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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

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an icarus and his sun: chapter 2

A/N: the flower husbands do be kinda 😳 in this part so obligatory reminder that this is about their characters, not the irl people! anyway homoerotic swordfight lets gooooo (also look at me posting two days in a row hell yeah)

Warnings: arguing, violence, swordfighting, flirting

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

It was a good day. The sun was shining, Jimmy was finally getting some organization done in his empire- and then he showed up. Jimmy just about dropped the materials he was carrying to his storage building when he spotted Scott standing on his roof, looking down at it with a frown. Jimmy let out a frustrated groan, quickly hustling into the building to dump his materials in a chest and then back outside to glare up at Scott. He gave a cocky grin and a wave, and Jimmy let out another frustrated sound.

“What are you doing here?!” Jimmy demanded. Scott merely shrugged.

“I dunno, was bored. Decided to fly by. Your roof is terrible by the way,” Scott said, shifting his weight on the wood and grimacing when it gave a creak.

“What do you mean, my roof is terrible?!” Jimmy protested with a frown. He thought his buildings weren’t half bad! Sure, they were nothing fancy like Scott’s, but they made do! They were simple, Jimmy liked simple.

“I mean I can barely get a foothold here without feeling like I’m gonna fall off, it’s way too steep!” Scott replied with a grimace. Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“My roofs aren’t meant to be perches, Scott. Besides, steep roofs are kind of the style around here!” Jimmy said, crossing his arms. He was slightly aware that he looked like a pouty toddler at the moment, but was too irritated by Scott’s presence to really care. Scott wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Jimmy, you wouldn’t know style if it smacked you in the face,” he retorted.

“Excuse you, I have a lot of style!” Jimmy protested.

“You wear a cod head,” Scott said flatly.

“Exactly!” Jimmy said, as if it was obvious. Scott rolled his eyes, and Jimmy scowled at him. Scott could have whatever opinions he wanted on Jimmy’s style, but his roofs were fine! He would show him, Jimmy could stand on top of the roof just fine if he wanted to! With a determined frown, Jimmy equipped his elytra and flew up to the roof, startling Scott slightly.

“What on earth are you doing?” Scott asked with a resigned sigh. Jimmy landed on the roof, and only wobbled a tiny bit before he caught his balance and stood on its steep slope just fine. Well, maybe not just fine, but he was trying to prove a point to Scott here. He didn’t need to know that Jimmy was frankly struggling with keeping his balance.

“See, it’s not too steep! I’m standing just fine!” Jimmy said proudly, putting his hands on his hips in a triumphant pose.

“You’re really trying to out-perch the person here with actual wings?” Scott scoffed, raising an eyebrow. Jimmy deflated slightly.

“Okay, well- it does sound dumb when you put it like that- but what does that say about you if the guy with an elytra can perch better than the guy with real wings!” Jimmy said, faltering only for a moment before regaining his confidence.

“Please, I’ve kept my balance on worse than this,” Scott huffed. A semi-victorious smirk came to Jimmy’s face, and Scott looked at him in confusion.

“Then why were you complaining about it?” Jimmy asked, voice cocky and a full on grin spreading over his face. Now it was Scott’s turn to look frustrated, and his mouth opened and closed uselessly for a few moments.

“I- well- that’s besides the point! I had to think of a functional purpose for why your roof was bad other than it was ugly, Katherine told me to play nice!” Scott finally shot back, moving forward and poking Jimmy in the chest. While it wasn’t even that hard, Jimmy nearly toppled over anyway, only saved by Scott rushing forward and grabbing his arm to steady him. Jimmy’s face suddenly felt warm at Scott’s touch, and he blamed it on the frustration he felt over what Scott had said.

“You’re only here because Katherine sent you?!” Jimmy asked, surprising himself at the disappointment that underlaid the annoyance in his tone. Scott let go of his arm with an eye roll.

“Why else would I visit you? And you’re welcome for not letting you go splat,” he scoffed.

“I would have been fine, I don’t need your help!” Jimmy shot back.

“Oh you definitely need help Jimmy, looking at the state of your roofs,” he retorted.

“For the last time, my roofs are FINE!” Jimmy shouted, shoving at Scott without really thinking about it. Scott stumbled backwards, and with a gasp Jimmy reached out for him- only for Scott to right himself with a powerful flap of his wings, blowing Jimmy backwards a bit. Jimmy opened his mouth to apologize, but stopped cold at the downright murderous look in Scott’s eyes. Scott had always been a tall, imposing figure- but with his wings flared, a hand on the hilt of his sword, and icy blue eyes glittering with anger- Jimmy was beginning to wish that he would take a moment to think before he did something like shove someone who was definitely better at fighting than him.

“Jimmy, you could have killed me,” Scott said, voice low and dangerous.

“But I didn’t! You caught yourself and- wait no Scott, wait- SCOTT!” Jimmy rambled, voice tapering off into an undignified shriek as Scott drew his sword and lunged forward. Jimmy managed to scramble to the side and avoid the strike, unsheathing his own sword as he did so.

“Wait for what, Jimmy? You attacked first,” Scott taunted as he raised his sword again, and Jimmy was barely able to block the blow in time, a resounding clang echoing through the swamp.

“Katherine said to play nice!” Jimmy protested, cringing internally a bit at how much he sounded like a whiny toddler.

“Katherine isn’t here right now,” Scott growled. Jimmy grit his teeth, pushing against Scott’s sword with his own and causing Scott to stumble backwards.

“Fine, then I’ll actually be able to fight you this time,” Jimmy said with a determined scowl.

“I’d like to see you try,” Scott taunted with a smirk. Jimmy advanced with a shout, Scott sidestepping to the side easily, the tips of his feathers barely brushing against Jimmy’s sword. Jimmy stumbled forward, unable to slow his momentum- until he toppled over the side of the building. Luckily he was able to glide down with his elytra just fine, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at Scott indignantly as he effortlessly landed on the ground. He ran at Scott again, slashing and jabbing but only growing more and more irritated as Scott easily deflected every blow.

“This is ridiculous!” Jimmy panted as he tried to catch his breath, while Scott didn’t have a single feather or hair out of place. Scott smirked, slowly circling as he lightly twirled his sword, adjusting his grip.

“It is, I thought you’d at least put up somewhat of a decent fight,” Scott said with a mock disappointed hum. Jimmy barely took a breath to reply before Scott lunged at him, and Jimmy brought up his sword to deflect- until Scott’s true target hit as his blade slid under the hilt of Jimmy’s sword and he brought his blade up harshly, causing Jimmy’s sword to fly out of his hands. Scott swung at him again, and Jimmy dodged the blow and made a break for his sword. Scott leapt after him, knocking Jimmy to the ground. His sword ended up stabbing into the ground, inches from Jimmy’s head. Jimmy let out a low sound of frustration, viciously jabbing his elbow back and unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face when his elbow connected with something solid, resulting in a shout of pain and frustration from Scott. The moment of victory was short lived as Jimmy tried to scramble up, but was yanked back down by Scott again.

The two of them grappled for control, each of them trying to get to their own sword but being pulled back by the other. Eventually Scott ended up on top of Jimmy, hands pinning his wrists to the ground and nose barely an inch from his. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Scott’s hair was rather disheveled from their fight, a few strands hanging from their usual place and brushing Jimmy’s forehead. And inexplicably, all Jimmy could think about was how he could kiss Scott if he wanted to. They were practically sharing the same air, and Scott was looking at him with something burning in his eyes despite the icy tone of their hue- Jimmy’s face flushed at the sudden rush of thoughts, how vividly he could envision the feel of Scott's lips on his own. Scott’s burning expression turned curious, and he smirked in a way that sent Jimmy’s stomach flip-flopping not unpleasantly. Scott shifted, until his breath was ghosting Jimmy’s ear- and oh this is how Jimmy died. Not with a sword through his stomach, but with whatever Scott was doing to make his insides squirm like that.

“If I had known you liked being pinned, I would have done so much sooner,” Scott said in a low croon, and whatever Jimmy had been feeling before was quickly replaced by irritation. He wanted nothing more than to shove Scott off of him, but seeing as his hands were pinned, he couldn’t.

“Get off of me,” Jimmy growled. Scott let out a short, low chuckle, and Jimmy internally cursed his body for shivering at the resulting breath against his ear.

“That’s not how this works, we’re fighting,” Scott said with amusement lacing his tone.

“Oh really? Cause you seemed very interested in something else a few moments ago,” Jimmy huffed, turning his head to try and glare at Scott. Scott relented and shifted so he was looking Jimmy in the eyes again.

“Only because you were blushing, you idiot,” Scott retorted with a laugh.

“I was not blushing! I just… my face gets red very easily, and fighting takes physical effort!” Jimmy protested.

“Uh huh,” Scott said with an unimpressed stare. Jimmy scrambled to think of something to say back, to maybe unbalance Scott as much as the winged elf had unbalanced him- but any train of thought was halted by a disapproving voice.

“You two are either getting along too well or you aren’t getting along at all,” Katherine said, and both Scott and Jimmy’s heads whipped over to see the head of House Blossom glaring at the two of them with her arms crossed.

“Oh. Hi, Katherine,” Scott said with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t you ‘hi, Katherine’ me! I knew sending you over her alone was a bad idea,” Katherine snapped, and Scott had the decency to look at least a little embarrassed.

“I don’t think Jimmy was complaining about this turn of events,” he muttered. Jimmy glared up at Scott incredulously.

“I very much AM complaining, get off of me!” he protested. Scott finally relented with a sigh, letting go of Jimmy’s wrists before getting up, wings shaking out any dirt and a hand smoothing his hair back to where it should be. Jimmy scowled, getting up as well, brushing the dirt off himself and adjusting his cod head. Scott walked over to where his sword was still buried in the ground and yanked it out with a grimace, looking it over before sheathing it. Jimmy’s sword was still lying a little ways away, and he walked over to it with a sigh.

“So what argument were you having before you decided it was necessary to solve it through swordfighting?” Katherine asked, disapproval lacing her voice.

“Jimmy pushed me off the roof,” Scott replied with a shrug.

“You pushed first! And you said my roofs were terrible!” Jimmy protested.

“I poked you, and your roofs are bad! That’s just a fact!” Scott retorted. Jimmy opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Katherine coming to stand in between them. Jimmy hadn’t even realized that they were moving closer to each other until Katherine had stepped in.

“That’s enough! Scott, I told you to be nice, and Jimmy I thought you were gonna try not to let things get to you too much!” Katherine reprimanded, gaze switching between the two of them. Both of them were silent for a moment, each looking a little sheepish but neither one wanting to be the first to own up to what they said. Jimmy’s eyes met Katherine’s, and she gestured towards Scott with a pointed expression. Scott looked baffled for a moment, while Jimmy simply sighed as he begrudgingly gave in to what Katherine was undoubtedly expecting. Jimmy looked to Scott, and the winged elf jumped slightly at the sudden solemn eye contact.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, I was frustrated and let my emotions get the better of me,” Jimmy said softly, and Scott blinked in surprise at the sincere apology. He was silent for a moment, until Katherine cleared her throat expectantly. Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.

“I.. I’m sorry too. I was trying to get a rise out of you, and I guess I shouldn’t have reacted so… extremely when I succeeded in that. And your roofs are… acceptable,” Scott said, looking like saying the last statement caused him physical pain. Jimmy laughed good-naturedly.

“You don’t have to lie about my roofs Scott, it’s fine. I know they could never compare to the grand-ness of Rivendell’s buildings- but apology accepted all the same,” Jimmy said, a pleasant bubbly feeling growing in his stomach at Scott’s resulting smile. Katherine looked far too pleased with herself as she grinned as her gaze shifted between the two of them. Scott was still looking at Jimmy though, something almost calculating in his expression, but softer. More… intrigued, maybe? Jimmy couldn’t quite decipher it. Scott suddenly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Well I uh… I think I’ve kept you long enough. From… doing whatever it was you uh. Were doing. Bye!” Scott said, taking off before Jimmy had a chance to say goodbye or even wave. Jimmy watched until Scott’s form grew smaller and smaller in the sky, feeling hopelessly confused. Katherine patted his arm gently, Jimmy only slightly jumping at the touch as he turned to look at her.

“Now that wasn’t so bad! Maybe the next meeting will actually go smoothly for once,” Katherine said brightly. Jimmy chuckled, looking back up at the sky, even if Scott was no longer in view.

“I think that’s a bit much to hope for us,” he said remorsefully. But all the same… he hoped that maybe Katherine was right.

MCYT General Fic Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

AIAHS Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @riobug

#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #katherine elizabeth #flower husbands #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 1

Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4 Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Violence and Death

Author's Note: I have edited this story so it's nicer. Love me for this, please because I fought the cringe for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham looked bleak in the wake of the militia’s arrival. Even the thugs that were rioting in the street seemed to avoid the armored tanks and patrols as they passed, and GCPD had withdrawn most of their officers to stay at the precinct. He’d never claim he couldn’t do it on his own. He had to keep going. He had to save Gotham. He had to—

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help once in a while.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who was speaking. She walked up beside him, leaning on the ledge he was perched on.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, his eyes still trained on the city before him. “You should still be resting. Your ribs aren’t fully healed yet.”

She chuckled and turned, looking out at the spotlights shining. “They’re healed enough.” She side-eyed him. “Besides, this is becoming a lot more than you can handle.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can handle thi—” He looked down when he felt a hand curl around his wrist, then he looked back up, seeing the solemn stare in her gaze.

“Dad. You almost died at the ACE plant,” she interjected with a shake of her head. “We’ve got this ‘Arkham Knight’ teaming up with Scarecrow, and you’ve got Tim locked in the theater synthesizing a cure.” She squeezed his wrist lightly.

“Ican handle the smaller things, while you handle the militia and Scarecrow.”

He stared at his daughter for a moment, wanting to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Finally, he nodded, pulling away and pushing a few buttons on his wrist screen. “I need someone to help Dick with Penguin, and I need to handle the Man-Bat flying around.”

She nodded as she glanced at her screen, taking in the information he’d sent. “Do you know where it came from?”

“The DNA matches that of Doctor Kirk Langstrom,” he said. “He owns a lab on Bleake Island. Here’s the coordinates.”

Humming, she slid a wave-marker into the cowl’s visor to give her direction before stepping up on the ledge. “I’ll go to the lab, then help out Dick.” He stared at her as she turned to face him, her feet nearing the edge. “Be careful, dad…I don’t want to lose you.” She didn’t give him time to respond, falling backwards over the ledge.

A few seconds later, she was gliding through the sky; a faint smile came to his lips as he watched her, then he turned, heading in the direction of the other island.

***

When she finally found the lab, she was alarmed to see what had happened. Her eyes focused on the screen, replaying the last moments of the experiment, then she put a finger to her ear. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

A few moments later, his voice came over the line. “What happened at the lab?”

She grimaced as she looked at the body of Francine Langstrom. “Apparently Langstrom was trying to find a cure to his deafness by mixing in vampire bat DNA with his. Something went horribly wrong, and he mutated into the giant bat thingy flying around Gotham.” She paused, her voice mournful. “His wife’s dead.”

There was a slight pause from her father then he murmured, “Can you get to a computer to synthesize a cure?”

She glanced around, trying to find a working computer amongst the shattered screens. When she found one, she moved to it, typing away at it.

After a few moments, she pulled the cure out and put it into the injector she carried. “Alright. I’ve got the cure. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on Bleake now. Find him in the skies.”

She nodded, moving to the door. “Will do.”

***

When she arrived back in the city, she climbed up the clocktower and waited. Once she saw him darting across the sky in a hulking mass of gray flesh and black talons, she acted, kicking off the ledge to glide across the sky until she was above him; she dove, tackling him to the ground and injecting him, but he fought her, viciously slicing at her with his claws until she rolled away. He screeched at her and flew off.

She grunted as she clambered to her feet, dusting off the dirt they’d rolled in and a voice came over the comm. “Did you find him?”

A huff escaped her, and she explained, “I did…but he wrestled with me and took off the second I injected him.” She looked down at the injector, still holding the remaining cure. “We’re gonna have to go another round.”

“Watch the skies then. In the meantime, go find Dick. He’s somewhere on Miagani.”

She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling out her grapple and aiming it towards the roof of an adjacent building. “Alright. Will do.”

The crinkle of her father’s communicator faded out and she pulled the trigger, letting her body go weightless as she shot up towards the ledge. Holstering the grapple gun, she climbed over the ledge and paused, glancing down at her screen as she stood on the roof. A few moments had passed, and she looked at the city, seeing the chaos that had enveloped it within the few hours that had gone by. Riots littered the boulevards and the militia had begun putting mines in the roads as they started barricading the avenues and main streets. Something akin to hopelessness rose in her chest, but she shoved it down, reminding herself that with her, Dick, Tim, and her dad, they could save Gotham. It was just going to take some more time.

“Are you thinking about how Batman let the city go to hell?”

She couldn’t fight the gasp that escaped her as she spun around, taking in the image of the Arkham Knight before her. His stance was nonthreatening, in fact it was almost curious, but she stood on her guard anyway, her voice and eyes cold.

“There’s only two people to blame for this city going to hell. Scarecrow…” She pointed at him, her voice frosty. “And you.” He gave her no reaction, other than taking a step towards her, heavy metaled boot making a thump against the concrete roof.

Reaching down, she pulled the Ka-Bar from her thigh and warned, “I’d be careful how close you come, pal. I’m one person you don’t wanna tango with.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Look around you, Batgirl. This is what Gotham City truly is. Chaotic and beyond saving.”

She tipped her head back, her tone becoming challenging. “Is that what you’ve been conditioned to believe? Or did Scarecrow just feed you something to change your mind.”

That seemed to irritate him because he snapped harshly, “You have no idea what I’ve been conditioned to believe.”

“I know you’ve got a petty grudge against Batman, and you believe that inciting chaos amongst people is the best way to deal with it.”

His anger seemed to cool as his voice turned to ice, and she almost shivered at how the temperature seemed to chill around them a few degrees. “My grudge with Batman is more than petty.” He pointed at her, the holographs on his mask shifting with every word. “He deserves to die.”

She flipped the knife into the air and caught it, raising it defensively as she reached out with the other out and beckoned him. “You want Batman?” she challenged. “Then you come through me.”

The Arkham Knight didn’t move until she jerked forward, stabbing out with the knife. He dodged her easily enough, sliding beside her and she twisted, following him with a well-rounded kick aimed for his torso. Instead of evading, he grabbed her foot and yanked her. Hard. Her breath caught in her throat as she was hauled forward and cursing inwardly, she brought the knife down, hoping to catch him as she fell. His gauntleted hand shot out and caught hers, and when she reached out with the other, he caught it too. Not wasting any time, he kicked her feet out from beneath her and dropped them to the ground, putting all his weight onto her hips to stop her from moving as he slammed her hands beside her head against the rooftop.

Her eyes widened in shock at how quickly everything had happened. No one had ever been able to take her down that fast, and the reality that she might meet her end caught up with her. She began to squirm, trying to rise up enough to catch him with a shoulder but with her wrists in his grip it wasn’t likely, and with all his weight on her legs, she couldn’t kick out or try to flip him off.

“Stop moving,” he suddenly commanded, but it didn’t sound as harsh as his earlier words.

She glared at him and spat, “You wanna kill me, go ahead. But he’s still gonna take you down.”

There was a pause, then he shifted her hands until he held them both in one hand, and he reached towards her face. She reacted like anyone would subdued by an enemy, emitting a warning in her throat as she tried to avoid the oncoming touch. When his hand came into contact with her cheek, she flinched at the chill of the titanium, but his touch was…kind and gentle.

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N),” he promised softly. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

She stilled at the mention of her name, shock etching across her features. His fingers brushed her cheek once more, this time a loving caress, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“How…how do you know my name?” (Y/N) questioned and his hand halted, then he reached up and pressed a button below his jaw.

She watched the mask rise and when his face came into view, she felt her heart stop and she blinked, breathing, “…Jason?”

At the mention of his name and the recognition, he let go of her hands and reached down, removing the gloves from his hands. He reached back down to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones then to her eyebrows, like he was trying to remember how her skin felt underneath his calloused hands.

She could see the long-withheld emotions fighting inside him as choked, “God, I’ve wanted to see you for so long.” His hands felt warm against her face, and she reached up to touch him, but stopped as she saw the “J” burned onto his face. He must’ve realized she was staring at it, because he pulled one of his hands away and covered it, muttering, “The Joker…he did it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, anger, fury, disgust, it wasn’t the one she gave him, as she let out a sob and jerked forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. His entire body went rigid, then slowly, his arms wound around her waist, pulling her to him until there was no space between them, and even then, he tried to pull her closer, squeezing with all his strength. She began to shake in his arms, and he quietly shushed her.

After a few moments, she pulled back and took off her cowl, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes; she swallowed thickly before murmuring, “…We thought you were dead, Jason.”

His expression turned dark as he muttered, “Joker kept me locked in the asylum all that time.”

(Y/N) had no idea what to say. What could she? She figured she could apologize for not looking in the asylum. Or that she failed him. Instead, she said nothing and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. He shut his eyes and a shuddering breath left him as he gently grasped her forearms, trying to ground himself. Some time had passed before he pulled away and helped her to her feet. (Y/N) stared into the eyes of her lover and readied herself for what she was about to say.

She took a deep breath and bent over, picking up the knife to put it back in its sheath. “I…I can’t even begin to imagine what happened to you, Jason,” she said as she gazed at him. “And I’m sorry it did…I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to find you.”

Grasping the cowl, she pulled it back on then clenched her jaw and said, “You can go this time…but if I see you again…I will stop you.”

His eyes widened in shock for a split second, then they narrowed, and he tipped his head up, questioning, “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

She nodded despite the grief welling in her chest. “This is how it has to be.” (Y/N) explained as she turned away from him. “You’re trying to kill my dad and destroy Gotham…I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t care that he left me to die?”

She spun back around, her voice wrought with disbelief and resentment of the accusation. “That’s not what happened, and you know it!” she condemned. “You turned you comm and tracker off then went off on your own! We searched everywhere for you! None of us let you die!” She reached out and curled her fingers in the straps at his side. “We saw you die Jason! I watched my father fall into the deepest pit of depression I’ve ever witnessed!”

She let him go, her hands falling limply to her sides. “Don’t you dare say that he didn’t care that you died…it haunts him.” (Y/N)’s eyes met his and she lamented, “It haunts me.” He said nothing, and she shook her head, turning back around. “I don’t know what you expected from me. To help you destroy Gotham? To kill my father and everything he stands for?”

She paused, then admitted, “I love you, Jason. More than anything…but you’re dead wrong if you think I’d be on your side with this.”

The sound of mechanized armor echoed in her ears and his sarcastic laugh turned robotic as he ridiculed, “Guess there is life after love, huh?”

(Y/N) gave him no response, and a moment later, she was standing alone on the rooftop. A feeling of overwhelming numbness seeping out from her heart to her limbs as her lungs began to tighten.

“Yes…I guess there is.”

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batarella · 3 years

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3 birds 1 stone - chapter 9

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: The first part of this chapter includes the whole scene of how the reader lost her leg, and it does get pretty violent and explicit. I also have to warn that the cause of the accident can get pretty heavy and heartbreaking. This series, as it isn’t already obvious enough, is just about as frustrating and angsty as other love triangle stories there are.

WORDS: 11,923 WARNINGS: violence, building caught on fire, 3rd degree burns, bone fractures, survivor’s guilt, heartbreak, death

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

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‘Falcon Saves the Commissioner’ ‘Gotham Times’

‘The long beloved heroine has stolen the hearts of many as the vast criminal ring in the undergrounds of Gotham City has once again been interfered. Commissioner James Gordon, who had been reported missing the past two days, was kidnapped from his own home by the masterminds of Harvey Dent and Oswald Cobblepot, also known as Two Face and Penguin respectively. The City of Gotham has been in the state of panic since reports first arrived and a search party taking place in different parts of the city.

However, hope has since been restored and the safety of Gotham no longer as compromised as the vigilante Falcon, with the help of her known crimefighting partner Red Robin, had swooped in and saved the Commissioner, who was held captive at the top of Gotham Plaza. Reports of the heroine literally flying to the rescue, with her trademark wings helping her glide all the way from the building opposite the scene of the crime, have astounded the citizens with her will and bravery.

The Commissioner has thanked the crimefighting duo for their rescue and has been released from Elliot Memorial Hospital Monday night. No severe injuries have been reported and he has since returned to work as the head of the Gotham City Police Department. Gotham has joyously thanked the heroes, especially the young Falcon, for their service to the citizens. They continue to patrol the crime-ridden city and have grown increasingly popular, with the people calling them the fearless heroes we don’t deserve.’

----

“You made the headline!”

Red Robin probably shouldn’t be on his phone reading some news article when two other things were happening right then. One, the runaway that was speeding so recklessly was down the wrong lane and would have definitely hit a few headlights if it hadn’t swerved and narrowly missed a few pedestrians, and that if you weren’t to catch them, it might mean another night of painfully waiting for another robbery to happen just to catch these fools. Two, none of your hands should have been free enough to hold a damn phone at all, not when you and Red Robin were heavily relying on a single grappling gun each to hold your weight, flying past the empty skyscrapers as if it were any leisure.

“Tim, put your phone down!”

“I’m serious!” You both reached a rooftop and already you were on the way to the next one. The car frantically swerved again, this time almost running into some pizza truck. “People love you.”

“Maybe because I’m the only bird in the family who actually has wings,” you snorted.

And at that, you lived up to your name.

You, the Falcon, grappled up a nearby tower and ignored Red Robin’s cry. You were fast, and in such little time you’d reached the top, the cold mist breezing your lips like newly melted ice rode up to your skin. And when you did, you let out your wings.

Then you soared.

Maybe if you weren’t in some high-speed car chase, you’d have closed your eyes and enjoyed the slow, stagnant hover, when you weren’t descending just yet. You’d either fly even higher up in the sky, your ears thanking you violently in the process, when you’d shift your wings and stay in this calm, where you weren’t moving up nor downward. It was then when you felt that peace, as if miles away from the nearest conundrum.

You tilted to the side when you felt that slow descent, and below, you saw Red Robin frantically trying to catch up with you.

You laughed, then dove down, right to where you saw the worn-out red car was heading for, at an intersection where dozens of other cars would have been hit.

You pressed into your communicator. “Tim. I think he’s heading for the docks.”

“I think this is a hoax.”

“You think their boss is trying to give us the goat they’d sacrifice?”

“Might be part of their plan to distract us.”

You shifted your wings, then you landed onto a rooftop rolling to keep your balance, then you were running, Red Robin at your side.

“We’ve got the lead. Wait for them by the boardwalk.”

“Copy.”

Red Robin went over to the fishing port, all the way over to the other end, and you jumped over the ledges, swung by a lamppost, and let your boots completely obliterate this shed’s skylight to break your fall. Knee on the ground, and the room you were in eerily silent, you peeked over the door to see what was outside.

They’d be here in a few seconds.

There. A post holding up the phone wires. You grappled up to the top, crouched over, and waited for the car to drive over to the corner.

And these idiots slowed down, thinking they’ve lost you.

At the sharp turn, you leapt off to the post as if gravity was nothing you’d fear. And with your boots, your wonderful, padded boots that made you jump over larger heights and not hurt even your toes when you landed so harshly, dented the car’s roof and you had to hold tightly onto the metal just so you wouldn’t be thrown off by the sudden swerve.

Then it was Red Robin’s turn. From over to the fishing port, his grappling gun fired right into the roof of the car, and it shattered the windshield right where the driver was at. Left. Right. Then Left again. The driver was going nuts, and you only had so much time. You took out the one at the passenger seat and Red Robin the driver. From out the side windows, you shattered the glass, pulled them out from their collars, and got out of the car just before it crashed into the boardwalk.

And it wouldn’t have been pretty, with it drifting off the slippery wood and not stopping until the vehicle finally fell over the edge onto its untimely death deep in the ocean floor.

By then, you had the two robbers flat against the drenched cement, faces to the dirt and their teeth forcibly gritting from how hard you were both holding them down.

“Fuck!” The one beneath Tim growled. “Alright, alright, you got us!”

“We surrender!”

“Then it shouldn’t have to hurt so much when you tell us who you’re distracting us for.”

“What?!”

You slammed the noisy one’s forehead against the road.

“You know what he means,” you whispered.

“We don’t know about no distraction!”

Red Robin got out his bo staff and pressed it against his skull, just enough to hurt his temple.

“I told you. It shouldn’t have to hurt so much. Doesn’t mean I won't do it.”

Your knee holding down his back, you pressed it harder down his spine until you heard a yelp.

“Talk!”

“I told you! We don’t know nothin’!”

“What don’t believe that.”

The one beneath Tim was shivering down his toes. “Some guy on the phone told us about the bank and promised us a car and some guns if we give him a cut! That’s all I fuckin’ know I swear- ah!”

Tim held his face further down against the ground.

“Does this guy on the phone have a name?”

“I don’t know! Swear! Seemed sketchy and all but who are we to pass up on a free car?!”

You looked at Tim. A distraction still seemed likely, otherwise whoever hired them would have just robbed the bank himself with his own goons instead of hiring some amateurs who thought that 1994 Honda they probably stole from a junkyard was something they couldn’t pass up on. That or their boss was even more stupid than they were.

You grabbed your guy by the neck, hauled him up, then growled to his ear.

“You must be stupid to think we’d believe that-“

“Piss off if you don’t!” He dared scream at you, then you rewarded him with a smack of your knee down the small of his back.

“Who hired you?”

“We don’t fucking know-“

“Falcon.”

Red Robin’s finger was up to his ear, and he was staring intently at the ground. Batman.

“We got our answer.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “No need for these guys then.”

“What the fuck do you mean -“

With one swift move, you grabbed them both by the hair and slammed their faces together, teeth clattering to the ground, and they lied unconscious. Tim went on to listen to Batman bark orders at him while you tied them up by the lamppost and called the police.

Tim nodded at you, pointing to his ear. You tuned in your communicator to listen to their line with Bruce.

“…About ten robberies staged. High and low profile. It gave Lynns and his men time to set fire to three fire departments all over Gotham…”

“Lynns?” you said. “Garfield Lynns?”

“Firefly.”

“I’ll send you all the coordinates. Signal, Black Bat, and Spoiler. You three handle the one in Bristol. Robin, Batgirl, and I will take Otisburg.

“Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Falcon. You four handle the fire in Cauldron. The fire goes on for two blocks.”

“I’ll send you all the coordinates,” Batman told his team. “I expect a call afterward.”

His way of telling you all not to die, to promise him that you wouldn’t die, that you’d be alive by the end of it so he’d yell at you for an hour over the smallest things you missed.

You heard everyone voice out their nods at Batman, then you and Tim grappled up to the tallest portside shed nearest you, then you were heading for the coordinates.

“Looks like we’re alpha team for once!”

You felt your heart joyously leap when you heard that familiar voice. Cheery and bright. Already, you felt that rush to work even harder than you were expected to.

You pressed onto your communicator when you jumped across a narrow gap between two buildings.

“We’re not exactly team alpha, Nightwing.”

“Well. There are four of us. And we’re handling the biggest fire.”

“Batman’s always alpha,” you laughed. “Maybe he’s handling the most important fire.”

“You can't possibly think there’re arson cases more important than the others?”

“It depends on what’s on fire,” Tim interrupted, and you shot up a tower and let the air take you to what you could now see was a large black cloud in the distance, spanning across almost the whole avenue and growing as tall as a plaza-wide mushroom.

“I see it.”

“I see it, too.”

Another voice. Deeper. Muffled.

“You there, Red Hood?”

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

Even in the air, gliding between the concrete jungles of the city, you managed to roll your eyes beneath your mask. You could tell Tim let out a groan, which you heard from your communicator.

“It’s Falcon, you ass.”

“Nah,” Jason laughed. “I like pretty bird.”

“Falcons aren’t very pretty.”

“Yeah,” you heard Dick’s voice again. “But you are.”

The lack of response from both Jason and Tim’s line told you Dick had blocked them off just so he could say that.

Your feet landed onto the concrete of the building just a few more minutes away, and you had your lip too harshly bitten. Maybe it was from the impact on your soles. Maybe because that rush up your skin at Dick’s remark made you want to leap even further off the edge of that building.

You fled to the site. Jumping. Running. Gliding. And at the sounds of screams, sirens, alarms, you went faster.

Tim had caught up to you. Poor thing was panting, and he rushed up to your side.

Then Nightwing came into view, also running across the gaps of rooftops just a few yards away. Black and blue suit, still as light as day even under the moon’s not so generous shine. You smiled at him.

All the way over to the other side, on the roads underneath, you heard the harsh thunder of a motorcycle battling the cries of the uncontrolled flames. Red Hood wheeled up so he could drive past a blockage on the road, which you hadn’t known was from Flynns or the police themselves, but people were surrounding it, and at Jason’s warning, they made way for him to drive past the blockage, actually leaping with the vehicle in the air until his wheels slammed onto the cement.

You could do this. Two. Maybe even three blocks worth of fire.

If it weren’t from suspicion from a hallucinogen or some mirage from how large the fire had become, you could have sworn you saw three duplicates of Firefly, aiming their flamethrowers at the many windows of wood, stone, and steel.

“Firefly has goons now?”

“Seems so,” Nightwing said. “You guys got a plan?”

You and Tim stuck your grappling hooks onto the last rooftop’s ledge and jumped off the building. When you were on the ground, on the street right in front of the fire department that had your skin, eyes, and hair feel like it was burning down to your bones, Nightwing landed gracefully on your side, and Red Hood carelessly drifted on the road, jumping off his seat to join the rest of you and assess this rather difficult situation.

“There are people still in there,” Red Hood said. “I can see them.”

“We have to go save them first.”

“Firefly’s men-“

One of them, who had a fucking jetpack identical to the crazed pyromaniac’s, hovered over the four of you standing on the side of the road, and it was going for the next building.

“About fifteen civilians inside.” Red Hood finished his scan.

“I’ll save them,” you said. “The rest of you take care of those flies.”

“Absolutely not.” Nightwing’s voice was stern. Not something you wanted to argue with. “You need someone to go with you. None of us should be left alone.”

“I’ll go with her.” Red Robin, always your partner, stepped to your side. “We’ll take care of the people. You and Jason fight off those fireflies.”

Jason clicked his guns. “Promise I’ll play nice.”

Dick eyed Tim. A solid, knowing glance, then he turned to you.

“Be careful.”

“You, too.”

“Everyone.” Tim picked up his Bo staff. “Move!”

Your wings wouldn’t be of any use. Not when you’d have to work in a building aflame. Your wings weren’t very fireproof. So with your skintight, cape-less suit looking similar to Dick’s, you and Tim both flung yourselves up from windows and lampposts until you reached an entryway that didn’t burn you at first contact.

You scanned the place. There. A few rooms away. Two bodies huddled together. You went straight for the door until Tim grabbed you by the back of your suit and pulled you away.

Just in time, before a wooden beam from the ceiling came crashing down the burnt foundation, tearing a hole on the floor where you were standing just then. You stiffed. “Thank you.”

“I said be careful.”

Tim then expertly jumped over the beam, on top of the fallen debris that had fallen to the floor that wouldn’t crumble under his weight or would burn his palms when he pushed himself up, spinning in the air to get across the room. You followed right behind him. If you ignored the smoke you desperately tried to keep off your lungs or your skin about to be burnt off, it wasn’t so different from your vault back at home. You were faster, swifter. Your feet were off the ground for a few good seconds and the rush that went with your movements both cooled down your skin and made the fire around you worse. You caught up to him and soon you reached the end of the room seconds faster than he did.

Red Robin nodded, already trying to pry the door off its damaged hinges when he landed. You helped him.

“Dick-“ he grunted. “-taught you well.”

“Thanks.”

The door broke off, and you surveyed the room. The two bodies. Still breathing. But barely. You and Tim went up to them and he covered their heads with his cape.

“Come now,” you said, and you realized one of them must have been ten years old. He was shivering. The other, not much older.

You and Tim got them out of there and not a patch of their skin had to be burnt off. Hopefully, it’ll be the same for the rest.

Then you went in again. In that building alone, there were three more people inside.

Tim broke down a door with his foot, then you vaulted yourself up on beams to reach places Tim couldn’t, and you came out with a five-year-old girl in your arms. She’d been hiding under her bed. Not the brightest idea. But apparently, fire drills need to be done even at this age.

“Tim,” you coughed through the growing smoke. The poor girl was unconscious but breathing. You covered her head with Tim’s cloak. “Why are there so many kids?”

“Orphanage.”

You wanted to skin Firefly’s burnt flesh. Alive.

An orphanage just a block away from the fire department. And still, it was torn down in flames. You helped the kids out, then went on to the next building.

This one was burning so much more than the last.

The fireflies were here.

As you and Red Robin reached the window, the only available entryway, the wall to your left exploded from the other side and Red Hood broke down that very wall with his weight, landing on his back with the worst profanities that would even make Satan blush spurt out of his mouth.

“A LITTLE HELP HERE?!”

Tim got his staff, and as the menacing, horribly burnt creature flew into the room, a mock-up of wings strapped to his back and even more flames spurting out of his jetpack almost completely obliterating the floor underneath, you used what was left of the wall to your side, pushed both your feet against it so you were flying sideways, then your foot slammed on his head. With him stunned, Tim tore his staff right against his jetpack, unlatching it.

Then you flung it across the room so Jason could shoot at it, exploding before it even reached the ground.

“Where’s Dick!?” you asked.

“Third floor.”

Almost as if on cue, the ceiling above you collapsed, and with the boards and slabs of wood that fell through, a body landed painfully on its back. You ran to the site, looking up. Dick was there.

“Nightwing!” You screamed. “Be careful before you hit someone!”

“Sorry!” Then Dick disappeared.

“Where are the civilians?” you asked.

“Over there.” Jason pointed at a hallway. A quick scan told you the bodies were all over the place. In different rooms.

The windows behind you suddenly burst into flames and eventually detonated. You shielded yourself. Tim and Jason to the ground. When you turned around, another one of Firefly’s goons had their thrower pointed right at your face.

“Falcon!”

You leapt out of sight just in time, and you used the beams to fling yourself up, at the destroyed wall that had now let the colder air in.

A risk, but you took it valiantly. Just like a vault. Nothing different from a vault. You ran, hands to your side, let the wind take you. And you only wished the floor was stable enough, because wishing was all you could rely on. You ran. Then you flipped and your hands were to the floor, placing all your weight to your palms, spinning. Then it was your feet again.

Just at the last ledge, in your true gymnast fashion, your hands pushed you further up in the air, as high as any human could jump up to, then you spread your wings when you reached the peak and soared, right at the combatant that shot his eyes up at the sight of you flying straight at him.

You grabbed him by the throat, wings entangling with your own, then you were a flying mess in the air. His jetpack was already malfunctioning, and you directed it to land straight back to the floor where you came from.

But as soon as you got him back on the ground, the firefly had grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you down so overwhelmingly strong, you needed Tim to smack his head and throw him all the way over to the floor.

“We can't handle these guys alone.”

“But-.”

“Even Jason here’s having a hell of a time.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason snorted. “I’m fine. I’ll try to hold these guys off. Go save everyone.”

He then shot the fly’s jetpack with his explosive bullets, and the light detonation threw him towards a wall.

“Jason!”

“He’s still fucking breathing!”

You panted, the surging nerves, the numbness of your fingertips still there. Jason took care of the fly and hauled him out of sight.

“Come on.”

You went to the rooms, broke down the doors and walls almost with just your foot alone. Two. Three. Four people. A college student. A lone middle-aged man. And in a room far too small for anyone to possibly, humanely live in, a single mother cradling her baby she didn’t even know was still alive. So close to having the smoke take over her lungs, you grabbed the baby with one hand, her arm over your shoulder with the other, then she limped with you as Tim held a small child in his arms, carrying them all out to safety.

The fire was getting worse, and from above, you heard Dick’s screams from being thrown around above you.

You won't have much time before this whole building gives out.

Then, just as you thought you’d cleared the last room, you heard a cry from one of another one of the rooms, the one at the farthest end that had no scans of a body just minutes ago. Now, you saw there was.

And the body was too small for you to notice the first time.

You turned up your scanners, really looked around, for anything else you might have missed. Anything small.

Shit. Another. To the other end of the hall. It looked like an adult, curled up in the corner of his room under a table. Why would he hide under a table in a fucking fire!?

“Falcon!” Tim came up to your side. “You see anyone else?!”

“One there. And another on that side. Let’s take that one first,” you nodded at the door with the child behind it.

“No. There’s no time.”

You both dodged a piece of a ceiling that had fallen in just a foot away from where you stood. Dick. Being mauled too close to death just above you.

“I take him,” Tim said. “You get the child.”

“Tim, I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Another piece of wood from the ceiling. Gone. The wall near you had burnt to a crisp, which made it hurt less when Jason was flung to the ground by another firefly just where the wall used to be.

“We don’t have time to come back for both.”

“And if we don’t, we die!” you said. “I can't leave you alone, Tim.”

“Everyone should be saved. I’ll be fast, then I’ll be right there with you. I promise.”

Tim pushed you to the door, and already he was on the way to the end of the hall. “Be careful!” he screamed at you. With your fists clenched, hoping this wouldn’t backfire on him anytime tonight, you rushed for the child.

“You fucking mosquito son of a bitch!” Jason yelled as his guns went into this uncontrollable frenzy. All over the walls, the floor, anywhere. Just so he’d finally put that flying bastard to the ground. It shot its thrower at Red Hood’s face and so narrowly did he dodge the flames.

He rolled on the ground, eyed the attacker like it was a bomb to defuse. Another shot from his flame thrower, just one good shot, and there will be no other way for him to turn to but even more fire, and it’ll possibly collapse the whole room.

So Red Hood shot at his gun, at his arms. Finally, he got it to drop the weapon to the ground.

Jason grabbed the firefly by the throat as soon as he’d shot down his jetpack, and he flung him across the other side of the debris to trap him, the barricades, to the hallway of rooms where you’d gone into. He stays there long enough and he’d definitely catch on fire. And even if it didn’t, he needed it to be kept away. There were more flies for him to take care of. And they were, quite literally, flying towards him like moths.

A thud, coming from the ceiling above.

Up a floor, Dick wasn’t handling it any better.

Nightwing smashed his escrima sticks against a firefly’s temples, then gave it just enough voltage to stun him. He kicked him off his body, smashing his back against the already charred wall that broke upon impact, but it didn’t take him down. Not yet. Just his ability to fly.

The firefly stood up, snarling much like an animal, then clicked his thrower to point it at Dick. He was leaping, swiftly and gracefully around the smoke-infested debris just to not get burnt.

Dick was finally close enough to grab him by the collar, flinging it over his shoulder, smashing his body against the weakening ground.

But the firefly was too strong, and not long after, he had Nightwing choked to the floor. He had him held down. Dick landed a hit to his face, or what he could see of his face through the mask, then the firefly hit him back. Another. Another. Each time, the floor started to break underneath.

Outside, all alone because he insisted, Tim had safely made his way through the flames.

Always. Every night, by your side. You never left it. Not when it meant his life. Tim was outside, cape to his nose, and he left the building so he could take the nearly unconscious man to the safety grounds away from the smoke. But when he’d come back, pieces of wood had fallen in the hallway where you’d go into and had barricaded the way. You were on the other side. He’d left you alone.

Alone, amid the worst fire you’ve ever had to work through, you coughed out even more of the smoke, tears in your eyes, then broke down the last door in three slams against your shoulder. You were weak, flailing, your chest twisting at the heat and the smoke. But you do not fall. Instead, you push yourself further. Harder.

But it wasn’t anything at all you thought you could handle. You didn’t think you’d be alone in the room where the fire had started. The epicenter. The one so fully engulfed, there was almost no place at all for you to walk on.

You grabbed the child’s unconscious body. He might have been dead by then. He felt lifeless. But as you were on your knees, you almost could not stand. Your weight was too much, and the fire too close to your skin. For a moment, when the pain in your throat and chest came to the very worst, your body started to give out.

At that moment, three things happened. Three things that should never, ever have happened at the same time.

One of the fireflies, the one Jason had thrown right at you and had trapped behind the barricaded debris, picked himself up and saw you from out the hallway. You heard him growl despite the scorching flame.

The ceiling, already so charred, broken, burnt, mists of wooden shards falling right down to your hair. The fighting that went on upstairs was causing it. You couldn’t stay there long. You had to get out before the ceiling collapses. Fast.

And, on top of all that, with the fire that grew worse, your chest twisting, a child almost lifeless in your hands, you were alone. No one was there to help you.

You gained enough consciousness to push the last of your strength. You could do this. You knew you could. If you could just hold on a bit longer, with the child in your arms, and go out the same way you came in, it’d be fine.

But just as you pulled yourself up your feet, the firefly was lunging straight for you.

The child was dead. A boy of six. You were sure of that when something so much larger and stronger than you, that very man who no longer looked like a man, who looked more like a burnt corpse dressed as a moth without wings, lunged at you and grabbed you by the neck. You dropped the child’s body, and the way its limbs were so twisted when he hit the floor, it almost hurt as much as when you were slammed against the wall.

Flashes of red, white, yellow, and even black, the color that scared you the most when it came to circumstances like these, it was all you could see past the gritted teeth that exposed themselves so horribly to you when his mask had been taken down. He was wounded, yet he had the strength to do this, to squeeze your throat so rigidly that in the matter of a few minutes, at least to you, it lasted a few minutes, you were as blue as the night sky. A horrible color when it came to skin.

You wanted so badly to scream, but even if you did, it wouldn’t be of any use. You were alone. And with so much holding you back from just being able to breathe, you couldn’t hear a thing. Not your limbs squirming about, not the man holding your throat crying to let out the smoke from his own lungs, not the fire nor the collapse of the walls. No one had found you yet, and your bones and muscles alike had barely enough will in them to do so much more than just flailing so meagerly. Your lungs, your neck, your throat. It wasn’t enough that you were choking on smoke and debris, his clutch on your flesh gripped on as if none of the flames had any sort of effect at all.

Then.

Then there was the ceiling.

Whoever was up there, he was getting beat up. Hard. And it was making it break even worse. You felt the wood’s dust fall to your eyes. You had to move out of the way, but you couldn’t. No one to help you. No one to help you flee.

Just before that horrific flashes of black and surprisingly inviting, riveting flashes of white overcame everything else your eyes could still pick up, just before that tightening in your neck became less of a pain and felt more of a descent, a slow, painful descent, it all stopped.

You could see color. You could see the flames. The charred wood. The scattered cement from the walls. You could hear it all again. That scorch. That rage. The screams from the onlooking civilians. And the pain was gone. You could breathe. There wasn’t a hand on your throat any longer.

And it all lasted not more than a second. Half of it. A quarter of it even. Still, you felt it, not knowing it might have been your last.

The ceiling above you collapsed.

So did the wall you were being slammed against.

Huge slabs of wood, beams for support, floorboards from the level above, it all came crashing down as if apologetic for the delay, because they weren’t unforeseen. They were expected. You just didn’t get to move away in time.

It hit the firefly’s head the second the first slab tumbled down, and the rest of it followed. With how you fell, and the wall behind you breaking as well, your back was on the floor. But that wasn’t what hurt. Not even a little.

No.

Not when a sizable wooden beam in flames, one that held up the ceiling before it collapsed, fell in and crushed the bones of your leg.

You’d never forget it.

You never thought it was possible for there to be so much pain, not even when it was necessary. And a lot of the time, all the time, in fact, it was necessary. This time, it must have been. It must have been for a purpose. To defeat a foe. To save a life. It had to be.

Because the way that immeasurable weight hit your shin, breaking your tibia in half and twisting it in a way that was far too horrific for any onlooking eyes, you saw it. You saw everything. And God, have you never seen anything so horrifying before.

Then the flames from the beam had spread to your leg. Your suit. Your flesh. That, you felt for a short, agonizing few seconds.

Then, the pain from the burn completely disappeared. Your skin had gone.

Your scream right then, a deathly, ghostly scream, was the worst thing that could have ever heard in your life.

And that scream was what saved you. Otherwise, no one would have known you were there.

Otherwise, not Red Robin, Nightwing, nor Red Hood would have found you, even when it was far too late.

“FALCON!”

“Y/N!”

“NO!!!”

-----

Even in such a drug-induced, near unconscious state, you were aware.

Even with your eyes closed, and your brain playing lighter, less heartbreaking scenes for you to go over in your sleep, you were aware.

Even with everything being nothing more than a blur, the sounds, the lights, the chattering included,

Somehow, you were aware.

You were aware enough to know you’ve been here, on this very bed, for more than a week, and that since then, you haven’t opened your eyes, much less muttered even a syllable for anyone to hear.

You were aware that there were people around you. Sometimes just one, two, mostly three. Three men? Unclear. Often, lots of times, there were more. Different color hair. Different voices. Some sweet. Some deep. Some roughed up and husky. Some nothing more than a whisper.

All of them bearing the same guilt, pity, sadness.

You were aware things weren’t looking so good. Not with a cast over your neck, when you couldn’t even turn to your side when the bruises hurt as much as a tight squeeze. And because of that, when you did manage to open your eyes to some extent, you couldn’t see what went on below your waist.

And judging from what you could see on the ceiling, the murmurs around you, the occasions when you could see the looks on the visitors’ faces, straps holding up your elevated leg, you knew it couldn’t possibly be what you’d expect.

You weren’t awake yet. But you knew where you were. You were aware of what happened. Sometimes you could hear the voices so clearly you felt so close to just talking back. But that couldn’t be, because you were unconscious.

Damn everything.

Damn it all.

Why couldn’t you just be asleep enough to not witness any of this at all?

The last thing you saw, before your eyelids were weighed down by some unimaginable force, was the slightly matted window on the door where you saw Tim’s head facing his brothers’. They were talking.

You couldn’t hear what they said.

But if you could, it wouldn’t have made things at all better.

Tim couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, looking into that window to save his own life and watching you get lost in this illusion of peace, this illusion that taught the people around you that nothing was screaming at all, when in fact you hadn’t stopped screaming since that beam fell. He saw the cast, no longer the shape of a foot, and it hurt all the more to keep seeing it absorb itself into reality.

Jason was right beside that door. He visited just as much as the rest of them. Them being Tim and Dick. But he couldn’t look at you. Not for a second. He hasn’t even turned his head at your direction for more than what he needs to. And he rarely needed to, so he pressed his back against that white wall and let his weight slump him down. He hasn’t talked much. He hasn’t spoken at all.

Dick stood in front of the two, facing the door. He had his arms up to hug his chest. He did not sleep. Not for many nights. He was as bad as Tim now. His once so mesmerizingly bright eyes now stared so dimly and emptily at the white paint, he must have thought to say something, anything, to let out what everyone was thinking right then.

But instead of a word, the first word that day, he ended up catching Jason’s eyes, who glared back the minute he caught Dick watching him for too long.

“The fuck you looking at?”

Dick shook his head, then he let his attention get drawn away yet again by the floor.

“Fuck,” Jason mumbled, then his hand was too harsh on his hair. “Fuck this. I’m tired.”

Dick scoffed at that. “Go ahead. Go home and disappear for three weeks.”

“I meant that I needed to sleep after staying up the past thirty hours, shithead.”

He didn’t face Jason despite him and his nerves popping out of his skin like he desperately wanted to squeeze his eyeballs out of his sockets.

Tim, on the other hand, didn’t even do so much as look at his brothers when he heard them bicker. He just stared at you, how silent and peaceful you looked. Still unknowing.

“How…” Tim swallowed. “How did we let this happen…”

Jason watched the dark corner of the opened supply closet nearby. Dick turned his head the other way, eyes seemingly closed as he listened to the cart being wheeled right past them. That, the scent of ethyl alcohol, the chilling white paint, the flush of cold, and the beeping sound coming from somewhere down the hall, it was all anyone could sense, especially when in so deep in thought.

“We should have… I should have-” Tim finally brought himself to look away from the window. “I should never have let her out of my sight-”

Dick pulled on his shoulder. “Tim-“

“Don’t tell me it isn’t my fault.”

“But it isn’t your fault.”

“I said don’t tell me that!”

He swatted Dick’s hand away and placed his deep into his hood where no one would be able to touch him.

“You think that, too,” Jason chewed on his cheek. “Don’t you Dick?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Blame him?”

He was probably so close to just lunging at Jason just then but he didn’t. Not here. Dick just snarled at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You do,” Tim said. “I know you do. You look at me and Jason like we’re poison.”

Jason shrugged. Dick didn’t know what to say. “Like you two don’t look the same at me.”

“Admit it,” Jason stood from the wall. “You blame us for what happened.”

“I never fucking said that,” Dick growled.

“Good,” he said. “Because so do I.”

“You blame us?”

Jason had his teeth gritted so much they would have broken.

“We all blame something. It’s too hard to admit. But none of us should have to,” Tim whispered. “It was an accident.”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if not for us.” Dick chewed on his knuckles, and Jason stood taller, sighing and raising his hands like this ‘point proven’ sort of gesture.

Tim looked back at you again.

“She’ll never forgive us.”

“She wouldn’t have to,” Jason said. “She’ll blame herself.”

“That makes this even harder,” Dick hissed when his teeth dug into his flesh too much. “She has to blame us. At least. It’ll be better for her.”

“Maybe she should be blaming us because we are to blame.”

The silence that followed after was sharp enough to cut glass. Tim grabbed all the hair in his head and pulled, grunting, hissing, gritting his teeth, letting the tears slowly seep.

“Tim-“

Tim laid against the wall. He wasn’t as tired as the two. Staying up for two days wasn’t so much as a change for him. So he had the energy to cry, while Dick and Jason could barely hold themselves up, no matter how much they looked like they wanted to break down themselves.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tim held his head. “I let this happen to her. I left her alone-“

“Tim, you have to stop-“

“Are you convincing him that it wasn’t his fault, Grayson?” Jason stammered. “Or are you talking to yourself?”

“Jason, will you just shut up-“

“You wanna live in this delusion?” He cried. “Go ahead. But you're not doing anything better for him.”

“I am trying to make sure our brother doesn’t beat himself up for something he didn’t do

“And what do you know about what he did? You weren’t there. You were all the way up on the third floor not having a clue what went on.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Todd?”

“You know what. I’m saying this,” he raised his arms and turned from Dick to Tim, then back again. “I’m done keeping silent. That beam fell on her leg because you were up there making the goddamn ceiling fall in.”

“You son of a bitch-” Dick pushed Jason’s chest.

“She even told you to be careful up there,” Jason said. “You didn’t listen.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“So you’d know you’re not the only one who knows all that.”

“And why is that, huh?” Dick stood him off, chin up high. “Why’d you bring that up? To lighten the weight on your chest? Tell yourself it wasn’t just your fault and that fucking firefly you threw right at her?”

Tim had been silent since Jason mentioned the wooden beam, but by then, his face had shot up and he was staring at the two squaring off.

“You might as well have handed Y/N right into his clammy hands. You threw him over that barricade he couldn’t escape from. Right after you told her you’d keep them off.”

Jason looked like he could break stone with the ghostly look he gave his brother.

“I didn’t fucking know she was there.”

“Then where else would she have been? You told her to save everyone in the building. And you knew she and Tim needed your help keeping them off.”

Jason shoved Dick in the chest. “You don’t think I fucking know that you-“

“Wait.”

Tim’s voice stayed soft, though it was solid. When he looked up at his brothers, faces flushed and just as full of shame as it was so full of rage for the other, Tim stuttered.

“You two caused this to happen?”

What should have been apologies, or mutters, reasons, excuses, fights to be right again, convictions for their truths, perhaps even lies, Dick stared back and his mouth fell shut. Jason got his hands off him, placed them on his sides. He was silent, too.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

For once, Jason looked at Dick and it wasn’t so murderous.

“Dick-“

His big brother. The one closest to him. He should have been the one to tell him everything. He might have expected this from Jason. But not Dick.

But they had the same silence, the same guilt-stricken, awfully dark, hooded eyes.

Dick started. “You didn’t… You…” He looked around to make it easier. “You were taking all this harder than the rest of us.”

“Clearly, so should you!”

Tim has never raised his voice before. That wasn’t even much of a scream. But his voice cracked, and there were tears at the ends of his mouth.

“Tim-“

“I thought I was the only one to fucking blame,” Tim stammered. He wouldn’t say this. Not when he was calm. Not when it didn’t involve you. He was always so quiet. The one at the corner finding a place to take a nap. Not the one to accuse. To point fingers. To lash his anger out on others.

“I almost went fucking insane the past week. Now you tell me you two were the root of it all?”

This shouldn’t have to be what he felt. This was just his own guilt taking control. He wouldn’t burden others with such blame to lug around.

“Listen, I-“

“The beam that fell, and that fucking goon that held her down from escaping-“

“Tim, it still would have been a hell of a lot better if you were there,” Jason said.

“If you weren’t there at all, none of this would have happened!”

“Oh!” Jason cried. “Okay. It’s all my fault because I did exactly what was agreed on by the team while you left her alone when she shouldn’t be?!”

“Jason -“

“Everyone knows Y/N almost never leaves your side in combat. She always had you. She was better as your protector, which means she’ll never willingly leave you alone.”

Tim’s tears had fallen to his chin. It was too much out of his control. Too much out of anyone’s control.

“I swear if you don’t shut up right fucking now-“

“You’ll what, Grayson?!” Jason pushed Tim aside and eyed Dick down. “Fine. Blame me. If it does you any better, salvage whatever light she’ll see you in, give you more of a fighting chance with her, huh?”

Dick never looked so badly like wanted to tackle Jason to the ground. He never told Jason about you. He shouldn’t have known, but of course, he knew. “You can't possibly allow her to look at you like you cut off her fucking leg-“

Tim was giving Dick that same look. Dead. He was dead to him.

“This has nothing to do with that-“ Dick pushed him back.

“You caused that fucking beam to fall that snapped her bones and burnt off her flesh-“

“Because that fucking firefly you lead to her held her down! She could have escaped!”

“I told you-“

“You didn’t know where she was?!” Dick cried. “She wasn’t anywhere around you. She only could have been in one fucking place. Behind the barricade. In the apartments. You knew she was there. Maybe you thought you killed that firefly when you threw it off. Maybe you thought it wouldn’t reach her. Or, maybe, you just didn’t care. You didn’t think about how she’d be able to handle it. And even if it did cross your mind, you probably thought she could fight it off on her own!“

“Don’t you fucking tell me what I thought in the middle of a fucking fire.”

“Then don’t patronize me ‘cuz I didn’t have fucking pillows around when I got mauled by a bug and not break the ceiling! Or Tim for thinking saving a life was worth risking their own!”

“WELL THEN, I hope you two think it was fucking worth it.” Jason pointed at the window, at the sight of you so motionless on the bed.

“If I didn’t know how much of a pain in the ass you are when your guilt is eating you up, Jason-” Dick stuck his finger against Jason’s temple and he pushed it aside. “I wouldn’t let you hear the end of this.”

“Is this a threat, Grayson?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Dick, stop-“

“Stay out of this, Tim.” Dick pushed him aside, and Tim shoved him back even harder so he’d hit the wall. Even Jason looked surprised at him.

“I’m not a kid, Dick.”

Even more so would they have fought, right in that very hallway in Elliot Memorial, if not for Bruce Wayne stepping out of the room, only in his sweats, and he shot every single one of them the dirtiest look.

He blamed himself, too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here so much. Not when you weren’t one of his adopted kids, not when he had to sit in that room for hours with your own parents nearby, crying, wondering what happened, not having a clue who their daughter even was.

This wasn’t the first time. Even when you weren’t his child, it was the same as when Babs got shot in the spine.

He never let himself hear the end of it. Bruce blamed himself.

Bruce blamed himself for ever trusting Dick, Jason, and Tim to make sure you’d be ok.

“She’s awake.”

The three of them stood still, staring back at Bruce who couldn’t give them a colder look. One so full of hidden resentment, one he tried to hide. But it was all clear, even from those two words alone. He might as well have spelled it out for them.

‘You are all to blame. All three of you. Even if just one of you wasn’t so careless, this wouldn’t have happened.’

He might as well have said that. He should have said that. They needed that kind of reality being thrown right at their denial. They needed that push.

When he left, already it had shifted.

They were going to have to face you now, actually look at you in the eye, and you wouldn’t have to be told. You already knew why this all came to be. There wouldn’t be any use in an argument, evidence, technicalities, bickering. All that shoving and yelling. It’ll all be for nothing.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much the brothers wouldn’t want to accept this kind of spilled blood anywhere near their skin, it’ll always be true. The only person they blame the most, more than the others, will always be themselves.

Dick, for not even thinking of being so careful with the collapsing floor, even after you told him to. He should have taken it to the second. Maybe on the street.

Jason, for letting that firefly loose, because he was too confident you’d be able to handle it on your own.

And Tim, for not just letting you go alone, but insisting that he not go with you even when you pleaded. Because he thought he’d stop at nothing to save as many lives. He didn’t think about you.

Being in the midst of fire won't cut it.

Dick broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry…”

Tim and Jason couldn’t look at him. Jason faced his own feet. Tim at the door. His face was soft. No longer so rageful.

Tim spoke next. “I’m sorry, too.”

This was about as much affection, affection as it was, that they’d ever shown each other. Jason tried to brush it off by rolling his eyes, keeping his face out of view so no one would see his face trembling.

“Yeah… sorry…”

This was all there is. Guilt.

They can blame whoever they want. It’ll all stem back to their own self-blame that was chipping their flesh away like maggots.

Tim took the first step to the door, heading into the room, and Jason and Dick followed right behind him.

They couldn’t go anywhere near you. Not like this. Not even when they were the boldest. They couldn’t. The cowards they were stood the farthest, lined up a few feet away from the foot of your hospital bed.

They couldn’t possibly face you, not when just minutes after you’d woken up, already your cheeks were soaked and your cries eerie and painful. Your eyes were swollen, neck held back with a cast.

Barbara held you in her arms. Barbara. Of course, it would be Barbara. The only one in the family who knew what it was like to wake up in a hospital and so suddenly lose a bodily function, something so simple as to walk, and not be able to do it just like everybody else. Not being complete anymore. Not be whole.

She was a few of the lucky ones to find that clinic in Africa that gave her that implant. You, on the other hand, probably won't be so lucky.

You. You woke up in that bed, and you didn’t have to hear anything from their conversation outside. You knew exactly what they talked about. You were aware. You didn’t have to hear any part of it or even see the expressions they bore.

That moment you sat up, just enough so you could see just how much damage had been done.

Your right leg had burns. Red marks, scattered all over your skin and ones you knew wouldn’t heal so lightly. You’re to see them for the rest of your life, and you’ll never escape it. The burns went all the way down your toes.

But not even that worried you. You couldn’t care any less about your skin. At least, you actually still had toes on your right leg.

The left one.

The left leg.

You didn’t have one anymore.

You had two thighs.

You had two knees.

One shin, one calf behind it.

Five toes at the end. Burnt as they were.

And the other.

Nothing. Air.

A stub. A useless, ugly stub, sticking out just three inches from your knee. You couldn’t even feel it sting, not when you could obviously see just how much had to be cut off.

Then.

You screamed again.

From a few feet away from the foot of your bed, Tim was in tears, wanting so badly to come to your aid and hold you. Jason looked smaller, despite being the tallest in the room. Right then, he shrank himself from the shame. And Dick. He was shaking. For once, he didn’t know what to do.

Barbara’s soft arms held you so tight, but none of it could muffle your cries.

-----

Could one blame you?

If they’d just known the whole story?

Even after two years, two horrible, spectacular, overly eventful years that passed by all too slow and too fast,

Even after you’d gotten over the nightmares that came and went when you couldn’t sleep without feeling that flame surge past your flesh,

Could you even blame yourself? For not knowing who to trust? To open up to?

Could anyone blame you for being so god-awfully confused, now that you admit to being confused, and so indecisive? For not knowing what, or who would bring you to that eventual happiness?

Could anyone blame you for wanting some kind of release to let all this go, and find that release as yet another option to oblivion? Could you blame yourself for being so desperate, stupid, so careful, just to allow yourself to move on, at the same time convince everyone else that you had?

The only thing you had for yourself after all that were your paints and canvases. They could only have done so much.

But now, with you in front of the Wayne Manor’s staircase fixing up the last of your canvases on a presentable easel, it had gradually felt like it was, in fact, enough.

Tonight, at almost six in the evening, you’d set up twelve of your newest works, the best you’ve ever made. Gotham skylines. Portraits of unknown faces. Hillside landscapes. Action shots you’ve taken from around the city and copied.

You fixed the last one, just as Bruce came up to the foyer with an outstretched smile the moment he saw what you’d fixed. That man rarely smiles.

He eyed them all, more carefully this time, paying attention to detail. You explaining those details when he didn’t catch them. You explaining each of your pieces. Him nodding approvingly.

“This will be a great for everyone, Y/N.”

A smile. “Thank you.”

“And it’ll be amazing for the children most of all.” Bruce kept his eyes on the portrait of an unknown woman with beautiful dark skin. “Will you really give everything away?”

“Everything,” you said. “I won't keep a cent. This is what the auction’s for.”

Bruce beamed at you with so much pride, probably just as much, maybe even more, than he’s given his own children.

Not long after, he left and had Alfred help you out with putting everything back in your satchel. You were smiling. You hadn’t stopped smiling for a while.

You placed the first easel and canvas back into the bag that you’d laid in the staircase just as you heard rumbling footsteps coming from directly above. And just as you thought they’d get nearer, they stopped.

You looked up, and it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected, nor prepared for.

Dick, however, looked surprised in the least. His hand on the railing caressed the gentle wood as well, motionless the moment he caught your eye. You were calm, serene, and somehow, that smile didn’t even leave when you met his gaze.

His mouth parted open, and by then you didn’t want to just stand around. You nodded at Dick, silently, then you went back to the second easel.

“This dastardly thing,” Alfred muttered. You laughed and started to walk over to him, if not for Dick and his strides longer than yours.

“Here, Alf.” He helped the old man with the knob. It folded right away. Alfred rolled his eyes. “I can take it from here,” Dick said.

Alfred raised his hands, landing harshly at his sides. “I never could work any of those contraptions.” You found yourself feeling warmer at that sight of how gently he’d helped him and handled the knobs. You worked in silence. He did, too. He did not speak. Neither did you.

But even after such a high-strung chain of events, and the drastic way it all had to culminate, with you right back to where you started, there wasn’t at all a feeling of torment, awkwardness. Sure, it wasn’t all the same. You weren’t as close. The laughs felt a bit off. You didn’t hold his hand anymore and maybe you didn’t let your gazes linger for too long when he was so brightly lit by the sun or even just a single bulb. But you were friends. You were there. It was more, so much more, than how it could have ended.

You twisted the knob for the last easel, crouching down, but the base wouldn’t stop hiking up from the ground. You pulled your hair back, squinted, then as a shadow blocked your light, you looked up. Dick was there. He was smiling at you and he held the top of the easel down so it wouldn’t move when you unhooked the knob.

You smiled at him. Softly. Sweetly. He smiled back at you and it kept with the current of that growing peace. He held the easel, and you the canvas, when you went over to your satchel to stick it inside.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You placed the satchel at the side of the staircase, away from the steps. Dick watched you with his head down intently. Then when you made your way up, hand on the railing, you heard him speak just when you thought he had nothing else to say.

“I’m watching Bruce Almighty tomorrow morning.”

You turned to face him, and that bashful grin made you want to chuckle. You allowed yourself to.

“I’d love to join you.”

Another nod, silent, then you went up the stairs. You heard him go to the parlor.

Peace. This must be it. Peace.

Four months of peace, since any other incident happened. This was what you needed. Time to think. A chance to know what things were, what you were.

Because all there was that replaced that hurricane beneath your chest was this bright, breezy whirlwind that instead cooled down those very thoughts.

You reached Tim’s room, knocked three times, and stepped in immediately taking off your sweater.

Tim was leaning against the headboard and had his laptop resting uncomfortably on top of his lap.

“Tim,” you groaned. “You're not working are you?”

“Nah. Among Us streams.”

You snorted and picked your phone out of your pocket, scrambling to his side. Tim shifted, giving you some room, then when you settled beside him, he laid his head on your shoulder. He kept his eyes on his laptop and you made sure he didn’t change so much as a tab. Four months of seeing his sleep schedule back on track, his coffee a tenth from before, and his workload split in half, it calmed you to see him this way. It even made his skin glow.

As he kept his eyes on the screen, you pulled out your phone, with that expected twinge of disappointment when you saw you haven’t a message, the same for so many weeks.

You opened your texts anyway, just to make sure.

You: ‘Hey. It’s been a while. Call me?’ (12 weeks ago)

You: ‘Jason. It’s me. You didn’t change your number again, did you? (11 weeks ago)

You: ‘I guess you did. I’ll keep texting anyway. No one’s heard anything from you in so long.’ (9 weeks ago)

You: ‘Hey. Call me? We heard it got bloody in that raid yesterday. I hope you're alright.’ (6 weeks ago)

You: ‘Hey.’ (2 weeks ago)

That was it so far. You didn’t want to bother him. He didn’t want to be bothered.

But, just today, you let yourself annoy him. Even for just that day in August.

You: ‘Happy birthday, Jason.’

Peace. With everyone. With yourself.

You needed those months to know what it was like to not have any of them at all. To just be a friend. Not a lover.

You let your head fall on top of Tim’s.

A few hours later, you jumped at a ring on your phone. You glanced at it, eyes squinted. It was almost midnight.

Jason: ‘Thanks.’

So much of a smile, and a gentle spike up beneath your chest, when you stared at that message for so many minutes. Partly to let that warmth linger. Mostly out of surprise.

Peace.

You knew there was peace.

But peace did not mean fulfillment.

You still couldn’t tell anyone what you needed, what would hurt less, what choice you were supposed to make.

Because it wasn’t about that anymore.

This was you. This was time for yourself. Four months of not even pining or thinking about boys, working on your pieces, not mulling over your unrequited love or your broken heart or your broken memories or that sheer memory of what happiness used to mean to you. You never needed that. It was you, and every unfortunate event that life had forced into you, that made you so confused.

You still couldn’t make a choice right now, but you weren’t confused anymore. It wasn’t about what you needed, and you didn’t need any of them. Those four months told you so.

But you did want to have love. Eventually. Soon. One that lasts.

Eventual happiness, the ones that can only come from loving and being loved by another, from family, you knew could only be found within them. Dick, Tim, and Jason. You knew it was one of them. For so long as you could think, you knew you couldn’t find that kind of happiness elsewhere. You couldn’t imagine loving another.

Which means, with the peace you had in you now, calming the once tyrannic tides you’ve been forced to reckon with, you knew your heart was there, with one of them. The challenge will be to find out who.

And from now on, you knew you had to choose, and actually think about who to choose, and no longer will it be about whoever lessens the pain, to give in to pressures, to the overwhelming declarations, the to release that pent up whatever’s. This time, in your state of peace, you will figure out who you loved and will stay in love with for the rest of your life. Solely. Wholeheartedly.

You will choose for love.

No longer to just go with the tides.

The tides, you realized, had been there since that very night. That night you had to get your left leg amputated because so much of your flesh had been burnt and your bones were beyond repair.

The tides, you realized, had stemmed from not just your hatred for yourself, for that blame that inevitably crowded your already populated mind, but had stemmed from their guilt. All three of them, because of how much they blamed themselves and how much they let it destroy them just as much as it destroyed you. Because of that, of how they let their resentment for each other and themselves get the better of them, drive them to do so many things they wouldn’t be so proud of, which made that start of the year so hellish. It was all of you. Your anguish for yourself. Their resentment for their self-blame.

Dick not knowing how to treat you right after, treating you differently, treating you like you couldn’t care for yourself. Almost getting married, then later not. Spending too much time with you, then not making a move. You assuming what was worst, then so suddenly, him pouring out his heart just before he was asked to leave town and not see you again.

Jason keeping his distance, staying away, not even calling in the holidays when he wasn’t around, and only ever calling any of you when he absolutely had to or felt like it. Knowing what his brothers felt, and knowingly inching himself closer to you when he saw you hadn’t chosen either just yet. Taking advantage of your vulnerability to quench his desires. Almost using you to get back at them. Then breaking your heart.

Tim trying too hard to make it up to you, buying so many of your paintings even when it wasn’t so necessary when he knew you wouldn’t decline. Confessing his love that night after Dick’s wedding, when you hadn’t a word to say back. Confessing his love for you again, kissing you on Christmas Eve, even after how much he’d hurt you before. You unknowingly choosing him, only for him to make that decision for you and drive you away, even when he thought it was best.

But then, of course, there was more. So much more than just that.

These vicious tides, caused by a disturbance, an accident that wasn’t so often deemed an accident, were not alone, it not for the chilling breeze that went with it, the moon that pulled them that was silent and beautiful, the shoreline that remained unmoving, warm to the toes when it needed to be. The rustling of trees. The ones that surrounded the tides, overpowered them.

Dick not wasting a moment when he saw you upset, filling so many of your days with the kind of contentment you could never bring to yourself. Never missing the littlest things that so much as caused a smirk up your lips, and bringing those details to life to earn that smile. Supporting you the most, with your passion for artistry, your hobbies, the things you loved to do, he pushed you to do. Watching you, caring for you, giving you everything you wanted all for the sake of seeing you happy, even when he should or shouldn’t. Even when you were never his to begin with.

Jason knowing exactly what it was like to be you, understanding that, letting you know that he understood, that you weren’t alone in any of this at all. Knowing he didn’t have much of a chance, stopping himself from falling in too deep for his own sake, but not when it was you who needed him to fall. To at least be with him. Giving you that solitude, letting you know that he, too, wanted to treat you well, wanted you to feel just as beautiful as he thought you were, even when it pains him in the end.

Tim loving you from the moment you met. That sweet, fairytale love story of when you were friends first, and his love that grew from that. Best friend turned lover. Your love story, how you came to be, could all be a novel on its own. Caring for you, staying even after a relationship that hadn’t worked out the first time, knowing you needed him more than anything and anyone there could possibly be. Your partner as heroes, your partner now. Albeit friends or lovers. It didn’t even matter. And after then, even when he loved you so much, still kept your best interests in mind, only ever thought about what was best for you, or what he thought was best for you, all for the sake of you no longer being hurt the way you used to.

That was what surrounded that cruel tide that pulled you back miles away from the shore you just wanted to land on. That tide. That night. The guilt. The blame. The loss. The regrets. Those were the tides, and everything else, it was beautiful.

So now, what will it be? Other than to place it all to the side, forgive that night for what it did to you. move on. No longer will you let it pull you with its current. No longer will you let it get in the way of your happiness. Of their happiness. No longer will you let its lingering darkness settle for too long before it settles for good. No longer will you let the loss of your damned leg cause the loss of your whole life and happiness.

Because of course, they weren’t to blame. Blaming yourself, or someone, would mean they were solely responsible for the penalties that stemmed from what they did, intentional or not. They weren’t responsible. Not even a bit. For what else would it be, other than an unfortunate arrangement and timing of events, something far beyond the control of even the strongest deity. That if the same things done were done differently, would at all be the same. No, they weren’t at fault. They weren’t to blame.

And if you did believe that they were, even in the slightest, then it would be why you’ve been how you had been, how you just couldn’t know, or admit to yourself, who you were to give your heart to. Why you couldn’t open up, afraid that somehow, deep within your own crevices, you hadn’t forgiven them.

But it wouldn’t matter. You have forgiven them, at least now, if they had done anything at all that was to blame. And you didn’t think so. You couldn’t bring yourself to think so. Not when you no longer let that loss be the cause for further pain than it’d already rooted.

No longer, not with who they were, and how they loved you.

Dick, who always had to love you from afar, and never let that love falter despite it being so painful and tempting.

Jason, who had to fight against that love thinking he hadn’t a chance at making you as happy as he knew you could be.

And Tim, who won your heart the first time and gave you these wonderful years as a soul who couldn’t be more perfect beside yours.

They were selfless, gentle, caring young men, who’d bend the world for you if they had to.

One of them, you were sure, will ultimately, wholly, have your heart.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: The next parts definitely won’t be as heavy as this one, but to those who stayed behind and leave the loveliest comments, know that I’m here at all because of you guys 🎉

MAIN TAGLIST:

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur, @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @damned-queen-of-gotham, @idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @get-loki, @everyday-imfangirling, @comic-nerd-dc, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @egdolan, @xemiefx, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @mythicbitchx, @lucy-roo, @roseangel013bf, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years

Text

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH7

<7> Joker Breaks In!

Around the same time, another phantom thief — Joker — was hard at work on another caper. This particular caper was...

"Huuuh? A... recipe?" Hachi asked as a stiff breeze blew against his face. Joker, similarly buffeted by the wind, forced a smile as he answered.

"Yep, exactly! Sounds interesting, doesn't it?"

"But that's not important right nooooooooooooow!" Hachi said, screaming. They were falling rapidly. They were in the sky, several thousand meters above the ground. It was cold, and the air was extremely thin. Furthermore, the two of them were freefalling without any open parachutes. It was enough to make him envious of Hosshi, who was staying at home today. "W-What are we s-supposed to do here!?"

"We'll be fine. We've got this." Joker pointed out the thin layer of fabric between the arms and torso on the bodysuits they were wearing. "This is called a wingsuit. It's used to glide through the sky. We can land at our destination without attracting attention this way."

What Joker said reached Hachi's ears over the radio. But it was pitch black all around them, and the only things he could see were the city lights twinkling far below. The sheer terror got the better of him and he could hardly think straight. It was a far cry from how they usually flew with Balloon Gum. All Hachi knew at the moment was that they were headed somewhere Joker had sent an advance notice to.

"What's this recipe supposed to beeeeeee!?" Hachi yelled. Joker answered as he normally would.

"Hachi, you've heard of the soft drink called 'Riviera', yeah?"

"I-I know about it, but...!"

"The recipe for it is one of the world's best-kept secrets, and it's only known to a handful of people!"

"I-Is that so?"

Joker and Spade both love Riviera, the drink of choice enjoyed all over the world. It's served in restaurants everywhere and can be found in any vending machine. It tastes like a mix of sweet syrup and tangy tonic. It's excellent for chugging, and Hachi likes to drink it on occasion himself.

Hachi was quite the cook himself, but true enough, he had no idea what made Riviera taste like that.

"After all, if the recipe got out and suddenly anyone was able to make it, they wouldn't be able to sell their drinks, right? So only the top members of the company that makes Riviera know the ingredients and their ratios."

"T-That makes sense...!"

"Word is that the secret recipe is kept at the company's innermost level, strictly guarded in a safe."

"Joker-san, don't tell me the reason why you're trying to steal the recipe is because you just want to drink a limitless supply of Riviera?"

"Heh heh, it's a secret♪"

"That doesn't tell me anything!"

The duo continued to drop rapidly. Hachi took a glimpse down and saw right below — well, probably still a few hundred meters away — the lights from houses and tail lamps of cars driving on the road. The color drained from his face.

"All right, it's about time for us to start gliding. Spread your wings!"

"Okaaaaaaaay!"

Joker and Hachi unzipped their wings. While they were still falling at the same speed, suddenly they were zooming at an angle. It was like they were slipping down a playground slide. Their untethered bodies skimmed through the air like gliders, and a blast of wind hit Joker and Hachi's faces from the front this time.

"I see it! Over there!"

A large building blurred into sight. It was conspicuously distinct from the other structures around it. The whole building was curvilinear and shaped like a bottle. A bottle of Riviera, in fact. It was already nighttime, so there were no lights streaming out of the windows.

"We're gonna land on the bottlecap!"

Joker made it sound easy, but from where they were, it would've been like placing a speck of dust on the tip of a toothpick. If they weren't attentive and precise about it, they'd fall headlong into the ground instead. Even so, Joker didn't drop speed. Confidently, he plunged straight toward the Riviera bottlecap.

Joker had the courage to dive right into things without hesitation. Hachi admired that. It used to be that Hachi thought about every possible consequence and would often end up not doing anything at all because he was afraid of failing. But Joker typically took action as soon as he came up with a plan. He had once asked Joker about it before.

"Joker-san, how are you so brave?"

"Well, you never know what'll happen until you try, yeah?"

"But isn't that even scarier if you don't know how it'll turn out?"

"It's the other way around. There's only so much in the world that people can imagine. Most of what actually happens is stuff you never would have expected. So don't you think it's better to just do it?"

"You might have a point..."

"Master once told me that 'knowledge can't beat experience'. Which means that right now, I'm no match for Master. But if you flip your thinking, that means that if I get all kinds of experience, one day I'll be able to win against Master. If I'm too scared to try anything, I'll never be able to beat him," Joker said with a smile, and started writing the advance notice for his next target.

When he heard the reason why Joker had so much motivation and the things Silver Heart had taught him, Hachi felt like he understood. It was exactly because Joker didn't know what was going to happen next that he was always able to act immediately.

"Okay, we're almost there, Hachi!"

Joker's yell brought Hachi back to the present. The Riviera bottlecap roof was coming up to meet him. The rooftop seemed to function as a small heliport.

"Drop your speed on the count of one-two-three!"

"Roger!" Hachi acknowledged and gripped the cord on the side of the wing. He had been told that when he pulled it, he would slow down.

"All right, on your mark! One..."

Hachi tightened his grip on the cord and adjusted his timing.

"Two..."

Hachi was ready to pull on "three", but then Joker said:

"...and..."

"WHAT!? 'And'!?" In his surprise, Hachi pulled the cord on instinct. A tailored parachute billowed out and he slowed down dramatically. At that speed, he was going to drop down before he made it over the bottlecap.

"Oh shoot! Hachi!" Joker pulled his cord. Losing speed, he changed orientation so that he was now facing Hachi. He caught him in both arms.

"Joker-san!"

"We'll be fine! We should be able to make it, just barely!"

But Joker was just saying that to calm him down. The duo stalled in the air as they were almost to the bottlecap roof. Just out of reach, they slowly dropped down. Without anything supporting his weight, a chill ran down his spine.

"Agh, and we were so close, too~" Joker commented laxly. "That's the end of that. My Balloon Gum's in a pocket underneath my wingsuit..."

"Whaaaat!? Please, that's not funny!" Hachi exclaimed. He promptly pulled one of his ninja tools, a grappling hook, out of his pocket and tossed it up. The hook caught on the rooftop fence with a clank and the two of them stopped in midair.

"Whoa! Thanks, Hachi!"

The two of them climbed up the rope and finally made it onto the rooftop.

"What was that about!? You said to pull the cord on the count of one-two-three! What was 'one-two-and' supposed to be!? You didn't tell me there would be an 'and'!"

"Ha ha ha, it just looked like the timing wouldn't match up. But we had a pretty exciting experience thanks to that, don't you think?"

"That was an experience I didn't need to have!" Hachi exclaimed, squirming. It was important to do all sorts of things and gain experience. But there were some things that he really didn't need to experience. Hachi was sure of that now.

The duo ran silently over the empty rooftop and crouched down close to the entrance. Since Riviera HQ was home to the secret recipe, security was always strict. It didn't even overlook anyone coming from the sky. Flying in slowly would take too much time and was more likely to trigger the defense system. That was why Joker had opted for this method to get in rather than using Balloon Gum.

"Though it's strange that there aren't any security guards on the roof."

"Yeah, it might be a trap to lure us in. Sounds like fun. I'll take the bait."

Joker unlocked the door, entered, and quietly stepped into a dark stairwell. He took a look at the map on his phone and pulled up the route info. "The recipe is in the safe on the top level. Usually nobody goes on this floor. There are three obstacles standing between us and the safe."

"Three obstacles?"

Joker approached the door to the top floor. "The president of this company is a bit eccentric. The defense system's set up so that the safe won't open unless you solve three puzzles. If you can figure out the answer, then you can move on."

"Puzzles?"

"Yeah. So the obstacles are like a test for anyone who wants to open the safe," Joker said, and opened the door leading into the top floor. A long, dim corridor lay ahead. Joker and Hachi put on goggles that let them see infrared sensors and wriggled their way along. Soon enough, they reached a large door.

"All right, this is the first obstacle." Joker turned his gaze up to where a huge sign with a puzzle written on it was hanging on the door.

[Question]

8 1 6

1 5 9

8 3 4

"Enter the number equal to the eight."

There was a numerical keypad underneath the sign. They were probably supposed to input the correct number with it.

"So this is the puzzle..." Hachi looked at the numbers and tilted his head. "I wonder why these numbers are in such a random order? And it says 'equal to the eight', but there are nine numbers in all, so I don't get what it means by 'equal to'."

"You don't? The numbers aren't exactly random, either." Joker looked at the numbers and smiled a little.

"Joker-san, you figured it out already?"

"Of course I did."

What does "equal to the eight" mean? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try adding the nine numbers up horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is coming right up!

"Hmm~ I don't get it at all!" Hachi put up his hands in resignation. He had given up.

"Yeesh, fine. This number arrangement is called a 'magic square'."

"A magic square?"

"Look closer. If you add up the three numbers in a horizontal, vertical, or diagonal line, they all come to the same sum."

"Huh? They do?" Hachi looked up and tried adding up the lines. 6+7+2=15, 8+1+6=15, 6+5+4=15... whichever direction he added them up in, they always came to the same total. "You're right! That's weird!"

"This magic square has 3 horizontals, 3 verticals, and 2 diagonals, which makes for 8 sums in all, right? Since they're all the same number..."

"Oh, I get it! 'Equal to the eight' is asking for the sum of the numbers, which is 15!"

"Right on!" Joker punched "15" into the keypad. The door unlocked with a clang. "Okay, let's go deeper in!"

Once they went through, the door closed behind them, and they came before the next door. There was another puzzle on this one. This was the second obstacle. The following was written on the sign.

[Question]

Assume:

0 > 2

2 > 5

5 > 0

Given {2, 5, 5}, which one wins?

Just like before, there was a numerical keypad underneath the sign.

"I don't get this one at all either..."

"It doesn't look like these arrow-like marks are supposed to mean that the left number is bigger. If they did, the first two expressions wouldn't be possible."

"That's true..."

"It asks 'which one wins', so maybe this mark just means that the number on the left is 'stronger'."

"Can a number be 'strong'?"

"Maybe these aren't numbers in the first place. Maybe they represent something else." Realizing something, Joker stroked his chin.

Which one wins? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try counting on your fingers and see what it looks like.

The correct answer is coming right up!

Hachi folded his arms, tilted his head, and stared at the question. It looked like he still didn't have a clue, so Joker gave him a friendly suggestion.

"Hachi, if you don't know, try counting on your fingers."

"On my fingers?"

"Yeah. Use your fingers to visualize the numbers. Try doing it with both hands, starting with the first expression."

After being told this, Hachi tried counting with his fingers. For 0, he balled up his fist into a rock-like shape, and for 2, he stuck out two fingers, forming scissors.

Wait. Rock... and scissors...?

"AAAAAAAH!" Hachi exclaimed. "I've got it, Joker-san! These numbers represent rock-paper-scissors!"

"Exactly. Now you know." Joker flashed a scissors sign.

"Yes! The numbers are the number of fingers sticking out. So 0 is rock, 2 is scissors, and 5 is paper."

"That's right. 0 wins against 2 because rock beats scissors. Likewise, when you have 3 against 5 — scissors and paper — scissors wins. And lastly, when you have 5 and 0..."

"5, which is paper, wins!"

"You see? Which brings us to the question written below. When you have 2 and 5 and 5..."

"It's scissors against paper and paper, so scissors wins! Which means 2 is the right answer!"

"Right on!" Joker said and punched "2" into the keypad. The door slowly opened. At the end of the hallway, they saw a massive door.

"Oh, that must be where the safe for the recipe is!"

"Yep. In order to get there, we'll have to clear the final obstacle."

The door leading to the safe was stout and didn't look like it could be broken through easily. This one, like the others, had a sign hanging from it with one last puzzle.

[Question]

5 2 2 2

0 5 0 5

0 2 2 2

0 5 0 5

Push the button for the number that doesn't lose.

Unlike the previous ones, there were buttons on the sign itself this time. This meant that one of the above numbers was correct, and when it was pressed, the door would open.

Hachi took a look at the numbers and tilted his head yet again. "Is this... rock-paper-scissors again?"

"Yep. It's only 0 and 2 and 5, just like before, so we can probably assume that's the case..."

"But I don't really understand this arrangement or what 'doesn't lose' means..."

"Hmm, maybe it's like the magic square we first encountered...?" Joker studied the numbers closely and brainstormed.

Exactly which number is the one that "doesn't lose"?

Think about it in terms of both the "magic square" and "rock-paper-scissors" you saw before! Hint: you don't have to add up the numbers this time. Just think about it horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is in the next chapter!

While Joker and Hachi were racking their brains over puzzles, Queen, Roko, and Purple were having tea at a late-night cafe. The train had arrived in town without further incident and they had the secret file in hand. Purple had some spare time before she had to turn the file over to an ally, so now she was going to talk about Noir over tea.

The three sat facing each other in the back corner of a small cafe. Purple leisurely began to speak. "Silver and Noir are complete opposites."

"Opposites?" Queen asked, taking a sip of her honey latte.

"You already know that Silver is a man as lively and bright as the sun. Everyone takes a liking to him. His roguish personality just captivates people. He has luck and natural ability. All of this made him an extremely talented spy. On the other hand, while Noir is also talented, he has to put in effort. He gathers all the intel he can before a mission, analyzes it with a cool head, and executes his plans without a single hitch. Noir goes in thoroughly prepared — that's his style. Noir stayed active even after Silver quit being a spy, and some people even call him the 'legendary spy' now..." Purple dunked a cookie in her black coffee and munched it. "But Noir has a grudge against Silver."

"Huh? Why?" Queen asked, confused. If they had gotten along as spies, there was no reason for him to hate the phantom thief Silver Heart.

"Well. Once Silver became a phantom thief, he started to get a lot flashier. He had always been a daredevil with an affinity for showing off. As ostentatious as his capers were, there were more than a few occasions where he failed spectacularly. Noir got tangled up in those spectacles quite often."

"Noir was involved with Grandpa's work?"

"It'd be more accurate to say that Silver always barged in when Noir was on covert infiltration missions and made a mess of everything."

"What...?" Queen and Roko's faces clouded over.

"The success of our spy operations hinges most of all on not being spotted. We infiltrate without alerting the enemy, do our work, and leave without attracting attention. The longer it takes them to notice that they've been breached, the more likely it is that the operation will be a success. In that sense, as soon as there's any uproar, the operation is a failure."

"Sounds like unforgiving work..."

"I can see why a spy wouldn't want their presence to be known, though," nodded Roko understandingly.

"Right. That's why Noir carries out his missions in secret, never letting anyone know he's there. But Silver Heart was completely different."

"Ah..." Queen realized something. "I get it. A phantom thief sneaks in, but not without anyone's knowledge. They send advance notice."

"Precisely. Phantom thieves boldly proclaim that they're breaking in, reveal themselves when everybody's looking, and steal the treasure dramatically while they're all in shock. Isn't that what Silver always says? He was always a showoff, so that suits him," said Purple. She exhaled and gave a shrug. "Besides, Silver tended to go after the treasure of money-grubbing crooks. Noir would receive a directive, plan everything down to the finest detail, and then once he got there, advance notice from Silver came in. What do you think would happen then?"

"The enemy would be on alert, and it'd make espionage that much harder..."

"That's exactly it. Silver was probably using the same network he had used as a spy to locate treasure. Silver threw a wrench in Noir's work on more occasions than he could count."

"That many times...?" Queen was surprised. Now she understood why Noir would be angry. But wouldn't Silver Heart have realized...? When she asked about it, Purple shook her head.

"...Unfortunately, Silver Heart is clueless about the whole thing. That's his greatest fault. Silver had no way of knowing that Noir was at work behind the scenes. Noir couldn't afford to have his mission be compromised, so he couldn't even say he was there. He had to give up, knowing that his mission had failed because of Silver..."

"So that's the story..." Now that she knew Noir's circumstances, Queen sympathized with him a little. Silver Heart's capers were indeed grandiose affairs and would definitely have interfered with any espionage going on. And since the man himself was completely oblivious and stole without a care in the world, she could understand why that behavior would incur wrath.

"I feel sorry for Noir..." Queen murmured. Purple snorted.

"Well, if you ask me, Noir's at fault too. Of course it'd annoy me to have someone get in the way of my job. But a real spy works around it. If a phantom thief appears and you take advantage of the confusion to accomplish your goals, you might be able to have an easier time of it. He could have even set it up to make his deeds look like Silver's handiwork. Noir just didn't exert himself."

"Oh, I see..."

"You've got high standards, Purple-san."

The pair voiced their respect for her.

"Oh, also, Grandpa is going after a treasure called the Lachla Crown. Apparently it's something he and Noir were looking for back when he was a spy..."

"The Lachla Crown? That explains it. You could say it ties Silver and Noir together."

"What do you mean?"

"Silver fell asleep, and because of that, the two of them weren't able to locate the hidden treasure. I remember Noir was really infuriated about it."

"Then when Noir learned that Grandpa was going after the Lachla Crown..."

"He quit being a spy and took matters into his own hands, it seems..."

"Huh? Noir quit his job?"

"Yes, just recently."

"Oh..." Queen pondered this. If Silver Heart targeting the Lachla Crown really had prompted him to quit being a spy...

Making up her mind, Queen stood up. Purple spoke to her.

"You're going? In that case..." Purple handed her a slip of paper. "Noir has been frequenting this place since he quit his job. I already looked into it."

"Thank you, Grandma." Queen took the note with gratitude.

"Don't mention it. Anyway, Queen, you were quite sensible back there. Would you be interested in doing some spy training under me?"

Then Queen answered with a little smile. "Thank you. It's not a bad offer, but I'll never be cold-blooded enough to be a spy."

"Ha ha ha, you really are Silver's disciple. And you're headstrong to boot. Just like me when I was younger."

Roko paled for a moment at this, but Purple gave a wink and smiled.

"Hee hee, thank you. Until next time, Purple-san!" Queen said. Then she and Roko ran off like the wind.

Several hours after their conversation...

Silver Heart was at a chic open-terrace cafe in Paris. The aroma of his espresso lifted his spirits. He took a hand mirror out of his pocket and fixed his appearance.

"Heheh. Hello, good-looking..." He couldn't stop grinning. Silver Heart was about to meet up with Her Majesty, the Queen of the Kingdom of Pandora for a date. She was busy with her official duties, but had a sliver of time available. The two of them had planned to take that opportunity to go on an incognito date. Her Majesty was going to escape the castle using Balloon Gum that Silver Heart had given her.

Just the words "incognito date" made Silver Heart giddy. "Heh heh heh, just like in Roman Holiday." Dropping the title of a vintage film in which a princess snuck out of her palace all alone and got to briefly enjoy the city of Rome, Silver Heart's already mellow expression melted entirely. If Queen saw how he looked now, she would probably slump down in disappointment.

But just then, his melted face hardened back up.

"..." Silver Heart's eyes were drawn to the coaster in front of him. He could see a small "N" written in the corner of the coaster.

This is... It was a familiar sign. It was how spies sent each other secret messages...

Silver Heart's mind flashed back to decades ago. He flipped over the coaster to see familiar letters that he had read often in the past.

To my sworn enemy, Silver.

To have it out with you once and for all, I have crept out of the world of darkness.

I will steal your treasure.

P.S. Your girlfriend isn't coming. She should be in the custody of the castle guards by now.

"..."

Silver put the coaster down and took a breath. So Noir really does hate me... The sudden cancellation of his date with Her Majesty was a shock in and of itself, but not knowing the reason for this grudge left Silver feeling ill at ease.

What's the matter with him...? Silver Heart took another sip of his espresso, just as he heard a screeching voice come from the TV set up outside the cafe.

"This is your host, DJ Peacock! We've just received an advance notice from Phantom Thief Noir!"

"What...!?" Surprised, Silver Heart listened closely.

"I'll read Phantom Thief Noir's notice out loud. —Tonight, I'll steal the 'Lachla Crown' which Phantom Thief Silver Heart has targeted from the passenger ship Urban of the Sea. Phantom Thief Noir. —That's all! This is sure to be a heart-pounding and stimulating develop..."

Not even listening to the report till the end, Silver Heart got up. "..."

As Silver Heart faded into the bustle of Paris, he no longer had the same look in his eyes as when he was waiting for his date. His eyes were quietly ablaze, in a manner befitting the legendary phantom thief.

#kaitou joker #light novel

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 10

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Picking codenames is hard!... on Batman

First< Previous> Next

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“That was so awkward,” Marinette groans, pulling her beanie down as a mask.

“The part where your crush was asking for date ideas right next to you?” Marion turns his hoodless hoodie inside out to the black side, “Or the temperature drop between Chlo and 'he who shall no longer be named in her presence'?”

“One, we’re not in her presence right now so you don’t have to keep that promise,” Marinette unzips her skirt so she's down to her leggings and hands it to Marion, “and two, both, I hope you’re just a cringe worthy around Red Hood tonight”

“Now that’s just not nice,” Marion playfully pouts, flipping the skirt inside out and pulling it over his head.

“Your crush got us into this situation, I reserve the right to not be nice,” Marinette pulls her hood up before running and vaulting off the roof.

“Can you believe that?” Marion makes sure his mask is fit securely over his head.

“Yes, yes I can,” Plaggs voice sounds from his pocket. Marion doesn't answer chasing after Marinette to the meeting point.

“Sorry we’re late,” Marion says, touching down in front of Batman and Robin a second later than Marinette, he puts away his staff, “Not exactly the fastest way to travel,”

At least not without magic.

“That changes today,” Batman walks away from the edge of the building.

The twins follow with Robin who had fixed a glare on Marinette since their arrival.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Marinette decides to be the bigger person, both figuratively and literally, “I felt frustrated and defensive and took that out on you,”

Robin seems taken aback, regarding her for a long pause.

“Indeed, take care it doesn't happen again,” Robin says, at least slightly less snobbishly then he was yesterday.

Marinette doesn't let that bother her and gives him a bright smile. Taking him off guard again. Marion squints at the shadows trying to see a betraying hint of bright colors.

“The others are out on patrol,” Batman informs them as they come to stand next to him as he sets down a case on an old abandon table

Marion hoped he didn’t notice.

“So there’s no need to glare at the shadows,” Batman adds, a hint of amusement at Marion's embarrassment. He flips open the briefcase to reveal neatly packed grappling hook guns among other gadgets and weapons.

“These are your communicators, put them on,” Batman hands them each a small piece of cool metal shaped with irregular bumps that should fit well in their ears.

“Hello, this is Oracle, can you hear me?” A voice clicks on when the communicator is comfortable in Marion's ear.

“Um, hi Oracle, I don’t think we’ve met,” Marion says out loud, glancing at Batman who gives a confirming nod.

“We haven’t, but I’ve been watching you, I run surveillance in the Batcave,”

“That’s an actual thing?” Marinette blurts out, Oracle laughs.

“Yeah, Batman's committed to the motif,” She tells them, curiosity and mischief takes over.

“Please tell me there are actual bats,” Marion jokingly begs.

“Maybe you’ll find out for yourself someday,” Oracle teases.

“How mean,” Marion pouts playfully, hoping Oracle could tell he’s not serious.

“You’ll patrol with Robin and I today,” Batman hands them each a grappling hook, “Do you know how to use these,”

Marinette smirks, walking to the edge of the building and launching off, swinging into the night.

“That would be a yes,” Oracle chuckles, Marion looks around trying to figure out where she’s watching from, “Don’t bother looking, I have eyes all over the city,”

“Huh, that's concerning,” Marion watches Marinette land on an adjacent roof, waiting for them, “Also I don’t know how to use this, staffs really are my forte,”

“I’ll teach you, Robin follow her,” Batman commands, Robin swinging off with the same ease as Ladybug.

“That reminds me what are your codenames?” Oracle asks through the comms, as Marion regards the grappling hook with suspicion.

“Uh, we don’t have any, do we need them?” Marinette answers for him, as he judges the weight.

“It’ll be easier than saying ‘hey you’ and ‘the other one’,” Oracle sounds amused. Marion accidentally hits the trigger, Batman easily sidesteps the upcoming projectile.

“Plus we need to stamp out this rumour,” Robin spits venomously, Marion quickly retracts the hook.

“What rumour?” Marion looks to Batman who didn’t seem too upset about almost being shot.

“There has already been some sightings of you around Gotham, no one knows your names so they are calling you the new Robins,” Batman explains, correcting Marion’s grip on the grappling hook.

“Their first response to seeing new vigilantes was that there were new Robins?” From the audio it sounds like Marinette is rushing through the air. Something Marion realises he will be doing soon as Batman guides him to aim at the next building over.

“There's been a lot, plus you have the whole red, green and yellow,” Oracle informs, as Marion hits the trigger.

“Separately, I would never put all three in one outfit, unless I was trying to be a traffic light,” Marion smiles at Marinette's offence, remembering when she was forced to do just, lamenting over how heroes have no eye for color scheme.

“Regardless, you need codenames,” Batman watches as Marion pulls making the line go taunt.

“Do they have to be flying creatures themed?” Marion gets ready to swing down to the next building. He tries to remember the times they messed around and tried on each others miraculous. Needless to say he preferred his staff.

Batman is silent, swinging to the next building expecting Marion to follow.

“I’m going to connect your comm to the others, they need to hear this,” Oracle laughs, a click later, “New guys are on,”

“Hi,” Nightwing's voice comes through.

“Hello,” The twins both greet, getting a response from Red Robin as well.

“Hey, I’m Spoiler, nice to meet ya,” A cheerful feminine voice greets.

“Black Bats also on here somewhere, don’t expect her to talk much,” Oracle tells them, Marion still standing on the edge of the roof.

“I’m here too,” Red Hood’s voice startles him, jumping off and swinging across more on instinct than anything else.

“I’m surprised at you Hood,” Robin sneer can be heard, Marion lands on the roof with a slight stumble.

“Don’t be, just didn’t want there to be new Robins running around,” Red Hood grouses, Marion gives Batman a slightly amused smile, the man nods in approval, or confirmation?

“We were actually just talking about codenames,” Oracle remarks, “Flying creature themed,”

“How about, flying squirrel!” Marion jokes, following Batman's lead as he aims for the next building over.

“Sugar glider,” Marinette giggles.

“Yeah, that's the one,” Marion approves, grappling hook shooting out with a hiss.

“No,” Batman denies, swinging off.

“Flying fish,” Marion follows with less hesitation.

“Scientific name: Exocoetidae,” Oracle answers without a beat, as Marion swings through the air.

“Why would you know that?” Marion hears someone say over the rushing wind.

“No,” Batman growls, Marion landing next to him.

“Gliding Lizard,” Marinette offers, as Batman shows Marion the retraction tool on the grappling hook.

“Scientific name: Draco,” Oracle recites.

“Potter,” Marion and Red Hood snarl together. Marion tries not to grin like an idiot in front of the watching Batman.

“No,” Batman jumps to the next much taller building using the retraction tool to pull himself to the top.

“Flying frog’s a thing,” Oracle tells them through the comms, “Or Wallace’s flying frog,”

“Oh, can everyone please just call me Wallace,” Marion makes sure his grappling hook is secure, “You’ve got Batman, Robin, Red Hood, and Wallace,”

“I’ll be Grommet,” Marinette laughs, Marion jumps.

“No,” Batman repeats, Marion uses the grappling hook to pull him up next to Batman.

“Mosquito,” Spoiler chimes in.

“Fly,” Red Hood adds, Marion can hear gunshots from somewhere. Looking around he realises it was from the comms. Nobody comments, so he assumes it was common enough.

“No,” Batman says, Marion follows him more confidently.

“Flying snake,” Marion remembers after a far too long conversation with Sass.

“Is that a thing?” Nightwing questions. Marion jumps off the building, sending the grappling hook out as he falls.

“Sure is,” Marion feels the hook snag on something and pills himself up landing next to Batman.

“Slightly more afraid of snakes,” Nightwing admits, Batman's expression is similar to Kagami's when he jumped into the Seine river to save a cat.

“Don’t worry they’re only mildly venomous,” Marion smiles, partly at Batman's still surprised face.

“Gee, thanks,” Nightwing says, as Marion ignores Batman's glare.

“Welcome,” Marion swings to the next building with a cheeky grin.

“No,” Batman overtakes him.

“This is why we’ve never chosen codenames,” Marinette whispers.

“I see,” Robin whispers back, no one bothers to inform them they can be heard.

“You are now limited to birds,” Batman grumbles, leading Marion across rooftops, still at a slow pace.

“Penguin!” Marion grins, Batman was trying but it would take a lot more to discourage him.

“That's a villain,” Red Robin tells him. Marion knew that he just thought it would be funny if they were both called penguin.

“Emu,” Marinette continues the flightless bird trend as Marion soars across the sky.

“No,” Batman growls.

“Cassowary,” Marion remembers the evil looking bird from their Nonna's postcard. Which Marinette had kindly made sure was hung up facing his bed.

“Why?” Red Hood startles Marion, causing him to crash through a window of an old building.

“Have you seen them? Quite frankly scarier than bats” Marion is momentarily proud of himself for not stuttering.

“No,” Batman looks disapproving, standing atop the broken glass, Marion rubs his neck grinning sheepishly.

“I think he’s intimidated,” Red Hood snickers, warmth filling Marion making him forget.

“It’s already working,” Marion smiles, partly at Batman who turns to leave.

“No it’s not,” Batman says gruffly. Marion moves to follow but he senses something off, the same instincts he had honed during Akuma attacks.

“Sure,” Red Hood scoffs, but Marion isn’t distracted trying to focus his somewhat super hearing. The muted sounds of distress could easily be written off, but he knew better.

“Kiwi,” Spoiler chirps, Marion tugs on Batman's cape, not bothering to look back as he follows a mixture of the murmurs and instinct.

“Quail,” Red Robin adds, Marion rushes down the stairs, echoing footsteps of them both making it harder to hear so he just keeps going down.

“Ostrich,” Nightwing chatters, even over the footsteps Marion can now hear something.

“Stop choosing flightless birds,” Batman commands, trying again in vain to narrow down their shenanigans.

“Pigeon,” Spoiler crushes his hopes of them taking it seriously.

“Bin chicken!,” Nightwing laughs, Marion reaches the bottom of the staircase. He concentrates Batman standing silently behind him.

“You mean Ibis?” Robin corrects. Marion can hear it now, the floor below several people, children, some crying others yelling for help.

“That's not nearly as much fun,” Spoiler yammers, as Marion whispers the information to Batman.

“Crow,” Nightwing tries again. Batman nods, taking the lead. Marion feels some of his tension drain, Batman carrying a similar feeling to whenever he followed Ladybug.

“Raven,” Marinette seems to at least be making an attempt to take this seriously now, probably because Marion hasn’t been egging her on.

“Already a hero,” Robin tells her, Batman breaks down the door to an office type room, the guard behind the desk barely having a chance to react before getting knocked out.

“Really? I have to meet them,” Oh thats right, no she wasn't because MDC had designed a Raven outfit months ago.

“Dove,” Oracle tries, Marion wonders if she is watching as Batman shoves a shelf out the way revealing a locked door.

“Crane,” Red Hood adds, Batman's relief at semi serious names is dulled as he easily picks the lock while Marion readies his staff.

“Heron,” Spoiler says, as the door swings open. Batman looks back, checking in on Marion who gives him a reassuring smile, theres no way he would miss this.

“Osprey,” Robin offers. Marion is glad he is getting involved, lightning his mood as they enter the basement room. A group five of men with guns nearby playing cards.

“The Heron and the Osprey are my friends,” Marion half sings the Pocahontas tune as he lunges forward, smacking the gun out of the first goon's hand and kicking him in the stomach simultaneously.

“It’s otter,” Nightwing corrects good-naturedly, Marion watches the first goon double over. He defends himself against the seconds punch, a third ganging up on him.

“Well someone ban us from anything but birds,” Marion light heartedly glares at Batman who takes out the third goon.

“Moving on,” Batman grunts, disarming a fourth goon that comes at him, the fifth already on the ground.

“Hawk,” Red Robin suggests, just as Marion turns to see the second goon aiming a gun at him.

“Eagle,” Marinette says, a batarang flies through the air hitting the goons hand, who drops the gun reflexively.

“You’re going to have to commit to full american if you take on that one,” Nightwing chuckles, Marion tries to hit the second goon in the head but his staff is caught by a bleeding hand.

“So no then,” Marinette lets some of her french accent come through. Marion yanks his staff forward, sending the goon off balance forward. He brings his knee up to his chest and elbow to the back of his neck at the same time.

“Kite,” Nightwing offers. Marion watches the goon slump to the floor, reminding himself to bandage his hand later.

“Parasailing,” Marion plays the word association game. The first goon has recovered and is standing again, now with a knife.

“How’d you make that connection,” Nightwing puzzles, as Marion dodges the blade.

“It’s like flying a kite but with people's lives,” Marion laughs, partly at the very confused look the first goon gives him.

“High risk kite flying, if it gets stuck in a tree it's time to go to the hospital,” Red Hood snatches Marion's focus, almost getting himself stabbed.

“You realise that the people who are in the air are meant to be having fun,” Red Robin asks, Marion can’t answer as he dodges the knife again. He would never hear the end of it if he got stabbed because of his crush. Oh and he would have to go to the hospital and might die and stuff.

“Then they're clearly not doing parasailing right,” Red Hood retaliates, Marion decides he does not want Marinette to put this on his tombstone. He steps to the opposite side of the knife, the goon predictably twists to reach him. Marion grabs his wrist holding the knife and his shoulder with the other hand.

“I second that,” Marion grins sweeping the goons legs while applying pressure to the wrist until the knife is dropped. The goon lands on his back, Marion pulls his arm so he is forced on his stomach, other arm trapped underneath.

“You are never allowed near the ocean again,” Marinette sighs, Marion moves the arm he is still holding into a pin. Batman hands him a pair of handcuffs. Marion snaps one around the goons writs before pulling the other out from under his body.

“I shouldn’t have to say it but your codename cannot be Parasailing,” Batman scowls, the other three goons already out cold.

“Ugh, why can’t we just go with Robins?” Marion sits the goon up, lifting the table and sliding his looped arms under a leg.

“We already have a Robin and Red Robin,” Nightwing points out, Marion moves to the second goon. He pulls some bandages out of his satchel, tightly bandaging the goons bleeding hand.

“Scarlet Robin,” Marinette suggests. Marion smiles at her teasing tone, zip tying the second goon's hands together.

“Same thing,” Red Robin sounds irritated, Marion looks to see Batman has restrained the other goons as well.

“With less alliteration” Spoiler mocks, Marion checks to make sure there are no weapons within reach of the one conscious goon.

“Black Robin,” Marion picks up his dropped staff, holding on to it in case there's anyone else looking for a fight.

“Flame Robin,” Nightwing offers, Batman surveyed the room before giving Marion a nod.

“I like that one,” Marion sets down the hall towards the noise, he's not sure if Batman can hear yet.

“You are not to call yourselves Robin,” Robin snarls, Marion would grin over getting him to snap if it wasn’t for the quiet cries behind the door he stood in front of.

“Thrush,” Red Hood taunts, Marion pushes open the door where there are several children who all startle at seeing him.

“That's a Robin,” Robin sneers, when Batman follows in after him their concern melts into relief. The younger ones running up to him.

“No its not,” Oracle says, Marion can hear sirens from above and wonders who called the police, “Robins are part of the Chat family,”

“Oh I have to be Chat!” Marion exclaims, making the few kids near him jump and the others look at him like he’s crazy. He blushes but gives them a friendly smile and wave.

“No!” Marinette shouts not at all suspiciously. He ignores her, telling Batman, and by extension the room the police have arrived. He can hear them entering the building. “I find it highly entertaining you know so much about birds,”

‘Very smooth cover’ Marion doesn't dare say out loud. He crouches down in front of the kid closet to him. His clothes are torn with dirt smudged all over them and his face. Marion gives his brightest smile asking if he’s ok. He gets a hesitant one in return and a slight nod.

“Alright then, other small bird species,” Oracle graciously changes the subject.

“Fantail,” Spoiler suggests, Marion can hear the police running around upstairs in completely the wrong direction. He tells Batman so.

“Sparrow,” Nightwing tries, Batman leaves to direct the police. They probably wouldn't trust an unknown like Marion, much like the kids don't.

“I like that one,” Marinette approves, Marion reaches into his bag pulling out a box of cookies. It was meant to be a backup for Tikki, but the Kwami could make do.

“It’s acceptable,” Batman says over the comms. Marion hands the box to the boy who stands in front of him.

“Other birds starting with s?” Red Robin asks, Marion smiles as the boy’s excitement when he opens the box.

“Swallow,” Nightwing says, after a thoughtful pause. Marion watches as the boy immediately goes to share with the others.

“One step forward,” Robin mutters, Marion gives the kids a reassuring smile before moving to stand watch at the door.

“Seagull,” Spoiler giggles, Marion can hear the police talking with Batman, who must have turned off his comm.

“And two steps back,” Red Hood mocks, Marion tries to keep the completely inappropriate lovestruck grin off his face.

“Looking up birds,” Oracle informs, a pause then, “Sad flycatcher,”

“Should we shorten it down to ‘sad’ or ‘flycatcher’,” Marion wonders aloud, hoping the kids didn’t hear him, or at least don’t think he’s insane.

“Sad,” Red Robin responds instantly. Marion feels a tug on his sleeve, looking down he sees the same boy holding out a cookie for him.

“Fly catcher,” Nightwing says cheerfully. Marion’s heart melts. Shaking his head he urges the kid to have it himself. He does, sticking close to Marion.

“No,” Batman must have turned his comm back on, in time for Marion to catch the tell tale footsteps coming downstairs.

“That isn’t part of the name at all,” Spoiler jokes, the police enter the room. Marion sees Batman signal for them to leave. Marion ruffles the boy's hair gently, getting a slightly bolder smile.

“Stork,” Marion leaves the room, sticking close to Batman so police don’t attack him.

“You are very cute with babies,” Red Hood praises, making Marion's face heat.

“You saw that!” He yells, startling the officers they walk past to get upstairs.

“I recorded it,” Red Hood’s amusement is clear in his voice. Marion can’t come up with an answer, his thoughts warring over if that was a good thing or not.

“Santa cruz ground dove,” Oracle reads, snapping Marion out of his thoughts. He had blindly followed Batman to the stairwell, he seemed amused by Marion's spaciness.

“Santa,” Nightwing declares, as the two climb the stairs.

“Absolutely,” Marion beams, looking for Batman's reaction.

“No,” Batman shuts down, unfortunately stony faced.

“Screaming Crowbir-”

“No,” Batman cuts Oracle off.

“Scrub warbler,” Oracle tries again.

“We aren't calling him scrub,” Nightwing sighs, before Batman gets the chance.

“Sharpe,” Oracle proposes.

“I will exclusively call you permanent marker,” Spoiler promises, making him smile.

“Sounds like a win-win,” Marion bounces to the top of the stairs.

“No,” Batman grouses, they come out to the roof, the night's cool air hitting them.

“Shelley’s starling,” Oracle reads, as Marion walks to the edge of the roof to see what's happening below.

“Please let me be Shelley,” Marion begs Batman, hands clasped and everything.

“No,” Batman snaps, Marion hits him with the babydoll eyes, “Maybe,”

“Shikra,” Oracle interrupts his silent victory.

“Shakira!” Nightwing shouts, Marion bounces on his feet.

“No,” Batman says firmly.

“Please,” Marion tries the babydoll eyes again.

“I’d rather you be Shelley,” Batman admits, Marion would take it.

“Sparkling violetear,” Oracle lists.

“Sparkling,” Spoiler gushes, Marion looks onto the street below where the kids are exiting the building.

“No,” Batman disapproves, also watching medics take over, giving blankets out and checking them over.

“Flash back to the first robin costume,” Nightwing's haunted whisper carries over.

“What?” Marinette sounds horrified, Nightwing's previous fashion choices not being very confidence inducing.

“Squirrel cockatoo,” Oracle reads, just why it’s called that is beyond Marion.

“Wont that confuse people?” Red Robin asks, Marion spies the little boy looking around.

“Exactly,” Marion’s comment gets a chuckle from someone, he hopes it’s Red Hood.

“Stitch bird,” Oracle adds. The boy's eyes land on Marion who probably just looked like a silhouette, but only so many people hang out on rooftops.

“Can I change my name to Lilo?” Marinette requests. The boy waves, Marion gives him a two fingered salute before disappearing from view.

“No, we’ve wasted enough time as is,” Robin doesn't pick up on her taunt, Marion and Batman leave the scene behind.

“Good job,” Batman remarks, Marion doesn't hear an echo from his ear.

“Sunda Robin,” Oracle says, Marion smiles to himself watching Batman move ahead.

“No Robins,” Robin scowls, Marion tries to get back into the rhythm of swinging through the air.

“Sunda thrush,” Oracle repeats. Batman stops, brings up a holographic map, a flashing ‘R’ not far from them.

“Same thing!” Robin yells, Marion follows Batman in the direction shown on the map.

“We’re going to be here all night,” Red Robin sighs tiredly.

“How about-”

“That's enough for tonight,” Batman cuts off Spoiler, a long pause following.

“Guys I think we broke B.” Nightwing stage whispers into the comms.

“Good job, and on your first night too,” Red Hood cheers, making Marion stumble his landing. Which is obviously the moment their paths intersect with Marinette and Robin. The former giving him a knowing look.

Marion sneers, they continue on with patrol as a group. Oracle directs them to a pickpocket a block over. They take one look at the four vigilantes surrounding them and give in. They are interrupted by their phones simultaneously buzzing, an Akuma alert.

“We have to go,” Marinette lands next to Batman, handing over the grappling hook.

“Where?” Batman demands, as they both remove their comms, cutting off the others asking the same.

“Something came up, we have to handle it, see ya,” Marion waves, vaulting off the building, followed by Marinette.

“... I have to admit, that wasn’t too bad,” Marinette muses, as they check for cameras before transforming.

“That's the spirit Sparrow!” Marion pulls on his glasses, “Gasp! Jack Sparrow!”

“Captain,” Marinette corrects, “Don’t tell Batman he’ll make us change it again,”

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

Text

To Have You Like This (Leonardo x Male!Reader)

Rated: E (Explicit) Male Reader, Top Reader, Mutant Reader (chameleon/humanoid), friends to lovers, resolving sexual tension, rimming, anal sex, affection After your mutation, you had struggled to come to terms with the chameleon-like changes to your body. Luckily, you made a friend in Leonardo. The blue-banded leader quickly became your best friend, helping you transition to life as a mutant amid the chaos of NYC. But the energy between you has been shifting. Tonight, the feelings you two have been pushing down are going to come to the surface. for anonymous

Leonardo has always treated you as an equal. You were a fighter before your mutation, so your time with him hasn’t been all about the fundamentals of attack and defense. Training with Leo is more learning the ins and outs of your new abilities, figuring out how to use them to your advantage. But tonight, standing on opposite ends of the dojo, weapons tossed aside, neither of you are thinking about running drills.

Swordplay turned to grappling some time ago, and the tension that has been building between you for weeks has finally come to a head. Staring each other down, your chests heaving from exertion, both of you can feel the change in the air.

You see him shift, adjusting his belt to accommodate the effect you have on him. With your heightened senses, you can smell his arousal mixing with your own.

Your tongue flicks and slowly licks your lips, reminding him just how long and dextrous it’s become. Leonardo’s pupils dilate and he shudders at the sight. Giving a little smirk, you turn toward the tunnel for the showers with no doubt he’ll follow.

⁂

He meets you at the foot of his bed--your best friend and closest ally--but now you see each other in a new light. Everything is about to change.

Half-dressed and still dripping from your showers, there's a hunger in the way you drink in the sight of one another. Not an ounce of tension has dissolved. If anything, anticipation has drummed up more desire.

Leo breathes your name and it's a foreign sound--tortured and wanton. His voice trips down your spine and sends sparks through your veins. The fearless leader sounds uncertain. Curious and hopeful and a little bit lost.

For as long as you've been friends, you've known that if anything were to happen between you it would be you who makes the first move.

You take a step forward, and your hands find his chest.

Much like your time together in the dojo, this moment in Leo’s bedroom feels like taking your new body for a test drive. You know the fundamentals of a kiss, of a fuck, but now that you’re no longer fully human it all feels new. With Leo, so many things do.

You feel his heartbeat quicken and his breathing cease. You’ve touched before--donning armor, tending to injury--but never like this. The broad expanse of his chiseled plastron is warm under your hands, still slick from his shower. Your throat is tight. Your lips are dry.

You stand a few inches taller than him. Being this close makes it obvious. So you gather the tails of his mask in your hands. You urge him up on his toes to meet your height. His focus is on your lips, just as yours is on his, until your faces are too close for your eyes to do anything but close.

Cool, firm lips slide against yours. And when Leo releases a shaky exhale, his breath tastes like bitter herbs and honey. His forehead presses into yours as his hands hold your waist, and you feel him sway just a bit as he stands. You tip your head to bring your lips to his again.

He breaks the kiss, his voice trembling. “Please,” he says, and you pet his cheek, his neck.

You nod your head against his where you’re still pressed close. You’ve been friends long enough, grown close enough, to know Leonardo has never been intimate with anyone before. “Do you want to stop?” you ask, your voice dipping low. “Or do you want-”

“More,” he pleads in a rush, and he breathes against your lips as he takes it. His next kiss is urgent and wet. It’s desperate and perfect. His large hands sweep up your back and you love the strength of his thick fingers as they pull you chest to chest.

You cradle his chin and tilt his head to fit his lips better against yours. With your other hand, you caress his plastron--taking your time, feeling scars you hadn’t noticed before. Your heart twists as your fingertips find each divot and crack. You press another kiss to his lips before letting your mouth wander.

Your kisses travel his neck, down his shoulder with quick nips and licks. You run your tongue along the hard edge of his plastron, worshipping his heroism and sacrifice without words. Your hands move down the sensitive skin of his sides as your mouth continues its reverent descent. At his center, your hands slide over his belt, hinting at what you want to give him and asking for permission.

He looks down on you. His breathing already ragged. A hand strokes your head before he's undoing his belt with haste.

“We can stop,” you remind him, scratching designs down his thighs.

He huffs, his lashes fluttering as his eyes roll. He shakes his head and his shorts fall to the floor.

You shove him onto the mattress and smile knowing you've caught the ninja by surprise. Your hand drifts low on his abdomen, so low you can feel the impressive bulge under his plastron. You can guess how close he is to dropping down.

He pushes himself toward the headboard and reclines upon the pillows for you. He looks gorgeous like this. Laid out and desperate for your touch.

Kneeling between his legs, you remove your shirt and slide the waistband of your sweatpants down your thighs. As you lie over him, Leo rocks on his shell. The press and friction of your bodies spikes your arousal and curls your toes.

You hitch his leg over your hip, dragging him impossibly closer. Needing him closer. You moan against his lips.

“More,” he begs, his voice rough. The headboard groans under his grip as he writhes.

There’s no question in your mind, you’ll give him what he needs. You want him. All of him. It excites you to know he feels the same. Even quick as you are, he whines when you have to break contact to strip off the rest of your clothes.

When there’s nothing between you but fevered skin, you lean forward again, covering him with your body. You pin him down by his wrists, your single-handed hold tight and firm.

Leo looks up at you, his blue eyes stormy with passion and full of trust. He arches into your free hand as it explores his body. He feels alive in a way he hasn’t felt before. Under your gaze, your touch, he feels exposed and known and vulnerable in a way he’s never allowed himself to feel with anyone else.

Your hands come down to his sides, grab his shell by his hips, and you rut against him where he lies, so pliant, cooperative, and needy. He bucks his hips on a wrecked moan.

“Go ahead,” you say, one hand sneaking between you, stroking his belly. You palm the bulge under his plastron and he squirms. He whimpers. And you tease, "That's it." Massaging the rise of his abdomen, you command, “Let me see you.”

With a sigh that turns into a moan, he drops down. You look between you to take in the sight of him lined up beside your own dick. His length, his girth. He’s not so different from other men. Though yours are more similar now that you're reptilian as well.

You caress him with even, curious strokes, marveling at the texture of his flesh. The heat of it. Precome gathers at his tip and leaks down his length. It mixes with yours and smoothes the rough glide.

“Don’t,” Leo says, and it sounds like he’s going to break.

Your hand stills as your eyes meet.

“...'m close. Want to feel you.”

“I’m right here,” you assure him and bring your mouths together for a kiss that’s careful and slow.

Leo hums against your lips and it vibrates against your lips in a way that leaves you greedy for more. As a leader, Leo carries the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But here, he lets go of all that, he melts.

“Fuck me,” he says and you think, for a moment, the world has stopped.

You must take too long to respond because when the world starts up again, Leo is looking up at you, his mouth soft and open, and he’s asking again.

You kiss him hard this time and tell him, “I’ve got you,” as if the way you have him pinned isn’t enough. Because you mean it in every sense. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

With a teasing drag of your body against his, you slide down and part his legs. You abandon his dick for now, much more interested in fulfilling your promise. Eager to get him ready to take you in.

Leo's hand leaves the headboard to reach for yours. Your fingers link at his hip as your tongue laves at the most intimate part of him. Your tongue presses and Leo gasps.

He's tight and hot, sucking you in so greedily you slow down to hear the agony of his desire. He grinds down on your face as you offer him one finger then more. Taking him apart like this, with your fingers and tongue, quickly becomes your new favorite thing.

Bobbing just above you, his perfect cock throbs with anticipation and neglect. It’s dark, straining, dripping. You think it probably hurts to be that hard. Your own dick aches as it hangs between your thighs, well affected by Leo’s grunts and moans.

When your tongue leaves his ass and he whimpers, you assure him with a voice that’s low and smooth, “I’m right here.”

His gaze is open and sure as he nods. Then you align the head of your dick where he wants it and make it known you’re going to give him everything he needs.

You sink in slowly, a bit in awe that you get to have him like this.

He moans through the slide until he's taken every inch. He shudders as your hips meet and pleasure coils at your core. A wrecked sound breaks from Leo's throat. A mewl. A purr. You wonder if he knows what he's doing to you. His body tenses while he's filled to the root and your thighs tremble, your hips stutter. You pull back and plunge in and grunt his name.

He returns your call, panting and weak. Looks up at you, unguarded--cheeks flushed, eyes blown and glazed. To see him flawlessly laid out like this charges something possessive in you. You never knew you could want something, someone, so desperately until you had Leo writhing beneath you.

Your skin flares blue and green, orange and red rippling up your spine, washing you in color. You bend down meeting Leo for a deep, burning kiss. And you take his dick in hand where it's creating a mess over his stomach.

Your thrusts are short and deep. You work yourself up with quick fucks like it's a challenge. You work him over at a pace just as punishing, driving him toward orgasm and holding him at the edge.

Leo's head bangs against the headboard in time with your thrusts and a churr rolls through his chest. But the way he says your name, quiet and tender, has you coming undone.

You pull out to cover him in ropes of your sticky, hot spend. Your body shakes with each spurt and Leo greedily licks up a drop that's landed on his chin. It's the taste of you that does him in.

He's been on edge so long the orgasm tears through him like a shock. He shivers and quakes as you lick him clean. When you kiss him, he tastes the mix of your come and his spent dick gives an involuntary twitch of interest.

"More?" you ask with a quirk of your brow.

Leo gives you a lazy smile that's sated and happy as his limbs give a final shudder and fall limp. "Later?"

You can't remember a time you've seen him look so relaxed. "Sure." You stroke his chest and curl into his side. There's nowhere better to be. "Later, I can do."

#leonardo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #leonardo x male reader #male reader #top male reader #mutant reader #my writing

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listentothelittlebird · 3 years

Text

Today I bring you: an alternate Super Sons meeting! (This is a scrapped scene from my Code Bat series on ao3, but I think this is still enjoyable without context!)

The rewrite of this is here!

“I told you, coming with me would be boring.”

“Tt. Whatever, Drake.”

The nickname had long lost its malicious tinge. Tim rolled his eyes, trying to quell the fond smile that was twitching at his lips by ducking his face back down towards the paperwork on his table.

He was in a usually vacant office, at the Wayne Enterprises building of New York. Damian was playing a video game of some sort on his phone. Tim leaned over to peer at the boy’s screen. Damian tried to jerk away from his view, but Tim had already caught sight of the display.

Tim snorted, “Is that Dragonvale?”

“Shut up,” Damian snapped, his emotions betrayed by the reddening of his cheeks. Tim laughed lightly before returning to his work, the office descending into companionable silence, the only sounds coming from Tim shifting around the papers and clicking and unclicking his pen.

Damian had insisted on coming along for Tim’s business trip to New York. Not because he wanted to have a hand at the business, no, but because the young artist was interested in sketching the streets of the city - especially from the more illegal perches they could find on the tall buildings.

A ping from Tim’s phone caught his attention. He frowned minutely, enough of a change for Damian to raise an eyebrow from where he had positioned himself in the corner of the office, right next to the window overlooking the street below. Damian had already grown bored of the same view, having sketched the same perpsective for three days straight.

“So much for a peaceful business trip,” Tim murmured, signing quickly to Damian from behind his desk, where the camera in the room was unable to see, “K-O-N is in town. Pursuing T-O-Y-M-A-N.”

Damian tilted his head to the side, a silent question of “How?”, because New York was not exactly a neighbour to Metropolis. Tim shrugged with a disgruntled look, “Let’s go. I’m pretty much done with what I have to do right now. The rest can wait until later.”

Damian kept pace with Tim as he made a quick detour to access his spare costume before exiting the building. They were becoming more and more like real brothers each day - just the fact that Damian was here with Tim, without any of their other family members, already spoke volumes on their improving relationship. “What do I do?” Damian wondered curiously, “I know you’re intending on meeting up with him. Would my presence be distracting?”

Tim pursed his lips in thought. He had to admit, Damian’s new costume - the robe dyed with faint colourings - was pretty neat, but also very easily located. Damian would definitely stand out, if he did suit up. Not to mention that Damian had little to no exposure to any metas besides Duke, and would struggle to hide from Kon’s super senses.

“If you’re ready to make your debut, then I’ll see you at the destruction zone,” Tim clasped his hand briefly on Damian’s shoulder before ducking into the nearest alleyway. Damian would take more time to make it to where Toyman was currently wreaking havoc, since he had left his robe in their hotel room.

Sure enough, when Red Robin swooped down from the nearest rooftop to land a direct hit on Toyman’s newest creation, the flash of Damian’s white costume was still nowhere to be seen.

There was, however, another tween present. It did not take a genius to realise from the boy’s red cape and blue Superman tunic that this was Kon’s younger brother, Jon.

“How did Toyman get all the way to New York?” Red Robin aimed the question at his teammate, electing to ignore the presence of the younger boy for the time being.

Superboy huffed, visibly annoyed. “He let loose a ton of smaller toy robots, miniatures of the one he’s currently on,” Kon pointed to the UFO-like contraption that was zipping about the skies. He then directed a glare at his younger brother, “And somebody decided to ditch homeland, so that their Pa has to do all the work taking the robots down himself.”

“Pa can take care of the robots just fine!” Jon yelled, angry tone still dangerously close to a whine, “And I can help you! It all works out!”

Kon looked ready to argue back, so Tim cut in with a quick, “Less talk, more work. We can deal with family squabbles later.” Both Superboys instantly fell silent.

Toyman was rather irritable, Tim realised. Particularly so for him, since he was unable to fly and was restricted to the rooftops or fire escapes along the sides of the buildings. It was one of the few times that he wished he had incorporated his gliding wings into his Red Robin suit instead of his Gotham suit.

The villain also seemed to have a shield around his robot, preventing them from inflicting much damage on the UFO he was in. Tim was also constantly weary of the civilians - they were unable to properly clear out of the way, since Toyman kept switching streets and running off in different directions.

Jon tried to punch straight through the shield, but the shield deflected the force of his blow right back at him with a displacing wave of energy, sending the boy hurtling into a nearby building. The boy growled and got back to his feet, aiming to punch the shield a second time. The buildings around them were already unstable from the force of the first blast.

“Kid, don’t!” Red Robin called, but Jon had already flown straight into the shield, forcefully flinging his fist into the barrier.

Damian arrived on scene just as the buildings began to crumble. He stayed crouched a distance away, just shy of the main impact zone of the concussive wave.

Damian first noted the failing infrastructures of the buildings nearest to the blast. He was moving before his thoughts had fully formed, diving quickly through the sizable hole in the building and sprinting towards the unlucky civilians that were caught up in the chaos. He had to clear the building fast, before they were crushed under it.

He lowered the last person to the ground with his grappling hook, only to look up and note the presence of not one, but two Superboys. The smaller one looked to be around his own age, which was both intriguing and concerning.

The second Superboy now looked down at him from where he was holding up the upper half of the building he had just exited. “Who are you?” the boy asked in bewilderment. Damian backed away before ducking into the alley beside him, making his way onto the rooftop of a stable building.

“I could use some help!” Red Robin yelled from one street over, where Toyman had retreated to. Red Robin was using what looked to be electrified bird-a-rangs, which were just barely able to get through the shield, but were not doing much in terms of damage.

Damian slipped a small throwing knife into his hand, aiming his shot carefully. Toyman was facing away from him, and his control panel was on full display from where Damian was crouched. He waited until Red Robin readied another bird-a-rang, before throwing his knife in sync with him.

The shield malfunctioned for a split second once more, and it was all that was needed for the knife to slip through at the same time as the bird-a-rang, planting itself neatly into the controls. The wiring fizzled for a brief moment as Toyman cried out, whipping his head back to meet Damian’s blank mask.

The shield disappeared, and then Superboy - Kon-El - was delivering a sharp punch that crunched through the robot’s metallic body easily. The younger Superboy came soon after, hanging back as Red Robin and his older brother subdued Toyman properly.

The boy wrinkled his nose briefly, before looking directly at Damian, his expression brightening. Damian took a cautious step away from the edge of his rooftop even as Superboy flew up to him, landing heavily enough to crack the concrete slightly.

“You’re the guy from earlier!” Superboy enthused, and extended a hand, “Hi! I’m Superboy!”

Damian gazed warily at the boy’s hand. “Will you crush my hand if I shake yours?” Damian blurted out. This was his first time holding a conversation with one of the Kryptonians, he realised.

Superboy froze, and his face fell as he retracted his hand, “Ah, maybe. Sorry, I- I’m new to the hero gig,” he smiled hesitantly, glancing around him, “This is the first time I’ve been Superboy in any city other than Metropolis, actually. It’s… different.”

“I can imagine,” Damian commented, shifting tensely on his feet. Superboy frowned at him, “Your heartbeat’s going kinda fast. You know you don’t need to be afraid of me, right?”

Damian huffed, wondering belatedly how his brothers dealt with their own teammates. “I’m not afraid,” he clarified, “But it isn’t every day you meet an alien.”

“I’m not- okay, fair,” Superboy paused abruptly to glance down at the street. Kon-El and Red Robin appeared over the rooftop’s edge.

“Who are you?” Kon-El questioned, more forcefully than his younger brother’s harmless query. Damian shrugged. “Canvas,” he offered, “That’s what I would prefer to be called.”

The older Kent’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t exactly explain who you are very well,” he stated slowly, “What were you doing in the area?”

“Passing through,” Damian quipped easily. Kon-El’s frown deepened, but lifted as Red Robin pulled up several news articles on his holo-glove.

“His appearance matches reports of a white-robed traveller in numerous countries,” Red Robin summarised, and Damian knew immediately that the older boy had planned this statement, “Reports say that he was always found returning something, like an artefact or valued possession, to the communities he visited. He was also reported fighting off supernatural beings and protecting civilians from them.”

When the two Superboys looked back at Damian again, their expressions were contemplative. “So you’re a solo vigilante who’s even more nomadic than Red Robin,” Kon-El concluded, earning a disgruntled noise from the aforementioned person.

The younger Superboy suddenly lit up in an excited grin.

“Bro!” the punch that he gave his older brother made Damian wince slightly, “Teen Titans! Let me join!”

“I’ve already said no, countless times,” Kon-El stated in exasperation, “I’ll only let you on if-”

“If I’m ready, I know, but what if I go through like, a trial period, you know? Just in case I really am ready,” Superboy pointed towards Damian, “And Canva can accompany me, because he’s experienced already, then he’ll be able to tell if I am ready!”

“It’s Canvas,” Damian snapped, before the boy’s words sunk in. Teen Titans?

“You need to ask him for permission,” Kon-El scolded, before turning towards him, “Well? Are you interested in joining a team?”

“I…” Damian was at a loss as to how to respond. This was not what he was expecting.

“How about this,” Red Robin suggested, pulling a communicator from one of his pouches and tossing it over. Damian caught it on instinct.

“Contact us if you’re interested. The offer is open.”

Damian pursed his lips under his mask and nodded mutely, pocketing the device before taking off.

#as you can see #I didn’t know how to end it #writer problems what fun #I’m so glad I finished the series when I did because life is so h e c t i c right now #I want to write but I used up all my motivation #super sons #jon lane kent #damian wayne #tim drake #kon el #batfam #straight from the trash doc

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itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

Flirty (Lin Beifong x reader) Part 5

a/n: brooooo. liinnnnnn. pulllll uuppppppp brooooo. kiss?? kiss for monty?? right here?? please?? also this took like. two fucking hours to write lmao. i just want that to be known.

Warnings: This is VERY angsty and sad. Proceed with caution.

You waved Opal off with the others as the airship left. It was sad having to see her go. You knew she’d do great training with the other airbenders. She was so sweet and clever. Opal seemed excited to join the other benders at the air temple. Even though you felt happy for her it didn’t stop the ping of jealousy in your heart. Maybe if you had finally become a bender your mother and father would’ve been proud of you. Maybe they would finally love you.

You glanced to your side. Lin stood next to you with her arms were crossed and and a frown on her face. She looked annoyed and tired. You snickered. “What are you laughing at?” You shook your head, grinning. “Nothing. Couldn’t help but realize how grumpy you are. Sad to see her go?” Lin scoffed. It seems like you were right.

The sky was pink and purple as the sun set. The metal shields whirred to life, slowly covering the pretty sky. You watched them sadly as they closed in on one another. The sky was so beautiful at night. If only you could see it.

*****

The metal roof was cool underneath you. Azure was curled up in the collar of your turtle neck sleeping. Ruby pecked at the bird seed in your hands gently. The lights in Zaofu glowed softly, illuminating the streets. It was really a beautiful city.

Lin was more distant lately. She didn’t seem to pay any attention to you or care about the others. You knew that it’d happen eventually, but it still hurt. It made the stone in your stomach roll more. It sunk heavily underneath the surface and jabbed at your heart. The anxiety of being abandoned still jostled and tore at your soul. It never seemed to go away. At this point you figured it never would.

Thirty years was a long time. So much had happened in thirty years. A lot of loss and heartbreak had tore you down, leaving you on the ground defenseless. Even though life seemed to always strike you down you stilled waited. Waiting for a miracle to happen as you laid there reflecting. Now, it seemed like it was your chance. It didn’t matter how long it could take. You’d always wait for Lin.

She still held a fondness for you. Her eyes softened for a second once she saw you and she wasn’t as snarky. It was a start. As much as you wanted to kiss her face and hold her close, Lin needed time. She was impatient but you weren’t. The waiting game was something you were incredibly talented at. Thirty years of waiting you thought was the test. Now, it seemed like it was more of a test than ever. You glanced up at the covered sky. The stars had always comforted you before, it was a shame they were hidden now.

Ruby stilled in your hand, peering into the distance. “What is it Ruby,” you asked, jutting your head forward. Your eyes narrowed and your brows tugged together. Azure pecked you in the neck for waking him up. “Sorry drama queen, but you gotta go home!” Immediately, Azure flew out of your collar. You watched him go until he was out of sight. “Ruby, go fetch Lin! Bring her to me.” She sqwaked and flapped her wings. Grabbing your grappling hook, you aimed it at a crevice in the building in front of you. The button was smooth once you pressed it with the pad of your thumb. It shot out immediately making a soft swoosh sound. It clinked softly against the beam you aimed it at and swung you forward. Rotating your hips, you glided into the air. You wiggled slightly for better control and momentum. Your boots met the roof and your grappling hook quietly zipped back in place. Once you got to your destination, you rolled onto the pavement with a soft thud. In the distance you could see them. Four people were creeping at a window. Korra.

****

“What,” Lin groaned, tugging her pillow over her head. Ruby shrieked and pecked at her fingers. She tried swatting at the bird but to no avail, Ruby wouldn’t let go. “Ow! Little shit. When I find them they’re gonna-”

Boom! Lin bolted up from her bed, flinging open her door she saw Mako and Bolin tumbling onto the pavement. Bang, Bang. Lin snapped her head. Speak of the devil.

There were two weapons clutched in your hands tightly. They were shooting out some weird metal pellets. You grunted as you swiftly dodged some sort of water arm. “Lin,” you shouted, “They’ve got Korra!” Lin broke into a sprint, guarding Mako and Bolin as they came back to their senses. Her scanned the area quickly and followed where you aimed. Four people stood in the middle of the court yard. There was a woman flailing her arms at anyone who dared to come closer, along with a lady that was creating explosions with her mind.

Lin rose her fists and the metal around Korra’s attackers surrounded them. Your pellets hit the metal as soon as they came up. You cursed, taking cover behind a fallen pillar and loaded your pistols again. Suyin and her sons ran to you raising the rest of the metal around the attackers. All four of them were trapped.

“We have you surrounded it’s over!” Ruby landed on your shoulder as you trained your eyes on the target. “Good girl Rubes,” you whispered, stroking her softly. Suddenly, a rumbling noise shook the ground under you. Lava lazily slid out from the metal panes. “Lava bender,” you shouted, “Everyone, hop back!” You jumped back a few feet from the quickly pooling lava. The metal fell with a creak from the lava. It surrounded them, pushing you all fifteen feet away from Korra.

“No way. That guy’s lava bending! That’s awesome!..ly not good for us,” Bolin murmured. You stifled a laugh. Lin glared at you with her fists clenched. You shrugged in reply before getting back to the fight.

****

An explosion was sent your way for what felt like the twentieth time. You barely dodged it; the wind of it grazed your side. Ruby fluttered about, dodging their attacks swiftly. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be by your side or fly from the danger. You couldn’t blame her; you wished you were back on the metal roof and not having your joints aching like hell. Ducking, you behind a metal pane as soon as another explosion swept by. Your boots skidded onto the pavement. Ruby flew to your side immediately. “You’re doing great girl,” you comforted her.

Lin, Mako, Bolin, and Asami joined you behind the metal cover. “What should we do,” Bolin cried as he and Mako started hurling fire and rocks at the attackers’ way. Asami crouched in nothing but her nightgown. “Hey Asami?” “Yea?” You handed her one of your daggers. “Just in case,” you said, sending her a smile. She looked thankful as she gripped it.

“Look,” Lin shouted, pointing to the airbending guy. “They’ve been split up now!” A guard somehow had managed to get him away from the group. In the distance you could see Korra laying on the rock with lava around it. Mako hurled another fire ball at the explosion lady but the water bender blocked it with her arms. The chick focused on the four of you, a lazer starting to form from her forehead.

The explosion collided with another metal plane. Asami snapped her head behind her. Suyin and her sons blocked the lazer just in time. They caught up with the five of you and all eight of you huddled for protection. Your body blocked anything coming Asami’s way as you stood on the defense side of fighting.

“How did they get in here,” Lin yelled over the explosions. “I don’t know, but they won’t get away,” Suyin exclaimed.

“There’s no way to cross,” Asami muttered, as she watched the guards being flung from the metal bridge they had built to the four criminals. Suyin eyes narrowed as she observed the scene in front of her. Her green eyes lit up as an idea striked through her head. “We don’t need to. Lin and I can get up there and use our cables.” “Good idea,” Lin replied, following her gaze to where her sister looked. “How are we going to get past her?” You followed Lin’s eyes. “Don’t worry. Bolin and I will have your back.” Her brows furrowed. “How?” “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, “But you have to trust me.”

Lin furrowed her brows. She didn’t say anything but eventually agreed. “Alright, I trust you.” You smiled. “Take Ruby with you.” “Why?” “I don’t want her getting hurt. Besides, she’ll be the first to warn you in the air.” Lin looked at you with disbelief but stretched her arm out to the red bird anyway. “Take care of her Rubes,” you whispered, as Lin and Suyin disappeared into the air.

You raised your pistols. “Bolin! I need you to hit the third eye lady!” Bolin yelled, “I can’t get a good shot!” “Keep trying,” you yelled, firing more pellets.

****

Bolin’s rock hit her square in the head. She stumbled, and her face pulled in anger. Taking this as your shot, you fired a pellet in her damn forehead. Lightening shot out once it made contact. “Holy,” Bolin and Mako murmured at the same time. The lightening traveled through her body and it reached her face. A scream ripped out of her chest. The water armed lady snapped her head towards her. Lin’s eyes widened in shock as the explosion chick toppled over. “Lin!” Suyin’s voice snapped her out of her surprised state. Taking this as her chance, Lin grabbed Korra, swinging her over her shoulder. Korra groaned but laid limp. Ruby’s screeching pierced through Lin’s ears. Lin swung her hips to the right and the water bender’s arm reached out to were she was seconds ago. “Clever bird,” Lin muttered, eyes wide as she slowly raised up into the hidden panel.

The air bender scooped up the unconscious third eye lady. The lava bender and the water bender sent a death glared towards you. “We failed! Move out,” he commanded. Twirling his staff with one hand, he swept air above the four of them. It became darker and darker from the smoke and flames. The four of you coughed from choking on smoke. When the air bubble slowly dissipated, they were gone.

****

Korra laid on one of the green couches in Su’s study. She was awake but her voice was hoarse. Lin and Suyin hovered over her as Aiwei treated Korra. Bolin, Mako, and Asami sat on the couch across from them. Asami had given you your dagger back once you all met up in Suyin’s study. Ruby stood on your shoulder with you by the door. She wasn’t hurt thankfully, but she was very skittish. “You’ll be getting all the almonds you want tomorrow,” you told her, stroking her feathers. She tweeted softly, beak nuzzling your hand softly.

“You assured me this was the safest place in the world,” Lin said harshly as Korra drank the bottle Aiwei gave her. “It is,” Suyin argued defensively, “don’t blame me! It was well planned, how could I have known?!” Your face tugged in thought as you listened to their arguing. The metal shields that came up prevented from anything entering or leaving. There was no way they could’ve got in..unless...

“You have a traitor in your city Suyin,” you said softly. “That’s how they got in.” Aiwei got up and cast Suyin an apologetic look. “They’re right. It seems the four of them had some inside knowledge in Zafou.”

“We searched throughout the entire estate. There’s no sign of them.” A guard stood in the doorway of Suyin’s study. “Well keep looking,” Lin snapped. They nodded and left.

“The- The guards. It had to be one of them.” You all snapped to Korra. She rubbed her head with the heel of her palm as she sat up. She sounded so weak. “I agree,” Aiwei said. “Question them all!” Suyin sounded so angry. You cast a glance towards Lin. Her brows had sunk in anger and her green eyes twinkled dangerously. Everyone looked nervous and afraid. “This has been one hell of a night,” you mumbled to yourself. “I could use a drink.”

****

“We’re getting no where,” Lin growled, as Aiwei dismissed the guard. “Things like this take time Lin,” you reassured her softly. “We’ll find them.” Lin grumbled and crossed her arms. Bolin looked at her surprised. Usually she’d snap and berate anyone who dared to talk back at her. Now that he thought of it, Lin never seemed to snap at you. He tilted his head at you questioningly. You waved him off, eyes turning back to watch the interrogations.

“You should be doing this,” Lin huffed, turning to you. “It’s your area of field after all.” You hummed, “You’re not wrong.” Suyin interjected, “Aiwei is a trusted member of my council. He’s family. Are you saying he can’t be trusted?”

“It’s better to investigate everyone,” you said. “Never know who it could be.” “Exactly,” Lin gritted out narrowing her eyes at Suyin. Su scoffed at her. “Are you insinuating it could’ve been me.” “Someone higher up could’ve done it.” Suyin rolled her eyes. “Fine. Aiwei question me. I’ve got nothing to hide.” He nodded, “If you wish.”

****

Suyin rose from her chair. “She is telling the truth,” Aiwei confirmed, turning to Lin. She groaned. She couldn’t believe this. Zaofu was supposed to be the safest city in the world. Who let these criminals infiltrate the city? Aiwei’s eyes turned to you. They narrowed suspiciously. “Oh my god,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re not even considering me are you?” “Sit.” You sighed, moving around Korra to the chair across from Aiwei.

“There’s no way they could’ve done it,” Bolin interjected. “They were the first ones there! If they were on their side they would’ve been with the others!” “It’s fine Bolin,” you reassured him. At least someone had your back. “It’s just an investigation.” He shrunk but you could see his green eyes still filled with worry.

****

“They’re lying.” “What?” You laughed in disbelief. “I didn’t do it!” “(Y/N).” Your eyes snapped to Lin’s. Surely, she had to believe you. Oh how wrong you were. Lin’s eyes were cold as she stared into your soul. Her fists clenched by her sides and her aura felt betrayed. The blood in your veins ran cold. The air in the room felt suffocating and your heart tore into two. She didn’t believe him did she? “I suggest we search their place.”

They all got up and left for your chambers. Except for Lin. “Lin-” “Don’t. Say. Anything.” Her hard voice made you flinch. Lin shook her head in disbelief. Her back was turned to you, trembling. Lin swallowed thickly before muttering, “None of this was real.” Her voice shoke with every word she spoke. Lin shook her head one last time before leaving.

****

“This is a mistake!” The sound of the guards harshly pulling your drawers out and threw your clothes out rang in your ears. This can’t be real, this can’t be happening. “Hey!” A couple of guards shuffled through the plans on your desk aggressively. Ruby and Azure screeched in their cages. “Be careful with that,” you shouted as a guard picked up a project you had been working on for Suyin. You watched them helplessy destroy your chambers. All you could do was stand there and watch all of your hard work be destroyed. They went as far as flinging off the sheets from your bed along with the comfy pillows.

“Found it!” Mako called, holding up a slip of paper from your desk. Suyin and Lin’s head perked up. Korra and Bolin stiffened behind them. Aiwei’s hand reached out for the slip of paper. Mako handed it to him sending a glare your way. Your jaw clenched tightly, but you didn’t say anything. Aiwei’s eyes widened and he lifted his head to you. “Team assembled. Ready to Rendezvous.” “And look at this,” Asami piped up from the bookshelf. She handed Aiwei a green book with fancy gold carvings on it. The silence in the room as he read through the pages made your heart sink even lower. The whole world was against you.“It’s the guards logs,” he muttered darkly as he flipped through it. “It’s filled with routes and their schedules.”

“No,” you whispered. “It wasn’t me!” “Guards, seize them.” “Hey,” you shouted, as the guards swept towards you. Their hands tightened on your arms and they hauled you up. You swung your legs trying to get out of their grasp. “Wait a minute,” Bolin shouted, “Let them talk.” “We have enough evidence.” Lin. You snapped your eyes up to hers as the guards hauled you at. Her eyes were cold and unforgiving. She felt betrayed. She trusted you. They all trusted you. You were finally in her grasp and she latched on too quickly. She allowed the avatar to be vulnerable, because she trusted someone who wanted nothing to do with her years ago. This is why we can only trust ourselves, a voice told her, this is why we’re alone. “Take them to the interrogation room.” The doors swung closed muffling your shouts of protest. Lin felt her heart shatter again. No one said a word as they eventually shuffled out one by one. “Lin-” “I don’t want to hear it Suyin,” she muttered to her sister. “Just leave me alone.” Suyin’s eyes fell but she didn’t say anything. She gave a slight nod and left. The doors closed softly behind her. All Lin could hear was the soft twittering of your parakeets and the clock ticking on the wall. A cry left her throat. The tears flowed freely now and she raised her hand to her mouth, clamping it shut. Lin felt like she was going to vomit. She stood in the destroyed room alone. Paper was scattered and torn on the floor.

Lin clenched her jaw tightly. It begun to ache from her teeth grinding so hard. Another cry left Lin’s throat. She was a damn fool.

****

The cuffs on the table were cutting into your wrists. They were heavy and cold. The circulation in your blood was being cut off. Your ass felt numb from the stiff metal chair you were trapped in. The cold, sturdy metal dug into you. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? There wasn’t a way to tell. Tears welled in your eyes. Lin looked so disgusted with you. She wouldn’t listen to you. It was perfect, too perfect. Everyone was now against you in a matter of minutes. How was the evidence there? Someone must of snuck into your room and planted it there. But when?

Aiwei. You chuckled; there was no joy or humor in it. “That bastard,” you snarled, nails digging into your skin. You ignored the pain that flared up in your palms.

Creak. The metal door opened slowly.You perked your head up at the it. You felt the lump in your throat tighten at the sight of her. Lin stood in front of you with no emotion on her face. Her green eyes were dull and her posture was upright once she sat down. There wasn’t an ounce of softness in her eyes anymore. The light had been replaced by hate. “I swear to you didn’t do it,” you whispered weakly, head hanging low. “I would never put you or Korra in danger.” “Liar.” You snapped up to her. Lin swallowed thickly as she peered into your soul. Her eyes were hallow. You’d rather have her look at you with anger then seeing her eyes filled with nothing.

“I wouldn’t hurt you Lin. What could I gain by forming an attack on you and the avatar? You know I care about you.” Lin’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “You think your words are going to make me care? I thought you were better than that. Now, I don’t know what to believe anymore. ” Her tone was cold. The walls around her were back up again. She looked at you with disgust. But more importantly, she looked at you with hurt in her eyes.

“The evidence. Explain that.” “It’s not mine..Aiwei...” you whispered. The tears in your eyes fell freely. Your lips pulled back into a grimace and you whimpered. The darkness in the room swallowed you. “Are you claiming that he had something to do with it? How childish, now you’re putting the blame on someone else. Grow up.” Her words made you flinch. No longer was it Lin sitting in front of you. It was your mother.

“Please... you have to believe me I-” “(Y/n).” You looked up at her. “Who were those people?” “I don’t know,” you replied, voice slightly raising. Lin arched a brow. Your stress levels were high. It was dark, it was too dark and you felt like the room was choking closing in on you. The woman you loved now looked at you with hatred in your eyes. Your breathing became shallow and you choked on the stale air in this shitty interrogation room.

“Breathe,” Lin commanded, “Get your fucking shit together!” Her hands slammed down on the table. It echoed throughout the cold and dark interrogation room. You swallowed your breath and choked an exhale out. Tears poured out of your eyes. Your heart in your chest was being sliced up and bruised from Lin’s harsh words. Spirits, why was everything spinning so fast.

I didn’t want it to come to this,” you whimpered. “I never wanted this to happen.” She swallowed thickly. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Do I even matter to you?” You sniffled, “Of..Of course Lin. H-how could you say that? I told you I’d do anything for you!” Her nostrils flared. “Then why are you lying to me?” “I’m not,” you cried. “I’m not, I do love you Lin.” Lin’s eyes widened. Her eyes started to water and her throat tightened. She refused to cry in front of you. She had been weak before, she wouldn’t be weak now. “No, you never meant a single word that you said to me. You’re a damn liar.” Your lip quivered and you let out a whimper. Everything was falling apart.

She looked so disgusted with you. Your presence was a reminder of how frail she really was. Lin would never be the strong and tough woman she had always aspired to be. You saw the cracks in her facade and manipulated her for your own gain. Everyone’s life was on the line because of her. Korra almost got kidnapped because she had been so careless. Lin was ashamed at herself for believing your lies and making her feel happy again.

“You know what? I was wrong. You never really meant anything to me. You’re broken, you’re beyond fixing, you’re not something I want to take the time to handle.” You bit your quivering lip. You choked on the cry that wanted to cry its way out of your throat from swallowing it. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

She slowly rose up from her chair. The clinking of her metal armor was the only sound in the room. Her hand hovered over the door handle. “Lin.” She stiffened. Your voice sounded so heartbroken and sad. Her hand balled up into fists as she turned back to look at you. It hurt more having to see the tears and fear in your eyes. “Don’t give up one me.. I can’t loose you too.” Lin laughed. You flinched; the pain in her laugh echoed in the small dark room. “This is all your fault. It always comes back to this with you doesn’t it? Save your tears.”

“Why can’t we talk about this? Why can’t we just-” “Does it ever occur to you that I’m done talking? That I am done reflecting my words and actions? Can’t you just take a fucking hint that I’m done with you? I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” You didn’t say anything. The tears made your vision blurry. The stunned silence gave the cue to Lin that it was time to leave. “Hope you’re proud, I’m done here.”

The sound of the door slamming shut was the thing that broke your resolve. The dam you had tried so hard to close had its walls torn open. Sobs left your trembling body. You cried so hard your throat begun to ache and your face became sluggish. Aiwei’s actions had been your undoing. Now, you were the one paying the price.

#flirty series #lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #legend of korra #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra x reader #fan fic #fanfiction

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levisnackajack · 3 years

Text

The Wrath of War

A/N

I had enough inspiration to write up another chapter. I had to skim through the events bc we all know how it went! Please let me know if you wanna be tagged or if you enjoyed the story!

Chapter Three

Success.

Eden felt as though her heart would jump through her lungs and out of her chest.

She was one of the top ten cadets in the 104th Southern Division. Scoring third after Mikasa and Reiner.

In all honesty, she couldn’t care less about being part of the top ten. It wouldn’t change the fact that she would sign up as part of the Survey Corps. She just wanted to know that when she challenged herself; she was able to succeed; regardless of whether the mission held meaning to her.

Eren pulled her and Mikasa into a tight embrace after the ceremony; Armin running to join in as well. They laughed and smiled; Eden felt like she was listening to the most beautiful song in the world.

The fierce girl held rare moments like this protected behind the walls of her tender heart. Within pages of a book concealed from the outside world.

That book was filled with memories of her and her friends. Her parents’ faces were barely visible on any of the pages.

Her childhood wouldn’t necessarily be classed as tough. But it made her struggle as she grew; the lack of parental affection making her yearn to fill the void with all the love her friends would gift her. She was an only child; her mother wasn’t the exact epitome of a loving parent and her father was too busy with work; he almost always forgot when her birthday was each year.

Eden grew to never depend on others (apart from her friends, of course); because she knew that no one in this world owed her anything and all luxuries came with a price.

Brushing her cold thoughts aside; Eden beamed against Eren’s jacket, eyes widening at the sound of Mikasa’s soft chuckle. She looked up; her own shock reflected in tboth boys.

The naturally somber mood soon came back and settled around everyone. Eden was so used to seeing glares, frowns and listening to gruff voices; the flicker of a smile was incredibly strange.

“This is it guys. We’re so close, I can practically feel the ODM gear strapped onto me as we fight these fuckers beyond the walls,” Eren announced darkly, tongue gliding against his lips. Armin nodded and Mikasa’s eyes sparkled.

Eden sucked in a deep breath, lashes brushing against her skin as her eyes slipped shut.

Soon, all this training would pay off. Her life would have a grander meaning.

She smirked.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Eden huffed as she listened to Jean swearing under his breath beside her. Freshly graduated, her division was tasked with cleaning the artillery unit atop Wall Rose.

No one verbally complained- but everyone looked very much disappointed. Each cadet yearned and thought over what their future branch would entail.

Suddenly, all their thoughts were cut short by a figure which loomed over the wall, making their blood run cold.

Commands were yelled out, ODM gears were tightened and the sound of the shrieks echoed through the air.

But with a loud crack, the Colossal Titan disappeared as quickly as it appeared. There was no time left.

The fresh cadets mixed with the Trost Garrison unit; intently listening to the strategy that could potentially cost them their lives.

Eden was split up from Eren and Armin; tasked to accompany Mikasa and the elite Garrison unit with ensuring that all civilians were evacuated away from the northern gate’s rear.

The girl did not know when the wall was breached; when the Titans swarmed in. It all happened way too quickly; she didn’t have enough time to catch her breath before the soldiers around her began dropping dead.

Squeezing the grapple hooks of her ODM gear, the clasps sunk into the flesh of a titan with its back facing her way. Activating the gas mechanism, Eden propelled herself forward, heart beating soundly as her mind assured her that it was all a game.

Just another mindless target like the ones we trained on during our time with the Training Corps.

Twisting her blades through the air, she let out a bloodcurdling scream as the surface of her weapons carved out the back of the titan’s nape. A moment later, it crumbled to the ground; the girl standing on its back hooking her clasps onto the wall of the closet building.

Eden felt nauseous. She begged her mind to stop racing. She needed to focus.

Soldiers around her fought for their lives only to be ripped into shreds between the teeth of the inhumane murderers.

Following Mikasa, they battled hard against the seemingly infinite swarm of titans gushing through the breached wall. It was only when Armin’s cry reached her ears caused her to lose her concentration; that flicker of a second nearly costing the girl her life. Meticulously slicing the titan’s fingers off; she sprinted up its arm; her next blow aimed at its nape.

Too many of them, too little soldiers.

Eden abandoned her post, slaughtering any monster in her way as she looked for Armin and Eren.

She found the blond boy with his head down, skin a sickly green color, eyes flowing with tears. Her own hazel eyes widened, cold chills peppering her skin.

“Armin, where’s Eren?”

Nothing.

She asked him again, this time harder only to have his eyes meet hers in response. She took a step back. His answer had a cost of over one thousand words.

Her mind must have completely blanked out- she didn’t notice Mikasa’s presence who had followed her back to their friend. She didn’t notice how her fellow raven-haired friend sprinted off the rooftop soundlessly, fingers pressing on the gas mechanism recklessly.

Eden no longer had control over her body. Throwing herself into the sea of titans, she slashed and punctured every demon in her way.

It was only when she heard the unfamiliar screech that something snapped in her- waking her of the nightmare reverie that took control of her body. Grief.

Still bruised and bloodied, Mikasa, Armin and Eden helped Eren up as he silently fumed at the confrontation. The Garrison Regiment...everyone was afraid of him. They had pointed canons at the four soldiers; their lives saved by Armin’s persuasion abilities that miraculously worked on Commander Pixis.

Hurriedly making her way beside Mikasa, they jumped from one rooftop to the other; eyes planted on Eren.

Eren was a titan.

He had let out that same screech that had made everything tremble around Eden. Eren was responsible for saving all the surviving soldiers during the Battle of Trost. He had thrown himself to rip apart any titan in his way.

Now, it was their duty to protect him as he risked his life to seal the breached wall.

It took time and effort and a few more lost lives; but eventually Eren carried the boulder atop his shoulders; wedging it in between the broken wall. Eden and Mikasa followed him closely; taking turns mutilating incoming titans as the other one trained her eyes onto Eren.

Once Mikasa had pulled Eren’s unconscious body out of his titan form; Eden swore under her breath as they backed up against the sealed breach. More titans headed their way.

Eden tore her eyes away for them, raising a brow at Mikasa.

“How much gas do you have left?”

Mikasa checked her mechanism, shaking her head slightly. Eden nodded, flexing her wrists as she gripped her blades tightly. Activating her hooks, she gracefully flew through the air towards the first titan. A tall, incredibly ugly-looking titan. She clicked her tongue as she moved out of reach when it swung at her. She drove her dagger through its flesh, grinning as its blood sizzled against her blade.

It was almost like a dance to her. Whipping through the air; carving through its nape; jumping off its back and onto the next victim. She felt like she could drown in the exhilarating feeling their deaths gave her. Knowing that one less person would suffer the traumatic scene she had witnessed when she was at the tender age of 13.

After God knows how many slashed titans; Eden landed on the shoulder of an Abnormal. Her brows knitted together, she mustered enough energy to strike its spinal cord before someone clashed into her from the side.

She gasped, panic overwhelming her as she struggled against the tight hold latched on her waist. A soft “tch” echoed through the air. Eden opened her eyes in confusion; her ponytail coming undone as her savior gripped her painfully tightly. She stared up at him puzzled; his bored, hooded stare, clenched jaw and knitted brows.

Before she knew it; the man had thrown her onto the ground beside Mikasa carelessly; his compact green cape flowing with the wind as his silver eyes landed on her face for the first time.

“Idiot. Did they not teach you to keep an eye out on your surroundings? Where is the Alpha Squad?” He inquired, his voice cold and emotionless. But the contortion of his expression betrayed how deeply irritated he was with Eden.

“It’s just...us right now,” Eden replied, her tone reflecting his own, causing the man’s eyes to narrow dangerously. He scoffed, muttering an insult under his breath directed towards Eden before grabbing at his blades and heading back towards the titans.

Eden felt the goosebumps litter her skin. She was so focused on that titan; she probably missed one trying to kill her from behind.

She watched in awe as this man nonchalantly placed himself back into the battleground; his moves graceful and lethal.

Eden wondered who the hell this man was.

#attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #levi #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x oc #oc #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #fanfiction #fanfic #slowburn #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #levi ackerman smut #snk x oc #aot x oc #shingeki no kyojin

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

[bad boy!bucky. teasing. kitten.]

“You’re fuckin’ responsive,” he answers himself, half-bemoaned like he can’t believe it, “like no one’s treated your little kitty like she deserves. But that’s okay ‘cause I’m here, and I’m gonna make it all better, kitten.” The last bit is a crooned promise. “Want me to fingerfuck your tight heat until you’re sobbing into the middle of my hand, don’t you?”

in which you’re supposed to tutor bucky but he has other plans. (includes bad boy!bucky x shy!reader, bucky’s pov, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, fingering, mild exhibitionism and voyeurism.)

do not repost.

—

“Shouldn’t you be closer?” Bucky quirks a quizzical eyebrow from across the library table, lips slanted in the faintest of smirks, resisting a full blown show of teeth lest he intimidate you further.

Stacked shelf to shelf, the book-laden expanse is desolate on an eight o’clock evening. The maze of literature has a plethora of tables and chairs on in-house reading; of which, the both of you are stationed at one. At the farthest corner of the room, he’s moored you in a coven of privacy: obscured from the front desk by towers of wood and bound paper.

At the opposing head of the rectangular surface, you look up; the first glance in ten minutes since arriving for the studying session as you procrastinated under the guise of arranging the work space. Your wide eyes connect with his, and you swallow. “I. . . I,” you stammer before clearing your throat and nodding. “Yes. I - I suppose I should.”

His fingers flex subconsciously at the anticipation of having you within reach. “Okay, c’mon,” he encourages, settling forward as he pats the open seat beside him. “I won’t bite, kitten.” Before he can control himself, a smirk upturns his naturally redden lips, words drawling out like gravel, “Unless, of course, you want me to.”

Your pretty face darkens a bashful shade, and your mouth opens then shuts. You diligently gather your materials, fumbling some underneath the intensity of his carnivorously blue gaze. Once you’ve packed up your textbook and writing utensils, you grapple them to your chest. “I am just your tutor, James, and all we’ll be doing is studying,” you state, hushed and insistent, almost as if to convince yourself.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, his teeth following to nibble on them before releasing. “Whatever you say, kitten,” he claims, but there’s a covetous glint in his dilated pupils that says otherwise.

Albeit with hesitation, you pad down to the chair directly diagonal from him and sit. A unique lull of vanilla and cinnamon greet his senses, another intoxicating whiff when you flip your physics book open to a chapter about electromagnetic waves.

After skimming it with your eyes, you straighten. “Okay, um,” you say without looking at him. “Are you sure you want me to tutor you? Because it’s not my major, and I’m only getting a B—”

“I’m sure.”

Unbeknownst to you—and to anyone who looks at him—he’s getting an A in Introduction to Cosmology. The thing is, he heard you’re one of the volunteer tutors; what’s a better way to get to know you than through deceiving you into being alone with him in a nearly empty library.

A part of him feels guilty for that but it’s a necessary evil. Utilizing your predilection for helping others, he’s finally gotten you on your own. With your generally skittish personality, amplified when it comes to a roguish reputation like his, it was his only course of action. And he’s wanted this, wanted you for awhile now.

Ever since he’s seen you in the front row of class, jotting down line and line of lecture, catching glimpses of your face buried in a book underneath the campus tree, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. But upon approaching you, you were all stuttering and clumsily running away.

Turns out, his capable temper and brazenly illicit activities are more infamous than he initially thought. Which he should feel proud about, not annoyed by. But given its fault in thwarting his courting of you, there’s a flicker of agitation.

That particular emotion is simmering with every second he inhales your bewitching aroma and eyes your beauty up-close. Warmly dimmed lights cast down a glow on your face, the shadow of your cheekbones, the length of your fluttering lashes. Your eyebrows are pinched cutely in concentration as you scan over his error-ridden homework, pink tongue peeking against your upper lip.

God. You’re so cute. But in a way that makes him want to sheathe himself inside you as deep as possible and watch you writhe around on his cock beneath him.

His jaw locks briefly as desire pits in his stomach. And, he knows he’s staring, an intensity of hunger display within his shark-like eyes. Undoubtedly, you see through his storming oceanic pools and know that there’s a gluttony of dastardly impulses flashing through his mind; carnal movies starring you and him in the leading roles.

For the millionth time, you clear your throat. “S - so, I think we should go over the easy ones first. Then we - we. . .” you fumble over your instruction when his hand finds its way on your thigh, squeezing lightly through your skirt. You gulp and spare a nervous glance around then whisper, “What are you d - doing?”

“Trying to learn,” he answers casually, moving his hand to slip underneath the fabric. He withholds a sound at the soft smoothness contrasting against his rough palm. Gauging your reaction, the shiver that slithers down your spine but the alarm widening your big eyes, he stills in place, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. “Aren’t you gonna help me, kitten?”

You nod quickly. “Y - yes, of course.” You shuffle in your chair but he keeps a steady hold on you. “What I was saying is that, we’ll go slow then when you understand the basics, we’ll go f - faster with some harder problems.”

“You know, I’m the type of person who prefers to go fast. I like to go in all at once, no preparation. . .” He licks his bottom lip. “Fast and hard. You think you can handle that, kitten?” On cue with the pet name, he glides his palm up your sensitive inner thighs, inching to where you’re radiating heat.

Immediately, you gasp. “J - James!” you admonish a little too loudly and drop your pen to seize his wrist as it fixes between the cradle of your hips. “I - I’m trying to tutor you; what are you d - doing?” Despite the appalledness of your voice, your hips are instinctively bucking into the stimulation.

“I’m listening,” he insists innocently, tilting his head as if perplexed by your fidgeting. “Is there something wrong? D’you need to use the bathroom?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, clearly crossed between calling him out and brushing it off. To his lucky surprise, you chose the latter. “L - let’s begin, then.” You relinquish his wrist and focus on the work splayed out on the table. “The test is coming up, and you’ll need to memorize the equations so - so—” When his hand reaches your panties and his index finger draws lines up and down your slit with the faintest of touches, you jolt, gasping, “James, we’re supposed to be studying!”

The look on your face, he can't get enough of it: embarrassment attempting to cover the need shining in your sparkling eyes. “I am.” He chuckles huskily as he undulates his fingertips along your cloth-clad slit. “I’m studying your little pussy. And you wanna know what I notice right off the bat?” he questions like you can respond but you’re too busy shoving a fist in your mouth and smothering sounds as he goes to work.

He kneads your sex crudely, manipulating the weeping flesh through soaked cotton between his fingers. He hasn’t touched you for more than a minute, and you’re already a puddle against the chair—slicked up and primed for something to fill up that tight hollowness inside you.

“You’re fuckin’ responsive,” he answers himself, half-bemoaned like he can’t believe it, “like no ones treated your little kitty like she deserves. But that’s okay ‘cause I’m here, and I’m gonna make it all better, kitten.” The last bit is a crooned promise. “Want me to fingerfuck your tight heat until you’re sobbing into the middle of my hand, don’t you?”

As you nod with fluttering lashes, he bypasses your underwear and palms your hot, soft mound. A moan vibrates through his throat at the same time you squeal. He beelines for your clit, swollen and just begging for abuse—which he’s more than happy to provide, to wear the tiny bundle of nerves out until you just can’t stop shaking.

The mere image of your cute self undone like that in the public has all the blood rushing to his cock and straining for release; for you to give him that release but that’s not his aim right here and now. Right here and now, it’s about corrupting someone as sweet and good as you—to be the blackguard that unravels you like candy bar and eats you whole.

“G - god. That’s good,” you whimper, raking your nails down his muscular forearms, and he’ll wear the red marks with pride in the future. You survey the surroundings but he can’t care less about whether someone’s watching. “James. H - hold on—”

He pauses and lifts a brow because you’re still rutting into his caress like a dog in heat. “You really want me to stop, kitten? ‘Cause your sexy body is telling me otherwise.” If you want him to stop, he has zero qualms about doing it; he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get you in your entirety.

You shake your head. “N - no. I - I like it,” you whisper shyly, blinking those hypnotizing orbs at him. “But—”

Cutting you off, a familiar voice rings out, “Hey!” Deep and annoyingly authoritative, he identifies the blond librarian’s baritone pitch. Heavy footsteps on hardwood became louder as a build rivaling Bucky intevenes. “I heard someone yell—”

Bucky grunts. “We’re just fine, Rogers.” He punctuates the word by parting a finger past your tumescented folds, sliding in with a curved angle until he hears your muffled but telltale choke that he's about to stroke your g-spot. A smirk curls into his lips as you slump in your seat, arms braced around your head to hide your face. “Oh, yeah. We’re doing great.”

Steve narrows his eyes and folds his arms, nonverbally saying he won’t be brushed off that easily. “Am I seriously supposed to trust someone like you, Barnes?” he retorts with a scoff and takes a step closer to examine you.

Which, if it were anyone else, he’d tell them to fuck off before he makes them. In this case, however, he’s knuckle deep inside you, and he sorta wants Steve to know that. In Bucky’s failed attempts to pursue you, he noticed that his childhood frenemy had also developed feelings for you, but is too daft to act on them. So, there’s some satisfaction in showing him you’re literally wrapped around his finger.

Your channel possesses him like a vice, practically gushing with every slow thrust, fevered like the contents of a volcano, and soft like silk; he knows you’ve been made to be seated around his cock. And with that conviction in his head, he’s going to show you off proudly.

“Kitten, why don’t you tell Stevie here that I’m taking good care of you?” Bucky purrs in your ear, gaze connected with the fiery depths of Steve’s. “Just reassure him that I’m handling my perfect little kitty just like she needs.”

It takes you a minute to gather yourself—not that it helps—then you raise your head. Your face is dazed in unmistakable desire, a shimmering sheen of sweat around your forehead, pupils blown wide. “I - I’m fine,” you croak, a tone away from being a moan. “James is h - helping me.”

Satisfaction fills him, and he has to share how pleased he is with you. Keeping the heel of his palm flushed against your clit, the texturized pad of his finger rasps over that soft spot inside you over and over, speed quickening every time, making you sporadically spasm around him.

The sensations hit you at once because you coil yourself into his embrace, trembling with your nose pressed into his chest, and his other arm huddles you close while his fingers play you like a fiddle. His black t-shirt does a decent job of suppressing your pleasure-heavy cries, but in a library setting, the noises are unmistakable.

In shock—jealousy or arousal, both probably—Steve takes a step back, eyes like moons and lips parted as he watches the girl he has a crush on shudder and sob in the throes of orgasm within the arms of his frenemy. All the time, Bucky’s remain on his, an infuriating smirk upturned on his lips.

Because he’s an asshole, he ducks down to stage-whisper in your ear, “That’s it, kitten. Squeeze my fingers, show me how tight you’ll feel bouncing on my cock. Be a good girl for me, and do exactly what I say.” Your cries crescendo, and your channel twitches warningly. “There she goes. You’ve got the softest, littlest, wettest pussy, don’t you, kitten? And I’m the only one who gets to have you, right?”

Along with a nod, there’s a distinct bleat of, “Y - yes!” And that snaps Steve out of his perverse trance, blinking back into reality, and spinning on his heels to storm off, probably to jerk off or punch something. Either way, Bucky’s having the best time he’s had in awhile, and it’s all thanks to you.

You bite into his pectoral through the blend of polyester and cotton when you cum, a sting that he absolutely loves. Your velvet walls pulsate and throb as you flood his hand, your whole body vibrating with the force that upheaves you.

He rocks you through it: repeatedly cooes of “Good, kitten,” and waning strokes of his fingers, holding you snugly. Once the convulsions have stopped, he pops his finger free and sucks it clean. At the taste, a groan wrenches through his throat, and the urge to get on his knees and lap at the source dominates him.

Blearily, you look up at him, all timid and such. And he feels his heart melt. “I don’t want you to fail,” you blurt out. “I’m sorry!”

He cracks a grin. “It’s fine. I’m doing good in that class, anyway.” He cups your cheek. “I just wanted to hang out with you. Why don’t we get something to eat, and then later, I’ll eat you?”

Although flustered, you nod with a small smile. “O - okay.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#bucky x reader #bucky x you smut #bucky barnes imagines #marvel imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel x you #marvel smut #my writing

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 73: Teal

Chapters: 73/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: R

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Mentions of Sexual Activity, NSFW, Starting to Bring Some Threads Together

Summary: Asgard honors the giant as best it can. You continue to dream

The weather turned worse on the way back, until even the well maintained Ring Road was scarcely visible. Eventually, Loki pulled you up into his saddle on Leynarodd's back, seating you flush with his body, and wrapping his back-up cloak around you.

“I will keep you as warm as I may.” He breathed into your ear. “Would it help if I were to whisper lewd and wicked things to you?”

You giggled, but shook your head. “Just cuddle. I want to go to sleep.”

And so, he wrapped his arms around you as well, and let you doze.

Your arrival was heralded with a celebration that woke you with instruments and shouting. You moved back to Acorn as the procession moved through the city, and, still drowsy, participated in a great feast thrown in the giant's honor.

This was a part of Asgardian funerary customs, as taught to you by Saga. The burial honored the dead's body, and the feast honored the dead's spirit. Normally, the revelers told stories of the dead's deeds during life, but no one knew the giant, so instead extolled the accomplishments of all Jotun, across the ages.

You didn't have any such stories, so you listened and ate, as Bogljot described being defeated in a contest of speed by the Forest Giant, Hyrrokkin, as the normally quiet Heimdall sang praises to his many 'mothers', as an older Asgardian you didn't know described the great mountain kingdom of Utgardaloki, for whom Loki was named.

It was dark yet again by the time the feast ended, and Loki led you, stumbling and tipsy on cider, back to his bedroom. He carefully divested you of your armor, stripped every last garment from you, and sat you down on your chair beneath the sunlamp. As the light warmed your skin, Loki also shucked his own clothing, and sat down at your feet. The two of you spent an hour under the warm lamp, Loki reading you various examples of Earth poetry he thought you would like, or resting his head in your lap and letting you toy with his hair.

Finally, when fatigue had clearly caught all the way up with you, Loki turned out the light, and carried you off to bed, where he made love to you until you could no longer keep your eyes open. When you drifted away, it was on a cloud of warm bliss.

******

You found yourself in the glory of open space once more buoyed by sparkling blue light. It came from a gem that you could see now, flying before you like a comet, with yourself gliding along in its glowing tail. You started to reach out for the glittering object once more, but pulled your hand back, vaguely remembering something that put you off of grabbing it. Thoughts echoed within your blood, concepts resolving themselves into impressions in your mind.

You are learning me. Learn me. Learn more.

How? You thought. What are you?

A swirl of something. A blur of light, a different 'texture' than the blue.

Green.

Your right hand itched.

Learn me! Learn me! There is so much of me! Look! See!

Your world jittered, like a heartbeat slightly out of rhythm. With the suddenness of a drop of water in a still pool, the space around you rippled unexpectedly, folded in around you, and instead of nowhere, you were Somewhere.

A world full of green-skinned, red-haired people, thriving, but confused. A woman walked the streets crying out what you assumed to be a girl's name.

Titan, with its orange skies, empty, ruined. A ghost town of a planet.

Earth, running through frigid winds. Other humans ran beside you, dressed for a time long since passed. Frost Giants pursued, driving terror, like dogs, at your heels.

A woman, bald and elegantly androgynous, in flowing robes and surrounded by nothingness. She looked at you with pity, with eyes that pierced right through you.

“You are not ready for what is happening.” She said. “And I am not in a position to help.”

A severed head, the size of a small moon, floating through space. There were lights, cities built upon it, within it. You recoiled in horror, but as you watched, the cities shrank; went dark. The head floated backward, back and back. You blinked, and it was reattached to an impossibly gargantuan body. Another blink and the colossal being orbited a young sun, along with a haphazard belt of asteroids. You watched as they grasped one of the largest of them, and sundered it over their knee.

Wiping the newly exposed surface clean, the being stared out into a space that was dark and sparsely decorated with stars. Then, with fingertips each stained a different color, they grasped the asteroid and began to draw.

******

You awoke, brimming with the feeling that something important had happened while you slept, but couldn't quite pinpoint where that energy was coming from. There was something you felt the need to do, something you couldn't put a name to.

You could barely sit still under your sunlamp, wolfing down your oatmeal and dried fruit. Loki couldn't help but to comment on your increased energy. A wink and a suggestive comment, and you had him back in bed, hands on his chest, riding him for all he was worth.

You sure didn't hear him arguing.

When the two of you were finally presentable, scrubbed and dressed and fed, you took to the halls with your sunlamp in tow. Loki had some meetings to attend today; some job disputes that had come up recently. You had your classes with Saga. A light squeeze of the hand, and you parted ways.

The snow had continued through the night, piling up high against the windows. Reconstruction of your room had been forced to a halt, and all of your things had been moved, either to storage or to Loki's room. The caterpillar in a jar had become a chrysalis in a jar, but the butterfly had not emerged yet. It was possible that the cooler temperatures and lack of light had put it into some kind of stasis: unusual, but not unheard of.

It was still frightening to think that you had caused all that destruction, just because of a dream you couldn't even remember. What if you did that while Loki slept beside you?

There were far more people indoors now that winter had come, doing what Loki had described as their 'real' jobs, weavers and seamstresses, scribes, engineers, jewelers, and so many painters. In every hallway and alcove there was someone with a palette, someone with a pencil, someone carving the plaster into delicate ribbons and knots. Some of them told you they were trying to recreate murals from old Asgard. Others seemed to be trying a new take on their history. Others were focusing on more recent events.

As you walked through the halls, you saw heavily formulaic paintings of what must have been Odin and Frigga, Bor and the terrifying Hela, Heimdall, Thor, and Loki, and many others you didn't recognize. There were battles, and peace treaties, Vanir, Alfar, and Jotnar, There was Njord, Freya, and Freyr, whom you stopped and stared at for a few moments before shaking yourself free.

There were also events and vistas in a different style, some of which must have been pulled directly from the painters own memories. Soaring golden buildings and busy streets, folk dances and blacksmiths forging swords. A riot of berserkers clashing their metal staves, the view of a waterfall ocean.

There were Svartalfari in the great halls, Heimdall destroying a strange vehicle, portals to all of the realms circling each other. There was Frigga, standing tall, holding a sword over her head. There was Frigga, lying in a boat, surrounded by golden light. There was a sparkling red jewel, hanging over the head of a woman you realized must be a stylized Dr. Jane Foster. There were the Avengers again, painted in the heroic style of Asgard, haloed like holy beings. Did the Asgardians see them as the pantheon of Earth?

There was the destruction of Asgard. The great Jotun Surtr, the tiny form of Hela brandishing her thorn-like weapons against him in an almost heroic way. There was the enormous wolf Fenris, grappling with the Hulk. The star-filled expanse of space, with their island spaceship carrying them safely to Earth, a beautiful orb, painted as though seen through a window.

There were the mountains and river outside, rendered in such marvelous detail that you recognized the exact place. There were nightscapes of the Northern Lights.

And there was you.

Your little figure, next to Loki, with your flower crown helm. Among the longhouses of Trolerkaerhalla, wearing the cloak of a Seidkona. It was a very strange feeling, to see yourself immortalized like this. The impostor syndrome flared up, heavy and loud. Logically speaking, you had made history. But why should it have been you? Why should any of this be you?

You hurried through the increasingly colorful halls, seeking out the library. There would always be this battle inside you, between acknowledgment that you were deserving of good things, and belief that there were others so much more deserving.

You rushed into the library, with it's nice new door, and set up your sunlamp. Saga handed you your drum. The Valkyries were here, as well as an ancient, wizened woman who had probably been a Seidkona since the Parthenon had been built. She instructed you strictly, but patiently in the primeval rhythm of Seidkona ritual. There was a chant she was teaching you, a mystical affirmation ritual in a bygone dialect of the Asgardian language, so archaic that the meaning of the words were lost even on your venerable teacher. Saga understood them, but since she was not a Seidkona, she was in essence, forbidden from speaking them.

You got the feeling that it annoyed her a bit.

You were walked through the chant, and the drum beat over and over, committing the sounds to memory, like you had for the past few weeks. The only thing you were missing was the very last syllable of the chant, the knowledge of which would only be imparted on you at the eve of the Buridag festival. Before then, you would not be allowed to speak, or even know it, for fear of completing the spell prematurely.

After your lessons, you spent a little bit of time in one of the library's side rooms, where Asgard's salvaged art treasures were kept. Lofn and her twin Sjofn, who were in charge of preservation, display, and upkeep, were both all too happy to educate you on what they were. Sjofn had just finished cleaning and labeling a collection of Nornheim knives, very similar to your own. You could see the shift in shape and handle style that had occurred over the years of war with Asgard.

They were all made of nornbein, with stone handles, though many of them had been engraved with the names of the Asgardians who had claimed them. Yours had not. In comparison, your knife, with its lance-like blade and cylindrical handle, was clearly from the latter period of Nornheim occupation, while the earlier knives were more leaf shaped, with flattened handles. You wondered how many hundreds of years those changes represented, with rock trolls carefully shaping the blades to their preference, and picking their favorite stones; blue and green, gray, violet, white, banded, and your own pink ruby, to carve into handles. Did the color and type mean anything to them, or had it just been personal preference?

These knives all represented Asgardian lineages which had died out, with no one left to inherit the blades. It was a sad collection to look at, as sad as where the knives had come from in the first place.

Lofn had templates from past Asgardian fashion designers, arranged on an enormous poster board, and carefully glued down flat. As you watched, she affixed strange little clip-like devices at all four corners, and at regular intervals along each side.

“They are useful storage and protective devices.” She explained. “We can make them from Midgardian materials too. You see, when activated, they form a protective field.” She tapped each of them in turn, and they lit up, covering the huge poster board in a very slight, almost imperceptible glow.

“It is protected now.” She announced. In a swift and startling movement, she grabbed one of the newly cataloged knives and stabbed the board with a ferocious growl. You jumped back, even as the blade bounced harmlessly off. She laughed as a glaring Sjofn snatched the knife back. “You see? It cannot be harmed. We protect our precious things in this way.”

“It has another use too.” She grasped the edges of the poster board and squeezed them together. To your amazement, the entire thing-easily as wide as you were tall-shrank to the size of a sheet of paper. “Look, do you see?”

She touched the field and it reacted like an electronic tablet, magnifying and moving across parts of the board, so you could see the details up close.

“You see, don't you? You see?” She asked.

Your gaze shifted, away from the fashion poster, away from the knife collection, to a work of art that had caught your attention earlier in the year. An artwork that wore the same preservation devices.

Ymir's Dreamscape.

“You see.” Lofn said.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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longitud-de-onda · 4 years

Text

on my mind

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you’re trying to have a peaceful night in when javier brings home yet another informant, and while you brace yourself to hear the noises all night, you’re surprised to hear something else. rating; t warnings; strangling, medical inacurracies probably, some angst? idk it doesn’t feel super angsty to me but y’all’ll probably think it is word count; 2.4k requested; by anon “You are his next door neighbor and friend. At night, you often hear his escapades through the wall. One night, things sound more like a fight than sex. You aren't sure what to do. You have a key to his apartment. You sneak in to see what is going on. Javi's informant is strangling him with his tie for real. She runs away, Javi regains consciousness, & tells you that he thought he was going to die and the only thing he could think about was that he never told you he loves you.”

Javier fucking Peña. You’re gonna kill the man since this is the fifth time this week he’s brought a girl home and it’s only Wednesday and it’s 8pm and you want to relax after a long day. You can hear them coming up the stairs outside the building, the loud Spanish obscenities spilling from their lips in the hallway, the jingling of the keys as they enter his apartment.

He’s been doing it since you got to Colombia all those years ago, but it never ceases to hurt. Doesn’t he know how much noise he and all the women he has over make? Doesn’t he know how thin the walls are, that if they and you are in the right rooms in your respective apartments, you can hear every last word they say?

You’ve been Javier’s partner for what now feels like forever. And at some point between hiding behind walls during drug busts and the thrilling car chases through Bogotá, you fell in love.

Sometimes you wonder why you haven’t made a move. There are times when he grins at you after breaking a case or finding a lead and your heart soars, nights out drinking at bars, days where you’re on the hunt and you have each other’s backs when you wonder if maybe he feels the same.

But you have to be reminded multiple times a week that your job relies on him fucking multiple women for valuable information, loudly.

He’s even gone so far as to offer you a night in bed with him. Multiple times. Those days are the worst. You know it would only be a one night stand and if you said yes it would break your heart.

So you settle for loving him from afar. You respect him enough to know that your feelings would only ruin things. If how he is is what makes him happy, then who are you to stop him?

You walk over to your bedroom to grab your walkman and try to drown out the sounds that will inevitably begin, hope you’ll be able to curl up on your couch and read the book you’ve been trying to start.

It takes all of three minutes for the sound of whatever is happening to breach the weak plastic of your headphones and you groan.

This is really the last straw. It’s been such a long day and Javier only made it worse by letting his hand linger a little longer than was considered friendly when handing you your coffee this morning and taking you out to lunch just to get out of the building. And then he had the nerve to leave early so that he could meet an informant, and you were stuck finishing up the paperwork, only to return home to the same sounds you were hearing now, finishing up.

You throw your headphones off and stand up. You were going to storm over and give Javier a piece of your mind when you hear something that is distinctively not sexual. It sounds like they’re fighting, there are some thumps on the floor that cannot feel good and you think you even hear something shatter.

You almost lunge over your dinner table to grab your handgun, and exit your apartment, quietly slipping over to his door, hoping he left his door unlocked. You try the handle and it glides right open. Leave it to Javier to forget to lock it in the heat of things.

You thank everything working in your favor that Javier has an entry hallway and you’re able to enter the apartment, back pressed against the wall, unnoticed. You slide closer, and the fighting has quieted. There’s no longer any human noises, just the sound of grappling, and that could definitely be sex and you really don’t want to walk in on that, but you assume the worst, Javier could really be in danger.

You peak around the corner and you freeze up. Javier is on the floor, some woman has her hand gripped around his tie and is pulling, hard, from behind. His face is bright red and a bit puffy and you notice he is unconscious.

“Hey!” you yell, pointing your gun at her, and she startles, dropping the tie, and Javier’s body flops to the ground.

You stare blankly at the limp body of your partner, which gives the woman enough time to slip out of the open window to the balcony, and you watch as she jumps over the railing, only a few feet to the ground below from the first-floor apartment.

She shouldn’t have gotten away. You could have shot her. You know that. But your breathing is shaky and you still are holding your gun up at the window, seconds after she’s gone, staring at Javier.

You finally come to and rush to the ground beside him, kneeling by his head. He can’t be dead. He just can’t be. You let out a sob and your throat is tight and pained with the oncoming tears. If Javier is dead? You don’t dare to think about what you would do.

You pull his arm into your hand, searching for a pulse, and upon finding it, you let yourself relax for a brief moment, before peeling off the tie from his neck. His skin is red and marred with a thick ring of abrasions from the rough fabric, and there are some frantic scratches on either side, suggesting he had further injured himself trying to get out.

You reach out a hand to touch the wounds, gasping as you feel how hot his skin is.

Javier sputters under your touch, his eyes springing open and coughing a few times until he calms down.

“Javi!” you exhale, “Javi, holy shit, I thought you were dead.”

He’s gasping for air, and you help him up, dragging his body over to the floor beside the couch, propping his back up against it.

You know he’s going to need treatment for the wounds on his neck, and you jump to your feet, rushing over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and push things around until you find an icepack and then throw open some cabinets, searching for some sort of pain medication. There. Inside one of the cabinets lies a few bottles of pills alongside a pitiful looking box of bandaids.

You bring the two items back to the living room where Javier is taking shallow breaths, and you sink to the ground next to him. The bottle is placed on the coffee table and you grab his hand and bring it and the ice pack to his neck, helping him hold it in place.

“Javi, when you’re ready, these pills are on the table here, you should take them,” you say.

“Y/N.” It’s the first word he’s said since you entered the apartment and you exhale shakily while managing to break a smile. He leans his head back on the couch, looking at the ceiling. “If you hadn’t come, I’d be—I’d—”

“Javi, don’t say that,” you say, “You’re okay now. That’s what matters.”

He brings his head back up and turns to look at you. You can feel his gaze but you really don’t know what to do. What to say. You look at the ground, waiting for something.

That something comes after almost five minutes of silence.

“If you think you can swallow you should try to take some pain meds,” you say.

“It doesn’t hurt much,” he says, voice hoarse. You know he’s lying.

“Still.”

Javier reaches forward to grab the bottle, sets down the ice pack, unscrews the cap and pours a pill into his palm. After swallowing, he replaces the ice on his neck, wincing at the contact.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask.

You want to say so much. You want to be mad at him. Mad that he got himself into this goddamn mess. But you can’t. All you can think about is how lost you would be if he hadn’t made it. How scared you had been, seeing him unconscious on the floor. The last time you had spoken with Javier about him doing this, about sleeping with the informants, it hadn’t gone well, and after today? You regretted every word you had said.

“Javi, you can’t keep sleeping with people to get information,” you said, slamming your hands on the desk after he brought up speaking with a fourth prostitute that week who he said would have valuable intel on one of Escobar’s sicarios.

“It works,” he shook his head, continuing to pack up his things.

“It works, but at what cost?” you threw up your hands, hoping it would emphasize your point, but Javier wasn’t even looking. “If someone finds out?”

“Tell me our most valuable leads haven’t resulted from it?” he said and he was right. Most anything of substance had come (quite literally) from Javier fucking them. But that didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

“What if one of them knows what you’re doing? They get paid to get close to you? Try to take you out or something?” you said, voice getting dangerously loud.

“God, Y/N, you don’t have to be such a stickler for the rules, we’ve broken enough already. And I only do it with the women I trust,” he said, now at the door to your office about to leave.

“Fine, go fuck whoever you like, just don’t come running to me for help when you get hurt,” you said.

It had been four months since you had that conversation, but the irony of it all didn’t escape you. You felt bad after saying it but you feel even worse now.

“Please stay,” Javier croaks out beside you.

You nod. “Okay.”

As much as it hurts to sit next to him tonight, you can’t deny him anything. Not tonight.

It’s quiet for a while. You bring one leg up to your chest and with one hand trace little circles into the carpet.

“I thought I was going to die,” he says. He drops the ice pack in his lap. “The only thing I could think of was that I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell the woman I love how much she matters to me.”

Now it’s your turn to throw your head back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You blink a few times, realizing there are tears in the corners and you don’t know where they came from. You had gotten good at pushing your feelings away, but now, knowing that Javier had almost died? You don’t know what you would do if you had lost him. Life without Javier? It would probably break you.

And then there’s this woman he’s speaking of and you don’t know what to think of it, because Javier? In love with a woman? Singular? That wasn’t anything you had heard of. You couldn’t picture him falling for someone, wanting to spend a life with her. But you supposed it made sense. In the face of death, people realize exactly what they want in life.

It had happened to you, a couple times. Almost anyone in the field here in Colombia had those moments. Bullets flying inches from your face. Explosions where you’re caught only a few feet away from being fatally injured. Falls through unstable flooring in the apartments in the poorest parts of Bogotá. For you, those moments reminded you how important certain people were.

You didn’t have much family back home, no one significant enough to worry about, that’s why you took such a dangerous job so far from the States. But you remember waking up in the hospital a year ago, a bullet having grazed your side. Your final memories before blacking out were the feeling of warm blood pouring out across your stomach and Javier’s face. Javier, who was stuck in Bogotá for the week as you risked your life in Medellín.

“Maybe you shouldn’t waste any more time and tell her,” you say.

God knows you regretted not telling him. It was for the best, you knew. Javier wasn’t exactly the sort of guy to settle down. And the pain of rejection wouldn’t be as bad as the dull ache of seeing him every day afterwards. But if Javier loved someone? And she didn’t know? She deserved to know how much she mattered to him. That she was important enough to be the face he saw before he thought he would die.

“I don’t know,” he says, and you look over at him, brow furrowed. “She doesn’t think very highly of me.”

“How could she not think highly of you, Javi?” you say. You think the world of him, but there were plenty of reasons why someone might not. It’s not the moment to bring those up.

“It’s you, Y/N.”

You blink. Javier likes you?

“I know,” he continues, “I know you don’t—and you don’t have to—fuck. I don’t want to make this awkward”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him and shaking your head, “I—Me?”

You can’t believe what Javier had said. That all this time you were sitting on your feelings for each other, not saying anything.

“Yes, you,” he says, “Since day one, you’ve been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And you’re 100% there for everyone we work with. You care about people. You came rushing in today to save me even when you didn’t have to, when I didn’t deserve it. You said all that stuff, and you were right, but you still came—”

“I had to, Javi, I—I care about to you, too.” you say, “I couldn’t let you get hurt. I couldn’t lose you... I love you.”

Javier reaches an arm up to cup your cheek. Every inhale and exhale feels slower than ever before. His face has softened, a faint smile crosses his lips, more than his usual stern expressions ever allow, and there’s a certain something in his eyes, a glistening, and you bite your lip instinctively. And that’s when he leans in to take your lips in his own, and you, sinking into him, climb to your knees so that you can wrap an arm around his waist and intertwine your other hand into his hair.

It’s perfect until it isn’t as Javier jolts away with a noise that sounds painful and you jump back.

“Are you okay?” you’re back into panic mode, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I, uh.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I think I got too into it, moved my neck too much.”

“Do you need—”

“No, Y/N, I don’t need anything. I’m fine. I just, I need you,” he admits.

“Me too,” you say and sit back down next to him, leaning your head against his shoulder and reaching down, grabbing his hand, and interlocking his fingers with yours.

taglist; @pascalisthepunkest @turquiosenights @el-lizzie @sparrows-books @dxxkxx @opheliaelysia (edit: i completely forgot to tag @letaliabane i’m so sorry my document with my taglists was all messed up)

#javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #camila writes #rated t #under 5 #reader #angst?#angst #request #pedro fics #narcos fics #javi x reader

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