— Lucas on the Line by Suyi Davies Okungbowa

Pixie Spy

Chapter 4

Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open after only a few hours of sleep.  It wasn’t enough, but she hadn’t gotten enough sleep in years.  At this point, she didn’t think her body would let her sleep a healthy amount, it was too programmed to go without.  One day, after they defeated Hawkmoth and she had moved away from Paris, she was going to sleep for a week… after she cried for two weeks straight, or maybe she would alternate the two.  She was going to buy the plushest bed she could afford, or likely Adrien could afford since she barely had enough money to cover groceries, and sleep in every single day in that bed.

Until then, rest was minimal and often, like last night, fitful to say the least.  She had tried to calm down enough to sleep comfortably, but calming down actually seemed to be part of the problem.  To make up for the adrenaline of the night before wearing off and her body calming, her mind started racing.  With no immediate threats to deal with, anxiety was setting in and taking over, coming up with new and better things to worry about because fuck you, that’s why. Anxiety needs no reason.  It certainly never had for her.

She quietly slid out of bed careful not to move too quickly and accidentally wake up Adrien or the kwamis.  She walked out onto the balcony seeking the morning sun on her face, hoping the new day’s light might bring her some peace.  She stared out at the morning colors blending from pink to orange to yellow to varying variants of blue.  She scanned over the gorgeous colors until her mind caught on one particular shade of blue, reminding her of bright blue eyes filled with concern and determination.  

She twisted to face away from the sky and lean against the balcony grabbing it tightly and relaxing her grip over and over again.  He said he wanted to help and she wanted to let him, which was ridiculous because he was Red Hood.  He was the most violent of Gotham’s vigilantes.  She didn’t know too much about the bats, that was Alya’s area, but she knew at least that much.  He was the last one they should trust to help.  So why was she still questioning it?  Why did she feel like she could trust him?  Her instincts on people were usually good, but he made her mind go haywire and she didn’t trust herself to be impartial when it came to him.  

“Argggg” she groaned running her hands over her face and fisting her hands in her hair.  Everything felt wrong.  She needed something to distract her anxiety so it wouldn’t take over completely and drag her down into a never-ending cycle of could-have and should-have and why-didn’t-I’s.  More accurately, she needed to hit something, a lot and hard.  She quietly changed into workout gear and quickly wrapped up her hands and feet before padding over to the sparring area.  She stalked over to the dummy glaring at it like it was the cause of all of her problems.  She started practicing as she ran through the prominent events from her previous night.

“You don’t seem excited to be here.”  Jab.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”  Jab. Jab.

“I’m Jason.” Jab. Hook.

“Wanna Dance?” Jab. Cross. Hook.

“Was the occasion to look stunning?” Jab. Jab. Palm strike. Knee.

“You’re Jason Todd.” Hook. Punch. Jab. Punch. Uppercut.

“I have to go.” Jab.  Elbow strike. Palm strike.

“Are you okay?” Double side punch. Elbow strike.

“I can help.” Kick.  Knee. Kick.

“You left some valuable details out.” Side kick. Straight cross. Jab. Jab. Jab.

“You wanted me to meet the Waynes.” Jab. Jab. Right hook.

“You’re still a kid, you should have fun.”  Double side punch. Crescent kick.

“I don’t enjoy Hell.  DO NOT make me go back.” Jab. Hook kick. Straight cross.

“Change your mind?” Jab.  Left hook. Crescent kick.

“Your life is supposed to be more than the fucking suit.” Palm strike. Elbow strike. Hook kick.

“Dramatic much?” Punch. Punch. Front kick leading to a back flip.

“That rule needs to be finessed.”  Uppercut.  Uppercut. Jab.  Right hook.

“He can help.” Side kick. Elbow strike. Crescent kick. Jab.

“You kids really do need help.” Double side punch. Uppercut. Left hook.

“You won’t be able to move on.” Elbow strike. Jab. Uppercut.

“Think about what I said.” Knee. Palm strike. Jab.

“I can help.” Uppercut.  Uppercut. Left hook. Right hook.

“I can help.” Hammer fist. Side kick. Knife hands. Back kick.

“I can help.” Roundhouse Kick. Jumping downward punch.

She let the velocity of the punch to carry her to the floor.  She landed in a crouch and collapsed to her hands and knees panting for breath, sweat dripping on the floor pads.  Instead of helping clear her head, the practice had just made everything worse. God, she was too tired to deal with this.  She was too tired to think and this anxiety induced doubt was giving her a headache.  She needed to think clearly, but she was too tired to think clearly, and until they defeated Hawkmoth she wouldn’t be able to get the sleep she so desperately needed, so… round and round she’d go, where she’d stop not even Hawkmoth knew.  

She fought the flinch that wanted appear when she heard shuffling near her and glanced up just enough to notice bare feet and the bottoms of Adrien’s pajamas as he crouched next to her.  He had turned sneaking up on her into a game and despite knowing he wasn’t trying to do that this time, she refused to give him that win.  “Hey Marinette, you okay?” Adrien asked gently, his voice laced with concern as he laid a hand on her shoulder.  

Marinette nodded but continued looking down at the mat instead of at him, avoiding his eyes.  She didn’t want to talk about the doubts her anxiety was pushing.  The logical part of her brain knew that talking about her doubts would help her figure out what was really a concern and what was just the anxiety, which is exactly what she needed.  But the illogical part of her brain, the part that anxiety had dominion over, thought that if she didn’t talk about it, she would be able to pretend like it never existed, that it would all dissolve like one of Alya’s illusions.  And the illogical side knew that if she spoke her feelings out loud, that would speak them into existence, making them impossible to box up and bury somewhere until she was better equipped to ignore it, like after she died.  And the illogical part knew if she had to confront all her doubts right now she would die.

As is often the case, the illogical part of her brain was far more persuasive than the logical part, offering the comfort of avoidance rather than the terror of confrontation the logical part was pushing.  But then again, Adrien always had a way of quieting the illogical part without even trying.  All of her friends did.

“You want to talk about it?  Or just want to keep imagining the dummy is Constantine and continue to beat the shit out of it?” Adrien prompted her with a gentle smile. She looked up at him as she stood back up on shaky legs.

She shook her head, “I’m wasn’t.  I’m still deciding how upset I am with Constantine. I mean, we knew it was coming.  I wasn’t expecting him to make us waste two weeks so he could do it though.”  She growled bitterly as she grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and walked over to bench next to the sparring mat.  She sat and let her breathing slow for a moment before continuing on.

“Don’t get me wrong.  I was FURIOUS when I thought he did it to avoid an ex… and fuck, I might still be.  I’m too tired to tell anymore.” She gave a tired sigh and ran her hand through her hair that was now plastered to her face.  “But that’s not why he did it.  He saw where we were going to end up and the asshole wanted to redirect us.  He did it to protect us.  And I… I would have done the same so… I don’t know.  It seems like that should make a difference.”

“We are not fucking children.  We don’t need that motherfucker protecting us.  We know what we are doing and we are handling it just fine.  There is no immediate threat that warranted that.” Adrien growled.  He gave her a wicked smile, “And I am never too tired to be a vindictive dick.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’ve been spending too much time with Felix.” She looked away and gave a humorless chuckle.  “Honestly?  I expected it to be worse.  I prepared for so much worse.  I’m relieved this is all it was.  I expected him to go directly to the Justice League or one of the other groups he works with and say something like ‘Hey, don’t go to Paris for… reasons.  And don’t bring your full armory.’  Get them all involved.  And that was if he didn’t just straight out tell them about what is going on.”

Adrien glared at her, “Seriously?  He knew we didn’t want them involved and he did it anyway.  He got them involved.  We trusted him and he broke his promise to us.  I don’t care why he did it or if it could have been worse, he did it.”

“But he didn’t break his promise,” she noted tiredly.  “He orchestrated all of that for us so he wouldn’t break it… He bent his word just enough to keep from breaking it and making it unforgivable.  But he still left us in control and is letting us make the decision for what happens next.  He didn’t completely fuck us over and he easily could have.”

“We,” he motioned between them to indicate the two of them, “have very different definitions of unforgivable.  He didn’t keep his word.  He did betray us.  He manipulated us and the situation to bring in the Justice League.  He did exactly what we told him not to do.  He ignored our decision so he could take away control.  We don’t control this, he caused it.  And on top of everything else, we wasted two weeks so he could betray us.  He could have at least had the decency to betray us without wasting our time.”

She shook her head, “No, he moved one piece in the sequence. One piece that allows the option to follow our current path OR choose a new one.  We define the new path.  It is up to us to decide if we will redirect the pieces back to the original path or let the new sequence take effect.”

“This is not dominoes.”

“It is.  Dominoes, the butterfly effect, whatever you want to call it, that’s life.  That’s everything that happens in our lives, everyone’s lives.  One change now changes what happens in the future.  You know that.  And if you need a reminder, I’m sure Alix would be more than willing to go over it with you, how one decision changes everything.  It is her job to identify the piece that will make the sequence turn out ideally.” Adrien growled at that but glanced away. She continued, “But he’s letting us decide to accept the help or not.  He’s letting us decide the next move.  He made his move, now it’s our turn.”

“So you’re just going to forgive him?  Let him off for lying to us, manipulating us, allowing Paris to suffer while he played his little game of dominoes?” Adrien accused, voice rising as he did.

Marinette sighed deeply, looking down at nothing in particular, “No, I just… I guess I’m too tired to fight this particular fight. You are welcome to though.  I won’t stop you from hanging him over the side of the building for a while.  But, yeah… the time.  The lost time.  And the last few weeks were…” she paused letting out another long sigh, looking up to the ceiling and hitting her head gently on the wall as she remembered the events of the last few weeks, “well they would have happened regardless, but…” she tapered off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“But the oncoming ones might not have to happen and you know with the way akumas and amoks have been going lately, they will probably be just as bad.”  Adrien fumed.

He looked over to her as he vented and finally noticed how tired she looked.  He studied her closely.  She looked like she had relaxed but he knew her well enough to know her tells, the slight tension in her shoulders, the minute tightening around her eyes, the slightly strained smile that nobody who didn’t know her would think was anything less than sincere.  

He was still upset with Constantine and he was definitely going to have a discussion with him next time he saw him, a discussion that involved a few of the moves Marinette had demonstrated on the dummy earlier.  But his anger wasn’t helping Marinette and that was the primary focus for him.  “But until then, we need to focus on preparing for the aftermath of Constantine’s intervention.”

“I’m not worried, it’s just Batman.  We can handle him,” she gave him a smile that was meant to reassure but didn’t have the emotion behind it.  “Thank God it isn’t the rest of them.  Honestly, this is the best case scenario.  It’s just the bats and now we know their real identities.  That is going to massively enhance our intel on them.  We can discover Bruce Wayne’s pressure points as well as Batman’s, and use them to get him to back off.”

Adrien nodded, “A project for Alya and Chloe. We can let them know when they come over later.” He noted she still hadn’t really relaxed.  Her shoulders and smile still tense, so the Constantine issue wasn’t what was causing her to feel so distressed.  “So, if this impromptu session isn’t about Constantine… Did something else happen last night?  Was it that bad?”

She suddenly looked far more tired than she was a few moments before, her shoulders lowering into a slump. “No, the night was amazing actually,” she said quietly.

“So what's the problem? Why were you in here working out your frustrations instead of sleeping?”

“Because it was so amazing,” she sighed defeated. Logical finally defeated illogical as she started dumping everything she was feeling onto Adrien.  “Because it was great.  I was having fun and I really wanted to stay there.  It made me want to have more.  But I can't have that.  We can't have that,” she motioned between the two of them.  “We can't even leave Paris,” she chuckled bitterly. “It was just a reminder that we’re stuck.”

“You know, we had the horse miraculous. You could go someplace else for school and then come back when you need to.” Adrien offered halfheartedly.  He knew this argument.  They’d had it enough to know she was right.  She wouldn’t give in and neither would he.  Neither of them would abandon the other to escape alone.  They were both stuck.  They didn’t really have any options until they defeated Hawkmoth. But it still felt good to say it out loud, pretend like they did.  Sometimes it was her offering the escape options, sometimes it was him.  But they both knew that neither of them would accept it.

“But then only one of us gets to escape and I’m not leaving you behind,” she looked him in the eye with a determined look to make sure he understood how serious he was.  When he nodded at her letting her know he understood, she looked away to look at nothing. “I just, I feel like I can't move. Every move I make is wrong. I’m confined.  I can’t do anything.  Neither one of us can do anything.  I can’t study fashion, you can’t study teaching.  We can’t start our future.  Hawkmoth won't let us.  He’s keeping us right here, in this moment in time and we can’t break out of it.” She said tugging gently on her hair as she spoke.  “And last night just reminded me of that.  That I’m stuck here, that my priority isn’t me, can’t be me or my future… my happiness.”

He ran his hands over her shoulders and upper arms trying to bring her focus back to him, speaking in calm tones to ground her, “That’s what this whole thing was about though, wasn’t it?  Why we let the bastard help in the first place… to tip the balance, to end this, to break out.”  He smiled gently at her again continuing with the well-established script of this conversation.

“You know, if you can’t study fashion right now, maybe you can delay it.  You can keep doing commissions and bulking up your portfolio,” she opened her mouth to object but he beat her to it, already knowing her response.  “I could help you financially until this all is over.  You could move in with me so you don’t have to pay rent.  I can get an apartment with an extra room and an office you can use… and I can buy the groceries.  You wouldn’t have to pay for anything.  And when we defeat him, then you can go to school.”

“I’m not taking your money, Kitty.  And your father would blow a gasket and probably cut you off unless you kicked me out.”

“I have money saved and I don't want to work there anyway. It's not my legacy.  And we could get married, like I said before.  Then he couldn’t object.  And that way you’re not taking my money, you’re sharing it with me and you’d be my next of kin and have full access to my money whenever you needed it instead of having to ask me for everything.  And yeah, we would kill each other after a few months, but it would be a lot of fun to pretend for a while.” He waggled his eyebrows at her making her laugh.  “I could support you.  We could be happy… you know, for a while.”

“You think getting married would make your dad less likely to lash out and destroy both your happiness and my future?”  She chuckled at him and looked off through the balcony doors, voice becoming wistful, “Even if he wasn’t an obstacle, you deserve to find someone that will make you really happy.  Longer than I would.  Someone you truly love.  Someone that will make you feel safe and loved and valued with just a look. Someone that looks at you like you’re the most important person in the world.  Someone who’s world lights up just by being near you.  Someone who lights up your world.  Someone who makes you feel like they would walk happily to the ends this world and the next to keep you safe,” she gave a small grin, “you know, someone who looks at you like Plagg looks at cheese.”  

He watched her as she studied something in the sky, eyes glassy with unshed tears, hands twisting around each other, and regret lacing her expression.  “That guy really got to you didn’t he?”

She looked back at him surprised.  “Yeah,” she breathed out, looking back at the sky, “which is stupid because I only knew him for like an hour and I won’t ever see him again, except to kick him out of Paris whenever they come here.  I should just move on but… everything is stupid.  I’m stupid.”

He nodded, “Maybe,” he started until he felt the punch to his shoulder.

“The fuck Chaton!” Marinette exclaimed.  “This is your pep talk?  You need to work on your motivation thing.  Triangle, bitch, study.”

He doubled over laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him.  It took a few minutes before he could calm down and his expression turned soft again.  “I meant maybe you should move on because you barely know him, BUT I think sometimes you just know that someone is going to have a huge impact on your life.  We knew it when we met.  You knew it when you met Alya.  I knew it when I met Nino.  Maybe your instincts are telling you something your anxiety doesn’t want to hear. Your instincts have always been right and they’ve only gotten stronger.  I trust them.” He paused to give her the most sincere look he could, “I trust you.  You should, too.”

Marinette smiled at him eyes shining with gratitude, “I love you, you goofball.”

“I know.  I love you too,” he said with a smug smile.  “Is that a yes to getting married?”

“You know, there is absolutely no reason we would have to get married.  We could just be roommates.”

“Yeah, but I really, really want to see the look on my Dad’s face if we did.  Do you think he would have an aneurism?” she rolled her eyes and shoved him away.

“Oh my god, what ancient, vindictive god did I piss off to end up with you in my life?”  

“Plagg, it had to be Plagg” Adrien said giggling.

He pulled her in for a tight hug but jumped back from her. “Oh ew gross.  You’re still sweaty.  Go take a shower and then take a nap.  The others won’t be here for a few hours.  You have time,” he shoved her away to get cleaned up before the rest of their team appeared for a debriefing on the mission. “Also, I am absolutely telling Chloe and Alya about the boy if you don’t.”

She glared at him “You wouldn’t” she hissed at him.

“Oh I would and will.  I’m not dealing with either of them if they find out I knew and didn’t tell them.”

“You better watch it, Kitty.  I’ll take you up on that marriage offer and make your life absolutely fucking miserable.”  She lobbed her water bottle at him, getting up to take a shower.

<><><><><> 

A few hours later after a peaceful but still too short nap, Alya and Nino joined Marinette and Adrien in the Base to hang out and do a post mortem on the night before.  They were snacking and chatting idly about the week to come, enjoying the kind of relaxed atmosphere they hadn’t been allowed for the past few weeks while they had planned for the gala mission, the discussion of which they were intentionally avoiding until Chloe could get there.  They were in the middle of discussing Nino’s upcoming nightclub gig when Marinette’s phone started ringing.  Seeing Chloe’s name pop up on the screen, Marinette answered and put the phone on speaker, “Hey Chlo, what’s up?  You on your way up.”

Marinette jerked back and nearly dropped the phone at Chloe’s shriek, “What the hell did you do at that gala, Dupain-Cheng?”  

Adrien’s face split into a giddy grin and he yelled back from his spot in a nearby chair, “No one yet, but give her and that Wayne kid a few days and that may change.” Marinette spluttered before glaring at him.

“Chaton…” she gritted out threateningly.

“Dupain-Cheng bagged a Wayne?” Chloe shrieked even louder, making Marinette bring her hands up to plug her ears and wiggle them around trying to get the sudden ringing to stop.

“Wait what?! Why aren’t we talking about this already?” Alya gasped offended that she didn’t already know all the details.

“No I haven't... we didn’t… I didn’t bag anything.” Marinette corrected with a glare to Adrien.

“Don’t worry Dudette, I have faith in you,” Nino offered with both finger guns and a sarcastic grin.  “You will.” Marinette stuck her tongue out and threw a handful of chips at him in retaliation.

“Bitch, I TOLD you what would happen if you wore that dress and those shoes.  Do not EVER doubt me again.  I am a goddamned Godsend to you people.  You don’t deserve my presence let alone my guidance in your lives.” Chloe sneered haughtily.  

Marinette rolled her eyes trying to keep a straight face as Alya silently mocked Chloe.  Nino was having a significantly less successful time, his muffled giggles bubbling out from behind the pillow he was holding over his face.  “Okay, you’re a gift from the gods, now what happened?” Marinette inquired.

“The manager just told me the Waynes called this morning to book the rest of the penthouse suites on our floor for a week starting tomorrow.” Chloe hissed.  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your illicit activities last night would it?” Marinette could feel Chloe’s raised eyebrow and the hand on her cocked hip through the phone.  “Or I guess maybe it was your more licit activities that got their interest.”

“Fuuuuuck, we have until tomorrow then,” she groaned and looked over to Adrien with a cringe.

“We have until tomorrow for what?  What the hell happened?  What did you do?  Wait, did Lady Luck get lucky?” Alya asked grinning at the impending chaos.

Marinette huffed and threw chips at her too, “Back off, Als. Your Trixx is showing.”  Trixx floated up next to her chosen and smiled, patting her on the head.  “And proud of you, Kit.” Alya grinned from the praise as though it didn’t prove Marinette’s point.

“See, I knew my faith in you was justified,” Nino grinned at Marinette.

“Nino, I have more chips and I’m not afraid to use them,” Marinette threatened.

“Whatever, I’m coming right up.  Don’t you dare tell that story until I get there.  And pick up any chips you threw Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe ordered, hanging up before Marinette could respond.

As soon as the call ended, Alya turned to Marinette eagerly, “Okay, she’s off the phone, now spill.”

“I’m not spilling anything until Chloe gets here.  I’m not dealing with Pissed Off Chloe,” Marinette deferred. It was a convenient excuse and gave her time she needed to figure out how to phrase things so she didn’t have to admit more than they absolutely needed to know.  And absolutely NOT discuss Jason.  There were far more significant issues to discuss, less handsome, but more significant.  

“Okay, while we wait for her to get here, tell me one thing,” Alya interrupted her plotting to stare her down, “did you or did you not have to enact the Escape Plan version of your dress?”

Marinette groaned and rubbed her hands over her face.  She had a feeling she was going to be doing that a lot during the upcoming conversation.  “Do we have alcohol?  Is it too early to start drinking?” she gave Adrien a pleading look.

“Yes it is and yes she did,” Adrien interjected.

“Shit,” Nino whispered.  “That can’t be good.  Maybe you should rethink that alcohol ban, dude.”  He patted Marinette’s knee comfortingly.  “Did you at least get the files we were hoping for?”  

“Yeah.  We at least got that out of last night,” Marinette said with a tired smile.  “I’ll start working on the translation today, see how worth it the mission was.”

Before anyone could respond, the suite door slammed open and shut again as Chloe stormed in.  “What the fuck, Dupain-Cheng?”

“Oh good, she’s here,” Alya jumped in.  “Chloe sit your prissy ass down so we can start.”

“Excuse you, I believe you meant sit my amazingly toned, prissy ass down, thank you very much.” Chloe huffed, plopping down on top of Alya.

“Clearly what I meant, sweet cheeks,” she waggled her eyebrows at Chloe who rolled her eyes in response.  “Now get if off me.  I’m not a chair,” Alya complained, unceremoniously dumping Chloe on the floor and completely ignoring her offended squawk before she moved to sprawl across an arm chair instead.  “Okay Chloe’s here, now spill.”

“I will,” not if she could help it she wouldn’t, “but first we need to brace for Batman and the batfamily to arrive in Paris.” Marinette warned them, not at all trying to deflect the conversation.

“What do you mean Batman?  How did he find out?” Nino asked confused.

Marinette huffed out a sigh, looking up to the ceiling for inspiration.  With Alya’s interruption she hadn’t had time to think of what to say.  What was the least incriminating way to say what happened without flat out lying?  “They saw us in the cave, or rather there was surveillance which I’m sure they were monitoring.  They had to have heard Constantine talking to me.  He didn’t say anything specific, but enough.  Enough for them to know something is happening here.” Adrien gave her a deadpan look and raised an unamused eyebrow at her.  She narrowed her eyes back at him and wrinkled her nose in defiance.  She wasn’t going there unless she had to and so far, she didn’t have to.  They were going to have to drag her into that conversation kicking and screaming.

“What does that have to do with Bruce Wayne?” Chloe asked annoyed by the seeming non-sequitur.

“Bruce Wayne is Batman.” Adrien said.

“Fuck!  NO WAY! Really?” Nino yelled excitedly, “Dude, that is so cool!”  

“No wonder Batman has so many gadgets, he has his company and billions of dollars make them.” Alya reasoned.  “God, how did nobody figure that out before?  Of course he is, where else would he get all those vehicles and gadgets?”

“Right,” Adrien said nodding solemnly to them, “so, we’re going to need you two,” he said indicating Alya and Chloe, “to do a workup on them, both sides of the mask.  I know you already know everything there is to know about the Bats, Alya, but now we know their real identities which means you can do the same for the Waynes, or at least you and Chloe can.  The rest of us don’t need to know the details, at least not yet.  Right now, we just need to know what their pressure points are, their weaknesses, what makes them tick, what drives them, what scares them, and what makes them go haywire.  They’re coming here for a confrontation.  We want to make this a onetime thing and we need to know the buttons to push to make that happen.”

“On it.  I’ll start compiling information and get the start of it to you tonight so you can start the profile,” she nodded toward Chloe giving her a sly wink before she turned back to Adrien with an exaggerated innocent expression, “… but I have a ton of calculus I need to get done for school tomorrow, too.  I’ll need your help for that, Sunshine.”  

Adrien rolled his eyes. “That worked out conveniently for you. Were you hoping something would come up and that’s why you waited to do it?”

She shrugged, the mask of false innocence starting to falter as she struggled to contain a smug grin, “Maybe.  And the fact that something always comes up when you two are involved has absolutely no bearing on this conversation.”

“Are you going to make me do your physics homework too?” he snarked back at her.

“…physics homework?” Nino exclaimed.

“Oooh, yeah, what did you get for number 13 on that?  I spent an hour and couldn’t figure it out.” Chloe asked.  “Got the criminal psych homework done though if anyone needs it.”

“Don’t need that but I will take you up on that physics homework offer, Sunshine.  Thanks for volunteering.” Alya responded with a smirk.

Marinette rubbed her temples, “It’s like herding cats,” she muttered to herself.

“Want me to try the same thing with them that Tikki and I did to the cat?” Trixx asked with a grin, suddenly appearing at her shoulder, munching on a piece of fruit as they did lazy summersaults in the air.

“No, that would just distract them more.  Plus if they aren’t pursuing the Jason thing, I’m not going to push it.” She sighed at the kwami before closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch, making her miss the kwami smirking and floating over to whisper something in Alya’s ear.  

“Yes, let’s get back to the immanent bat invasion,” Alya fixed Marinette with a wicked grin. “Let’s start with you bagging a bat.  Does that have anything to do with them coming?”  

Marinette groaned and hit her head on the back of the couch.  She glanced over at Alya to find both her and Trixx looking at her with matching devious expressions.  She glowered at Trixx and muttered “Traitor” none too quietly, which only made Trixx’s grin widen.  She tried to come up with a way to redirect them to something else.  Anything else at this point.  “Not the part I wanted to focus on…” she started only to be interrupted by Chloe.

“Oh, I’m sure.  But it’s definitely what we want more details on Dupain-Cheng.  Because as I recall, your goal was to NOT get noticed.  And yet, a few hours later, here we are with reservations for an entire floor… almost, by the very people who were not supposed to notice you.  Not that we don’t appreciate the revenue,” Chloe admonished with no heat behind it.

“They deserve to hear the rest.” Adrien shrugged at her, a smug smile pulling at his lips.

“Nothing happened,” Marinette exclaimed.

“But she wanted it to,” Adrien singsonged with a smile.  Marinette threw the rest of her bowl of chips at him. “Not helping, Chaton.” She growled at him.

“Depends on which side you’re on,” he smirked.

“Bitch, I did not let you borrow my Jimmy Choo’s to NOT hear details,” Chloe demanded.  “You somehow ended up with a Wayne, and you got their attention enough for the entire family to drop everything and come running.  I want to know every sordid detail.  If there aren’t any make them up.  I want dirty!”

Alya shot her a concerned look, “You okay fam?”

Chloe huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, “No, but whatever.  I’ll deal with that later myself.”

“Oh god, Chloe.  Could you not!  I already had to listen to Constantine.  I don’t need you adding to my nightmares tonight.”  Adrien objected.

“You couldn’t handle me, sweetie,” she sneered at him.  “But, let’s focus on Marinette honeypotting a Wayne.”

She sputtered, “I did not honeypot him.  I… I have no idea what that is, but that is NOT what I did,” she defended herself before giving into her curiosity, “What is honey potting?”

“It’s when… Holy shit, Chloe,” Adrien realized, shocked. He started laughing loudly. “You’re a genius.  You don’t even know anything that happened and you still figured out that’s exactly what Constantine did.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Adrikins.  I have skills.” Chloe boasted confidently.  “Marinette?”

“Are you interested in the honeypot thing or me almost breaking a man’s wrist for trying to stick it up my skirt?” Marinette offered instead.

“… uh, yeah that one.  I want to hear about that.” Nino answered, suddenly much more concerned about the night.

“So…” Marinette started.  But before she could get more than that out Chloe interrupted her, “Those skills include noting when a conversation has been redirected.  You were about to discuss your honeypotting experience, Marinette.”

Marinette groaned.  She was so close to getting away with it.  So very close.  Damn Chloe. “I want it noted for the record that I still don’t know what that word means.  And the wrist thing really did happen.” She eyed Chloe and Adrien before continuing, “I needed cover to get into a better position to watch the Waynes…” she glared at a cackling Adrien who was being spurred on by Plagg grumbling “needed” while Tikki tried to shush them.  “SO,” she announced over them, “I danced with someone who was definitely not one of the people we went over in our meetings.  There was no briefing on him and I know because I sure as fuck would have remembered.  I mentioned a supervillain to him because I was stupid and not thinking and commiserating about living in a city with supervillains.  I didn’t think it would get back to Batman.  I didn’t think there was any way it could.  What are the odds?  But I forgot my luck outside of the suit.” She glared at Tikki who winced.

“Luck doesn’t always give you what you think you need.  It is about the right person getting the right thing at the exact right time.” Tikki said carefully.  Marinette rolled her eyes.  

“It never gives me what I think I need.  Never, not once have I actually gotten like, a hammer when I needed to break something open to get to an akuma.  Noooo, I get a leaf of lettuce that I have to use in addition to 19 more steps in order to get to the akumatized item.  Meanwhile, this asshole,” she indicated Adrien who gave an offended scoff, “gets a screwdriver when we need to unscrew something.  What is that about?”

“The path to your destiny is sometimes complicated,” Tikki offered weakly floating back slightly so she was behind Plagg and Wayzz.  The latter of whom decided to risk his immortality by adding, “And often the trials on the journey to your destiny teach you exactly what you need in order to achieve it.” Marinette fixed him with a glare so potent the mini god slunk away, hiding behind Nino.

“Anyway,” Marinette turned her glare from Wayzz to look back at the humans in the room. “Turns out the dead Wayne son isn’t so dead.  He’s very much alive and dancing at galas with women who were supposed to go undetected by the Waynes.  AND he’s one of the bats.  So the man I was commiserating with, the one I let my guard down for one moment to, was a bat.  So now Bruce Wayne, Batman knows.  Because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut for one fucking night.”

“Marinette, you okay?  It doesn’t sound like nothing happened.” Nino asked gently moving to next to her and wrap an arm around her.

“Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen because he's an American vigilante, a bat, and a violent one who can't be allowed to stay here and I can't leave.  So it doesn't matter if I had fun with him.  It doesn't matter if we danced and flirted.  It doesn't matter if he was handsome and charming and sweet and protective with a soft spot for kids.  It doesn't matter if the way he looked at me made me feel happy and protected and lighter.  Because I have to be here and he can't be.”  Well shit she groaned to herself.  That was significantly more than she meant to say.  As it turns out, they didn’t have to drag her kicking and screaming into the conversation.  They just had to give her room to saunter her own ass into it.

Alya scooted over to the other side of her and hugged her, “Oh, Marinette.”

“Until we take down Hawkmoth,” Nino nodded solemnly.

“Well that’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.  We make an exception and let the one she wants to bang into the country.” Chloe scoffed as though it were the most obvious solution.

Marinette looked up at her in shock and chuckled lightly, “if that’s the requirement, we’ll have to let the oldest son into the country too so Adrien can get a shot at him.”

“No, you need it more than him.  He can wait until we kick Hawkmoth’s ass.” She looked over at Adrien with only the slightest hint of sympathy “sorry Adrikins.”

“You only say that because you haven’t seen the oldest.”

“No, I have.  He’ll still be there after we win.  You can embarrass yourself in front of him then.”

Adrien pouted at her.  “I could bag him.  I have skills, too.”

“Sure you could Romeo,” Nino said getting up and patting Adrien on the shoulder.  “Come on, let’s move this party to Chloe’s room.  We can order lunch and start on the homework for Alya and Marinette.” Nino ushered them towards the door.

“Why the hell am I doing homework for Marinette?” Chloe groused.

“Oh right you weren’t here yet, Dudette.  Marinette needs to start translating the files.” Nino explained, swinging an arm around Chloe’s shoulders.

“You guys go ahead, we’ll be right there,” Alya called out to them, reaching out to hold Marinette back.

Alya waited until they were gone before moving to sit on the armrest on the couch.  She stared at Marinette seriously, “So, spill girl.”

“I already told you about the night.  What more do you want?” Marinette asked defeated.

“No, you told them.  Now tell me.  There is speaking with friend honesty and then there is best friend honesty.  I want the best friend honesty. What was your boy like?” she prompted Marinette.  Marinette looked so defeated.  She needed Marinette to remember the more fun parts of the night, the parts that reminded them that they were still teenagers under their suits and responsibilities.  She wanted to get Marinette’s mind off of the negative and what was to come, to focus on being happy for once, and tease out what impact this boy had on her best friend. Which, knowing her best friend, she was going to try to suppress for the safety of Paris.  God, she hated Hawkmoth for so very many things but this was at the top of the list, the impact he had on everyone’s mentality, especially Marinette’s.  

“Alya,” Marinette sighed, “I haven’t assessed him yet.”

“No!  I want Marinette’s reaction not Ladybug’s.” Alya chided her.

“We’re the same person, Alya.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Yes but with different priorities and insights.  I want Marinette’s insights.  No guilt, no responsibilities, no angst, not what went wrong, not what you could have done better.  Just the fun part, the teenage girl perspective.  What.  Was. He.  Like?” she poked Marinette with her foot after each word to accentuate the question.

Marinette sighed again but Alya could see the glint of a smile on her lips as she thought through the night with him.  The prominent details flashing in Marinette’s mind. “He was sweet.  He was clever.  Kind.  Mischievous. He doesn’t like pretense.  He likes blunt, honest.  Knows how to handle himself.  He stopped to help a kid, Alya, a kid.  Really protective of kids.  Respectful. Gentle.  He has the most brilliant eyes and heartwarming smile and he focused on me the entire time, like nothing else mattered.”  She looked off at nothing and cocked her head to the side.  A sad expression suddenly appeared on her face.  “He’s Red Hood, you know the scary one.  But he was so gentle and sweet.  How do I reconcile that?”

“No, I said no angst.  We’re not reconciling anything right now.  We’re not going to discuss that he stopped killing a while ago and that is why he is working with Batman.” She snuck into the conversation.  As the group’s expert on superheroes, she could give Marinette a lengthy, highly detailed essay on each of the Bats, their history, and speculations about them, but she wasn’t ready to discuss Red Hood’s history with Marinette and Marinette wasn’t ready to hear it yet.  She would go over it with Chloe later and they would distill it to the bare basics Marinette needed to know before facing them tomorrow. Today, they focus on the good. Tomorrow they focus on Paris. “Instead, we’re going to focus on the fact that he’s a good guy now who made you very happy for a while last night.  So, what does this good guy look like?”

Marinette paused to consider what Alya had said.  “Nope,” Alya threw a nearby pillow at her head, “not now. There will be plenty of time for that later, after you’ve gotten your work for tomorrow done, eaten something other than chips, and slept a human amount of time.  Now.  What. Does.  He.  Look. Like?” She poked Marinette with her foot after each word again to push her into answering.  

Marinette grabbed her foot on the last word and glared at her. “God, why are you such a bitch?”

“You love me and if I don’t worry about you doing those things, you won’t do them.  Now answer before I have to kick you again.  I’ll do it.” Alya threatened with a mock glare, her foot raised slightly, ready to kick.

Marinette rolled her eyes and shoved her best friend’s foot back at her.  She knew exactly what Alya was doing, it’s the same thing she does for her when Alya gets too caught up in a self-deprecating spiral, but she needed something to smile about so she went with it.  She looked to the side, focusing on nothing while she tried to think of how to describe his looks.  “Tall,” she nodded absentmindedly as she continued, “He was very tall with dark hair and blue eyes, a sharp jaw and broad shoulders.  He had a shock of white hair at the front that was begging to be touched.” She absentmindedly touched her bangs in the same place his streak was and stared off into space with a dreamy look on her face.  “He had this smile that made you weak in the knees. His eyes sparkled when he was talking to me until he discovered why I was there and then they were filled with such sincere concern that took your breath away.”

“He was that good looking, huh?” Alya asked with an amused raised brow.

“Come on Alya, it wasn't just the looks, the personality too,” Marinette admonished her.

“Right, right. Of course...” Alya nodded seriously, “but...” she prompted Marinette to continue.

“He was sexier than Adonis and Henry Cavill’s lovechild, with a personality to match.” Marinette said with a deadly serious expression.

Alya stared at her amused and opened her mouth to speak but Marinette continued, “One look melted ice the next town over.”  Alya beamed at her excitement.  “He is the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen, and one of my best friends is an actual supermodel who hangs out with other supermodels.  And this ice meltingly sexy Advill lovechild looked at me like I made his life complete.”

“So you wanted to kiss him?” she teased her friend with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“I wanted to rip his clothes off with my teeth,” Marinette corrected.

Alya balked at the unexpected admission before doubling over with raucous laughter.  Her laughter got louder as Marinette joined her.  Alya gasped for air but she couldn’t catch her breath which made her laugh harder until she was laughing so hard she fell backwards off the armrest landing on the floor with a resounding thump, causing them both to laugh even harder.

 Chapter 5

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As always, if I forgot you please, please let me know.  I’m a bit scatterbrained lately.

Note: was one of those sequences stolen directly from Big Hero 6?  Yes, yes it was.

And the triangle comment is absolutely from Suicide Squad.  I was going to have Adrien comment about the movie but then I realized that is a DC movie so it probably doesn’t exist in this universe.

Also, I am letting everyone keep their original miraculouses just with a redesign because you know they will find a way to do it in the show so let’s pretend I’m following the same premise that they use to allow it.

No. 9: The Body

Chapter One

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? The introductory chapter.

Warnings/Tags: Meet Cute. Some medical/blood/injury stuff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

The phrase, “business as usual” couldn’t really apply to work in an Emergency Room but when you worked an ER in New York, literally anything could be called as such. So the day began, and so did the rush of decisions, needles, charts, and blood as the job called for. She changed out her off duty uniform of pants that compromised mostly of spandex. For the season warm fleece-lined leggings were her go-to currently. Her boots needed replacing, as she’d bought new sneakers for work but neglected her everyday ones. What a metaphor for her life that was. You couldn’t really wear anything but boots in the city winter as the mess on the streets would seep through anything else. She peeled off her layers of a tank top, t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket to stuff into her locker and got into her sterile looking and feeling scrubs that served as her protection from whatever the wild night of New York emergency room drama would unfold. “Doctor Corpuz to the ER please.” She heard the intercom over her headphones. It was already starting. —

The night had been average, traffic accidents, assault, chest pains, overdose, nothing that would throw Eve off her game. Her years of residency had assured that. As usual, she became drained the longer the night went on, hitting the caffeine hard to make it through the last hours.

“Uh, hey, Eve we’ve got this guy in room 3 and he’s being…. a bit belligerent,“ the woman rolled her eyes as she casually leaned on the counter “He’s scaring the intern, you might wanna go help deescalate.” A half-smile that made it clear that the news delivered was something said more times than either of them could count now. “Since you’re so good at it and all.” She cracks her gum and even though it’s delivered sarcastically, the jab was actually true.

“Ugh.. why do I have to be the one that’s good at this?” She huffs and shrugs with heavy arms as she throws a playful pout her friend’s way. “Why can’t you just go yell at them? It sure scares me.” Eve quips as she stretches to prepare herself.

“I already did and he did not respond well to authority so… in you go Mr. Rogers.” She hits Eve on the shoulder with the patient’s file and she dramatically grasps it.

“Tired of being good cop. Let me yell at the next one alright?” She says back as she walks away.

“Got it Doc.” She answers as she begins to walk away.

Eve takes a deep breath and focuses before entering the room, trying to bring up that positive side of herself for the task at hand.

“I told you what I told ya, alright?” She could see from the chart and the bleeding man lying on a bed in front of her in a stance all black and leather ensemble. Her first thought was oh god what did he get stabbed with? He looks like he’s been at some BDSM party that went south, in the bad sense, and fast. It was multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and he was ready to be sewn up but wasn’t agreeing to be still despite the pain medicine he’d been given.

“Hey, dude we can we just shhh a little? Bring down the volume a touch?” She asks as the black-haired man turned his head her way. His dark brown eyes were glazed and he was clearly feeling the pain pills. A heavy brow lay low and angry as he sized her up a bit slower than he was accustomed to.

“Who are you?” He asks with a bite.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’m the ER Doctor tonight, Eve Corpuz. And you are?”

“I’m nobody.” He answers at a lower volume.

“Well Nobody, looks like I’ve got to stitch you up. Would you mind if I got to it?” She snaps on her gloves as the nurse pushes a tray with her instruments on it towards her.

“I need to get out of here.” He says, voice now at a more acceptable volume.

“If you let me sew you up you’ll be out of here right after and then we’ll all be happy, alright?” She gives smile his way that was softer than her tone. “I think I’ve got it from here Sherry. I won’t be needing any help will I Nobody? I can sew you up real quick and we can get on with our nights? Since you seem so busy and all?”

He looks to the other nurse and back to the doctor, muscles still tense but in a much more passive body language. “Yeah…okay.” He nods and his clearly scowling eyes kept on the nurse.

“Alright we’re good here. I’ll finish up and you can get Mr. Nobody here some pain control to take home ready?”

“I’ll be back in with the forms.” She responds, another way to let the doctor know she would be close by. After a shared nod, they said, “Yes I’m sure.” She was left alone with the scowling stranger.

“I don’t like her.” He pointed and laid back down on the table.

“That’s fair.” Eve shrugs, seeing a calm and casual approach was working best. “I just want to get you as best prepared as I can to heal up well, alright? I’m not gonna hound you for info like they were. That’s not my job.” She gives a humorous smile as she preps the areas on his stomach.

He blinks at her, looking down at her hands as she touches the wounds, and his nose twitches from pain. He says nothing as his attention is averted and her tone not aggressive and being reasonable with him.

“This part is gonna hurt. I’m not gonna bullshit you alright? But it’s not as bad as being stabbed so… Got me?”

His eyes meet hers. his round and partially, deep-set against full dark brows and goatee against his brown skin. “What kind of doctor says bullshit?” He asks with a head tilt.

“The kind that gets shit done.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve been on the other side of this situation before, I know it sucks and I’m not here to be the bad guy. I’m not a snitch… a narc or whatever, I’m just Eve and I wanna help. Because I know what it’s like.” She says earnestly and he doesn’t detect any bullshit as she’d said. He could read people, and he found her a little odd but… genuine.

“You been stabbed before?”

“I have.” She nods. “It fuckin hurts doesn’t it?” She laughs and nods, testing the equipment.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a huff with a more relaxed expression before wincing.

“Where did you get stabbed?” He asks, brain still trying to read her.

“In the arm.” She nods casually.

“Ow.”

“Yeah ow.” She smiles he continues keeping her focus on cleaning up her space and open her tools.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why did you get stabbed?” she gives him a no-nonsense glance

“I was saving a cat from a tree.” his testy tone was full of pain med induced confidence.

“So did the tree stab you or the cat stab you with a 4-inch blade?”

“The cat.” He responds was as snarkily as she had in their back and forth.

“Mean cat.” She replies with a more casual smile as they begin to feel each other out.

“Yeah. He was a real asshole.”

She begins tapping the area and he doesn’t react. “Think we’re good now. Don’t move, please?”

“Kay.” He nods and lets his head fall back. As she works he watches her face. “So how did you get stabbed?”

“Would you believe a cat got me too?”

He gives a little confused smile. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Then we have that in common.”

He grunts in appreciation for her attitude. Guess he’d have to work harder to figure her out. She looked warm, yet severe and her faded tattoos peeking out from her collar and sleeves were proving very interesting to him. She didn’t look or more interestingly feel like a doctor to him. He was used to pretending to be things he wasn’t, but if she was, she was better than him at it.

“Looks like I need to get more stuff.” She mutters, looking around the room. She covers two of three wounds and sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“Okay.” He says with a face that she believed. But it wasn’t the first time her caring nature would’ve been taken advantage of, and the entertaining stranger was gone when she returned to the room. Nothing but the blood left behind and a warm indent on the bed. He was good, she thought. Actually, she was downright impressed he got past her. It’d be a headache for paperwork later but a good story to tell at least.

————————————

The next night the stranger named Nobody was the farthest thing from Eve’s mind. She was enjoying her take out, the container in hand, and chopsticks tapping to the playlist titled “classical: chill”. She’d made it to play when she studied in school and during residency and apparently she’d conditioned herself to be more relaxed while she played it.

The sun had just gone down and the winter chill was heavy around her windows. In her functional fashion, she wore sweats and slippers and layers topped with a hoodie. She was swaying and focusing on how good cold lo mein could be. The light of her standing lamp illuminating the solid rectangle of open space that was her kitchen and living room. Much like her fashion, it was cozy and functional. Nothing brash or bold, just neutral colors and lots of comforts.

Eve was winding down to sleep off her last shift, making some time to eat and enjoy herself before having to get back to it the next morning. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, glasses mended with floss sat unsecured on her nose as she ate with her eyes closed. During the weeks where she had close shifts she usually took it easy on herself, her hours could vary wildly, and sometimes that worked in her advantage and sometimes it didn’t. But it wasn’t anything new to her. She figured if she made it through residency she could make it through anything, and right now the coziness, the juxtaposition of inside her little warm home and the biting January cold that lay just outside the windows. They sat with curtains that fell ceiling to floor, mostly drawn. Being on the third floor she had never been too worried about anyone seeing into her windows. But perhaps she should have been.

That, forgotten in this moment, Nobody was taking full advantage of the small space left by the curtains. He peered in, watching her. He drummed his gloved fingers over two healed fresh scared marks near his ribs. He could find anything sinister about her. She wasn’t any sort of plant in the hospital and she wasn’t there looking for him. She seemed like a nice enough woman actually, but he knew there had to be something he was missing.

He continued this for days. He would follow her around, trying to figure out what her deal was. He’d become a bit preoccupied with it, as was his nature. Since his return to the city, he’d been going from vigilante case to case to distract himself. It felt like old times in fleeting moments, but when the chaos that had surrounded him recently came rushing back at him, he wasn’t one to wallow in his sadness. Rather it hung around as he decided to go back to doing the thing he knew best. Without connects at the police anymore he was left with that familiar feeling of being a lone wolf . He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and it wasn’t on his list of things to contemplate soon. So a mystery woman, ironically enough was what the doctor ordered when it came to distractions.

So far she was pretty boring. As far as people with powers went, he guesses. She liked coffee, take out. Nothing that interesting, except that he was now totally healed, scarred and the pain was only a memory. She was a doctor, sure, but he’d never healed that fast in his life. He’d worked himself up to conspiracy theories of her using some new medicine that was being tested on civilians without their knowledge. But he found nothing of the sort. There wasn’t a lot on her when he searched her name. First-year doctor at a hospital, went to medical school and college, what you’d expect. She spent most of her time working, goes out with some women she works with on occasion, then went home. No following her to a seedy alley for a secret meeting or her making coded phone calls. No, she was just a woman who left her curtains open and he felt like he’d hit a wall on the investigation. So for now, she remained a collection of scribbled notes in his apartment.

His other antics, most that involved fighting and men with guns and knives, understandably led to frequent injuries for him, most ones he could handle. But it just so happened next time he got really hurt, he knew exactly which doctor to go to.

—————

Eve got there early, a shoulder gunshot wound and a split open brow. A not unusual combination. She approached the room, and no one but her seemed to recognize the man that lay in the bed.

She noticed he looked almost relieved at the sight of her, which she wasn’t used to.

“I got it.” She says a nod to the nurse as he approaches him.

“Listen, Doc you gotta get me out of here.” He begins.

“Yeah I knew that was you…” she gives him a side-eye. “I think you need either new hobbies or new friends because this is the second time in what… a month you’re in here?

“You do recognize me.”

“Of course I do you know how much of a pain in the ass paperwork is when you disappear?”

“No.”

“Clearly since you ran last time.” She says more severely as she begins the usual process again.

“Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal.” he offers with a shake of his head. “ This time there’s gonna be cops and you can’t let them in here. They’ll see me and arrest me and I don’t want that.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do they want to arrest you?”

“Because they think I did something.”

“Did you…?”

“No.”

She considers his eyes for a moment, whether he was being honest or not. “…What’s your name?”

“So you can tell the cops, yeah no thanks.”

“Fair…Then tell me how you got stabbed.” It was more of a demand than a request. A terms of service agreement for her involvement.

“I was after a bad guy and he fought back, then more bad guys showed up and one of them got me.” his response was as vague as he could get away with, they both knew that.

“You’re the good guy in this instance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you some undercover…something-er-other?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Just a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted. Not a criminal.”

She sighs and he hisses as she begins to work on him. He notices her lips purse and her eyes making a decision beyond watching the work she was doing?

“Doctor Corpuz, there are some policemen that want to ask you some questions.

“Tell them I’m finishing up a procedure, to stay by the front desk and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Doctor.” the nurse bows.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

She stays quiet, finishing up sewing and reaching for a bandage. “Yeah.” she nods.

“Good, I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

She swings her eyes his way in a clear glare that told him she did not find his joke funny. “You aren’t helping your case any random nobody who’s been stabbed multiple times in the past month. You clearly are good at making decisions, maybe I should tell them about you.” she retorts with more sting and she gives his stomach a harsher pat before moving away.

“Uh…it was..it would be funny if you knew me. I don’t want to hurt you…Eve Corpuz.” he glances at the tag and then her face.

“No, we’re back on a Doctor-patient relationship now.”

“But you’re still gonna help me get out?”

“Yes, fuck, I said I would already.” she shakes her head at him and motions for him to sit up. “I’ll have them at the front desk and distract them, and you go out the back way. You’ll get some attention, but not from them.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the coolest doctor they’ve ever met?”

“They haven’t actually. Usually, they’re too busy screaming in pain when we meet.” she cleans the space and begins to walk out the door as he catches her wrist.

“Thanks. Doctor. Eve. Whatever.”

“Well, you’ll owe me I guess. What good that does me when I don’t even know you’re name, huh? Just get out as quietly as possible, alright? Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” he nods and releases his grip on her.

The People You Love Chapter 13

A/N: Hey, look at me not being lazy and adding the chapter to Tumblr too.

Warnings and Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Protective Ben Solo, Alpha Ben Solo, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Mating, Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Knotting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, unconscious medical procedure (chapter 6), Emotional Hurt, Suicidal thoughts (very mild no actual planning) ch 8, Did I already mention emotional hurt?, Emotional hurt (once more for good measure.) Slow Burn, Implied/referenced attempted suicide (not described in detail) (not Rey) (ch 15), some violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted assault (ch 14)

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The seconds tick closer to midnight and Rey gets to work digging through her room. She finds a bag and fills it with some papers from her file, clothes, the money card Leia gave her, and toiletries. Minutes before it’s time to run the room becomes clear, like she put on a pair of glasses. It’s sharp and bright, every detail jumping out at her. The specs of dust in the air float around her and she stares at the room taking in every detail. Her head starts feeling light and she realizes she’s stopped breathing. There’s hesitation. Anxiety. Maybe it’s fear or maybe guilt, she doesn’t know. Her mind turns to what will happen to the Solo’s. She knows, even though she doesn’t want to admit it, that running away from them will fuck their lives up. The moment she leaves her room she’ll be doing something she can’t take back.

It takes several deep breaths and hyping herself up to cut the bracelet and climb out of the window. The climb down is easier this time. She hits the ground after a few short minutes and starts running, making it down the street before she has to stop to catch her breath. She feels elated, free and happy, the world is open to her.

Then the initial adrenaline rush dissipates and her heartrate settles. She’s left alone in a dark alleyway. It’s a sliver of freedom and she wonders if it will be worth it. She hopes so.

She makes her way to the closest bus stop and reads the map, running her hand over the spot where Finn and Poe’s house is. She knows it’s where she needs to go. It’s the only way she can think to get home.

“Where to honey?” A tired looking woman says.

Rey almost turns around and goes back. What if the letter says something she doesn’t want to hear? What if something terrible happens? She takes a deep breath and hands over her money card before climbing in a large bus to start her journey. The island was an illusion, it held a life that did not exist. The illusion is broken now and all that’s left is the reality that the facade was built around. Rey is tired of everyone knowing more about her than herself. Even if something horrible happens or if what she finds out breaks her heart she has to go. She can’t live her life knowing that there’s truth out there and she didn’t go find it when she got the chance.

-o-

It takes over twenty four hours to finally reach the charming little house she once knew. Rey was so focused on getting away that she hadn’t considered how it would feel to be back. As she stands outside hyping herself up she goes through a range of different emotions. Anger at first that they gave her away without even talking to her first. Then she feels a sense of loss thinking about how much she cared for them, how she felt loved and safe and like she was part of a family. She misses that feeling and it hits her that she may never feel that way again.

She waits until she’s sure they’re fast asleep before walking to the back door and trying the handle. It turns easily; they never did lock the doors. She tiptoes through the house and stops at a picture frame. It’s her, she doesn’t even know when it was taken. She picks it up and looks at it, almost feeling guilty about what she has to do.

“Your mate called, told us when you would be here. He wants you to call him.”

Rey jumps and looks over to see Finn and Poe standing across the room. She puts the photo down and makes eye contact.

“Are you going to call him now?”

“Do you want us to?”

“Does it matter?”

Finn slowly walks towards Rey and she backs up in response looking at Finn with distrust and heartbreak. He stops and slackens his shoulders.

“We should have told you before he showed up here, we were afraid you would run off.”

Rey crosses her arms and takes another step back.

“Why are you here Rey, are you ok?” Finn asks.

Rey looks back and forth between Finn and Poe before dropping her arms and giving up.

“My grandfather left me something on the island.”

There’s a pause and then Rey watches their eyebrows raise in unison as they understand.

“You need our boat.”

Rey nods.

“So you were just going to steal it?”

She nods again.

“I was going to bring it back after.”

“We could get in a lot of trouble for helping you, you know that right?” Poe says.

Rey walks over to the couch and plops down putting her face in her lap. Finn comes next to her and rubs small circles on her back.

“We’ll take you there,” He says quietly.

Rey pauses for a moment as his words wash through her. She feels a mix of relief and resignation. Even in the time she was on her own she still had to rely on others. She puts her arm around Finn and leans against him. Maybe relying on others isn’t a bad thing and fighting the instinct to form attachments only ends up leaving her hurt. She doesn’t trust Finn and Poe, at least not the way she did before but she also isn’t angry.

“Thank you.” She whispers

They don’t waste much time. Poe makes a sandwich for Rey and they hitch up the boat. It’s a long and cold ride to the island. Seeing land is a relief and yet Rey finds herself unable to move as they dock. The night she left was one the most difficult of her life. Flashbacks play in her head and she half expects a group of men to come running at her from the house.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Poe asks

“No,” She breathes before steadying herself and starting the walk to the house.

The island looks exactly the same and somehow wildly different than what she remembers. As she looks around at all the familiar rocks and trees she begins to understand that the island isn’t what’s different, She is. Her eyes have changed, giving her the ability to see the headache inducing complexity of shapes and colors that were blended and muddied before. Beautiful memories of her childhood sit beside the knowledge of lies and control. She can see it all and it overwhelms her.

It doesn’t take her long to find where the letter is hidden. She opens it with shaky hands and reads the last words her grandfather wrote to her.

-o-

Rey,

You probably have so many questions and I’ll do my best to answer them before I have to do what I have to do. I’m going to die now, I’ll make sure they kill me or I’ll shoot myself. I can’t be brought in and questioned. If they find you they’ll use you against me until I crack. There are people who count on me, what I know could bring down an entire organization.

You’re what’s called an Omega. The medication I give you suppresses it, but even with the medication it’s who you are. Omegas are kind and caring, meant to serve others. They’re also strong and resilient, I know you’ll escape this island. I’ve included directions to a safe house that I had set up just in case. Rey, I only have one month of medication for you. When it runs out you’ll go into what is called a heat. It will be painful but you’ll be ok. Do not leave the safehouse after you run out of suppressants. People will be able to tell you’re an Omega and you will be in danger. I have it arranged for someone to bring food and supplies to you for as long as you need it. You won’t have to worry about anything and can spend as much time as you need living there, even your whole life if you want.

There’s a family, the Solo’s. A man, Ben Solo, was assigned to be your mate when you were just a little girl. They’re a good family and one day when you're ready they’ll protect you and love you. There's a file about them at the safehouse. They’re the ones who are here now but their issue isn’t with you, it’s with me. They think that I’ve been hurting you for the past several years.

You’re probably wondering why, why didn’t I tell you about any of this.

Twenty years ago I made a decision that ended up haunting me forever. I gave the go ahead to kidnap the child of a politician, one who was my friend. My men tortured this child and sent him back to his parents broken. We needed to get a law passed that now feels so trivial. I lost my soul that day and five years later, in direct consequence to that choice I lost my son and his wife, your parents. They tried to take you too that night to return the favor, thankfully they didn’t succeed. That boy is now a man and what I didn’t consider 20 years ago is that I may have been creating a monster, and by monster I mean someone exactly like me. Be careful Rey, there are people in this world who want to hurt you. It’s not fair but life never is.

I brought you here after your parents died vowing to keep you safe, to raise you right and give you a childhood away from pain, one I hadn’t given your father. I was supposed to hand you off to the Solo’s when you turned eighteen but the day you presented as an Omega and I saw your pain I did something rash, I gave you my suppressants. I just wanted a little more time with you but as soon as my medication wore off all those feelings of inadequacy and failure to protect your father came crashing back. I let myself spiral into my Alpha biology. Even as I write this I feel a sense of intense need to protect you. I failed to protect my Omega and failed my child. I can’t fail you Rey. I kept telling myself that one day I would have to let you go but every time I thought about it I just couldn’t. It may be selfish but I couldn’t let go of you. It turns out that life isn’t worth much without the people you love, and I love you Rey.

I hope I did the right thing. I hope that when you come out of your hiding place and find this letter you’ll understand why I did everything I did.

I love you Rey

-Grandfather.

Rey lets the letter fall to the ground. She starts taking steps back until she hits the wall. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, for there to be some explanation that would make everything ok, that would refute everything she’s been told about him. It doesn’t.

What hurts her now is that she doesn’t feel anger. He was her captor, lied to her just as much as everyone else in her life. If he was standing in front of her now she would scream at him and lock herself away. She would run from the island and not look back. He’s not in front of her though, he’s dead, and she loved him. She feels deep and true love for someone who murdered, tortured, lied, a criminal. How can she love someone like that? Her chest tightens and she starts feeling lightheaded.

What if she had stayed hidden like she was supposed to that evening? What if she came out and found the letter, had time to process everything and decide when and if she wanted to call the Solo’s.

She feels tired and trapped. It doesn’t feel good to be back on the island, it feels just as much a prison as the Solo’s house and she wants to leave. She gathers the letter and directions to the safe house.

She has one more thing she has to see, hopefully she’s able to. Hopefully the cleverly hidden security system wasn't found during the ransacking of her home. She walks to the hidden cabinet and uses her thumb print hoping that it will let her in.

And it does.

-o-

“Where is she?” Ben asks.

“Don’t worry Solo, we’ll find your little Omega after we deal with him.”

Knight. She didn’t know he was there. She didn’t notice any of them that night, only Ben, only her Alpha.

“You can come nicely.” Knight gives a sly smile as he pulls out a gun

“Or not.”

Sheev pulls out a pistol in turn and Ben looks back and forth between the men.

“You have three seconds to leave before I start shooting… Three,” Sheev starts.

Knight smiles and Ben's eyes widen.

“Two,” He continues.

“Don’t,” Ben cries but it’s too late. The shot is firing off and Ben is standing there shocked, looking at the blood pouring out of sheev.

“One,” Knight finishes.

“You weren’t supposed to kill him.” Ben says.

“He was torturing your girl wasn’t he?”

“I wanted but… This is not… You aimed for his head… You murdered him.” Ben says. He looks away from the scene and his eyes land on something.

“Rey.” He breathes “Don’t you fucking go near her Knight.” He yells before running out of frame.

-o-

Rey doesn't even react, her mind won’t let her. She slowly turns off the monitor and walks to her old bedroom, looking around at the mess all over the floor. She finds her little stuffed stingray and stands there with it for a few minutes before walking all the way to the ocean.

She wades in, holds the stuffed animal to her chest, and lets herself feel. She feels everything all at once, from her parents death to the moment she stepped out of that window, the good and bad. There's use in objects that comfort, that remind someone of their past and where they came from. There’s also use in letting go. In realizing that there’s no going back and the only way forward is to say goodbye. In taking a quiet moment to thank an object before letting it go. It’s symbolic but sometimes symbolism can be so strong that it becomes reality.

“I love you,” She whispers.

Rey lets the little stingray fall into the ocean and be carried away and with it goes a weight she’s held in her for as long as she can remember.

She makes her way back to the boat, stopping when she sees a little flower. She leans over and picks it wavering with it for several moments before putting it in her bag.

“Did it go well?”

Rey settles in the boat and gives a small smile.

“Yes, I think so at least.”

-o-

Rey is exhausted by the time they arrive back. She doesn’t feel safe there though. The safe house isn’t far, a few hours to walk. She can make it, she knows she can. She may fall over from exhaustion by the time she arrives but she has to go.

“we can give you a ride wherever you need.”

“It’s better you don’t know where I’m going, safer that way for all of us.”

Poe disappears inside of the hose and Finn pulls Rey into a hug. Poe comes back and stuffs some food in her bag before joining them in the hug. He looks at her awkwardly.

“He wasn’t coming after you. He knew where you were. You used a money card Rey, they can be tracked.”

Rey bites her lip and looks down feeling dumb for not knowing that.

“I think he genuinely just wanted to know you’re safe. There was something he wasn’t saying, I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Rey says as she pulls away.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them and now leaving. Rey takes a step back and then turns away.

“Stay safe Rey,” Finn calls out as she walks slowly down the driveway.

She turns back and gives one last smile and wave before turning on the road.

Bloodlines

After a year of avoiding Camp Half-Blood (and his friends, and everyone, and everything) in the aftermath the Giant War, Percy returns. He quickly realizes that the gods never change, running from the past never works, and family is the one thing that might make all of the nonsense worth it.

read from the beginning on ao3

Chapter 4:

Percy curled up on the sand, just within reach of the biggest swells of the tide. The Sound wasn’t exactly the ocean, but it was the closest he’d been in the last year. It was nice, calming. No matter how angry he was at his father, his domain always made him feel safe. He soaked up the salty air, the sand between his toes, even let himself get wet when the water reached him.

Something poked his back and he wiggled around, reaching for Riptide, but it was just Thalia looking down at him. Her boot a few inches from his side.

She’d kicked him.

He threw sand at her.

She spluttered a little and then sat down. Whereas Percy felt like he could blend into the beach if he wanted to, exist there forever as part of the landscape, Thalia stuck out, at complete odds with their surroundings. She placed both her hands into the sand and her face contorted with disgust.

She turned that same look toward Percy. “You really are losing it. I mean, I’d heard, but I didn’t believe it...”

Percy sat up, scowling. “Gee, Thalia. Thanks.”

She laughed, so he threw another handful of sand at her.

“Ugh, stop,” she said, batting at the cloud and trying to disperse it before it hit her face.

“Well, stop saying I’m losing it.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it. You’re still in pajama pants. You haven’t put on shoes today—”

Percy wanted to protest that there was a very logical explanation for that, which was that he’d been up since 1AM, but he supposed she and Nico had been, too.

“Nico said you were sweeping glass? I didn’t ask. Then you walked out of the Big House in a panic-induced stupor and now you’re what? Laying on the beach waiting for the tide to drag you out? I don’t think I need any sort of degree to say that you’re losing it.”

Percy focused on the ocean. It was easy to slow his breathing to match the lazy waves, but it didn’t get rid of the lump in his throat.

“Is that what Annabeth’s telling people?” he whispered.

Thalia scoffed. “Of course not. Don’t be an idiot. She’s held people at knife-point just for suggesting it.” She nudged her shoulder into his. “And by people, I mean me. Like, twenty minutes ago. I thought she was going to stab me through the trachea.”

The thought of Annabeth defending his honor made him blush. He almost wished he’d stuck around to see it.

“She’s worried about you,” Thalia said. “Everyone is.”

Percy tried to look at her, but her eyes were so intense that he couldn’t do it for long. She always seemed older than him. No matter how apparent their physical age difference became, all Thalia had to do was open her mouth and her words made Percy feel fourteen again.

She messed with his hair, trying to shove it all down into his face. “Not me, though.”

He swept it back up. “‘Course not.”

“I am worried about Annabeth,” she admitted and Percy straightened. “I mean, she’s trying so hard to prove to everyone that she’s fine—throwing herself into the Labyrinth, and college plans, and even making sure you’re okay. She’s going to snap at some point. At least you’re unraveling slowly. That seems easier to put back together.”

It wasn’t a completely revelatory idea to Percy. He’d had the same thoughts and fears as Annabeth went back to school and excelled in every way she had before, with disturbingly few hiccups. But he’d chalked it up to being his own failure. He was generally bad at things and Annabeth was generally good at things. So, she could cope better than he could, too. What else was new?

“You guys were in Tartarus, Percy.” Thalia’s voice cracked a little. “By the time I even found out about it, you’d already made it through. You could have—”

“Stop,” Percy said through clenched teeth.

The tide surged, spraying water into Thalia’s face. She coughed once, then wiped her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said.

This really was her version of being nice, then. Normally she would have zapped him for daring to pull a stunt like that. He ducked his head between his knees and focused on control—keeping the waves at bay.

“But, see? This is what I understand.”

Percy rolled his head to the side. She gestured to the waves, then to him.

“I mean, not this specifically,” she said, cocking her head at the water. “But you’re angry. And scared. And you show it—you lash out and run away. Maybe I’m not good at helping you, but I get it. With Annie, I don’t even know where to start.”

Percy didn’t either. The last thing he wanted to do was risk screwing with the peace that she seemed to have come to, so they never talked about any of it all. Except in numbers.

Thalia hung her head for a moment, then arced her neck backward to stare up at the sky. “I know you’re mad about the Labyrinth.”

He rubbed his temples. A monster headache was coming on—and he should know, he’d dealt with lots of monsters. But he appreciated that she went with ‘mad’ instead of the arguably more accurate ‘spiraling’ or ‘pretty sure you’ll drop dead the moment you go inside because your heart will stop out of sheer terror’.

“Are you actually coming or were you bluffing in there?” she asked. “Nobody would blame you if you didn’t. And I mean literally not a single person. Fucking Clarisse went to bat for you after you left.”

It was just another mind-boggling event to add to the list. Percy already felt so scrambled, they might as well pile on now before he had time to adjust.

“I’m going,” he said. “Those kids need us. And Annabeth—she’s going either way, right? I can’t let her do it alone.”

“Then you need to sleep.” Thalia struggled to her feet, brushed some sand off her legs, then reached down to help Percy up. “Solace mandated an hour-long nap for those of us who were up all night, negotiated down from five—five more hours, Percy, as if they wouldn’t be dead three times over by then.” She shook her head. “I know Nico’s all doe-eyed over that kid but he seriously needs to go.”

“I think I like Will,” Percy said.

Thalia rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

His feet felt like they were sinking into the ground as they walked back toward the cabins. It was an old trick that Gaia used to pull on them last summer, but this time he didn’t think it was her doing. They’d defeated her afterall. It was in his mind now.

He only had an hour. That was no time to prepare for the Labyrinth. It had taken him a month to work up to camp. He rubbed his hands over his arms.

“Get some sleep, Percy,” Thalia said as she dropped him at the door of his cabin.

“You too.”

It was a weird thing to say in broad daylight.

“And try not to have another nervous breakdown.”

Percy stuck his tongue out at her back and pulled his door open.

Annabeth was sitting on the edge of his bed, hitting her Yankees cap against the inside of her thigh. At her feet sat two backpacks: one Percy’s, one hers. They both looked stuffed, probably filled to the brim with clothes, nectar, ambrosia, other items that Annabeth had deemed useful for their journey.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding toward the bags.

She set her cap down and re-crossed her legs the other way. “No pressure. I just wanted it to be ready in case.”

Always the planner. But not as much as she used to be—a few years ago she probably would have hidden the backpacks until Percy confirmed he was going. They’d both rubbed off on eachother, evening out in the process. Percy’s mom said that was what made them so good together.

“Thank you,” he repeated, flopping onto the bed and rolling onto his side. “Thalia said an hour, is that right?”

She hummed in affirmation and scooted toward him, laying down once their heads were at the same height. “I should have told you about the Labyrinth. I didn’t want to give you another thing to worry about. In hindsight—well, I’m sorry.”

Percy didn’t really get it. He definitely wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Annabeth keeping stuff from him because she thought he couldn’t handle it, but he still nodded. “It’s okay. I just want to be someone you can count on, too. You know?”

Annabeth’s eyes dropped from his. They took longer to drift back up. “Percy, you are. You always have been.”

Lately he didn’t feel like it. Thalia had just confirmed it on the beach.

“What’s it like down there?” he asked. “Greater than or less than?”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, searching his face. “The first time—less, like a four. But after the initial drop, it’s not bad at all. Greater than. Like a seven. You’ll be fine. I know it.”

Percy didn’t want to second guess the truth behind Annabeth’s words, but he didn’t quite believe them. He didn’t think she was lying to him or anything like that, but everything Thalia said was eating at him. Plus, if it was a seven for her, that made it at best a five for him.

“How about you?” She ran a hand along the side of his head. “Greater than or less than?”

His heart was pounding so loud in his ears that he was sure she could hear it too, but he forced himself to smile. “I’ll stick with equal to. I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep, Seaweed Brain.”

He snuggled closer to her, pressing his face into the same spot where he’d rested it before the meeting, between her neck and shoulder. This time, his eyes refused to stay closed, despite how heavy they were.

Everyone kept saying the Labyrinth was different. So far, it didn’t seem that way. The entrance was still in Zeus’ fist.

Percy fiddled with the straps of his backpack, then patted his pants pocket, even though it was a redundant check. Riptide was always there.

Annabeth’s nerves seemed almost as frayed as his. She kept opening and closing the little device that Leo had made. Supposedly, it stored the route and directions, along with functioning as a tracking device.

“I’ll lead,” she said.

Nobody protested. Thalia slung an arm over her shoulders and walked with her to the entrance.

They lowered themselves into the crevice between the two rocks one at a time. Percy’s heart jumped into his throat when Annabeth fell from sight. He ran a shaky hand through his hair just so he’d have something to do with it.

Piper slid through next. Percy wasn’t sure how that had happened. He’d thought that Jason would have finagled his way onto their mission. It would have made sense. One of the kids out there was related to him, too. But instead, Piper was here and Percy figured he should focus on getting himself through the day rather than worrying about any possible drama he’d missed at the end of the meeting yesterday.

“Alright,” Will said. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll cover our back.” The words tripped over his tongue on the way out. They were the first ones he’d said to anyone other than Annabeth after their short nap. “I’m the oldest,” he added when they looked at him uncertainly.

“Go ahead, Will,” Nico said.

He shrugged and disappeared. “See you in a minute.”

Maybe Thalia had a point about him, it was a pretty cursed thing to say at a time like this. A line straight out of his mom’s favorite horror movies, spoken the scene before that character gets picked off by the serial killer and never seen again.

“Percy?” Nico took a step toward him.

He wiped his forehead against his wrist. It was sticky with sweat. He tried to smile, but it felt like more of a grimace. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Me?” It was only the two of them left. Of course he meant him. “Yes. Go for it. I’ll be right after.”

Nico looked like he wanted to disagree, but he didn’t. He turned around after positioning himself over the opening. “It really isn’t as bad as it was before. It doesn’t constantly change. I don’t know if that makes you feel any better, but…”

“Definitely.” His voice came out as more of a squeak.

Nico frowned, like he wasn’t the least bit convinced, but he still dropped out of sight.

Percy doubled over, hands clasped on his knees. He sucked in one breath, then another, until it didn’t feel like his head was filled with helium anymore.

He approached the entrance to the Labyrinth. Darkness, so black that it almost hurt to look at, filled the space between the two rocks. Percy closed his eyes and dipped one foot through, immediately pulling it back. There was nothing there. He’d fall forever, down, down, down. They’d fallen for days, floating through nothingness, unable to see. The only thing he’d had was Annabeth in his arms. Now, he had nothing.

He shook his head. “Stop.”

It was the Labyrinth, not Tartarus. It was bad, but not that bad. He took a deep breath and plunged one foot in, leaving it there for a moment before lowering his other leg through. He started to fall and he clutched at the rocks to stop himself.

He was dangling on the edge again. An abyss stretched below him, but he already knew what would happen. Unspeakable terror awaited. It all flashed before him—the Cocytus, Arachne, the Curses, Nyx, titans, giants, Tartarus himself. The worst was Akhlys, or at least Annabeth’s face afterward.

He scrabbled at the rocks, trying to claw his way back out. They weren’t sturdy, started to roll under his weight.

“No,” he yelped.

And he fell.

He landed almost immediately.

His hands and knees hit the floor with a jarring thud that he felt in every bone.

“You did it.”

Percy blinked upward. Nico was crouched next to him, a hesitant smile on his face.

“It’s just the Labyrinth. Nowhere worse.” He chuckled a little. “Wow, imagine saying that to our younger selves, huh?”

Even though Percy’s muscles were trembling, he tried to make them work with him, drag him to his feet. Nico offered his hand to help him, but yanked it back as soon as they touched. His fingers came away stained red. Percy realized it was his hands’ fault. They were cut up—peeling skin and dripping blood. They must have gotten scratched on the rocks.

“It’s okay. Will’ll patch those up,” Nico said, smiling encouragingly at Percy again. He grabbed his wrists instead and hauled him up.

That should be the other way around. Percy should be the one reassuring Nico. He’d been in Tartarus, too, alone, and he was younger.

“Um.” Nico twisted the skull-ring on his finger. “Percy—you’re scaring me a little bit. Can you say something?”

He nodded, then realized that still wasn’t saying anything.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Where are the others?”

“Up ahead,” Nico said, gesturing down the never-ending hallway. “I told them Grover showed up to talk to you and we’d catch up. I thought you might need a, uh, minute. I know I did when I first came down here after—you know.”

“Thanks, Nico,” Percy said.

He shrugged it off and pointed over his shoulder. “We should get moving.”

Nico had a device in his hands that looked identical to the one Annabeth had been messing with before she’d entered the Labyrinth. He explained that Leo had made two of them, in case they needed to split up. They could each lead to the other beacon, or toward the exit in Nebraska.

Percy walked with his palms extended, facing upward, in an attempt to keep from dripping his blood on the ground. He’d made that mistake before. Demigod blood on the ground was bad news. It might unlock sleeping ancient deities.

It was probably best not to think about ancient deities.

“It does look different,” Percy noted so he’d have something else to focus on.

Nico’s head bobbed up and down. “It is. There are still traps and monsters, but not as many. I don’t think Annabeth even understands what’s happened to it. And she’s been down here the most.”

Percy paused for a second, before continuing. “Oh.”

Nico glanced at him. “Too much?”

“No… It’s just, she didn’t even tell me about it until yesterday.”

“Yeah. I sort of figured. Based on how the whole thing went down.”

Percy couldn’t fathom why Annabeth would want to be down here all the time. It wasn’t fun when they were younger, and it certainly wasn’t fun now. Two days ago if someone had asked him, sword-tip to his heart, if Annabeth would go into the Labyrinth voluntarily, his answer would have been an emphatic no. He would have been shish kebabed.

“Hey, Percy?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“There’s going to be a—well, it’s a pit, on your right. It was a trap, but we disabled it so it’s not dangerous anymore. There’s plenty of room for us to walk around. But it looks a little—familiar.” Nico kept checking over his shoulder as if trying to gauge his response. “Just wanted to give you a warning.”

He didn’t understand why anyone would subject themselves to this, ever. The air felt staler the closer they got to the pit, thick and hard to breath. It burned down his throat and into his lungs, like poison. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not.

After Percy caught his first glimpse of the pit, he screwed his eyes shut and stuck his elbow out to stay in contact with the wall on his left. He tried to focus on something his mom had told him a few years ago, when he’d still had the Curse of Achilles. He’d been even more tired then. His body was burning up too fast, everyday. And he had been angry too. He’d wanted to fight. The feeling had scared him so bad that he’d run into his mom’s room in the middle of the night like he was much younger and far less brave.

“Everything comes and goes, baby,” she’d told him as they’d sat on the edge of her bed. “Even more so for you than the rest of us. You ebb and flow like the tide.”

He coughed a little as the pit’s fumes clogged his throat. It made his hands sting and itch, too. He rubbed them on his shirt.

“Okay,” Nico said, voice hoarse. “That’s the worst thing for a while.”

That was the sort of thing you should never say as a demigod.

Percy opened one eye, then the other when he confirmed Nico’s assessment that the pit was behind them.

Nico twisted something on the outside of the device. “We’ve almost caught them. If we move a little faster, we should be there in no time.”

They walked past a four-way intersection. Percy eyed the perpendicular hallway. He could hear a clock—multiple clocks, ticking on either side of them. Or maybe it was clicking.

“Nico—“

The walls, floors, ceiling started to move, crawling toward them in six-legged segments until they were surrounded. Myrmekes —giant ants. There had to be dozens. Nico drew his sword and Percy clenched Riptide in his still bloody hand.

He swung a few times and the ants closest to him skittered backwards. It didn’t last long. They came right back and didn’t seem as scared of the dull glow of the bronze the second time.

He took a step back, right into Nico. “What do you think?”

“There are too many.”

Percy bit back a sarcastic, oh, really?

Nico took a deep breath and Percy had a chilling premonition of what he was about to do. He squeezed his eyes shut as the ground shuddered and crumbled around them. It was so much like the day they fell. Everything had been vibrating, pieces of Arachne’s lair falling away. And then they’d been falling, too. He’d cursed himself for the whole way down. Why had they stayed on the edge of a gaping hole in the ground so long? Why hadn’t he noticed the web around Annabeth’s ankle sooner?

After the shaking and roaring stopped, the only sound was Nico’s heavy breathing.

Percy opened his eyes. The ants were gone. The ground around them was, too—in every direction. They were suspended in black that stretched forever, the small circular platform they stood on all that was left. His brain short-circuited.

“Hopefully that’s all there is,” Nico said between pants. “I won’t be able to do that again any time soon.”

Percy stumbled back from the edge, landing hard on his back, but he could still see the darkness, the nothing, the falling. That was all there was.

“Percy?”

He covered his face to block it all out, but it didn’t help. They were hanging over a vacuum. The expansive nothing below was sucking the oxygen out of the Labyrinth.

“It’s okay.” Nico shook his shoulders, gently at first, then harder. “Percy? It’ll close up. Just give me a few seconds.”

The rumbling started again and Percy flinched. Nico kept talking to him, but he couldn’t make out anything more than syllables, intermixing with the sounds of the ground sealing back together.

Then it all stopped.

“Come on.” Nico tried to pull him up by his arm. “I’m going to get you back to camp, okay?”

That jolted Percy back into himself. Going back meant passing the stretch by the pit again and disappointing Annabeth and failing his little sibling. It was bad enough that Nico had seen all that. He didn’t need the rest of his friends and everyone at camp hearing about it. He shook Nico off and stood.

“Why would we go back? Didn’t you say we were close to the others?”

Nico opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together. Thankfully, he decided against saying anything—just took the device out of his pocket and led the way.

Percy trudged after him, trying to steady his breathing.

“There’s blood all over your face,” Nico said without looking back. “From your hands. I assume you want to get that off before Annabeth sees you.”

Percy pulled up his shirt and started scrubbing at it.

His mom’s words floated through his mind again. There’d been a lot of flowing in the last couple of years. He was ready to ebb.

Agent of Hope - 3

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, eventually Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents:  Angst, paranoia, mental challenges, hatred, revenge-wishing, denial, swearing (?). And ofc a tiny bit of spoilers for Captain America: Winter Soldier. A/N: Queued this. If you like, please reblog or comment or anything really. If you want a tag, just send me an ask and I’ll gladly add you.

3 - Fox Hunt

…   Rumlow’s PoV   …

Don’t wannit. Don’t want morphine. Vaguely aware of familiar voices, Brock tries to tell them, but they are too busy moving the world around him to listen to the slurry mumblings he manages to produce. He knows they gave him more of the damn painkillers straight into the vein through a drip as soon as they arrived. They didn’t even ask him which they should know is the wrong way to go about things because he is the team leader, the one who has to stay clear minded and make decision. But things are happening around Brock without him having a say in it. He knows he’s in good hands, Hydra cares for its own people. Own people…ownpeople…people own…people. The thought is plucked out and warped by the strong painkillers without losing the sense of urgency. People. Person. He knows he was talking to someone earlier. When? Time’s fuzzy and noncooperative. Shouldn’t’ve said…anything.

A male voice, strong and authoritative in its familiarity, reaches him through the haze of the drugs. Too much…don’t wannit. “Who knows?”

Brock must have spoken out loud. Fuck. “Grl-giiiirl…” a pleasant heat on one side of the face distracts him.

“Focus, agent!”

Focus…foscu…foxes…sneaky foxes. “Girlfwiend…go’ meh to…to…’ee knowth.”

“Your girlfriend knows you allegiance?”

Even the world has stopped as a shadow looms over the injured agent. Keep moving. Get up. Adrenalin begins to course through his veins, clearing his head a tiny bit although it’s an uphill battle against the potency of the chemicals they’ve introduced to his bloodstream.

“Yeth,” the growl is unmistakable, “bith ith done for…loothe end.”

 …   Reader’s PoV   …

Personally, you think you’ve been pretty damn smart about the way of running because not only had you discarded any electronics right away, you also only used cash to buy the bus ticket to Cincinatti, but got off in Columbus only to hitchhike back to Pittsburg (long live the group of university girls who took pity on you) where you found a new bus to New York.

Sure, the stunt took about nine extra hours, but hopefully it’ll throw any followers off your trail.

Maybe I’m being paranoid. Resting your head against the window by your seat, you can see the skyline of New York against the morning light. So what if you know that Brock’s Hydra…according to the news there are no secrets about that organisation anymore. They won’t come for me…I’m just being silly. But a throbbing headache begs to differ. It feels like someone’s digging your brain out through the skull with a teaspoon as the only tool - and that’s without considering any of the skull-splitting pain flashes. Just the thought of those episodes has you looking around nervously. I’m going insane.

Paranoia and some sort of hallucinations, yeah, things aren’t looking great even if you bought that explanation yourself. You don’t. I saw them fall from the sky. The memory and the meaning it now has keeps you from sleeping, real and imagined carnage blending seamlessly in your mind. I saw before it happened. With what Brock had said at the hospital and who he works for. If ever he or they find out that there’s the slightest chance that you saw the failed “project” before it happened? You’d be hunted down and either used as a tool with no regards for human rights. Or they’ll kill me.

…

From the bus stop, it’s the longest 15 minutes walking in your entire life.

When you finally walk up to the enormous glass doors, the knees are about to give out from under you and your palms are sweaty. Somehow, a larger group (maybe employees) is entering the lobby and you manage to join the chattering people rather inconspicuously according to yourself, but the sensation of victory is short lived, though. A long desk is off on one side perfectly across from the elevators, with security stationed at each their own passage. Not that it would help you if they weren’t there, as all doors in sight are equipped with card readers. Keep going or tell someone? Both options are bound to have drawbacks.

“Can I help you?”

The speaker’s right behind you, making you twitch out of surprise. At least he sounds tired rather than condescending, so you turn with a tiny smile on your lips, hoping to look friendly rather than threatening. Short curls are receding above the temples of a round man who looks like he smiles a lot. Just not now where suspicion gleams in the small eyes instead.

“I uhmm…I need to speak with –“

“No, that’s not how it works.” The interruption hardly comes as a shock, but it’s still disheartening. “There are no walk-ins, all visits have to be booked in advance.” He’s already ushering you towards the doors you came in through.

Gotta say something. You dig your heels in. “Sir, I understand the formalities, but this is urgent.”

“Should’ve called ahead, then.” Clearly, it’s bothering the man that you aren’t cooperating.

All too aware of the scene you’re causing, the part of your mind that is in control keeps an eye on the remaining security personnel. None have moved yet, probably just waiting for a sign which will signal the end of you attempt to talk to Tony Stark.

“Please, sir, I beg of you,” your voice is lowered, “this is important…it’s about what happened in…in…” you reduce the sound to a dramatic whisper, “in Washington.”

…   Rumlow’s PoV   …

Hydra has a lot of facilities off the books and Brock knows that he’s at one of them. Judging by the lack of windows, this one’s most likely underground even if the room he’s in still is equipped like a state-of-the-art hospital. They’ve taken the morphine away when they reached the place, not bothering to question his wish, and in return Brock’s gotten a functioning mind. Sure, there’s pain now, but he’s had worse…although that might have something to do with damaged nerves, according to a doctor. Pain won’t stop me. And he has a lot to catch up on including a girlfriend who might know too much.

How?

[Y/N] shouldn’t have known where he was. The hospital never called her. The woman just showed up all on her own, asking for him and even describing the injuries.

How?

“Lucky guesses” doesn’t explain it so there’s got to be another explanation, and Brock’s narrowing the options rapidly as he takes everything into consideration. Lack of surprise at major catastrophes (horror, alright, but not actual shock) is one of the big clues.

How?

Some sort of sixth sense or worse. Like one of those mutant freaks or genetic experiments running around pretending to be more than anyone else. Rogers is only the tip of the iceberg and the Soldat is nothing but a mimic of that. Even Romanoff. Then there are freaks like Banner and on and on the list goes so perhaps it isn’t too far fetched that [Y/N] should be some sort of monster too. Freaks can be useful. But where is this specimen now?

…   Reader’s PoV   …

The world longest elevator ride has brought you to a part of the tower that looks suspiciously like a holding cell. Except stylish. Sitting at a concrete table in the middle of a tastefully naked room, you’re staring at the round face of the security guy (Hogan) while he studies all sort of information on a tablet, sometimes conferring with a bodyless voice referred to as Jarvis. Whoever Jarvis is, he seems to know all there is about you with the exception of the migraine inducing visions.

“Please, if you could just get mister Sta–“

“Not unless you talk to me first.” The man barely glances up at you, already used to this exchange by now.

Perhaps I should just give in and tell him all? It’s tempting and you’d like to trust anyone working for Iron Man himself, but trust is hard to come by after the events of the last few days. Compromise. You’re just about to say something when a beeping precedes the door opening to let in none other than the famous Pepper Potts. Thin and impeccably dressed, she looks like she owns the place even with the lunch tray in her hands.

“Happy, why don’t you take a break, mm?” The gentle voice isn’t actually giving him a suggestion and Hogan swallows any protests he might have had and leaves you alone with the woman. “Miss [Y/L/N], I thought it was time you got some food.”

The tray is pushed towards you, showing off the delicious looking pasta-dish and making your stomach growl as a reminder that you’ve not eaten for almost 24 hours. Getting here had been more important. Pulling the food a bit closer, it’s all you can do to restrain yourself from gobbling down the food within seconds as if you’ve been starving for weeks. Fuck it’s good.

“Thank you.” You even remember to swallow before talking.

Her smile makes the freckles on her cheeks dance prettily. “Why do you need to speak with Tony so badly?”

“I don’t,” the answer obviously surprises the whatever she is to Stark, “I need to talk with Romanova but don’t know how to get a hold of her…then I remembered what happened here in New York and I thought…well…I gotta try, right?”

Now that you’ve told that much, the pasta doesn’t taste right anymore because your stomach tightens with worry. It’s a madman’s plan! No way will Romanova or even Stark see little, unimportant you. This is as far as you’ll ever get and soon, you’ll be back out on the street with no place to hide from Brock. Rumlow. And when he and the hydra-goons find you. Paranoia. You’ve got to believe they won’t come looking. You still can’t convince yourself, of course.

“Miss [Y/L/N]…[Y/N],” Potts  implores gently, “why do you need to talk to any of them at all?”

Where do I start? Rubbing your skull, you feel the stress starting to take its toll on you. “Washington…it’s not over…”

Did they turn the lights up?

The LED’s are glaring overhead and you have to squint in the harsh light even when looking down onto the plate where the white porcelain reflects each diode, only blocked by the Penne al’Arrabiata which is making me sweat thanks to the spices. It’s when the world starts spinning you realize what’s about to happen just a second before pain slashes through your head.

Title: Pretty Words Words: 2356 Warnings: Swearing Summary: "You know, you really should just tell them. The lucky troll. Come on, Branch, we both know you didn't make up those pretty words on the spot." Missing moment.  Notes: this was not supposed to happen. i don't know why i wrote this. mutual pining is The Good Shit though.

Read on Fanfiction or AO3. 

It's official, Branch decides as he stares unseeingly through the curtain of vibrant rainbow monstrosity Poppy calls Bridget's "Lady Glittersparkles" hair, and he tries to pretend he can't feel everyone's eyes on him or his heart crashing around inside him or his cheeks burning furiously in that stupid obvious purple blush spreading vividly all the way to the tips of his twitching ears. Feeling things is bullshit.

There is one thing, though. Poppy and her friends—at least they're not over there out-and-out staring at him. They're actually making some kind of an effort here, and yeah, the glances they sneak at him every few seconds from the corners of their wandering eyes aren't even in the same stratosphere as subtle, but they're—come on, they're trying, and it's decent of them. Even if they're not very good at it. Even if their eyes have begun to burn holes in him, everywhere their gazes fall, little black voids, cracks and fissures opening in his skin and he wishes he could barricade himself behind his own hair or curl into a ball or even just cross his arms a little tighter, anything to stop feeling so naked, like he just cut his own head open and let them have a look inside which—oh, yeah—he kind of fucking did.

He can still taste the words inside his mouth, on the tip of his tongue, clinging to the corner of his lip. If there was a way to—to spit them out, like spoiled food—spit them out into his hands or into the trash or—well, he thinks, as the Bergen King helps Bridget into her roller skates and she giggles and the sight makes something twinge painfully in Branch's chest and he tells himself it doesn't, at least that stupid poem did someone some good. And—the Bergen King goes to his knees before Bridget, and slowly, lovingly, laces up her skates, and Bridget looks like someone has given her a handful of sunshine and it's not a twinge anymore, it's a twist, a tight coil Branch can't breathe around—and even if she is a Bergen, Bridget deserves some good in her life.

The Bergen King and Bridget link hands, and Branch has to close his eyes, and he tells himself he's only tired.

"Sooo—"

Poppy's voice at his ear and Poppy's breath on his cheek and Branch snaps his eyes open and she's standing at his elbow with her hands clasped behind her back and bouncing on her toes and she's got a huge, obnoxious—adorable—grin on her face and she bumps his shoulder lightly with her own and he wonders if she's actually trying to kill him—

"—you've been holdin' out on us, buddy."

"I—" And maybe Branch's mind is just moving really, really slowly because of Poppy's proximity, but for the life of him, he can't figure out what she means. "What?"

She giggles, and he can't tell if the sound fills up every empty place he's got, or drags his insides out through the gash he made in his own head.

"Those were some real pretty words you were flingin', my man." She raises her eyebrows. "Who knew you were such a romantic?"

"I—I don't—" Okay, if a black hole could just open up right this fucking minute and suck him down inside, that would be great. Please and thank you. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, and he knows his voice isn't half as rough or mean as it needs to be. Romantic. Poppy called him a romantic. Death would be kinder.

"Your eyes are like two pools so deep? Come on, no need to play dumb with me, pal."

Branch can't decide if he wants to shut her up with his hand over her mouth, or his mouth over her mouth.

"I just," his tongue feels too heavy, "I just—made that up. O-on the spot. I didn't mean it."

Poppy's rosy cheeks lift a little higher as her smile widens, and he knows she doesn't believe him. "Mm-hm. Sure. Okay." She nods so hard, her frizzy pink hair quivers where it fades smoothly into green-yellow and blends seamlessly with everyone else's. Branch wonders what it would feel to twine his hair with hers. He wonders if her hair is as soft as it looks and if she'd let him touch it if he asked and if it still smells like strawberries since it's touched the other trolls' so much.

And he wonders why he's wondering things that are never going to happen anyway.

He looks away—back to Bridget and the Bergen King, and he sees the soft-spoken scullery maid is still nervously clutching the dirty railing around the rink, to hold herself up even though the Bergen King is promising he won't let go of her hand, promising he won't let her fall. Branch wonders what it would feel like to hold Poppy's hand, and not let go.

"You know," Poppy whispers, "I think you really helped Bridget. Like, a lot." Her eyes are soft, and sparkling like diamonds with a million different colors under the flashing rainbow lights of the rink, and there's no goddamn way Branch is ever coming up for air. "I mean, just look at her! She's really gotten the hang of it now, hasn't she?"

"Sh-she's stuttering up a storm, Poppy." And apparently, she's not the only one. "A-and," Branch continues, quickly, before Poppy can comment on that for herself, "I'm pretty sure she'd have gotten the hang of it without me. She's not stupid. And she had you."

Fuck.

It's way too late to save anything but Branch snaps his mouth shut anyway and isn't that just the fucking name of the day right now—saying everything he means and everything he doesn't want to mean and everything he'd never thought he would—it's like the truth about his grandma had lodged itself in the back of his throat, too big and sharp to swallow down, too horrible, too shameful, to spit out—and now it's gone and there's nothing left—he's got nothing left—no barriers, no roadblocks, nothing to stop the words coming out of him—and God, he has so many, so fucking many—he's kept them inside him so long and now they won't stop coming, they just won't stop coming and Poppy looks at him and she's never looked more like herself than she does in this moment, with her eyes shining and her mouth slowly curling up into another smile—

"That," she says, and there's the barest touch of a laugh to her voice, "just might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Can I hug you?"

"No." He tells himself his heart isn't picking up speed at the thought of hugging her, at the thought of her body pressing against his, and fucking God, Branch, get a hold of yourself. "And you'd better not get used to it." Because if we don't all die a miserable death at the hands of a horrible, bloodthirsty Bergen, I'm going to barricade myself in my bunker until you completely forget my existence because if I have to go the rest of my life with you thinking of that stupid poem every time you look at me, I might as well pitch myself off the side of Bridget's head and shatter my skull on the skating rink right now.

"Come on! You don't want to hug your bestest friend in the entire world?"

"I swear to God, Poppy, if you take one step closer to me, I'm handing you to the Bergen King myself."

"Wow, rude," Poppy huffs, but she retreats a little, and her arms fall back to her sides. "Catch you at Hug-Time, then."

"Don't count on it."

"Aww, come on, where's your way with words gone?" The corners of her mouth start to creep upward again. "Don't tell me that was a one-time thing!"

Branch is pretty sure his face is going to catch fire sometime in the next ten seconds unless Poppy decides to learn the wonderful art of shutting the fuck up. "I don't—I told you—I just—on the spot—didn't mean—"

"Branch," Poppy says, quietly now, and there's something softer about the edges of her smile, when she looks at him. She takes a step closer, and her fingers close around his wrist. His breath hitches and he prays she doesn't hear. "You know, you really should just tell them."

"T-tell—?" Fuck fuck fuck she knows okay can I die now please—

"The lucky troll, of course." She tilts her head a little, to hold his gaze. "We both know you didn't make that up on the spot. And I think if you just—if you just gave—whoever it is—a chance—" She's so close so close so close and he can count every single sparkling freckle on her round pink cheeks and God, what he wouldn't give to kiss each one. "—a chance to know you—to see what I've seen in you—" Her hand slips down his wrist until she's holding his hand holding holding holding his hand and she can feel his fingers shaking and his palms sweating and he knows she can and he should pull away he should really just pull away but he's never wanted to do anything less in the entire world. "—well—" the word's barely a breath in the space between them, "—I think they'd like what they see."

Kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her and the words echo over and over in his mind in time with the frantic pounding of his traitorous and hopeful heart and everyone's watching them and he shouldn't he shouldn't he shouldn't—he swore he'd never—but he is—he's leaning down and leaning in and here's the crazy part—she's leaning in too—

Bridget falls. Spectacularly.

An earsplitting, headache-inducing screech of her skates against the slick tiles of the rink is their only warning, and then the world is a blur of bright lights and Bridget stammering out apologies and the Bergen King kneeling in front of her, asking her if she's okay, and the unmistakable throb of bruises forming all over Branch's body as Bridget strikes the ground, colors popping in front of his eyes and he's only marginally cushioned by the thick cloud of rainbow hair and there's a strange kind of weight on his chest—

Instinct acts for him, tearing his eyes open and ripping his head back up off the ground—and though the others haven't moved, sprawled where they fell atop Bridget's head, they're not hurt, and he lets out a breath—everyone's all right—no—no, wait, everyone's not all right—where—Poppy—where's Poppy—?

The weight on his chest shifts.

Branch snaps his eyes shut. Why didn't the fall just kill me?

"—I-I'm so sorry, I just—I didn't mean—I'm such a clumsy idiot—" Bridget's trembling voice breaks through his momentary pity party. God, the poor girl sounds like she's about to burst into tears any second. The "Lady Glittersparkles" façade has cracked clean in two—Branch tugs his eyes back open, and makes himself meet Poppy's gaze—tries to tell her, without words, to help Bridget—

"No, no, no, that's okay! It's okay!" The Bergen King smiles down at her. "We all lose control of our skates once in a while, darling!"

Poppy absolutely beams. "Ha! Listen to him! Can't take his eyes off her, can he?"

"I—" Branch tries not to notice the warmth of her breath on his neck. He's not the only one. "Great," he says, a little breathlessly, and it's supposed to be sarcastic but that gets a little lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth and yes, her hair does still smell like strawberries, and she's smiling at him and a second too late he realizes the lift, the ache, in the side of his face means he must be smiling back—

"Hey, Branch?"

His name falls softly as snow from her lips. He tells himself he doesn't care if she ever says it again.

"W-what?"

His own voice is ugly in comparison, all shaky and stuttery and clumsy, like a child still learning how to speak.

"I think you kinda do have a nice smile, too."

Branch's heart stops. Either it's finally hammered its way out of him, and flung itself as far away as possible in a desperate bid for freedom from all the shit Poppy's put it through in the last three minutes alone, or it's just given up, and died in his chest and either way, he really can't blame it. I think you kinda do have a nice smile, too, and his skin is tingling where it's pressed against hers and he needs to say something—something horrible—something that'll make her hate him—

Bridget shifts, and reaches for the Bergen King's outstretched hand—and she starts to stand, and the world is a blur all over again and Branch doesn't know who moves first but the world is a blur of he and Poppy ripping away from each other, ripping back, scrambling away like they can't ever put enough space between them—like repelled magnets, like the touch of one burned the other—and his body aches with the absence of hers and he tells himself it doesn't and now that he can't smell the strawberries in her hair or feel the tingle of her skin on his, it's so much easier to remember why he can't kiss her, why he can't love her, why he can't hold her hand in his or twine his hair around hers or go around telling her she has a nice smile or go around believing it when she tells him he has a nice smile—

"Well," she says, softly, and there's something strangely flat in her voice, in her face, "I guess that's my cue." She slides down Bridget's head, to settle right above the enormous ear, and she doesn't look back.

Yeah. It's official. Feeling things is fucking bullshit.

Sucreabeille Review Part 2

Hey everybody it's that time: the Sucreabeille reviewapalooza is upon us once again. A short explanation: near the beginning of February, Andrea, owner of Sucreabeille, offered me a coupon to explore and review some of her scents. I accepted, and through various circumstances, ended up placing three more orders and coming into ownership of a grand total of 32 33 of her house blends, aaaaall of which I plan to review. Since that's, y'know, a lot of smells, I decided to divide up my reviews into four parts.

This is part two. You can read part one here!

So, without further ado, here's my thoughts on Arsenic; Longest Night; Death Unicorn; Let's Be Bad Guys; Banshee; Here's The Thing: Fuck Everyone; Arya; and You're In A Cult, Call Your Dad.

ARSENIC || Antique lace, gasoline, old books, fresh vanilla bean.

IN THE BOTTLE: Like a strawberry jolly rancher!

ON THE SKIN: Honestly? Still like a strawberry jolly rancher: bright, sour-sweet, mouthwatering candy, though it is accompanied by the occasional whiff of sharp gasoline-like fumes. This is like a brighter, perkier take on genuine gasoline... And, truth be told, i'm not complaining. I really like the smell. It really puts the toxic in intoxicating.

...Get it

Be--because, it's. It's arseni--

Anyways

As it dries down, the vanilla comes out, and it's this bright, rich, foody vanilla that doesn't let this scent darken in the least. At no point do I get the lace or the old books, though, which was a bit of a disappointment: I was sitting there huffing my wrists, trying to convince myself that any smoothness in the scent was the antique lace, that I was catching a whiff of paper or the reserved scent of a hardback cover... But, nope. Toxic jolly rancher, then vanilla.

Lasts for 2-3 hours before it starts to fade.

RATING: 4/5. Docked a point because of the lack of an appearance of half the notes, but even without them, it's a really tasty scent.

--

LONGEST NIGHT || A big glass of merlot, cinnamon sticks, freshly grated nutmeg, cedarwood, pure honey, frankincense, myrrh, sweet sugar plums.

IN THE BOTTLE: Very faint spiced wine.

ON THE SKIN: This starts out with the merlot and nutmeg/cinnamon conbination at the very forefront, and under it is something that, in my notes, I listed as smelling like a baked good - but it's the combination of the spice with the honey note, i'm absolutely sure. Usually honey is too strong on me and ends up being kinda unpleasant, but it's reigned back here and is actually pretty nice. Underneath it all, real subtle-like, is the same bubblegum smell that Frozen Moon has in spades: the sugar plum. I think the perfume could do without it, but it's faint enough that it doesn't really affect the scent too much.

On the drydown, the spice and honey takes over as the dominant scent - a little disappointing, considering what I said earlier about not liking overpowering honey notes. The merlot is still there, but much lighter, and there's still just the faintest whiff of bubblegummy sugarplum, and... That's basically where it stays. I never get the cedarwood, frankincense, or myrrh.

RATING: 3/5. Doesn't smell bad, but not something i'm in love with, either.

--

DEATH UNICORN || Fresh cut lavender, black anise, sweet vanilla bean, black pepper crushed under a unicorn’s horn.

IN THE BOTTLE: Anise made sparkly from lavender.

ON THE SKIN: So, for the first, oh, five minutes, I can smell basically everything in this. The anise is at the forefront, gummy and earthy and licorice-y, and the lavender gives it this floral edge, the pepper makes the scent buzz, and... Without looking at the notes, i'm guessing there's vanilla?

*Checks notes*

Yup, dead-on! It's below everything else, but still notable.

Unfortunately, after those first five minutes, basically every note but the anise, amped up by the vanilla, is gone... And I don't like anise. Pure licorice smell. It had some alright sillage, could catch whiffs of it while just going about my regular business, and it was strong and clear on my wrist... But I can't report on longevity - I had to scrub it.

RATING: 2/5 - not only do I just not like the smell of the biggest note in this, but the fact that everything else faded so fast is a bit sad. Maybe I just amp anise?

--

LET'S BE BAD GUYS || Tobacco/vanilla, gunsmoke, leather, sandalwood.

IN THE BOTTLE: Bright, fresh, new leather.

ON THE SKIN: This one's similar-ish in notes to Khal Drogo, but definitely doesn't smell the same. While KD's leather note was old and worn and velvety, this one is bright, fresh, and new - without going car interior. I think it's the same leather note that this house uses in Belladonna, which almost smells like dark, inky rain to me. It's a really pretty note - if you're familiar with Alkemia's The Raven, it smells like that. The sandalwood is there underneath it, dry and dusty, but it's way more subdued than it is in KD - the leather is definitely the star of this scent.

The rest of the notes, I think, are really well-blended and are there to boost up the leather. The gunsmoke lends it a surprisingly clean smokiness without going BBQ or getting amped to hell, as smoke notes will sometimes do on me (lookin' at you, Alkemia's Smoke and Mirrors and Solstice Scent's Foxcroft). The tobacco/vanilla's there, but it's very subtle, and just gives that leather a tiny swirl of sweetness.

Has some decent sillage - I can just barely detect it from 6-7 inches away - and stays pretty strong and noticible on my skin for a good few hours.

RATING: 4.5/5. Really good leather scent that stays surprisingly clean for the notes it has. Unisex, almost leaning butch - it makes me feel like a badass leather-clad biker lady.

--

BANSHEE || Burnt sugar; baby powder; nag champa; real ylang ylang; a perfect sunflower; palmarosa; fresh figs; a moonlit night; decadent pomegranate; metallic copper; white musk.

IN THE BOTTLE: Baby powder mostly, perhaps with a tiny bit of the burnt sugar.

ON THE SKIN: Woof, it's burnt sugar and baby powder time!

The burnt sugar is the first thing I smell, and it's the same note from Cream Tea - though it's much more subtle in this, not headache-inducing. Sitting up there at the top with it is the baby powder, which... Look. I'm not super familiar with the smell of baby powder, but this certainly smells like the baby wipes we've got in our house: clean, with a weird slightly bitter aftersmell, and, of course, powdery. Really, really powdery.

This perfume has a lot of notes i'm not super familiar with, so I had to kind've keep my thoughts general on the smell of it. I get the burnt sugar, the baby powder, something kinda earthy-dank, and a floral edge that's sort'a perfumey, not sweet at all. The sweetest thing in this that I can even sort of detect is the fig, which, honestly, ain't that sweet.

When it dries down, the burnt sugar goes away, but the baby powder persists, and there's something giving it a... Almost wheaty, nutty smell? I'm thinking it might be the 'perfect sunflower' note, which might be closer to sunflower seeds. The metallic tang of the copper is also much stronger, gradually overtaking the scent. The floral edge is gone, and i'm still not picking up anything fruity. The last thing I smell is the clean, slightly soapy nature of the everlasting fricken' baby powder.

Starts out strong, but gets sorta light on my skin within two hours. The last thing I smell before it disappears is just a strangely clean scent. ...Prooobably that baby powder.

RATING: 1.7/5. I bought this because it was a weird scent, and, I mean, I got what I expected.

--

HERE'S THE THING: FUCK EVERYONE || Bourbon, rich chocolate, dark amber, touch of dirt.

IN THE BOTTLE: Chocolate! Imagine that.

ON THE SKIN: So, when I first tried this on before resting, this was chocolate for all of 20 minutes before turning into dirt, and then it just kinda stayed at 'dirt'. Bit of a disappointment. I'm happy to say that after almost two weeks of rest, it's gotten a lot better!

First off, it's staying sweeter for longer, which is great. It reminds me of Hexennacht's Evening Star - powdery chocolate amped up by amber - but, uh, obviously dirtier. There's a teensy bit of a boozy edge, but honestly, if I hadn't seen the word 'bourbon' in my previous notes, I don't think I would have noticed it. Underneath it all: very subtle, dry, dusty dirt - but like, clean dirt. Like if you smelled a handful of dirt that had nothing else in there but dirt. No minerals. No, idk, worm poop. Just dirt.

As it dries down, the dirt overtakes the Sweet Notes, so now it's dry, dusty dirt on top of... Honestly, i'm pretty sure it's the amber - i'm not getting a lot of the chocolate anymore, but the scent is still very rich and sweet in the way that sweet amber can be. The bourbon's come out more, too. Let this one rest, guys! Forreal!

Sillage of 2-3 inches, and it's not light on my skin - nice n clear n easy to find, even on the drydown.

RATING: 4/5. I'm not personally interested in smelling like chocolate - something I learned shortly after ordering this - but it's not a bad scent at all.

--

ARYA || Peaty oak moss, lemon verbena, frankincense, a double shot of good bourbon, smoky sandalwood.

IN THE BOTTLE: Strong, slightly green lemon.

ON THE SKIN: Unsurprisingly, I amp that lemon verbena to hell and back, as I do most lemon scents, and it just completely overtakes the entire scent. The most that I get out of this from the other notes is a vague, fresh green-ness, which I imagine is from the oakmoss... Or, heck, maybe it's just more of the lemon verbena, since that's, y'know, a plant. Geeze. I was hoping maybe i'd get the other notes on the dry-down, but... Nope. As soon as the lemon starts to fade, the entire scent goes with it.

At the very least, even though it's really one-note on me because lemon is a Cursed Scent with my skin chem, it's a very light, cool, refreshing lemon. Like sniffing a raw lemon with a cold stream nearby. It eventually just becomes the soft, pleasant smell of lightly lemon-scented hand soap.

I... Didn't take any notes on sillage or longevity, because, gosh, i'm so good at what I do. I do recall that I never really smelled it in the air, so, it wears close to the skin, at least.

RATING: 2.5/5. Well. It's a good lemon note. :( Just wish I could get anything else.

--

YOU'RE IN A CULT, CALL YOUR DAD || Flannel, sedona trees, bergamot tea, snickerdoodle cookies.

IN THE BOTTLE: Snickerdoodles and flannel. The snickerdoodles smell so fricken' good, this is another scent that made me go 'ooooh!' upon first whiff.

ON THE SKIN: Oh, golly gee, this is so frickin' good. My absolute, hand-to-god, favorite scent i've picked up from Suc. Period. Saving the best for last, here.

Starts out with those rich, bright, mouthwatering, buttery, sugary snickerdoodles - but they're not cloying even on their own, though they have the flannel to temper them back as well. And, oh, gosh, that flannel's so good. Nice, fresh, cozy-as-can-be flannel: the flannel of the pajamas you wear on Christmas morning, out in your isolated cabin surrounded by a sunny-but-snowy forest. That kinda cozy.

On the drydown, there's suddenly a small, slightly bitter green note, which I assume is the sedona trees, but mostly it's just smooth-but-tangy bergamot tea, the snickerdoodle sweetness still floating around it. This has good sillage both when wet and dry - I catch whiffs of it often - and it lasts for a good, long time - I'll wear it to work and still smell the tail-end of it 8 and a half hours later.

It reminds me a lot of Sixteen92's Shadow Show, which is another HG scent of mine - not because they smell very much alike, they honestly don't, but because they both give off very similar not-quite-gourmand vibes, which i'm in LOVE with. I could wax poetry about this scent. I could sing ballads about it. It's so good.

RATING: 7/5. Like. Go buy this! Right now!

--

So, that's part two! Two more parts to go. Next review's gonna be: Liquid Gold, Belladonna, Big Damn Heroes, Cersei, Stay Sexy, Shiny, Margaery, and one scent I haven't chosen 'cause it'll be coming in my next order.

Shelter

(Hello! This is a little drabble I tapped out this morning on a whim. I have no immediate continuation planned, but there may be a second chapter :D See ya later!) 

Dari glared through the smeared glass wall in front of him, just able make out the vague shape of the human on its other side. The man moved back and forth, doing one of several pointless activities. He always seemed to be busy, hurrying around, yet achieving nothing. Dari sighed, standing up from the fake, hollow rock in the center of his aquarium. The top was flat, and since there was nothing else besides sand and a blue, headache inducing light, he took to sitting on it. He was used to having a height advantage, and it itched at him to be stuck down below. Were it not for small details, one might have thought Dari was human. His skin was a light brown, his hair a deep, earthy violet that could have been achieved with a simply box of dye. He was thinner than would seem healthy, but he still had some lean muscle that hadn’t been stripped from him by captivity. However, he did have more unusual features; for instance, his bright lavender eyes, his remaining wing, and his height of slightly less than four inches. He slid down from the side of the rock, feet hitting the crunching sand that covered the glass bottom of the container. When he’d first been dumped here, he’d tried to dig through it, wailing in despair when all he found was hard glass. He turned, ducking his head to enter the enclosed space of the rock. It was still uncomfortable to be in such a small, dark area, but in some ways, it was preferable to being out there, where he knew he was completely exposed. Dari didn’t remember how long he’d been here. A month, maybe, or three. Long enough that the days were starting to blend together, despite how carefully he’d tried to keep track of them. The only moments of notice were when the human took him out of his container, took photos of him with the black rectangle he always held. Dari vaguely remembered his sister telling him it was a ‘phone’. She loved human things. Watching the human’s outline settle down on the flat surface of his bed, Dari did the same, pressing his cheek against the sand and closing his eyes. Behind him, one iridescent wing twitched uneasily. ** Dari next woke to an earsplitting grating sound, sitting up so abruptly that he knocked his head on the roof of his rock. Before he could process it, the rock was lifted away and set aside, a pale hand wrapping around him tightly enough to knock the air from him. He just had enough time to get one hand free, heaving for breath as he was yanked upwards. Large, blue eyes stared at him, pale and unnerving. The human’s pale face was split into a broad smile. “Well, Dari, guess what?” He said, a bounce in his step as he walked over to the table. His grip tightened briefly in a ‘gentle’ squeeze. Dari could already feel the bruises he’d be nursing later. “Answer me.” “What?” Dari wheezed, steadying himself with one hand pressed to the human’s knuckle. It had been a few days since he’d been taken out of his container, but he was adjusting quickly. The human spoke again, his voice sing-song and delighted. “I’ve finally found someone to buy you.” Dari’s heart dropped into his stomach. No. This was the moment he’d been dreading – at least this one’s intention was only to have him sold – for the most part, he’d left Dari be. Who knew what a buyer would do with him? “Oh, don’t look like that.” The human chided. “I’m sure they’ll take good-“ He broke off at the sound of a knock at the door. “Shit, is that them?” He muttered. Heading over to the tank, he unceremoniously dumped Dari inside, not bothering to seal the lid as he headed to answer the door. Dari fell to his knees, gulping down lungfuls of air he’d been denied in the human’s grasp. His heart was racing, hands trembling, and his whole wing made a faint buzzing sound, dragging him ever so slightly to the right with the force of its agitated flitting. He felt as if he were frozen, hearing the faint, muffled sound of voices. The human was bartering – Dari had heard him do it on the phone, before. Then, suddenly, his legs started moving. The rock was at the side of his container. He worked his fingers under it, heaved upwards. It barely moved, but move it did. He shifted, got himself under the thing, and pushed upwards with all of his might. Arms trembling, he managed to lift it to his height. Ever so carefully – any sound would bring the human’s attention to him – he propped it against the glass side of the aquarium. He slipped out from underneath the rock. Footsteps. Scrambling onto the rock’s top, he tried to find grip on its smooth surface. The voices were louder – “I’m so glad you’ve taken this opportunity.” The human said. Dari reached the top of the rock. The aquarium’s edge was still high above him. He leapt, his wing fluttering uselessly. He missed the edge by a hair, and the rock suddenly slid down an inch. It made a faint squeak on the glass, but judging by the calm, muffled voices of the humans, Dari didn’t think they’d heard. He leapt again, heart pounding like a hummingbird’s as he saw his outstretched hand approach the glass edge. It caught. Muscles quivering with effort, he heaved himself up over the lid. Next to him was the light that the human had clipped onto the side of his container – vitamin D, he’d said, Dari needed vitamin D. A cord trailed from its base to somewhere over the edge of the table where his aquarium was sat. Dari grabbed it, allowing himself to slide down the thick plastic. As he did so, the air erupted with a sudden, terrifying curse. The human had arrived. Dari wasn’t sure how he managed to escape. His head was pounding with the sound of his own heartbeat, his arms and legs screaming. He dropped into a grate full of dust, coughing as he ran down it. Faintly, he heard screaming and cursing behind him, his ears throbbing with the noise. ** When the sound faded, Dari stopped running. Now, he walked, legs trembling with the effort of staying upright. He’d made so many turns, continued on in this darkness, that he thought he might well die here. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d mind – at least he’d have died on his own terms. He didn’t quite see the faint streaks of light in the floor approaching, not until he found his foot hitting a thin grate instead of solid metal. By then, of course, it was too late, and he was falling through open air. A hoarse scream escaped him, hands stretched out as though he could grab the lip of the vent that was by now so far from him. And then he hit ground, his breath leaving him. Instead of agonizing pain, however, he simply…bounced. The impact still left him dizzy and disoriented, his bruises aching in protest, but he wasn’t injured. He rolled onto his back, trying to understand what had just happened. It wasn’t quite as dark here as it had been in the vent, but he still couldn’t see where he was. And then the light of one of those cursed ‘phones’ glared into his face. Behind it, he saw two wide, dark eyes, staring at him. Up until now, Dari had always been silent in the face of danger. That was simply how he handled fear – his mind went quiet, his body stiff and unmoving. This time, he screamed, scrambling to his feet and praying, begging the gods not to leave him here, not to put him in the hands of another human. The bed – that’s what this was, he realized, a bed – moved, fabric pulling out from under his feet, and he fell again. Before he could reclaim his feet, he felt the warm pressure of a human’s hands, curling around his waist and lifting him up. He sobbed, arms covering his head as he was brought up to the human’s face. He didn’t want to see it – he didn’t want to admit that this was real, that he’d gone straight from one captor to another. A voice, soft and still loud enough to vibrate through him. “Are you okay?” The human whispered. He shifted, and a sudden, bright light made it through Dari’s arms. He just continued to cry, taking shuddering breaths between his ugly sobs. The grip around him changed, until Dari found himself sitting in a pair of cupped hands. He didn’t try to escape – he’d learned from his snapped wing that struggling in a human’s grasp just resulted in injury. He curled into himself, brought his knees to his chest and covered his face, weeping his grief as though the human wasn’t watching him. ** Mat didn’t know what to do about this situation. He’d been asleep – or, trying to sleep, at least – and this…this person, thing, had just up and landed on his bed, out of the ancient air conditioning grate that he’d been meaning to replace for so many years. Looking at him outright, Matt didn’t make the most intimidating figure in the world. He was an author, and as such spent a great deal of time sitting at a keyboard, staring miserably at a bright screen. He had dark skin and eyes, a soft build, a pair of fingerprint-smudged glasses that he’d haphazardly shoved onto his face, and curly hair constantly bound back into a short poof at the back of his head. The only thing mildly impressive about him was his height – at slightly over six feet and five inches, Matt was usually a head or so taller than the people he met. This, however, was a bit extreme. Staring down at the crying figure in his hands, Mat half-wondered if he was dreaming. That would make sense, though this was a veryvivid dream, in that case. “Um…” He began, hesitating when he saw and felt the elf-thing flinch. “Who are you?” He tried, his voice the barest whisper he could manage. He caught a glimpse of two pale, glowing eyes, giving him a glare as though he’d personally killed the elf’s entire family. Then came a soft, muffled voice, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it. “Dari.” Dari? Was that a name? He assumed it must be, feeling slightly emboldened by his success. “Okay, Dari.” He said slowly. “I’m Mat.” Dari kept his head buried in his arms. Mat could see his back shuddering, his sobs so quiet they were nearly drowned out by the fan against the wall. “Can I ask why you were in my A/C vent?” He ventured. Dari stiffened, and this time, didn’t reply. Mat was beginning to realize that he wasn’t getting any sleep, tonight. First his upstairs neighbors screaming and cursing up a storm, now this? “Okay…let’s just get out of bed, before we do anything else.” He said, mostly to himself. He slipped out of bed, putting on his slippers. Carefully, he eased Dari into one palm, fingers curled up like a guard rail to make sure he didn’t fall. One glimmering wing fluttered against his palm, tickling, and Mat’s fingers twitched. This was so, so bizarre. As he stood, he felt two small hands press into his skin, the fairy now looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. That was…such a strange way to be looked at. It made Mat feel guilty for something he hadn’t done. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He found himself saying, eyebrows furrowed in a defensive sort of way. Again, Dari didn’t respond, though his fearful gaze turned more to a fearful glare. Matt shuffled into the kitchen, finding the light and turning it on. Dari flinched again when the room brightened, tense and quivering. He’d stopped crying, finally, but his face was tear-streaked, his eyes reddish and half-lidded. In truth, he looked like nothing but terror was keeping him awake. Matt pulled open a drawer, fished out a plush hand towel, and placed it on the kitchen table. Then, gently, he set Dari on top of the towel. “Is that any better?” Naturally, Dari didn’t reply. Two minutes of interaction, and they were starting to set a theme. Dari continued to look at Mat as though he was being tested, suspicion in his tired, lavender eyes. In the light, Mat was starting to see that there were deep bruises along Dari’s arms and legs, creating mottled patterns that were uncomfortably similar to fingerprints. Just what had happened to him?

What about hartwin story, where Harry is on a mission at a posh party. He needs to retrieve (imformation/files/data/important artifact/whatever you come up with) somewhere in the house, but collides with/meets (either after or before he gets the thing) a young handsome man on the way out. Turns out this young man was a thief and had managed to either steal the thing before Harry got it, or managed to pickpocket him when they crashed together, so now Harry has to find him and get the thing back.

(Party 2) And imagine Merlin cackling because Harry was set to steal something, only for it to be stolen by someone else first. Of course Harry needs to find the thief and restore his pride, or Merlin will remind him of this failure for years to come!             

((okay, i know it said posh party but because my last prompt had a similar set-up, i wanted to change it around a little bit. I hope you still like it! @the-little-random-me ))

This is not Harry’s scene. Neon body paint, seizure-inducing lights, and glowsticks aren’t his idea of a good time.

Unfortunately his target, one Charlie Hesketh, holds a different opinion.

Despite the fact that he’s dressed down in khakis and a mostly-unbuttoned button down, Harry still feels incredibly overdressed. Not to mention old as dirt. There isn’t a single other person there who looks like they’re even pushing 30.

“A shame Lancelot is in Tanzania,” Merlin says drily. “You don’t exactly blend in.”

“Shut up,” Harry says, barely moving his lips. He wonders if Merlin can even hear him over the pounding music.

Merlin chuckles, a good indication that he’s enjoying Harry’s discomfort far more than he should be. “Focus, Galahad. As soon as you get the drug, you can get out.”

“Brilliant.” Finding a specific drug in a place like this is going to be like looking for a needle in a pile of other needles, but Harry sets himself to it. He knows what the supplier looks like. He just has to find him.

Poppyseed had sprung up practically overnight and there was something… off about it. Users were experiencing strange side effects, among them a blue rash, and Kingsman wasn’t about to let that go uninvestigated. In theory, buying drugs was easy, but Poppyseed had proved irritatingly elusive. The biggest problem with having an organization full of old, white men? None of them had seedy connections.

To really rub the situation in Harry’s face, half the people in the warehouse were covered in blue. Trying to look like he’s just moving to the beat, Harry weaves through the sea of youths, keeping an eye out for one in particular.

It’s not easy to spot anyone in a place like this. There’s barely any light for one, and the pressing crush of bodies makes it difficult to even move. More than once, Harry finds himself being danced up next to, even on, and by the time he’s made his way across the main dance floor, two more of his buttons have come undone.

Shaking his head, Harry doesn’t bother to do them back up. This is hell. “A little help, Merlin?” he mutters.

“I’m looking,” Merlin says.

Harry presses himself up against the nearest wall and runs his gaze over the crowd to give Merlin as good a view as possible.

“Got him,” Merlin hisses just as a target appears in Harry’s glasses.

It circles a blue-eyed man with a buzz cut, holed up in a booth with a blue-covered blonde cozied up next to him. Charlie Hesketh, according to their intel. And the girl must be Clara.

To Harry, they are only tools. With a deep breath in, he plunges back into the crowd. It takes him an agonizingly long time to get across to the booths and he arrives slightly less put together than he had been. His hair, normally so smooth and styled, tumbles into his face and he’s streaked with body paint of all colors. If he has to go back in there, he’s not sure he’ll make it out alive.

But Harry can’t focus on that now. He has a part to play. He slips easily into the role as he approaches Charlie, trying to look as out of it as he can. It’s not difficult. The oscillating lights are starting to give him a headache.

“I hear you’re the one with the best shit here,” Harry says. He practically has to shout to be heard over the music.

Charlie looks up at him and one corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “You lost, old man?” he asks. “Made a wrong turn on the way to bingo night?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be,” he says. “Do you have what I’m looking for or not?”

Still looking more than a little amused, Charlie leans back in his suit. “Yeah, I’ve got it. You better be willing to pay, though. Good shit doesn’t come cheap.”

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “I can pay,” he says. “Once I know you’re legit.”

Charlie pulls out a small packet of a dark black substance.

Harry’s glasses scan the object and impose a dossier next to it.

Substance: Poppyseed [confirmed].

Harry inclines his head and pulls out a wad of notes. He peels off a few and tosses them down, waiting till Charlie’s snatched them up to pocket the Poppyseed.

“Nice doing business with you,” Charlie drawls. “Don’t break a hip on your way out.”

Grumbling under his breath about cheeky young upstarts, Harry starts making his way back to the door. If possible, the crowd seems to have gotten even thicker, nearly suffocating him. Harry barely notices when there’s a new body pressed up close to him until it speaks.

“Sorry about that, mate. Can’t move for shit in here.”

Harry looks down to see a young man plastered against his chest with a sheepish grin on his face. He’s bare-chested with neon orange tiger stripes painted along his chest and sides. Some of the paint is smudging off on Harry’s shirt, making them both glow in the dark. Harry also realizes the stranger has glow-in-the-dark lipstick on. He didn’t know glow-in-the-dark lipstick was even a thing.

As quick as he came, the stranger melts back into the crowd, neon tiger stripes dissolving into the rainbow of other colors on the dance floor.

Strange. But then, this whole night has been a little strange. Harry brushes it off and keeps heading for the exit. He emerges into the still night air with a sigh of relief. The music is still blasting, but it’s muffled enough by the warehouse door that Merlin should be able to hear him now. “I’ve got it,” he mutters.

“Good,” Merlin says. “Head to the extraction point. A car will be there soon.”

Harry slips his hand into his pocket just out of habit and his fingers find – nothing. Frowning, Harry tugs the pocket inside out. He’s pretty sure that’s the one he put the Poppyseed in, but there are so many pockets in these khakis he’s starting to doubt himself. He begins a frantic search through the rest of his pockets, but they all come up equally as empty. “Dammit,” he hisses. Where the hell could it have go-?

Tiger stripes.

Harry would bet money that bumping into him hadn’t been an accident. The kid had been a damn pickpocket. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and he curses himself for being distracted by glowing lipstick. Now he has to go back in there.

“Slight change of plans, Merlin,” Harry mutters as he prepares to face the crowd again. “I need a few minutes.”

“Harry, what-”

But Harry switches off his feed. No need to let Merlin know that Harry lost the drug mere seconds after acquiring it. He’d never hear the end of that one.

The music washes over him in a tidal wave of sound as Harry pushes back in. He’s less forgiving this time, forging a way through the crowd without worrying about how many feet he steps on or ribs he elbows. He cranes his head, desperately searching for neon orange. There’s too much bloody neon in here.

Eventually, he spots him, but it’s not the tiger stripes that do it. It’s that glow-in-the-dark lipstick. Because of course it is.

Harry barrels toward him, fists clenched. He’s getting that Poppyseed back, and then he’s getting the hell out of here. But he can’t just go up and take it from him. Harry doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, and the kid just picked an unfortunate target. He’s still mostly an innocent civilian. Mostly.

Letting out a long sigh, Harry tries to loosen up. He dances up behind the man, who his glasses identify as Gary “Eggsy” Unwin, ex-Marine, son of Lee and Michelle Unwin. Hoping this won’t backfire spectacularly, Harry presses up behind Eggsy, hands settling on his hips. His fingers start sneaking their way into Eggsy’s pockets.

Eggsy doesn’t even seem surprised, just grinds back against Harry enthusiastically. Smirk on his lips, he tips his head back to look at him – and his eyes spark with recognition and a brief flash of panic.

Harry moves his lips close to Eggsy’s ear so he can hear him over the music. “Relax. I just want my Poppyseed back.”

Eggsy freezes for a second longer before he jerks away from Harry and plunges back into the crowd.

“God fucking-” Harry doesn’t hesitate to follow after him. He’s not going to lose him again. Leaving a trail of indignant yelps and insults behind him, Harry tails Eggsy. Thankfully, he seems to be heading for a part of the warehouse that isn’t as populated, a section near the DJ’s booth.

The music is overwhelmingly loud here, and Harry grits his teeth against it, pushes on. Eventually, the crowd thins enough that he surges forward and catches Eggsy up, one hand locking around his wrist.

Eggsy makes a strangled sound as he’s tugged suddenly backwards. He spins to face Harry, straining against him. “Let me go!” he shouts.

Or at least Harry thinks that’s what he’s saying. It’s far too loud next to the speakers to hear anything. He holds his free hand up, and Eggsy flinches.

Oh.

Harry drops his arm back to his side and loosens his grip fractionally. “I just want the drug!” he yells. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Eggsy narrows his eyes suspiciously. He doesn’t give him the Poppyseed, but he does stop struggling. “How do I know?” he shouts back.

Harry’s brow furrows. “Know what?”

“That you ain’t gonna hurt me?” Eggsy juts his jaw out stubbornly.

Harry opens his mouth to explain, but the song switches just then to something even louder. Growling in frustration, Harry starts pulling Eggsy to somewhere marginally quieter.

When they’re back in the embrace of the crowd, Harry pulls Eggsy closer to him so they’re practically plastered together again. It’s the only way to be heard over the music. Harry isn’t enjoying this, of course. Because, yes, Eggsy is attractive, and that glowing lipstick is still incredibly  distracting, but he’s also impeding the mission.  

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already,” Harry says. “I told you before, I just want the drug.”

Eggsy spends a minute contemplating that. Then, slowly, he reaches into his pocket and draws out the tiny packet that has been such a headache. Still looking cautious, he holds it out.

Harry takes it with a nod and slips it into a buttoned pocket this time. That should help keep it away from anymore thieving fingers. He lifts his hands to his chest, the sign of surrender. “That’s all I wanted.” He takes a few steps backwards before adding, “I like your lipstick, by the way.”

Eggsy’s sullen pout transforms into a smirk. “Yeah? Wanna try it on?”

One of Harry’s eyebrows quirks upwards. “Alright.” He expects Eggsy to hand him a tube of it or something but, to his surprise, Eggsy steps forward and tugs him down by the collar. Their lips meet, and Harry blinks a couple of times. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Eggsy’s lips are soft and warm against his, and Harry finds himself sinking into the kiss.

Until he feels fingers scrabbling at the button of his pocket.

Harry breaks the kiss off, grabbing Eggsy’s wrist and pulling it away. He glares at him.

Eggsy just smiles back at him with a little wrinkle of his nose. “Had to try, didn’t I, mate? Was worth it, though. You’re a good kisser.”

Harry opens his mouth to say… he doesn’t even know what, but by the time he’s collected his thoughts, Eggsy has lost himself to the crowd again.

Harry doesn’t reactivate his comms until he’s outside the warehouse again.

-

When he gets back to headquarters, Merlin is waiting for him with a stony glare. “If you ever cut off your feed again in the middle of a mission, I swear to Christ-”

Harry tosses the packet of Poppyseed onto Merlin’s desk. “I know, I know. But it was successful, so I’m going to take that as an empty threat.”

Merlin snorts and turns his attention to the drug.

Thus dismissed, Harry turns to leave.

“Oh, and Galahad?” Merlin says without looking up.

Harry pauses in the doorway. “Hmmm?”

“Your lips are glowing.”

Ostaderm Review (UPDATED 2017): Don’t Buy Before You Read This!

What is it?

Ostaderm is a transdermal cream used to reduce the severity of menopause symptoms with daily use. Ostaderm may help with vaginal dryness, breast pain, mood swings, low energy, hot flashes and night sweats.

Ostaderm features only one active ingredient, progesterone, which may even out the hormone ratios in the body, providing relief and balance. This product may be used on the inner, upper thigh, abdomen or the soft part of the upper arms for best results.

Our experts have determined that Femmetrinol works best for helping women treat their uncomfortable symptoms whether it’s hot flashes, night sweats or mood swings or a low libido, fatigue or vaginal dryness. Click here for more information about how Femmetrinol can help you treat menopause with the power of herbs.

Do you know the Best Menopause Supplements of 2017?

Ostaderm Ingredients and Side Effects

Ostaderm, again, only contains a single active ingredient, progesterone. The rest of the ingredients are a combination of binders and skin conditioning items used to improve the application experience. Here’s a look at how progesterone can be effective for women during menopause and beyond:

Progesterone

Progesterone: Though progesterone may be made inside the human body, most progesterone creams feature progesterone derived from plant sources like wild yam.

Progesterone may be used to induce a menstrual period in non-menopausal women who have not had a period, as well as improve the condition of women suffering from various conditions like PMS, PMDD or endometriosis.

During menopause, progesterone production drops off, causing an imbalance in the body, which may cause many of the common symptoms of menopause—hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings, fatigue and more. All of which progesterone cream aims to treat with regular use.

In addition to the above benefits, progesterone may improve the condition of vaginal tissues and the lining of the uterus, as well as prevent hormone sensitive cancers like endometrial cancer and breast cancer.

Side effects may include breast pain, headaches, dizziness, joint pain, coughing, acne, hot flashes, increased hair growth and more.

Click the link here to access our expert guide to managing your menopause symptoms with herbal ingredients.

EDITOR’S TIP: Combine this supplement with a proven menopause pill such as Femmetrinol for better results.

Ostaderm Quality of Ingredients

Ostaderm is made from plant-based progesterone, which has been known to be useful in helping some women deal with the common symptoms associated with menopause, as well as other conditions that are connected to hormone imbalances.

Progesterone isn’t the only component in treating menopause, yet it’s the only active ingredient in Ostaderm. This could be a useful supplement for certain women, but it seems that those suffering from severe menopausal symptoms may need something a little bit stronger than this. Something that contains estrogenic properties or additional herbs used to support the whole body.

Additionally, our look at the formulation used to make this product revealed that Ostaderm does not contain any elements that set this apart from any other progesterone creams on the market. For this reason, we likely wouldn’t recommend Ostaderm to our readers.

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The Price and Quality of Ostaderm

Ostaderm is sold on the official website, but the makers of this product have restricted access to users who have a professional medial license, rather than member of the general public. Because of the red tape, we don’t know what the list price for this product is.

Despite attempts to limit who is able to buy and sell this cream, users can buy this product on Amazon at a rate of $35 per 2-ounce tube.

This price point seems rather high, as we’ve come across a number of products containing plant-based progesterone creams offered at nearly half the rate of this particular product. There’s nothing about this product that seems any different in quality or quantity that justifies the higher price, but people do seem to be buying.

Click here for a close up look at why some menopause products are more effective than others.

Business of Ostaderm

Ostaderm is made by a company called Bezwecken. They can be reached through the channels listed below:

Phone: 800.743.2256

Email: [email protected]

Address: Corporate Address: 29200 SW Town Center Loop E. Wilsonville, OR 97070

Bezwecken is a product line designed by a naturopath by the name of David K. Shefrin, who founded this company based on the promise of delivering high quality natural supplements at an affordable rate. Though, based on the Amazon price, we’re not entirely sure if this is true.

The site itself is rather plain, and fails to offer much information for users who are looking to dive deeper in to why any item in the Bezwecken line might be worth trying.

This company sells exclusively to healthcare practitioners (despite some of those practitioners selling on Amazon to end consumers), as they believe in the importance of a patient-doctor relationship.

We’re inclined to agree, as any supplement, cream or prescription medication aimed at addressing hormone balance does pose the risk of certain side effects. Users should talk to a healthcare professional before taking any hormone-enhancing products.

Customer Opinions of Ostaderm

Ostaderm has a rather large pool of reviews, especially when you take into consideration the fact that this company has tried to restrict online, direct-to consumer sales. Results were a blend of people who either loved the product or really didn’t find it useful. Here’s look at what some people had to say after using Ostaderm:

“This is not effective. Took this product as directed for a few months after a similar item I really loved was discontinued. I loved the idea that this product contained plant-based ingredients, but this sucked.”

“This product is not what  I was expecting. Don’t waste your money, I’m still having hot flashes, night sweats, weird swelling and more. After three weeks, I’m throwing in the towel with Ostaderm.”

“My gyno took me off estrogen, but didn’t object to my trying some natural solutions to stay in balance so to speak. It didn’t help much, I’ll keep looking for something that does a little more for my symptoms.”

“This stuff is pretty great. My naturopath suggested this product and it’s been a lifesaver, no side effects so far and my hot flashes are starting to become less of a problem. Not perfect, but happy enough so far.”

Ostaderm has good reviews, but at least half of the ones we came across did not leave glowing feedback after giving this a try. The main concerns people brought up were the lack of effectiveness, the price and the fact that this product was often recommended as a replacement for another menopause treatment that is no longer available.

A large percentage of users mentioned that this product was suggested as a replacement for a product known as Phyto B, but did not provide the same level of relief as the discontinued product.

Based on the bulk of the feedback we’ve looked over we feel that it’s safe to say that users can expect minimal results from using this product. No one brought up whether it worked to treat anything other than hot flashes, and even that indication didn’t seem especially consistent.

Read more about the supplements that restore energy and sex drive and take on hot flashes. More info right here.

Conclusion – Does Ostaderm Work?

After looking at the full scope of Ostaderm, from the ingredients to the product reviews and the company website, we likely would not recommend this product to people looking for a product that addresses all aspects if menopause, not something that may have a slight effect on hot flashes only.

Ostaderm may be effective for people with a progesterone deficiency or who are looking for a way to reduce some milder menopause symptoms, but most of the people who reviewed this product were disappointed in the general lack of efficacy. No one brought up whether this worked to increase energy or mood, nor if it helped with sleep or night sweats.

Based on the information listed above, it’s clear that there are better solutions on the market for people looking to improve their menopause symptoms and start feeling more like themselves again. While progesterone is useful for many people, it may be worthwhile for menopausal users to look for something that contains progesterone as part of an herbal formula, rather than the sole active ingredient.

We’ve evaluated a number of different products that all claim to do the same thing, treat the various symptoms of menopause. We have come to the conclusion that Femmetrinol is best solution for taking on the more bothersome effects of menopause like excessive sweating, hot flashes, low energy, loss of sex drive and more.

Femmetrinol is made with a safe and natural ingredients, which been subject to a number of clinical studies and quality tests. Consumers can count on receiving an effective product in every bottle, without any risk of side effects. Learn more about Femmetrinol and all the great benefits it can provide. Click here for the details.

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