,” Jon says before placing a kiss on the blonde’s cheek furthering his blush to a deeper red.

“Ooh, Gami just replied back to me, she wants to see if we can do a movie night stream?” Chloe asks on behalf of her girlfriend. Planning movie nights are often frequent amongst the group especially when they are missing each other.

“I know my father wouldn’t mind, but depending on who’s staying at the manor tonight it might turn into a family affair,” Damian responds gently pushing Marinette off of him and stand up to stretch.

“She’s fine with that.”

“Good; I’ll message Alfred to set to the theatre room.” Damian pulls out his phone and immediately proceeds to message the family butler.

“You know he’ll probably send a message with an image of the theatre room decked out with pillows and blankets with the caption: already have, young master.” Marinette jokes but little did she know her guess was actually right.

Damian’s phone dings with a message from Alfred. It is indeed a photo of the theatre room with pillows and blanket gently piled together. Underneath the photo is the message “Already done, young master, just be home before dark.”

“How does he do that?” Adrien wonders before adding, “It’s witchcraft?”

“You know as well as my brothers that we still do not know that answer.” Damian murmurs sliding his phone back into his pocket. He then holds out his hand for Marinette to take as she pushes herself off the wooden bench.

“We should head back then…” Marinette is then cut off by her phone along with her blonde sibling’s phones simultaneously buzzing. The three Parisians grab their phones and see the answer.

It’s the Headmistress of Gotham Academy calling her. Confused, Marinette answers the call just as Adrien and Chloe read the variety of messages from the classmates or at least those that still have their numbers.

Damian and Jon look to one another cautiously. It’s not every day that the trio’s phone would go off especially when they are not in a group chat with the others. Damian takes a step closer to Marinette as panic rises her eyes.

When the call ends, Marinette takes a series of deep breaths. “First the Riddler and now this shit. They better be damn glad to stay on this trip once we find them.” Was the only thing that would come out of the designer’s mouth.

Chloe and Adrien stop reading. “Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” This really draws two teens to their friends. Adrien stays silent which is unlike him especially when there isn’t a battle or around them.

“Um, care to fill us in?” Jon asks knowing that Damian would not as he tries to get answers from Marinette.

“Apparently Mlle. Bustier and the GA staff are losing their heads.” Chloe starts.

“Nino messaged me that something had happened after we left,” Adrien adds shuffling his feet against the ground.

“Yeah; Alya and Lie-la are missing. The headmistress says that no one has seen since we left and asked if we, more specifically I, knew about their whereabouts.” Marinette shakes her head, “Which I have no clue about. I’m not a sheep’s keeper.” The noirette sighs, face-palming.

“I guess movie night is off then.” Jon ponders.

“No, no, we can still find them before it gets super late. By we, I mean Robin and Superboy along with the Gotham’s miraculous team.” Marinette counters before anyone could get a word in.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Chloe asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the liar’s big mouth didn’t get her in trouble with the Joker or any other Gotham villain,” Marinette grumbles as if all happiness crash and burned right in front of her.

“And here I have thought that after last week, they would stay on the down-low, but no~ they just had to disappear. This will really put a stick into Mlle. Bustier’s teaching qualifications.” Chloe groans as she starts packing her stuff up with looks ready to kill.

“I’ll see you in a bit, suit and all. I have damage control to handle before we make our next steps.” Marinette and Adrien give their significant others a peck on the lips. As much as Damian hates the veil covering her eyes, he knows the pain the reset inside them.

“I’ll talk things through with the family. Maybe even hack into the security cameras for some leads.” He whispers into her ear holding her arms. Marinette looks up to Damian and nods.

~*~

If those phone calls didn’t give light to the current situation, it would have been like walking into the middle of a war zone. Everywhere you look there were teachers asking questions, normally this would never happen to Gotham Academy, but when the exchange happens it like the school turns on its head.

Chloe, Adrien, and Marinette decided to split up. Adrien went to speak to Nino to see if he had knowledge of his girlfriend. Chloe sneaked into the security room while Marinette takes on her teacher assistant role to speak with Mlle. Bustier and the GA headmistress.

Marinette could tell how heated the conversation is from just a few feet away. The closer she got the more she could tell that Caline was sweating where she was standing.

“Marinette doesn’t belong in conversations like this.” Caline tries to get Marinette removed from the conversation the moment she sees the girl, but the headmistress wasn’t having that.

“Marinette is allowed to be here, Ms. Bustier, she is apparently the only one with the contact information regarding your students.” The headmistress states and it was true. Even though Marinette is technically the class representative despite no longer being a student of the school, she still holds vital information regarding the class.

“Hold on, you didn’t contact our parents?” Realization began to hit. “We were nearly killed last week and today, not even a full week since we have arrived, you have lost two students.”

“Marinette, you guys made it back safely, and I just didn’t have time to call everyone’s parents or guardians.” Caline is really trying to save face here.

“We’re in a whole another country. It is your duty to inform parents and or guardians about any situation, mishap, whatever happens to them.” Marinette nearly screams at the teacher. Anger could not even begin to be Marinette’s main emotion.

“I’m sure they’ll show up, Alya and Lila are very responsible.” Seriously? She cannot be for real.

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette takes a deep breath, clasps her hands together. “They can be killed here. I may not like those two but even I know the importance of safety here in Gotham.”

“Marinette, I’ll take it from here. How about you go help the others in finding the two missing girls.” The GA headmistress says placing a hand on the designer’s shoulder. Marinette calms down and nods. It was for the best.

Marching down the halls, everyone avoided Marinette. How could they not, she was a woman on a warpath. The Paris exchange students have never seen Marinette so angry before it was causing them to quake in their shoes.

Adrien was finishing his conversation with Nino when he joins Marinette’s side on the march to glory. Chloe had just finished up with the security room before she joined her crew. Together, the three exits the school grounds knowing exactly where they are heading to.

It was no secret that everyone knows each other identity between the Batfam and the Miraculous crew. So, when Alfred pulled up in a disguised car, with the window rolled down he simply raises an eyebrow. The trio gets in as the school just watches in shock. Nothing was making sense to them.

“So, I found that they did indeed leave minutes after we did. The cameras lost them upon walking across the streets towards this building.” Chloe states pointing to the screen with confidence.

“From what I had gathered from Nino, they had missed their check-in time at least three times before the flags were raised. As you know the class aside from us needs to check-in with the teachers at least once an hour after what happened last week.” Adrien then adds in.

Marinette nods before she turns to Tim, who was surprising on his fourth cup of coffee.

“Tim, what did you find?”  She asks before sliding a coffee flavor “health” bar over to the hacker. Tim takes it and slides the bar into his pocket.

“Let’s just say its not the Joker behind their missing appearance. We got Gordon on the lookout, but you know what they say when it comes close to nighttime here in Gotham.”

“Out of everyone, it had to be the two of them. If my job wasn’t also kind of on the stake, I would have just left them to figure it out and stay out of it.”

“You know that’s not true Mars; you love to save people even those who let deserves it.”

“Who asked you, Kitten, let him bitch about things that we know would never happen.”

If it wasn’t for the growing tension in the room, everyone would have burst out laughing.

“We got movement,” Jason calls out while cleaning one of his guns.

Everyone catches the other’s eyes before simultaneously nodding. It’s going to be a long night ahead of them.

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for the characters + scentence thing may i have "can i take you out on a date?" with fugo if u write for him 👉👈

This was all written by my beautiful gf @hugging-jjba-characters because idfk how to write Fugo. Anyway, enjoy!

Fugo blew out a huff of air as he violently tapped the backspace on his phone keyboard multiple times. 

He had been trying to send you a message for the past ten minutes, constantly rewriting and overthinking and growing more frustrated with himself by the second. 

Why couldn’t he just do it, just send the message, just tell you how he feels? Fugo shook his head, although he was completely alone in his room. He knew those answers. It was because he was afraid. Afraid of you rejecting him, hating him, kicking him out of your life if you didn’t feel the same way. And he firmly believed there was no way you would like him back. 

But he had to try to confess to you anyway. He couldn’t keep it bottled up inside him anymore, that never ended well for his other emotions. 

“can i take you out on a date?” 

The question was freshly typed on his phone. All he had to do was hit send. One tiny little tap is all that it would take, and yet it felt like the biggest thing he had ever done in his life. 

He stared at the white screen for what felt like years, reading over the last few texts that you had sent each other. 

His mind started to spiral back again, thinking about how he would never have such amazing conversations with you again if you rejected him. 

However, before he could move his thumb to select and delete the message once again, his phone vibrated and a grey blurb appeared on the screen, accompanied by an image. 

“thinking of you, lol”

The picture showed you, in your one of your typical but cute outfits, holding a mostly-cleaned-off fork to your lips. A yummy looking pudding dessert with strawberries was on the plate in front of you, a bite taken out of it in your impatience to taste it. 

Fugo thought he was having a heart attack. That's the only way he could have described how his heart pounded against his ribs and he lost control of his breathing from the cute image in front of him. 

You had to be… flirting with him. Right? There was no way you could send him something like that, eating a sweet with his namesake and his favorite fruit, especially with that cheeky look in your eye, and not be trying to hint at something. 

Filled with a strange and fleeting confidence from that thought, Fugo’s finger acted on its own accord and finally hit the send button. 

It wasn't until a few seconds later, when Fugo saw the ‘typing’ bubble repeatedly pop up and disappear on his screen, that he completely processed what he had done. 

Shit shit shit shit--Pannacotta why the hell did you do that?!? She obviously was just joking around and now you’ve asked her out and she’s probably just trying to let you down nicely. Why do you do these things, you idiot--

Fugo’s grip tightened on the phone incrementally until, after a few seconds, he decided to just throw it across the room. It landed on the carpeted floor, luckily with no cracking sounds. Not that Fugo was likely to notice in his current state. 

Emotions swirled around in him so turbulently that he couldn’t differentiate some of them from others. Embarrassment, anger, and insecurity were definitely in there somewhere. 

Fugo’s shaking hands went into his hair, clutching at his own locks. Typically when he was frustrated, it was directed at someone else, someone he could take it out on. But now he was just upset with himself, asking over and over again why he had pressed that button. 

Fortunately, he wasn’t left alone with his thought for very long, as he heard the ringtone he set for you start to sound from where his phone lie on the floor. 

As much as he really really didn’t want to pick it up, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to hear your voice. Even if it was the last time he would hear it because you were cutting ties with him. He had to pick up. 

Fugo stood and picked the phone up off the ground, before relenting to sitting on his floor with his back against the wall, and hesitantly clicked the green button on his somehow-intact screen. 

“H-Hey.” Fugo greeted before putting his head in his unoccupied hand, preparing for what you might have to say to him. 

“Hey,” you replied, voice shaking slightly from your nerves. “Did you.. Are you serious about taking me on a date?” 

You had to know he wasn’t joking around. In your head you knew Fugo wasn’t that big of a prankster, and he would never joke with something like this. 

Fugo recognized your question as you giving him an out. An opportunity to take it back and act like this never happened. He had planned to accept that out until--

“Yes. I, uh. Like you…” 

He progressively got quieter and mumbled the last part into his palm, hating how his mouth had moved without the permission of his brain. 

“Good. Because um, because i like you too. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

Fugo wasn’t entirely convinced that he wasn’t hallucinating or dreaming. He pinched his own arm. Yeah, definitely not dreaming. 

“Really??” 

“Yeah, really. And, I mean. I’m free tonight if you are…”

“U-uh, yeah! I don’t have any plans either, what time do you want me to pick you up?”

Fugo was freaking out and mostly just praying that his voice didn’t portray that. 

“Would 6 be okay with you?” 

“Of course, I’ll be there, 6 o’clock…”

“Okay, uh see you later then,”

“Yup!-uh, bye!”

You said goodbye a final time and ended what had to be the most awkward conversation of your entire life. Fugo’s head thumped back and hit the wall with a dull thud. 

He sighed. What had he gotten himself into? He didn’t know how to take someone on a date!

Fugo’s head then shot up and he looked around his room, panicked. Shit, it’s 3 already. I don’t even know what we’re gonna go do!

For the prompt list, maybe ”I'm sorry for asking.” with an s/o that asks to be in a poly relationship with Tenko and Himiko after realizing they're in love with both of them? I think this would be a pretty cute idea. 🥰

Oh my god you're right that is a really cute idea anon! I hope I do it justice. ;v; Sorry if Tenko and/or Himiko are ooc btw, I dont know too, too much about their in-game personalities. This is also probably my longest post so far, so yeah. Lemme know if you want a rewrite! Stay safe!

S/o confesses to Tenko and Himiko and ask to be in a poly relationship after realizing they're in love with both of them

You had begun talking to Tenko because she had been walking around the school advertising a magic show between classes. She pretty much went up to every person she saw and at least gave them a flyer. When you saw her walking up to you, you were actually kind of excited. You honestly had your eyes on her for the past week or so. She had just. Caught your eye if you're being honest. You weren't entirely sure why. Maybe it was her enthusiasm.. or maybe her beautiful long hair put into those twisted twintails.. or-

"Hey, there's going to be a magic show on Saturday! You should totally come!"

"O-oh.. uhh.. yeah! Yeah, I'll be there!"

"Seriously?! Thank you! Here's a flyer with more info!"

She hands you a flyer that's pretty well made.

'Come see the amazing Himiko preform tonight!'

That was the header of the flyer. The rest was some info about 'The amazing Himiko' and where she was performing. There was also a picture of her in the middle doing a magic trick.

Oh fuck shes actually kinda cute-

What the hell? You thought you were attracted to Tenko?! Welp. The only way to find out if you're actually attracted to 'The amazing Himiko' is to go to her show.

Well.. you were already planning on going, but you know what you mean!

Saturday comes faster than you anticipate, and you already find yourself in the school gymnasium where the magic show was being held. You walk in and see at least a small group of people in some chairs. You take a seat and like the others wait for the show to begin.

After about 5 minutes, the same girl on the flyer appears on a small stage. She gives an introduction speech and the show begins. She actually performs some really cool tricks!

After the show, everyone else leaves, but you figured right now was better than ever to confront Tenko. And now that you knew you seemed to have a crush on this Himiko girl, might as well talk to them both.

So you walk over to them and introduce yourself.

"Uh, hey, my name is y/n. I just wanted to say that that was really impressive!"

"Nyeh? You really think so?"

"Heck yeah!"

After that, you started talking with the two in the halls, going to lunch together, then outside of school, and soon enough, you three would all hang out often.

Tonight was movie night.

You were so excited, you could barely sit still in your seat during your classes. When lunch came, you noticed Tenko wasnt there.

"Hey Himiko, where's Tenko?"

"Nyeh? Oh, she's sick."

Sick? On movie night? Would it be canceled?

You ask Himiko if movie night is canceled, hoping it's not, as it was the only thing you were looking foward to today.

"Well, I thought we should let her get better and reschedule, but Tenko said she was fine, and that if it got worse, she would reschedule."

Oh thank heavens.

After school, you and Himiko walk to Tenko's house together, which is where you three decided to have movie night tonight. You two walk in and see Tenko on her couch, seemingly half asleep.

"Tenko?"

"Huh..? Oh!"

She immediately jolts up after realizing it's you two.

"Sorry theres no snacks, I'll go get some."

She gets up and slowly walks to the kitchen as you two walk in and close the door. You stop Tenko before she reaches the kitchen.

"You sit down. I'll handle the snacks."

"But-"

"No buts. You're sick. Now go, sit."

You turn Tenko around and lightly push her towards the couch. She complies and sits down next to Himiko, who begins talking to her. You begin making snacks. Popcorn, some drinks, etc., plus some soup for Tenko. (It was canned, so you weren't sure if it was actually gonna do anything, but the gesture was still there.)

After you're done making snacks, you sit down next to Himiko. You realize Tenko had gotten up. You look around a little trying to see where she went, when you suddenly see Tenko headed straight for you two with a giant blanket. You barely have time to react before Tenko tackles you both, hugging you close.

Tenko begins laughing and you two join her. Once you three get settled in the blanket on the couch, you begin to pick out a movie.

You three decide on watching the classic, A Nightmare On Elm Street. After you three watch that, you kinda just put on a cheesy romance film so you can just relax.

You three end up snuggling up close and falling asleep. Before you fell asleep, you had a thought about how nice this was, and how you wish it could last forever. After you fell asleep, you had an amazing dream where all three of you were just huddled close and sitting peacefully in a field.

Then, Himiko kisses you.

You immediately shoot awake, your face going red. As you begin to calm down, you start to think about it.

You absolutely had feelings for both of them.

You didnt wanna choose between them though...

Was there a way to..?

You doubted it.

But the thought just kept appearing. It had literally been two days and you kept wondering.

Alright, that's enough.

As soon as you got home, you got onto your computer to do some research.

It only takes you a few minutes to find out about polyamorous relationships. You do some deeper digging for about an hour before coming to the conclusion that you think you want to be in a polyamorous relationship with the two people you love the most.

But would they agree on it?

You hoped so, especially since the two had known eachother for longer than you had known them.

You decided to wait until your next hangout to ask them. Luckily, the next hangout was at your house, so you decide to do something special.

You three were supposed to have a study session together and then have a sleepover.

So you decide to add a few things you hope mix all three of your personalities and interests.

You three had given eachother access to each others music playlists, so you decide to take a bunch of songs from all of your playlists and put them into one special playlist. You even add in a few songs that just remind you of the three of you.

You buy some magic supplies that Himiko particularly likes, and you also grab a spare yoga mat you have so you can make some padding for Tenko to practice some of her moves on. You had also added a few things you liked.

You had also decided to buy a little projector that projects a galaxy onto the ceiling as if you were stargazing outside. The galaxy even moved as if it were the real sky! A few shooting stars pop up as well at some points.

And to top it all off, you had bought everyone's favorite snacks.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Perfect.

You answer the door and see two beautiful smiling faces that you adored.

"Come on in!"

You three complete your study session in about three hours, with Himiko almost falling asleep about four times.

At this rate you were afraid Himiko wasnt even gonna stay awake long enough for your confession.

They were also a little shocked by the special playlist.

"Who's music are we gonna play for this session?"

"Well actually, I made a special playlist with a mix of our songs on it, if you'd like to play it."

"Woah, really y/n? Of course we're gonna play it! You worked hard on it afterall!"

You play it, and you find its actually really nice to have a mix of songs you all love.

After that, you three head to your room for the sleepover part of your hangout.

You tell the two about your setup of activities and they both smile.

"Wow y/n, you really did a lot for this hangout!"

"Yeah.. just felt like doing something special today."

"Well me and Himiko really appreciate it!"

Tenko then grabs you and Himiko and hugs the two of you close.

You feel your heart stop and your face grow red.

Oh my god they're sO CUTE-

You three each do separate activities and show off for a few hours while eating snacks. Himiko didnt even seem to be tired, so you hoped she would last until your confession.

After you three show off to eachother, you all lie down and you turn on the little projector, to which you smile.

Perfect.

This is perfect.

"Hey, are you guys still awake?"

"Yep."

"Mhmm."

"I wanted to ask you guys something really important."

Tenko sits up.

"Yeah of course, what's up?"

Your heart begins racing faster than Usain Bolt and you can feel your face grow as red as an apple, and you are so glad the other two cant see you right now.

"I- er- uh..."

You sit up as well.

"I... like you guys.."

You barely whisper it, but they seem to hear you.

Himiko sits up surprisingly quick and you can see Tenko go wide eyed.

"Huh?"

"Wha?!"

You get up and turn the light on so you can see their faces.

Tenko is indeed wide eyed and her face looks like someone had painted it red.

Himiko is also wide eyed and almost as red as her hair.

"Are.. are you serious y/n?"

"Yes. One hundred percent."

"Well.. I think I like you too. I just never really wanted to acknowledge it.."

"Really?"

"Yeah.."

"Himiko?"

"Nyeh.. I uh.. I like you too.."

So that part went well.

Now for the bigger question.

"Do you guys wanna.. be in a polyamorous relationship?"

...

Both of them seemed to grow confused.

"I'm sorry for asking, that was kinda sudden!"

Tenko gets up and walks towards you.

She has a soft smile on her still flushed face.

"We have no idea what that means y/n."

"Oh."

You sit back down and end up explaining what a polyamorous relationship is, and throughout it you can feel your face get warmer, and you can see the same happening to Himiko and Tenko.

After you're done explaining, the room is silent, but all of you were extremely red.

"Sooo..."

"I agree."

Tenko said that and you looked up to see her looking at you with the same soft smile.

You loved that smile.

She took both of your hands into hers.

"I really do like- no- love, both of you. I've honestly had a crush on Himiko for the longest time. I just couldn't bring myself to say anything like y/n. But.. now that you're both here, my life truly is complete."

Wow. You had always suspected Tenko had a thing for Himiko.

"Nyeh.. I swear, if you two get any cuter, I'm gonna kiss you."

You turn around to look at Himiko who was smiling.

"I love you both as well."

You're heart flutters at this.

The two people you loved the most were now your lovers.

Lovers. Heh. You never thought this dream would come true.

Himiko did in fact kiss you two, and you both kissed her back. It was really cute, but clearly none of you knew how to kiss.

At Peace (Steve Rogers x Reader One Shot)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Rating/genre: Romance, a bit of angst. PG for a single swear word. Summary: Sort of Endgame compliant (we’re rewriting a scene and keeping some folks alive). When Steve and Tony go to Camp Lehigh to get the Tesseract, they’re almost caught. Steve turns to the one person he thinks can help them get out unscathed, and finally closes the one remaining door to his past so he can move on in the future. Author’s Note: No Endgame hate here, please! I didn’t hate the ending for Steve, but didn’t love it either. This is my take on what could have happened with the addition of a reader insert. I came up with this idea in the shower and wrote it in 2 hours so pls be nice if it sucks!!!!

“You know,” Tony muses on Steve’s right, “You’re not normally the one with the stupid ideas. It’s a nice change, honestly.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but the pair keep walking, eyes downcast, hats pulled low over their foreheads. Yes, this is probably the worst idea and it’s sure to screw the whole plan. But what else do they have to lose?

“That woman from the elevator is already onto us, so this is our best shot.”

“It’s our best shot to get arrested, yes.”

Steve stops short, jaw clenching hard. “Do you have a better idea?”

Tony sighs. “I guess not. Come on, let’s go meet your woman--”

Steve stops short again, his tone icy. “Don’t--” He shuts his eyes. “Please, Tony, for once in your life, leave the talking to me.” There’s a sad undertone to his voice, a kind of desperation that Tony doesn’t hear often, so he nods, leaving the jokes behind.

Steve finds the office door he’s looking for, and takes a deep breath before opening it and shoving Tony inside, locking the door behind the both of them.

Peggy stands, affronted. “Excuse me, this is a private office--” She stops as Steve steps into the light, her eyes widening for half a second before they narrow.

Steve isn’t sure which Peggy to expect. He doesn’t think she’s going to break down and cry, but he’s also not entirely sure she’s not going to shoot him either. Tony takes a large step back when she glances down and grabs the first thing she can threaten them with - a letter opener.

“Tell me who you are, right now.” Her voice is stern, though a little shaky.

“Peggy, put it down.”

“If you think--”

“It’s me, Peg. It’s Steve.”

He sees her shoulders sag, though she doesn’t drop her guard. “You’re dead.”

“Not anymore,” Tony mutters, and Steve elbows him hard in the ribs.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I can prove it,” Steve says, taking a small step forward, heart tightening when she takes an imperceptible step backward. “That last conversation we had, when I was in the plane. I told you I’d meet you at the Stork Club. That we’d have the band play something slow so I wouldn’t step on your feet.” He smiles softly. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember, you idiot.” She says, voice choked, a single tear making its way down her cheek, despite the letter opener she’s still brandishing.

“I don’t have a lot of time, but I need your help,” Steve says as he gets a step closer, close enough to gently grasp her wrist and lower it.

“Steve.” She says on a sob, and then she’s in his arms.

.

.

.

“Let me get this straight. You need to steal the cube and something from Hank Pym’s lab?” Peggy asks incredulously.

Tony snorts. “After everything you’ve heard, and that’s the part you’re not sure about?”

She gives Tony a look. “Mr. Stark, you may be your father’s son, but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t find your jokes all that hilarious at the moment.”

Steve bites back a smile. “I know we’re asking a lot,” he says, serious once more, “but the entire world is at stake. Please, we have to get out of here unseen. If we fail at this--”

“We’re not going to.” Tony says, firm. “There’s no other option.” He meets Steve’s eyes. “Whatever it takes, remember?”

Steve swallows. All the arguments and years lost between him and Tony evaporate. Just like that, they’re brothers in arms once more. “Whatever it takes,” he murmurs.

Meeting Peggy’s gaze, she looks between the two, and Steve thinks he sees in the moment when it clicks for her how serious this is. “First of all, stop talking about the future in front of me. I’ve read enough novels to know that isn’t a good idea, and the two of you don’t need to get in any more trouble, clearly.”

“So you’ll help?”

She fidgets. “Yes. I’ll help you. I’ll schedule a meeting with Howard and Hank so they won’t be near their labs when you go down. I can’t do much about security, so you’ll have to be quick and stay out of sight.”

Steve nods, “Thank you.”

.

.

.

It’s not until over an hour later, after some sneaking around, some nearly getting caught, and Peggy having to save their asses yet again, that he gets a minute alone with her.

“I just wanted to-- I have to go back, but I couldn’t leave without telling you something.”

“Steve, don’t.”

“No, it’s-- it’s nothing that’s going to change anything.” Steve smiles. “I just want you to know-- I loved you, Peg. Still do, really.” He takes a deep breath. “Probably always will.”

“Steve,” it’s a warning, but there’s old feelings there that he can hear in her voice. “Then I need you to know -- I’m happy, Steve. You saved my life. You saved all of our lives. And I miss you terribly. Underneath it all, you were my closest friend.” Another tear slips out. “And I love you too, Steve. But you have to know that I’m happy. I found someone, and I have a career that I love… you did exactly what you were supposed to do. You saved the world.”

Steve’s eyes are a little glassy, but he hardens his resolve. “I have someone, now. In my time.” He shrugs. “I think, anyway. It’s been-- what we’re going through right now has been hard. I haven’t had the guts to have the conversation with her yet.”

Peggy smiles. “Still have no idea how to talk to women?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but chuckles. “I guess not.”

“You should be happy, Steve.” Peggy’s voice is soft.

Steve’s mind drifts to you, how happy you already make him, even if you don’t realize how much. He has so much he needs to talk to you about, but he has to keep you alive first. He has to keep himself and his family alive.

“Thanks, Peggy.” He says, and pulls her into his arms one last time.

.

.

.

They did it.

They actually fucking did it.

Steve has never been more tired in his entire life. He’s exhausted, and every single bone in his body hurts. He’s on his knees next to Tony who is barely hanging on, and has to take a minute to let it all sink in.

They won.

There’s voices all around him, frantic, asking about the cradle, and if the medical bay survived the explosion, and Steve has to fight to get back into Captain mode and save his friend’s life.

On his right, Natasha limps forward, her cheek bleeding, but a bittersweet smile on her face. “You did it,” she whispers, and Steve shakes his head.

“We did.”

He and Scott and Rhodey get Tony somewhere safe, and Bruce manages to stabilize him, despite knowing he’s going to lose functionality in a lot of his arm.

“I’ll just get one to match Tin Man, it’s fine,” Tony mumbles, and that’s when they all know he’s going to be okay. Leaving Pepper and Peter with Tony, Steve sets off to find the one person he had to force himself not to look for during the fight.

Some of the Wakandans are setting up a triage area in parts of the compound, and he passes through them as he scans the crowd until he spots you.

You’re there with Sam, his arm slung around your waist, yours over his shoulder, keeping all your weight off one leg. His breath leaves him when your eyes meet his, and he’s moving before he can even comprehend what he’s doing.

Your name escapes on a breath when he’s close enough, and then you’re letting go of Sam, almost collapsing into Steve’s arms.

“Steve,” you say, “You’re alive.”

“So are you,” he says, your face pressing into the side of his neck as you embrace. Steve shudders, thinking how close it could have been to losing you forever.

He finally has closure with Peggy, but he almost didn’t have it with you. He can’t make that mistake again.

He meets Sam’s eyes and nods, holding you to his side as he tries to give a half-hug to his friend, his heart overflowing with relief.

“Bucky?” He stutters, grief eating at him when he doesn’t see his oldest friend anywhere amongst the crowd.

“He was helping people get inside,” you say quietly, “He’s probably in there.”

Steve’s eyes fall closed at one more confirmation that so far everyone he loves is in one piece. “Of course he is,” he laughs quietly, “he’s just hoping there’s nurses there.”

“I heard that,” a gruff voice says behind him, and then there it is, the final piece of his family clicking into place.

The residences are part of the only bit of the compound that wasn’t destroyed by the explosion. Steve hasn’t been to his room in months - only when he would come by to check on Nat, and when they started work on time travel.

It’s a little strange for him to be in here now, but his focus isn’t on that. You were exhausted and after being told (none too gently) by Pepper that there wasn’t anything else for him to do now, he carried you back here.

He can’t seem to let you out of his sight.

He’s bone tired too, and the prospect of a nap with you is too much to resist. He carries you bridal style through the dark living area and kitchen until he reaches his bedroom, the sheets tucked neatly into the corners, army style.

You stir in his arms slightly, but otherwise stay asleep. He sets you down and gets you situated before straightening, his eyes committing every bit of this scene to memory. You have stitches on your cheekbone and dark circles under your eyes, and Steve curses himself for not checking in with you more, making sure you were okay…

He shakes his head and tries to quiet his thoughts. A shower first, and then he’s going to join you, propriety be damned.

His own body is tired, the serum working overtime to heal the cuts and bruises scattered across his arms and torso. His left hand is likely broken, he thinks, remembering it shaking when he tried to take off his broken shield.

He’ll worry about it in the morning. Right now he has more important things to sort out.

He’s only gone for fifteen minutes, but it’s enough for you to be awake when he comes back to the bedroom, and there’s a minute where you both stop and stare at each other, time suspended.

“Hey,” you say, and he crosses the room to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Hi.”

“Long day,” you sigh, winking at him.

“The longest.” He agrees, moving a little closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder.

“I can’t believe we actually pulled it off.”

Steve shakes his head. “I know. I’m-- You have no idea how relieved I was to see you.” He hears Peggy’s voice in his head telling him to finally have this conversation. He can’t put it off anymore. He’s done wasting time.

“Me too, Steve.”

He reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “I hope I’m not getting this all wrong. I-- I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

Your hand shakes a little in his. “Thank me?”

He smiles, nods. “Yeah. Thank you for… for giving me something else to fight for. Something that I never thought I’d have.”

“Steve…”

“Wait, just-- before you say anything, let me get this out.” He tells you everything, about how the trip back in time was with Scott and Tony, and how he had to go back even further and about Peggy. “She basically told me to quit moping and just tell you how I feel.”

You laugh, but it’s a little watery. Steve plows on, “I fell in love with you years ago, and I should have told you from the start. Either one of us could have died today, and I can’t let any more time go by without you knowing how much I care about you.”

Your throat is too tight to say anything, but you pull him close, arms around his torso, soaking up his warmth.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant,” he says quietly, lips brushing against your neck where his face is pressed. “The last few months… you didn’t deserve that.”

“You were focused on trying to save the world,” you scoff. “As excuses go, that’s a pretty good one.”

Steve pulls back a little so he can meet your eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds for me, but as long as you’re here, I think I can handle it.” He smiles, that crooked smile you’ve grown so fond of. “I’m done trying to make up for the mistakes of the past. I’m ready to move on.”

“Me too, Steve.” You whisper. “I love you.”

Steve knows there’s more to do - he has to help his family and the rest of the world adjust to their new lives post-Thanos, but knowing he finally has all the broken pieces of his life safe, alive, and by his side for the process? It’s more than he could have hoped for.

Going to sleep that night with you in his arms, he finally feels at peace.