AN: First fanfic on tumblr! This has literally been sitting in my google docs for the past year lmao. It's kinda inspired by Bomi Nkomo De by Kojo Antwi (iykyk). Special thanks to @buckybarnesfic for beta-ing! Divider by @saradika-graphics. Hope you enjoy reading!!
Mornings with Bucky were soft.
Few and far between, punctuated by late nights spent reaching for his warmth, only to be met with cold sheets. It had struck you early on in your love that he would never be entirely yours, not while duty called his name. And part of you loved him all the more for it. The other part craved his presence like a drug.
So yes, mornings with Bucky were soft, spent lazily basking in the light of his sleepy smile while his fingers traced the curves of your body, committing every dip and swell to memory.
You had asked him once, between gentle kisses, if he knew what he did to you, how a simple glance from him could leave you breathless, even after all these years. He chuckled, mumbling against your lips.
“Now you know how I felt the second I saw you.”
Your connection with Bucky had grown from the moment you had locked eyes, slowly forged in the moments between missions and projects. A smile here, a glance there, all coming down to this; to a sunrise spent with your leg slotted between his and his hand resting gently on your hip, lost in each other’s gaze.
You smiled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
“Always the charmer, hm?”
You could feel him smile against your skin as he held you closer, his mouth coming down to press a kiss to your shoulder.
“Only for you, doll. Only for you.”
You could have sworn that the sun rose a little higher.
He shifted, moving so that his body eclipsed yours, the tip of his nose brushing your own. With the light caressing the panes of his face as your hands longed to, you could have sworn he was a dream. He was, in a way. Your dream. It was cheesy and cliché and you wouldn't imagine telling anyone but him, but in this moment, it was the truth, plain and simple.
He hummed, fingertips ghosting over your cheeks. “What’s going on in that head of yours, sweetness?”
It was him, of course. Nothing but him. How could you think of anything else when he was right there, those eyes of his drawing you into his orbit. You told him so, leaning up to meet his lips with your own. His hand found the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, deeper. A groan left him when you pulled away, your eyes meeting.
“I love you.”
You told him so quite often, knowing that some part of him didn't quite believe that such a thing was possible. But it was much more than that. Loving Bucky came like a gale in a heatwave, easy and strong, in a way that stole your breath and soothed your soul. It was a personal mission of yours, to ensure that he always knew that he was cherished, and extremely so.
His grin turned saccharine when the words left your lips, a soft glow rising to his face.
“One more?”
As if you wouldn't say it a thousand times over. As many times as he needed you to.
“I love you, Bucky Barnes” Your eyes met his once again, your own smile growing as you lightly tapped his nose with a finger. Even with your playful spin, the words held a certain gravitas, a weight that held the two of you in the moment.
His gaze softened, the light of the early morning illuminating his features just so, the warmth of him against you sending something gentle and fuzzy through your veins.
His head met your chest, and the weight of him settled into your bones as your fingers slipped into his hair, nails rubbing lightly against his scalp. He let out a contented sigh, his lips grazing over your sternum.
“I love you, doll. So much.”
You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head in response, breathing him in. There would be another threat, of course. Something that demanded his presence for the greater good. But for now, with the two of you tangled together, all languid movement and soft touches, he was yours. And you were his.
And that is all you could ever ask of him. To keep returning to you, steadfast as the rising of the sun.
summary: jason thought you didn’t know he was red hood. he preferred to keep it that way for now. you knew that jason was red hood. you just figured he didn’t like to talk about it all that much.
word count: 2k
warnings: none
Jason was being as quiet as he possibly could be, which wasn’t easy when geared up from head to toe in his heavy Red Hood suit.
From his steel toed boots- that he could not figure out how to tiptoe in to save his life. Which was pointed out by his brothers, who made fun of him relentlessly whenever he failed to sneak up on someone in the field. To even the way his trusty leather jacket creaks over his chest plate agonizingly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.
His one goal: to not wake you up from whatever peaceful slumber you had fallen into since he left you last.
You had been dating for a few months now and as much as he loved you- god, did Jason love you- he didn’t exactly know how to broach the whole… vilgilante topic.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to keep it a secret, he did, his only fear was that you looked at him differently once you knew that he was the feared Red Hood of Crime Alley. He was worried beyond belief that you would view the relationship that you built together- the one he treasured more than anything in this world- as one built on lies.
And while that couldn’t be further from the truth, he still couldn’t stop the way his lungs seized and practically collapsed in on themselves whenever he even thought about letting you in his nightlife secret.
How would he even start that conversation? ‘Oh, hey, babe. You know that Red Hood guy? The one that everyone fears- the one that kills people? Yeah? Well, that’s me! Plus, and my dad is Batman! Anyway, what do you want for dinner?’
Yeah, fat chance.
Jason grumbled inaudibly under his breath as he attempted to shed himself of his gun holster, that appeared to pick that specific time to get slightly tangled and stuck, and therefore inconvenience the man who wanted nothing more than to slip into bed discreetly beside you.
Just as he went to pass the kitchen and make his way to the bathroom to rid himself of the rest of his ensemble, however, a soft clattering had him freezing directly in his steps.
The man swore his heart stopped beating all together in his chest as he slowly turned his head- still with his red helmet over it- to face you, standing innocently with your back towards him, clad in nothing but one of your boyfriends old sleep shirts as you filled up a glass of water at the sink.
Before the vigilante could even attempt to move out of your line of sight- his fight or flight instincts all of a sudden completely nonexistent, apparently- you shut off the tap and turned to him calmly, sipping gingerly on your drink.
“Hi, baby,” You greeted quietly, giving the man a small smile as you padded forwards against the hardwood floors.
It was pathetic, really, how every thought completely vanished from the man’s mind right then and there. As if the mere sight of you had stolen away any ounce of common sense he may have had clanging around in his head.
Jason was rendered completely useless, frozen with his mouth hanging open and pupils blown wide as he stared directly at you. You continued to approach him, undeterred by his whole getup.
You stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick, chaste kiss to the side of his helmet, “Come to bed soon, I missed you.” Is all you said before taking your glass of water and disappear back into your room as if you had just had the most normal exchange in the world.
As if this were just an average night for you.
“Uhh…” Jason stuttered out into the empty space, breaths coming out as nothing more than practically a wheeze at this point, “What?”
He had to have been hallucinating. He must’ve been, right? After all, there was no way you had just acted as if you knew the Red Hood, had just kissed him on the cheek as if he were Jason.
Which, to your knowledge, he wasn’t.
Sleepwalking. You had to have been sleepwalking. That was the only way possible he could even begin to explain what the hell had just taken place.
You had slept-walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a late night glass of water and in your hazed mind, had seen a man in your apartment that you could only assume to be your boyfriend, and then went on your merry way back to bed.
Todd quickly shook his head, ridding himself of all thoughts of anything other than the possibility of you having just been sleepwalking in front of him. True, you had never done so before, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?
Quickly slipping out of the rest of his suit and into nothing but a pair of low hanging sweatpants, Jason timidly made his way to your bedroom, peering inside as if fully expecting a bomb to be chucked directly in his face if he stepped in too fast.
“Hey, Jay.” You greeted softly, causing the man’s green eyed gaze to snap directly to you, where you sat propped up against the headboard, smiling welcomingly at the man.
You, who was very much awake, and very much not sleepwalking.
The cup you had fetched now sat discarded on your bedside table, and you held your open arms out to your boyfriend, a silent invitation if Jason had ever seen one.
He shuffled into the room awkwardly, hand coming up to tug slightly at the back of his dark hair as he eyed you wearily, “Hi, sweetheart,” He mumbled back, almost as though he were testing the waters as he approached you, “Havin’ a good night?” He asked when he came to a stop in front of the mattress, gulping.
Humming in response, you reached over and gently but firmly tugged your boyfriend down onto the bed beside you, making yourself comfortable snuggled against his chest without further delay, “Very. It was nice and relaxing. How about you, baby?” You asked, tracing idle shapes against his bare chest while you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.
Jason swallowed harshly once more as his arm came to wrap itself around you unconsciously, unsure of how exactly to bring up what had just gone down in the kitchen. How you had seen him in his vigilante getup and hadn’t even batted an eye.
“So, about what you just saw-” He started, unsure of what else he could even say, but you swiftly cut him off as your head popped up and your serious gaze met his.
Whatever lingering sleepiness that had been clinging to your expression vanished in and instant, a sense of alertness coming over you.
“Oh, Jay, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” A small frown was pulling at your lips as you spoke.
He blinked down at you once. Twice. “I-what?” He tripped over his words, a jumble of syllables falling out in turn.
You sighed, dropping your chin against his pec so you could still gaze up at him with a soft pout now adorning your features, “I know you don’t like to talk about the whole Red Hood thing, so I’m sorry if I made you upset by talking to you while you were still- what? In costume? Suited up?” You shook your head softly, “Sorry, baby, I don’t know the correct term.”
The words rolled off your tongue so casually, as if you were merely discussing the weather. Not the possibility of your boyfriend of a few months being a vigilante.
Jason practically leapt to his feet, though he was careful to gently move you off of him before he did so, “I- you knew?” He spat out, complete and utter bewilderment overtaking his features.
He didn’t know what was happening. Everything was so confusing and he felt as though the walls of your bedroom were spinning around him suddenly, trying to knock him off kilter.
You rose to your knees on the mattress in front of your boyfriend, confusion mirroring his own spreading throughout your face, “Knew about what, Jay?” You asked as gently as you could manage at exactly 4:24 in the morning.
Pacing commenced before your very eyes as Jason ran his hands repeatedly through his hair, “Red Hood! You- you knew about Red Hood?” It sounded more as though he were speaking to himself, trying to wrap his mind around such possibilities that seemed so far fetched from him a mere twenty minutes prior.
“About… you being Red Hood?” You asked so slowly, eyebrows furrowing as what he was questioning you about finally processed in your head, “Of course I knew, I’ve known since the second week of us dating.” You said it slowly, gently, as if speaking to an unstable toddler.
Jason froze for what felt like the tenth time that night, “What?” He asked, completely horrified, “You- knew?”
You shook your head back and forth, “Of course I knew. I thought you… knew that I knew?” The more you talked, the less certain on the topic you seemed, “I mean, you’re not exactly slick about it.”
If it was even possible, his eyes had just been blown wider than they had been, “What- what’s that supposed to mean?” He sputtered out.
“I mean how you leave your vigilante suit in the closet.” You explained slowly.
“In a duffle bag!” He defended, mind reeling as he went over any single moment that he could’ve tripped up on the whole ‘secret identity’ thing in the last few months of you dating.
“That you often leave not only opened, but flipped upside down.” You continued, “I swear it spends more time across the closet floor than it actually does on you at night. And speaking of, you keep very odd hours, Jay. Even by Gotham standards. There’s only so much detective work that could possibly go into figuring something like that out.”
Jason dropped his head into his hands, “I thought I was careful.” He all but groaned, words becoming muffled through his fingers.
Gently, you reached out and took his hands into your own, pulling them away so he would look you in the eyes as you soothingly ran your thumbs across his wrists, “Not to mention the fact that I saw you changing into your suit on our second week of dating. I think you thought I was asleep so you were trying to be quiet, but you actually bumped into the dresser pretty loudly and started cursing like a sailor.” You giggled slightly under your breath at the thought, “It was kinda hard to miss.”
He swallowed thickly, eyes now taking in every inch of your face, scanning for those signs of fear and regret he had dreaded looking upon the moment you knew about his Red Hood life, “So… you knew all along?”
Nodding gently, you squeezed his hands once, “Well, I kind of assumed you knew that I knew and just didn’t like to talk about it.” You shrugged almost bashfully now, as if realizing that you very poorly misread the situation, “I always just thought you liked to keep that life and this life with the two of us separate. I thought I was respecting your wishes by never bringing it up.”
“And you’re not…” He searched for the right words, “Scared of me- of Red Hood?”
Your eyebrows shot up at the suggestion, as if it were the most unhinged and improbable thing he could’ve possibly asked you in that moment, “Scared of you? Of course not, Jay, you keep me- and so many other people safe- each and every night. I have nothing to be scared of from you.”
Jason had not realized until that moment just how much he had needed to hear those exact words fall from your lips. He all but deflated as what felt like the weight of a thousand burdens lifted from his shoulders and were obliterated before his very eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed, somewhat dreamily, sweeping a piece of hair away from your eyes, “All this time, I saw so worried about you knowing and… and looking at me differently. When, in reality, you knew all along.”
You leaned into the man’s touch without thinking twice, eyes fluttering shut as you planted a soft kiss to the inside of his hand that gingerly cupped your cheek now, “Nothing you could do could ever make me look at you differently, Jason.” You assured him, “Now, get in bed, it’s late and I’m tired.” You teased, tugging him down alongside you once more.
He allowed you to do as such to him and he stayed still for a moment, with you curled up at his side and letting out a content hum when he began moving his fingers through your hair.
“Sweetheart?” Jason asked after a few moments of silence, “…I can be subtle right?”
Artists of all mediums are safe from AI "replacing us". Why? A Gen-AI model, aka a computer, simply cannot create something as heartrendingly beautiful and ethereal as the waves that Ivan Aivazovsky painted; it has no faith in God that informed the beauty of the music he composed; it does not know who God is; it does not know what an ocean looks like. It cannot see the ocean as an artistic soul like Aivazovsky did. When Gen-AI (a computer) generates a poor imitation of an ocean, it is flat, lifeless, and uninspired. It cannot perceive the colors the way a brilliant artistic soul such as Ivan Aivazovsky did.
A Gen-AI model cannot understand the poetic beauty of nature and see God in all things; it can only imitate what a violin sounds like, and even in its imitation, it has robotic fragments. It cannot comprehend the numinous and the divine, and thus it cannot create what the mind's eye can see. It cannot touch the soul because it does not have one. It cannot dream, so it cannot create something unprecedented and informed by ethereal, otherworldly beauty, because AI (a computer) can only generate a stale, uninspired imitation. The keyword here is generate; it can generate, but it cannot create.
Queer Platonic Relationship/Roommate HC's with Viktor
Word Count: 1107
Notes:
AroAce Viktor
Aro/Ace reader
GN reader
Established QPR(?)
An AU where Hextech doesn’t exist and Viktor’s not dying
A/N: I just want to make it clear that I have nothing against JayVik. It’s a great ship. And the Ace head canon has nothing to do with Viktor’s disability. As an AroAce, I sometimes like to HC some of my favorite characters the same way for representation. I’m starving here. (Yes, I'm putting this disclaimer on every AroAce Viktor fic).
On the days he comes home early (or the time he actually says he’s coming home), he will read to you before you go to sleep (bc we all know his ass isn’t going to bed anytime soon).
“You can read an AC instruction manual and still keep my interest.”
Viktor fought back a smile. “You have to be the strangest person I’ve ever met.” He moved the novel away from his face to look at you. “Isn’t this supposed to be helping you sleep?”
“Keep going. It’s enriching to my brain.”
“I’d have better luck knocking you upside the head with it.”
He’s aware that sometimes, you don’t retain anything. You just enjoy listening to the curls of his Ls and Rs.
Viktor genuinely doesn’t understand your fascination with his accent.
Unless you also have a unique accent. If that’s the case, he’ll occasionally ask you to read him something instead. But it’s NOT because he likes your voice. It’s ONLY so he can compare his accent with your own for curiosity’s sake… And yeah.
If you have medium-length or longer hair, Viktor will sometimes run his fingers through the strands. You have to act like you don’t notice or care, though, or else he’ll stop it. He’s like a detached cat in that sense. If you make a big deal out of his attention, he’ll get embarrassed.
If you ask him to comb/brush or dry your hair after a shower, Viktor will act like it’s an inconvenience. “Can’t you do it yourself?” But inside he’s happy to oblige.
You can tell he likes doing this for you by the careful strokes/movements.
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
You were leaning against his knee between his legs. He was practically massaging your scalp. “Can’t help that your hands feel good.”
Viktor will go to cafes with you on his mornings off. If you’re a tea/coffee fanatic, he’ll let you drag him all around Piltover to see which place has the best drinks.
I feel like he prefers his tea/coffee on the bitter side (maybe with a little bit of milk or honey if he wants to change things up). So if you’re the type to top your drinks with whipped cream and a fuck ton of syrup and still have the nerve to call it “coffee” (calling myself out with this one), he will shame you.
“And what tooth rotting concoction did they whip up for you this time?”
“It’s a brown sugar matcha frap with whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top :3”
“Yes because that’s a normal thing to have at eight in the morning.”
In the evenings when the two of you are on the opposite ends of the couch (because as much as you love Viktor, you respect his need for space), he will sometimes place a pillow on his lap for your feet to rest on.
Without looking over from his book, he’ll give the pillow a few pats and you’ll smile, knowing what he means.
When he leaves for the day, a simple “good-bye” will suffice. He’s not into touchy farewells, but occasionally when he passes by you, he’ll softly ruffle your hair.
Viktor doesn’t like holding hands or linking arms when you’re walking together, but he’ll allow you to hold onto his coat or bag.
The first time you gently grabbed the strap, he stopped in his tracks. It was barely a tug, you probably didn’t mean to get his attention. Yet he blinked at you, confused.
“What is it?”
You smiled in the most casual way possible. “It’s so I don’t get lost, obviously.”
There was hardly anyone else in the street.
“Obviously…” he mocked under his breath. Yet this oddly flustered him more than if you were to grab his hand. He continued walking with you like that.
“Can I help you take off your leg brace?”
It was almost four in the morning when Viktor finally walked through the door of your shared apartment. He was very surprised and concerned to find you awake, wondering if you had been waiting on him. But he found that he was too exhausted to scold you.
“Why would you want to do that?” Even he noticed how uncharacteristically gentle his tone was.
You felt the heat shoot up to your ears. Did you overstep by merely asking such a thing? “I know you can do it by yourself, but,” you shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want to. If you’ll let me.”
Viktor sighed heavily. Ultimately, you found yourself on the floor by his legs after he dropped on the bed. You were very careful when you undid the leather straps, following the motions you watched him go through every night. Except you were nowhere near as smooth and precise as he was. Yet Viktor let you take your time, trying to keep all of his thoughts in one place.
You struggled with the nozzles in some places. He could tell by the sudden tugs to his leg, but the painful jolts never came. You were more gentle than he could ever be. A silent, shaky breath escaped.
“Are you okay?” Viktor’s posture was incredibly stiff, you noticed.
He turned away from your concern. “I’m fine. Keep going.”
You hesitated for a moment but slowly lifted his heel from the metal foot. His attention narrowed on your hold around his ankle. That’s when you paused. He felt your other hand grasp his calf. Viktor was suddenly self-conscious of the muscles there–so thin that you were close to bone–he swallowed.
“I’m going to pull it off now, alright?”
He only nodded, helping you guide the loose metal hinges off his leg. He was accustomed to the rough press of the brace, but the relief that came from taking it off was real each time.
Your touch still hadn’t left his leg. He let out a noise when you began to rub small circles into his muscle.
“Is this okay?”
He exhaled slowly, “Yes.”
Viktor allowed you to do this for a minute, unsure why he wasn’t protesting. His breathing steadily picked up. He tried to rationalize the pressure behind his eyes.
It was only when he reached out, fingers inches from grazing your cheek, did he put a stop to all of this.
“That’s enough.”
Viktor, not liking your guilty expression, reassured you with a head pat. He was a goner.
“Good-night.” Your name felt different leaving his mouth.
“Right. Um- night.”
You left the room rather quickly.
Viktor fell back into his sheets, realizing that he was quite past the point of letting you “too close”.
TW/tags Bucky Barnes x reader, established relationship, drowning mention, mentioned death of a family member and best friend, blood and bruising, nosebleed, reader has an inherited curse
You woke up tasting ash and dust in your mouth.
Sometimes, you tasted metal when sleeping with your mouth open, the faint aftertaste of the New Avengers’ tower recycled air. This was different. This coated your tongue, bitter and scorched, gathering between your teeth as if you had spent the night breathing through smoke.
You swallowed and felt grit scrape down your throat.
Behind you, Bucky shifted beneath the sheets.
He was still half asleep when he pressed his mouth to your back, kissing the bare skin between your shoulder blades. His stubble dragged pleasantly over you, his lips unhurried as they travelled along your spine. His metal hand rested heavily on your hip, thumb moving in an absent circle.
Usually, you would have smiled. You would have pushed backwards into him until he tightened his arm around your waist and complained that you were trying to crush him, despite both of you knowing perfectly well that you couldn’t, even if you tried.
This morning, you couldn’t move.
The curse of premonition had been in your family for centuries, bestowed by a witch who had wanted your ancestors to suffer long after their own deaths. You would feel every tragedy creeping towards you and still remain powerless to name the hour, the place, or whose blood would be spilled.
Your grandmother had tasted saltwater for three days before her brother drowned. Your mother had heard bells ringing inside her skull before the hospital called about her father.
Before your childhood best friend died a brutal death, bruises appeared on your skin and you woke up with blood running from your nose.
Bucky kissed the back of your neck, then stopped when you flinched.
His hand became still on your hip. “You’re awake.”
You nodded, although he couldn’t see it.
Bucky pushed himself up behind you. The mattress dipped as he leaned over, brushing your hair away from your face. You could feel him watching you before he gently rolled you towards him.
His hair was tangled from the pillows, and there was a crease across one cheek from your pillow and warmth lingering in his eyes that disappeared when he saw your face.
“What is it?”
You opened your mouth, but the taste of smoke became stronger. You tried to speak and had to swallow dust first, drowned in a coughing fit. When Bucky offered water, you refused and forced the taste down.
Oh.
Bucky caught your face between both hands, because he knew that look too well by now.
“What did you feel?”
“Ash.” Your voice came out raw. “I… I can smell smoke.”
Bucky inhaled through his nose, as though he might be able to smell it too.
There was nothing for him, just the warmth of your shared bedroom in the tower and lemony clean sheets.
You reached for him, twisting your fingers into his shirt and pulling yourself against his chest.
Bucky wrapped himself around you immediately, metal arm across your back while his flesh hand cradled the base of your head.
“I think something bad is going to happen,” you managed.
Bucky pressed his mouth to your temple. “How bad?”
“I don’t know.”
You never knew.
Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
Bucky had survived so many things, from himself, to armies, alien invasions and the end of the world. He had spent his entire life teetering too close to the edge, but had never let you do the same.
You held him tighter and whispered, “I’m not worried about me.”
Bucky went still. His breathing stumbled, and the arm around your back tightened until you could feel every plate in his hand. “Oh,” he looked down. “Is it…”
“I—” You cut him off, before biting the inside of your cheeks so hard it almost bled. “I don’t know that it’s you.”
“But you think it is.”
You couldn’t answer.
Ash gathered beneath your tongue again, and you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face against his bare chest before he could see what you were still feeling.
Bucky kissed your hair. “Whatever it is, you know we’ll handle it,” His hand moved along your back, trying to soothe you while his heartbeat raced beneath your ear. “I promise everything’s gonna be okay.”
Outside the bedroom, the New Avengers Tower began to wake up, an elevator door chiming below. Alexei laughed in the corridor, followed by the muffled slam of a door.
These were all ordinary morning sounds you had grown fond of over the last six months.
And to think it could be taken away, just like that….
Bucky pulled the blankets higher around both of you and held you, pretending nothing in the world could reach you there.
You knew better.
You knew promises had never stopped the curse before.
But Bucky sounded so certain, and he loved you so much, and there was no harm in letting him believe it for a little longer.
pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader
cw: mentions of death, pure fluff
wc: 2.5k
an: currently going through a horrible block and im incapable of finishing my disgusting porn-ridden works, so we go back to the basics. how i love Jason </3 i missed writing him. hopefully you enjoy!! (I SWEAR THE OTHER WORKS ARE COMING).
Jason woke with dirt in his mouth.
In actuality, his tongue found only the stale dryness of sleep and the metallic taste left by a split lip from two nights ago, but for several seconds his body refused to accept it. The dark above him was a coffin lid, the blanket was packed earth pressing against his ribs. Somewhere close, wood groaned beneath a terrible weight, and every breath came back warm against his own face because there was nowhere for the air to go.
He opened his eyes.
The bedroom ceiling hung above him, gray in the weak light coming through the blinds. A water stain spread over one corner in the shape of a continent; you had been asking him to talk to the landlord about it for three weeks because, according to you, you could not bargain with anyone who sighed at your complaints.
The mattress was beneath him. The radiator ticked near the window. A delivery truck drove through the intersection below, its brakes squealing against the street; somewhere in the building, pipes knocked inside the wall.
The grave disappeared.
His body did not believe it yet.
Jason lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling while his heartbeat struck against his ribs with such force it felt like something was trying to claw its way out. His hands had curled into fists beneath the blanket, his fingernails pressing crescents into his palms, and the muscles across his shoulders felt drawn tight enough to tear. Every breath wanted to become a gasp, but he held it behind his teeth and let the air out slowly through his nose.
He had learned how to wake without moving.
It was a skill, like clearing a room or stripping a gun in the dark; one of the softer, stranger techniques his life had required. He knew which floorboard creaked near the bed and how much weight the mattress could take before the springs complained. He knew how to swallow panic without letting it make noise, how to pull his hand away from a weapon before he was awake enough to understand whose apartment he was in.
Most importantly, he knew how not to wake you.
You slept beside him on your stomach, one arm beneath the pillow and the other folded near your face. The blanket had slipped low over one shoulder. Your breathing remained deep and even, untouched by whatever had dragged him out of sleep.
Jason turned his head toward the clock.
5:03 a.m.
The middle of the night, as far as he was concerned.
He had gone to bed a little after two, which counted as an early night by his standards. You had already been asleep, though you had left the lamp on beside him and a note on his pillow reminding him to rinse the plate in the sink.
The nightmare had not been one of the worst ones, he told himself, though that was a truth that only felt comforting after dawn. There had been no crowbar this time; no laughter scraping against the inside of his skull, no bright camera flash, no chemical stink so foul it seemed lodged permanently behind his eyes. His mother had not been shooting up in the next room. His father had not been disappearing through the door with a careless glance over his shoulder. Bruce had not stood above an open grave, silent and too late.
It had only been the coffin.
Only waking beneath six feet of earth with his lungs already beginning to burn.
Jason loosened his hands and flexed his fingers beneath the blanket. Pins and needles moved through them. He concentrated on the small irritations of the room—the seam of his shirt twisted beneath his back, the ache in his left knee, the dry air catching in his throat. Mundane discomfort helped; it gave his mind something ordinary to dislike.
Beside him, you made a sound.
Jason froze.
Your breathing changed, but you did not wake; your face pressed deeper into the pillow, brow drawing together as though you were arguing with someone inside a dream. He watched you for a moment, waiting for your eyes to open.
They did not.
Carefully, Jason began to sit up.
The mattress shifted by a fraction. He moved one shoulder, then the other, keeping his weight close to the edge so the bed would not dip beneath you. His feet had nearly reached the floor when your hand moved across the sheets.
It found the space he had left.
Your fingers opened and closed once against the warm indentation in the mattress; then, still asleep, you reached farther.
Jason stopped.
Your hand brushed the back of his shirt, merely a drag of your fingertips over the fabric, but something inside him wavered. You made another sound, quiet and incomprehensible; the words had no true meaning, no more than a soft complaint.
Jason looked down at your hand.
He had no idea how you did it.
He had become nearly perfect at leaving the bed without disturbing you; he had done it on mornings when patrol ran late, on nights when sleep refused him entirely, on the occasional emergency that pulled him toward the window before his phone finished vibrating. You rarely woke. Yet there were times—only these times, only when the nightmare had followed him out—when some hidden part of you seemed to notice the difference.
You did not answer clearly. The next sound might have been his name, or it might have been a demand to lie down, or a complaint about the dishes, or an accusation directed at some unrelated figure in your dream.
Your fingers remained curled in his shirt.
Jason looked toward the window.
The blinds rattled in the draft. The city beyond them was beginning to pale from black to the opaque blue that came before sunrise, though the alleys below still held their darkness. He could get up. Drink water. Stand beneath a shower until the memory of dirt left his skin. He could sit in the kitchen with every light on and wait for his pulse to come down.
He had done all of that before.
Your grip tightened again.
Jason let out a slow breath and eased himself back onto the mattress.
You moved immediately, your knee catching against his thigh and one arm sliding heavily across his stomach. Your face found the space beneath his chin, your nose pressed against his collarbone, and your breath warmed the skin above the neck of his shirt.
Jason went still beneath the sudden weight of you.
You sighed. The sound was quiet and deeply satisfied, as though this had corrected whatever had gone wrong with the night.
One of your hands spread over his chest.
His heart was still beating too hard. There was no possibility you could miss it; it struck beneath your palm with embarrassing force, fast and uneven, the rhythm of an alarm that had not yet realized the fire was out.
You did not wake. Your thumb moved against his shirt.
“Here,” you murmured.
Jason closed his eyes.
The word had come out blurred by sleep, almost incomprehensible; he might have imagined it. Even so, it sank into him slowly, warmth moving through cold muscle.
Here.
He was here.
Not beneath the ground. Not inside that warehouse. Not sixteen and choking on blood and deafened by laughter. He was in a badly insulated apartment owned by a landlord who believed mildew was no more than a cosmetic defect. There was a plate in the sink he had almost rinsed, and a grocery list on the refrigerator in your handwriting, and your elbow was digging into the tender space below his ribs.
The pressure hurt a little.
He loved it.
Jason lifted one arm and settled it around your back, carefully, because some part of him still believed too much movement would break the spell. You responded by pressing closer, your leg sliding over his until half your weight rested against him. The blanket bunched awkwardly between your knees.
“You’re a furnace,” he whispered.
You breathed against his throat.
The answer was entirely unintelligible.
Jason rested his cheek against the top of your head. Your hair tickled his nose. The room smelled was cold, smelling of morning, old radiator heat, and the citrus hand cream you used before bed. Beneath it was the warmer, softer scent that was simply you, familiar enough that his body began to unclench around it.
His hand moved slowly up and down your back.
He did not need to think about the motion anymore. Somewhere along the way, he had learned the shape of you in sleep—the place between your shoulders where his palm fit, the way your muscles softened when his fingers traced small circles near your spine, the exact pressure that made you sigh and go heavy against him.
You had learned him too—more than anyone else ever had.
Everyone who knew Red Hood knew he carried weapons inside his jacket and anger beneath nearly everything else, but you knew the ordinary details. You knew he hated being cold after a nightmare because it reminded him of graves and winter dirt, so you tucked your feet between his calves even though they were usually freezing. You knew silence was sometimes safer than questions; you knew not to touch the back of his neck suddenly, and that he could tolerate almost anything if he felt your palm against the center of his chest.
You also knew he left cabinet doors open.
You knew he always used the last of the coffee and returned the empty container to the shelf as though perhaps a new supply might generate inside it. You knew he would wash every dish in the apartment complex if you asked directly, but somehow remained incapable of rinsing one plate before sauce hardened on it.
Love, Jason had discovered, was humiliatingly domestic.
It was not only the grand things—the nights you cleaned blood from his hair, the mornings you counted bruises while pretending not to worry, the arguments about risk and honesty and whether a person could belong to a city without letting it consume them. It was also you standing in the kitchen holding a fork with dried egg welded to it, asking what thought was going through his brain. It was you handing him the landlord’s phone number and saying, with complete sincerity, that you could not bargain.
Your hand shifted over his chest.
Jason looked down.
Your face was relaxed again, your mouth slightly agape against his shirt. There was a crease on your cheek from the pillow. You looked nothing like the holy thing his mind sometimes tried to make of you after nights like this; you were a real person who stole the blanket, forgot where you left your phone while holding it, and had once started an argument at midnight because he had used your good towel to clean gun oil from the table.
You were not an angel sent into the dark to drag him toward the light; you were sleepy and warm and drooling on his collarbone, holding him because some part of you had noticed he was hurting.
Jason’s throat tightened.
He lowered his mouth to your forehead.
The kiss barely touched your skin.
You shifted beneath it, brow furrowing for a moment, then tightened your arm around him. Your hand caught a fistful of his shirt and held on.
“Don’t go,” you murmured.
This time, the words were clearer.
Jason stared into the dim room.
He had not been planning to leave—not the apartment, at least—but he understood what you meant anyway. There were many ways to go without opening a door. He had spent years mastering them; he could leave a conversation while sitting across from someone, could vanish behind a joke or a fight or the blank red face of the helmet. He could make himself absent even while his body remained.
You always noticed eventually.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.
Your grip loosened slightly.
Jason settled deeper into the mattress and pulled the blanket over your shoulder. He tucked the edge behind your back, creating the tight pocket of warmth you preferred, then he let his hand rest at your waist.
His pulse slowed.
The coffin still existed somewhere in his memory, waiting with all the other rooms he could not demolish; if he closed his eyes too hard, he could feel wood beneath his bloody nails and taste soil against his teeth.
Jason breathed in.
Your chest rose against his.
He breathed out.
The tension eased, pain draining from his muscles. His jaw unclenched. The ringing in his ears faded until he could hear the refrigerator humming in the next room and the scrape of branches against the building.
You made another noise.
Jason ran his fingers along your side. “What are you saying?”
Your mouth moved against his shirt. He caught only the last word.
“—dishes.”
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He pressed his lips into your hair to hide the sound. “I rinsed them.”
You frowned without opening your eyes. “Liar.”
Jason looked toward the bedroom door, through which the edge of the kitchen counter was just visible. The plate sat in the sink.
There was probably still sauce on the underside.
“Mostly,” he amended.
You exhaled, clearly disappointed. Then your hand drifted upward, slid over his collarbone, and came to rest against the side of his neck.
Your fingers were warm.
Jason leaned his face into your palm.
“I’ll do it in the morning,” he whispered.
You were already gone again, sunk deep into sleep; still, your fingertips threated lightly near his jaw, not quite a caress and not quite accidental.
He closed his eyes.
The nightmare waited at the edge of sleep, as it always did.
Sometimes it wore the Joker’s face. Sometimes Bruce’s. Sometimes his mother was calling from a room he could never reach, her voice drowned beneath the sound of a train. Sometimes Jason was still dead, and everything after had only been a final chemical spark moving through a broken brain.
Tonight, the grave remained open.
But you were heavier than the dirt.
Your arm lay across his chest, your leg pinned his beneath the blanket, and your breath warmed the hollow of his throat. Every place you touched him carried a small, undeniable pressure.
Here.
Here.
Here.
Jason covered your hand with his and held it against his heartbeat. Your nose was cold where it touched his neck.
By the time the blinds began to glow pale around the edges, his breathing had finally fallen into the same rhythm as yours. His last clear thought was that the landlord still needed to look at the ceiling; his second-to-last was that he should clean the plate before you woke and discovered his definition of rinsed remained questionable.
Beneath those thoughts, quieter and deeper, was the certainty of your arms around him.
Jason let sleep take him again—not because the darkness had become safe, but because you had found him inside it without even waking, and held him.
Summary: What happens when an unknown alien species invades Metropolis and take you captive to a planet with a red sun. In the wake of your capture, Jason discovers there’s not much he won’t do to get you back.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Kent!Reader
Word Count: 14.1k
Content Warning: Clark & Lois daughter!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, Jason crashing out low(high)key, yearner!jason final boss, Clark finds out about the relationship, depictions of violence, vomit, kind of dark?, reader has hair, cursing, dual pov, no use of y/n
A/N: As promised after spain won the world cup i hope you enjoy :) this is for this request I’m so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for three months😭 (part 2 of Tonight’s going to be fun, but can be read as a standalone)
•───────•°•☀︎•°•───────•
For all the chaos that this city found itself at the center of, Metropolis could be surprisingly peaceful sometimes. Today, for example, was beautiful.
The park echoed with chirps of critters hidden in their homes under the grass, the sun beamed on the landscape with mercy, and the wind passed through like a long lost friend. Children ran around the playground of the park with crowns and swords of a birthday that would be immortalized in a photo album. Parents supervised under the shaded area where they traded stories of a nine to five they pretended to enjoy.
And then, there was you.
Your mother suggested that you take the boys out to the park today, a chance for them to have a normal afternoon.
Well, as normal as two preteen superheroes can have.
Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne somehow managed to be perfect antonyms and synonyms of each other. They stood and fought for the same mission- the same goal acting as a north star, and yet they still managed to approach it entirely different.
It’s what makes them work so well together.
Watching them play around on the open field of the park is almost funny. They’re not good at normal, a consequence of who they are and how they were raised, but they still manage to have their own fun. Damian’s trying to teach Jon how to do a handstand. It’d be easy really, Jon can fly and levitate himself to hold his feet while propping himself on his hands; but Damian wants him to learn how to incorporate his arms, abs, and center of gravity.
If you were to guess, this is influenced from the Dick Grayson school of gymnastics.
Bruce dropped Damian off at your apartment around eleven and thanked you thrice for watching him. Jon had spent the night at your apartment the night before since your parents were having their monthly date night, and it was now your turn to babysit since Kon watched him the past three times. You played Overcooked together and fought in ways you hadn’t since you were kids, but it was nice. Nostalgia hit you like a train at one point when you looked over at him and saw an eleven-year-old, and not the baby that stumbled around in diapers because he refused to wear clothes.
Then today when Damian arrived, you decided to take them out on the town. You went and got an early lunch, took them to an arcade before they got bored, and your mom suggested the park as an afterthought.
Which is how you find yourself on the bench holding two cups of melted ice cream.
It seemed as though the world wanted to punish you for sneaking some of Jon’s -now- liquid cotton candy ice cream when the ground begins to shake. You barely have a second to react before the sun disappears and a shadow falls over Metropolis in a cruel twist of the day.
Shooting to your feet, your head falls back while the wind whips around you ripping leaves from trees, and you see a spaceship hovering over the park.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” you can’t help but mumble to yourself, tossing the cups of liquid sugar into the black can next to your bench.
The boys glance at you expectantly, eyes hard as stone ready for an assignment. Your heart cracks right down the middle at the sight. They weren’t supposed to be concerned about this, saving the city wasn’t supposed to fall on the shoulders of two kids. They were supposed to just have a fun day hanging out, goofing around in the summer sun.
For some odd reason, that never seemed to be in the cards for any of you.
Accepting defeat, you look around and in the distance you spot an alleyway. You motion with your hands for them to follow and they’re at your side in an instant. Families scream behind you as parents shield their crying children- attempting to preserve the innocence you all were never granted. The two sets of footsteps behind you ring like a death march in your ears as the boys follow your lead.
It didn’t matter what happened here today, they had to make it out. It was a promise you made to yourself, your parents, Bruce, and Jason.
Reaching the back alley, it’s a ghost town while you attempt the quick change. Your outfit took from Aunt Kara’s, just without the skirt. After one bad experience of it getting caught in a pole, you opted for shorts instead.
When they’ve finished changing, you dedicate a hand to each of them to rest on their respective shoulders. Mustering the most intense and serious expression you can, your eyes shift from each of their faces.
“You follow my lead okay? Under no circumstance do either of you go off-book today. If I say go- you go. Understood?”
Jon nods instantly, he always took your word as law being his older sister. You weren’t concerned about him improvising- it was Damian. It wasn’t so much of him having a habit of disobeying orders, but having his own plan that he knew would work. You didn’t fault him for it, you just couldn’t have him in harm’s way, not today- not if you had anything to say of it.
He doesn’t agree right away, his green eyes fight yours in a silent chess match of expressions. You’re sure he’d hate it if you told him, but he took after Jason in more ways than he’d be comfortable knowing. He had the same twitch in his jaw when he had to agree with something he didn’t like, the same squint of the eye when he tried reading people, it was almost comical to you how similar they were despite not being related by blood.
“Please,” you attempt a different approach- a more gentle one, “I promised him I would keep you safe and I won’t be able to deescalate this if I’m worried about you following your own plan.”
You don’t have to say who “him” is, yet you’re positive he’s able to put two and two together. Jon will think it’s Bruce since he still doesn’t know about you and Jason, but Damian knows the reality of it.
“You do not have to worry about me, I have handled threats triple the size of this- I have wiped out armies.” His chin juts up, as if he can summon a growth spurt that’ll make him eye level with you.
Terrorized screams are echoing into the alleyway and you don’t have much time. The sound from the projected air of the propeller’s is deafening, trees are threatening to rip from the ground and go flying; yet, you can’t bring yourself to go without ensuring that they will be safe.
“Sorry kiddo, call it eldest daughter syndrome- but I’m in charge of you. So, worrying’s kind of a non-negotiable, it’s gonna happen. Can you please just promise me this- just this once?”
Your eyes drain the demand from it and fill with a plea, and he seems to notice it. The clock was ticking and desperation was the your last act of trying to get this kid to agree. With a heavy heart and a deep sigh, he nods his head to agree with a moody drawn out “fine.”
Not wasting another second, you turn your attention back to Jon and cock your head to Damian so he’ll carry him to the roof. Your brother nods and the other boy crosses his arm, upset with the embarrassing arrangement.
Shooting off into the air, they’re close behind you. The air rushes through your ears and you deeply regret not bringing a hair tie. You didn’t even want to think about what the detangling process was going to look like after today. Maybe you could convince Mom to do it for you if you got a thick enough gash.
Observing from the roof top, you attempt to dissect the scene from the park. Jon’s still holding Damian, and you can tell they’re antsy for instructions. Leading was never your forte, too much fell on the shots that were called. It was a responsibility you never felt confident in.
You’ve got all of two seconds to really take in the scene and a list forms in your head. Androids on ground. Families in park. Soldiers in air. Guns being loaded.
It’s okay. You can do this.
“Robin, Superboy,” their heads whip in your direction anticipating their first orders, “Go to ground level and get the civilians to safety, neutralize the androids in the process- but civilian safety is top priority.”
“On it.” Jon affirms.
“Heard.” Damian turns his head to the action, already planning his path.
As they head back down to the park, you turn your attention back to the sky. There was no way for you to fight the battleship without causing property damage, leaving that option out of the question. Then there were the soldiers, front line meant being the first to go.
Launching off the ledge you were perched on, you make contact with the alien race for the first time.
They were purple with scaled skin. Most of them were covered head to toe in bright blue armor, but they had weak points around their elbows. The armor pads left an opening in the pieces that linked the forearm and bicep together. You could tell by the way they were watching Jon and Damian handle the androids, that they were trigger happy. Fingers dancing on the button that would satisfy their sick desire to become monsters.
So, you squint your eyes to focus on the targets and shoot them with your heat vision, severing their forearms from their bodies.
You got about through two of them, before the rest of the legion in the air caught sight of you. It turned into an all-out war. It was moments like these that superhearing felt like a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, you could hear Jon and Damian calling out to each other. Making sure that the other was safe while working together. On the other hand however, every time a shot was fired, you could feel it in your bones. It was overstimulation at its finest.
In the end, you attempt to not dismember most of the soldiers- wanting to avoid a talking too about violence from dad. Your peace negotiation with yourself involved melting most of the guns onto their hands. Leaving them useless and incapable of harming anyone, without punching someone with their new metal hands forged together.
By the time you’d finished, Damian and Jon had handled most of the androids below and gotten the families to safety. You were about 100 feet in the air, while Damian rested on the roof of the shaded area of the playground, with Jon hovering in between you two.
A giant door opens from the bottom of the ship. Three more of the purple aliens come out, but with more distinct armor. If you were to guess, the one in the middle has to be the one in charge. His helmet has three spikes and isn’t bright blue, it’s more of a navy color that contrast the purple scales in a better light.
“I am Ulgod,” he announces, stepping onto a little pad that floats him to a few yards away from you, “I am the General of War from planet Emuphus in the Alatheia Nebula System.”
The men to either of his sides are holding guns similar to the ones that the soldiers were holding. Every ounce of restraint coursing through your veins was going into not declaring war, and melting them into their hands. There was something off about the ones that they were holding however. There was a neon green glow coming from the middle that the others didn’t have.
“We come in search of the Kryptonians.”
Of-fucking-course.
He’s staring you dead in the eye and you meet his bug-like beady ones. The helmet ensured that you don’t know what their expressions are, but you’re positive that this one isn’t a happy one. Nothing good ever came from an spaceship arriving, destroying a bunch of shit, and then demanding your family.
After a deep breath you decide to reply, “And what is it you seek with the Kryptonians, General Ulgod?”
“Well it is simple, we demand that they come with us to our planet.”
“Why?” your eyes have narrowed into slits at the demand. It wasn’t necessarily unheard of, but you’re not entirely sure if you want the answer to your question.
“That is a matter that we will speak of on our planet.” his voice booms with the rasp. It reminds you of the cashier at the corner store mom sends you too. This guy sounds like he’s been smoking a pack a day for twenty years.
“Then I’m afraid the request cannot be granted. The Kryptonians will not follow you blindly to a planet for a boon they know nothing of.” One of these days you were going to have to thank Jason for reading you so many classics. It really helped make you sound professional in the face of death. There was no way this guy actually thought that you were about to go to some random planet from god knows where to do god knows what, because he simply demanded.
His lip curls up at your response and a shiver runs down your spine.
“Oh you are mistaken my dear lady,” his rasp echoes in between you both, “I am not asking.”
Then he lifts his left arm up to a ninety degree angle, and the soldier to his side responds instantly. The gun fires and you feel what the neon green substance was from their gun, when the bullet pierces the air.
Kryptonite.
It all happens in slow motion, and you almost throw up as the scene plays frame by frame.
Because they don’t aim at you. No.
They aim at Jon.
Your head whips down to look at him and you shoot off in his direction, racing the bullet. He doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Damian’s too low to reach him or try to get him out of the way.
You reach Jon mere milliseconds after the bullet pierces his thigh and his scream haunts the park. You’ve been hit with it once before and Jon, thankfully, has had minimal exposure to it until now.
The noises from his throat are guttural and sound as if they’re being ripped from him. The chemical infects his blood stream almost instantly. You catch him before he falls from the sky and gently ease him to the floor where Damian is waiting for you both. Your hands start fretting and you can’t think straight. Not when your baby brother is thrashing around and gasping from being shot.
Pushing the hair from his forehead, he’s already started sweating. He’s groaning in your arms and his features contort on his face with small whimpers of pain.
“Hey, hey- it’s going to be okay,” you try to comfort him as your hand falls on his cheek and he leans into it, “we’re going to get you help okay? Just need you to stick around a little longer, it sucks I know but take deep breaths for me.”
You’re fingers go back into carding through his hair for a split second, allowing yourself to comfort your him before turning to Damian. You don’t know what expression is on your face, but the poor boys straightens instantly.
“Get him to my mom. Dad’s at an interview and she’s working remote today, so she’ll be in the apartment.” your tone comes out hard and the words are final, leaving no room for debate, “She has a better chance of getting ahold of my dad so, they can get him to the fortress.”
“I cannot leave you with them, you are what they want.” his eyes are on Jon’s worsening state, but he speak with the logistics of the scenario. He has a point, but you meant what you said in the alley. They came first, and you’re already on one casualty, you’re not about to have another.
“Robin,” his eyes finally leave Jon’s to glance at you again, “I’m not asking. It’s going to get worse from here if he doesn’t get help. So, please, I need you to do this for me.”
He doesn’t look happy with the arrangement of abandoning you with the people who are dead set to kidnap you, but he nods regardless. He knows as well as you do the realities of Kryptonite poisoning. It’s not just exposure, it’s in his blood stream. And you just had the luck of it being a cloudy day.
Looking back to Jon again, he’s paling by the second an your heart shatters in the middle of the park. Smoothing the hair from his forehead one last time, you drop a kiss to it. Your brain floods with all the memories from when he was just a baby; his first waddles around the apartment, his first word being an abbreviation of your name, meeting him in the hospital, and then waking up to check on him in the middle of the night, just to find him floating three feet above his crib.
“You’re going to be just fine Jonny. Robin’s going to take you to mom, and she and Dad are going to get you all better.”
He nods weakly at your whisper. Before handing him off to Damian, you take the watch from his wrist. Dad gave it to him as a tracking mechanism since he had a habit of running off with his bat counterpart.
Just in case, is what you told yourself, but deep down you knew where this was going to go.
Damian takes Jon from your arms and starts running in the direction of your parent’s apartment.
You don’t turn to the Emuphuians until the boys are out of your sight. The general had been on some tangent about his planet and the warriors with some other bullshit you blocked out. The second you turn your attention back on him, you notice his lips are still curled and there’s about a hundred more soldiers waiting for you.
And with one hand motion from the purple-scaled devil, they all fly to your direction.
Having enough of your peaceful attempts that your father always implored you to use, you shoot off to meet them halfway.
You entered something of a trance after making contact with the first one. It wasn’t as much as you felt yourself in the moment, and more so of watching yourself.
You didn’t feel the punches or the other bullets pelting you. You didn’t remember ripping the limbs off the soldiers. You didn’t feel the heat from slicing half the soldiers in half. You didn’t hear as bodies kept falling to the floor of the park.
None of it felt real. It wasn’t as much of a memory as it felt watching a biography from your worst moments.
All you knew -the only thought that consumed your mind- was that they were going to pay. They were going to pay for the crime of shooting your little brother.
You only come back to your body once you’ve ripped the arms off the last soldier and his body falls beneath you to the park. The bloodshed was horrific and you fight the bile rising in your throat at the scene below.
Your fingers, your arms, your legs, your torso, was coated in the blood of these soldiers. You could’ve cried. They were people at the end of the day. They were merely following orders and probably had a family to go back to. They answered to the crimes of their brother.
Guilt pooled in your stomach along with the anxiety of having to have your father after this, but that was a problem for later.
“Those were your so called best soldiers?” maybe taunting the general that had two guns loaded with Kryptonite wasn’t the best choice of the hour, but you earned that right.
“I have more waiting in the hanger if you wish for another round.” Ulgod sneers in your direction.
The mountain of purple bodies and yellow blood was already a sight to bear. You knew you could take them, you could handle them all, but it would only mean war.
The last thing Metropolis needed was another alien invasion.
So, you decide on plan B.
A plan that not only your mother- but Jason would surely kill you for.
“Alright Ulgod,” you drop the limbs you were holding of the last soldier to the floor, “I am the first-born of Kal-El, granddaughter of Jor-El, a descendant of the House of El from planet Krypton.”
You’re positive he knew this. Galaxies across the universe had heard of the last surviving Kryptonian. If he did his homework, he would’ve recognized the symbol on your chest, but introductions are necessary- at least when you’re getting kidnapped.
“I will go with you to planet Emuphus, so long as you swear to leave this planet peacefully and never return.” you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for this moment, “Those are my terms.”
Your heart is about to beat out of your chest. It’s horrific and the selfish part of your brain hopes he’ll decline and you’ll get to stay. It would mean another pretty shitty battle, but at least you’ll be at home and with your family.
Jon’s watch starts to beep on your wrist.
Dad’s calling.
Tears prick at your eyes with relief.
That means they’ve got Jon. He’s probably trying to figure out if you need the assist, but you’ve given your
terms. There’s nothing you wouldn’t give to answer the call, even if it was just to say you loved him one last time. Who knows when you’ll get the chance again.
“Alright Ms. El,” the general nods as you fight temptation, “I agree to your terms. Let us make haste and depart.”
And with that, you take one last look at the golden globe that watches over Metropolis.
One last view of home.
Not stalling another second, you fly toward them and they lead you toward the hanger. Slapping heavy cuffs to your wrists, you decide not to mention that they don’t affect you. That is until the general’s right hand men stand closer and you gasp for air.
The compartment to reload their guns was open, exposing you to kryptonite.
This was about to be a long flight.
•───────•°•☀︎•°•───────•
Jason has never been this anxious to drive back into the cave.
He’d been MIA for about a week on the mission with the outlaws. It was absolute radio silence on every end and it was killing him.
The moment Kori dropped him off in Gotham, he called you. He tried not to let it bother him that it went straight to voicemail.
Twice.
He tried to justify it to himself that you might have been working on something and shut your phone off, or fell asleep. He called out your name as he drove, hoping that it would wake you. No matter how much you denied it, he knew that you always were listening for him. The worst started to creep in on his mind when he still heard nothing, but he attempted to not let himself dwell on it.
Hopping on the motorcycle, he shoots off into the night. It was quarter to five and he was positive no one but Bruce would be in the cave. It was Thursday which meant it was Tim’s night off, Dick was still in Blüdhaven, and there was school tomorrow so Damian would probably be in bed.
Which meant the report would be easy. Give Bruce the file, cover the main points, shower, and go home where he could try calling you again.
What he didn’t expect, was to drive into the cave to see all his siblings, and almost all the Kents surrounding the panel.
They all turn to look at him, with different expression on their face, but all with the same underlying emotion.
Dread.
He freezes for barely a second, before straightening his back and propping up the kickstand. Clark was the only one that seemed to not be giving him a second-thought. Which was the smallest form of reassurance he could hold onto. Everyone knows you’d kill him if he was the reason your dad found out about you two.
Before anyone can greet him or open his mouth, he notices the way Clark’s holding onto Lois’s hand. They’re gripping onto each other like they’re the only solid thing on the planet. Conner’s hand is rubbing at Lois’s shoulder and she holds onto it with her spare one. The sight of Kara winds him. She’s standing to the right of Clark with her arms crossed over her chest ready for war.
That was the first indication that something was wrong. Neither you or Jon was here and all of the sudden, Jason can’t breathe.
Stephanie is the first to realize it. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from when Jason entered the cave to roaming over the whole scene, but he knows in his heart that something’s wrong. And when the blonde’s eyes soften, he knows he’s right.
“How’d the mission go?” she tries to broach a topic that seems safe, but he doesn’t fall for it.
She’s rocking from her toes back to her heels. Cass is standing next to her without the cowl, examining him like a doctor at a physician’s office. Tim’s opposite of Steph but he won’t look at Jason. He’s glancing to the side watching a small light flicker on a map that’s displayed on the batcomputer.
The most damning part of this, is Dick. He’s standing still, almost like a statue. The sight has Jason on the verge of jumping straight into fight or flight. The only time in his life that he saw Richard Grayson stand still was at Alfred Pennyworth’s funeral. Barbara’s next to him in her wheel chair, holding his hand.
Then there’s Bruce. He’s in the middle of everyone. Damian’s behind him in the chair, not even turning around.
“Fine,” his bites on down on his molars when he answers Steph, trying not to bark at anyone, “what happened?”
Silence.
No one says anything. The only noise that echoes around the cave is the awkward shift of shoes. Even the bats at the roof of the cave have taken solace in the moment. In that second, the only person that bothers to hold eye contact with him is Bruce. He’s not wearing his cowl so he can see every micro expression he thinks he’s hiding.
He sees the flicker of sympathy that passes across his features, the wrinkle in his eyebrows softening as they pull apart. He sees the subtle movement of his jaw hardening again. It’s the face he makes when there’s bad news. He’s trying to figure out how to explain it, without causing Jason to go off the deep end. He’s been on the receiving end of it more times in his life than he’s willing to admit.
“What happened?”
The words don’t sound as much as a question as they do a demand. He’s tried breaking the habit of acting like an asshole -really he has- but it’s not funny anymore. His heart in his throat and he’s not sure his stomach was even in his body anymore.
Damian finally turns around at that, and he sneaks a look at Jason. Guilt drowns his features. Jason’s positive he’s about to start hyperventilating. These have been the longest two minutes of his life. He feels like he’s dying all over again.
All he knows is that most of his girlfriend’s family is here at a time they really shouldn’t be, and no one is looking at him or answering questions.
Damian straightens with the eye contact, something like honor bleeding into his posture.
“Spit it out kid.” Jason’s eyes narrow.
And when no one responds or even looks at him besides his father and youngest brother, Clark snaps. Confusion ate at him and he’s sick of everyone dancing around the fact that his daughter is gone.
“They took her.”
Jason almost snaps his neck when he hears the words. He’s sure all the oxygen on the planet has depleted.
His mind can’t wrap itself around the idea. Nothing makes sense, but everything falls into place. He instantly understands and he wishes he didn’t. He doesn’t move much, yet the world tilts on its axis. He’s not really comprehending anything at the moment.
He doesn’t believe it at first. Looking past Clark’s hard expression to Lois, he processes it and almost crumbles. She’s holding herself tall, but the bags under her eyes with tear stains on her cheeks almost kill him. Clark didn’t say a name, but he knew. Only one “her” was missing from the Super and Bat bunch right now.
With a small nod from Lois, confirming his worst nightmare- he throws up.
Not a little- not a small batch of spit. No, his stomach decided to reverse itself in that moment. His lunch, dinner, and snack before being dropped off escape through his mouth. He couldn’t even manage the decency to turn around and try to shield himself from everyone.
At first he bent over but remained on his feet, with his hands on his knees. After a minute of his stomach not pausing the process of emptying itself, he fell to one knee and Dick rushed to his aid.
This used to happen a lot when he was Robin. When he got really anxious or couldn’t handle some news, he’d throw up. Bruce took him to Leslie once at twelve when he threw up so hard he fainted. All she found was that this was just a physical symptom to his anxiety. Dick used to sit with him in the bathroom sometimes afterward. He’d get so embarrassed from throwing up that he’d cry, and Dick would rub his back and tell him stories about when he did stupid shit or embarrassing stories about Bruce.
For a second, he was tempted to cry. He was tempted to fall into the arms of his older brother and not have to think about how the love of his life was gone.
After a few more minutes of dry heaving on the floor and Steph bringing him a glass of water, he ends up throwing up again. He ends up sitting on the floor in front of his bile. He should be embarrassed, in any other moment he would be. But all he’s focusing on right now is taking deep breaths, making the grandest effort to keep the water down.
If Clark was confused before, he wasn’t sure what covered this. Momentarily putting a pin in their crisis, Jason hears him turn to Bruce and ask if he’s okay. He’s not exactly sure what he says to Clark, but it’s something miniscule to ease his concern.
Jason’s still flat on his ass when Bruce approaches him. His elbows are propped on his knees, hands in his hair, and face angled toward the floor. Dick’s still rubbing his back, and Jason’s eyes are boring into the glass of water like it has the solution for this.
Kneeling in front of him. Bruce places a hand on his shoulder. It takes about ten seconds before Jason can look at him, and he’s thankful that there’s not a sympathetic expression on his face. He can tell from his posture that he’s being empathetic but Bruce’s face is a blank slate letting him mold into what Jason needs.
And what he needs is to be slapped into reality.
“WHAT? HIM?!”
Clark’s voice echoes through the cave and everyone whips in his direction. Jason looks to his left, only to see that Clark’s eyes are already onhim. By the expression on his face and the sympathetic look Lois and Conner are giving him, he already knows what Lois said to him. It’s almost enough to make him start dry heaving again.
This night just got a hell of a lot longer.
When he hangs his head again, ready to throw up the water he spent a minute trying to drink, Dick pulls his hair hard.
“Nope- we’re not doing that!” his grip doesn’t let up as he tries to overcorrect all the negativity in the cave.
Jason tries to pull his arm away from his hair, and Dick dodges only to pulls harder. In ten minutes he knows he’ll be thankful for him trying to get him out of this hole his brain is trying to bury himself in, but right now he’s about to kill him.
“Hey- DICK, stop!”
He only lets up when Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. When Dickface’s hands finally leave his hair, he rubs at that patch he was gripping on to try and ease the sting. Bruce’s eyes are still on him trying to gage where he’s at, wanting to meet him in the middle. It’s another few seconds before Bruce tries talking to him again.
“I’m going to give you the facts, can you handle that right now?”
Clark’s still sputtering behind them, and Jason weights his options.
He knows he’s hit rock bottom when he’d rather deal with Bruce’s explanation, than confronting his missing girlfriend’s father.
He nods his head and Bruce takes a deep breath, still gripping his shoulder.
“There was an invasion in Metropolis three days ago.” Jason already feels himself starting to get sick again, but tries to power through, “She was with Jon and Damian at the park when it started. They were fighting back trying to make peace, and then they shot Jon with Kryptonite in the thigh. Your brother took him to the Kent’s to ensure his condition wouldn’t worsen. And she… took care of the remaining soldiers.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Conner snorts from where he’s still trying talk Clark down.
Jason looks over at the situation he’s desperately trying to avoid with a raised eyebrow.
“Conner stop.” Tim scolds, trying to motion for him to read the room.
Clark still looks like he’s about to explode, but it’s more confusion than anything else. He can’t say that he blames him.
You’re sunlight in human form and Jason is… to put it frankly, the opposite. He’d be lying if he didn’t think about it every day- about how on earth he got lucky enough that you chose him, that you wanted him. He still doesn’t get it. For everything that Jason Todd had gotten wrong in his life, you were the one thing he got right. He never let himself risk it, you were the only thing that mattered to him. The only person that had full and complete faith in him. You allowed him to fall in love with the idea of life again. You taught him how to live in a world that was dead set on making him survive, and for that, he’d thank every star in the sky that led him to you.
And now? Now you’re gone.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he made a promise to you and Bruce that he’d be better, every single person who was involved in this would be six-feet under by sunrise.
“What’s he talking about?” Jason mumbles turning his attention back to Bruce.
“Well,” Bruce’s cheek’s fill with air and he exhales slowly, trying to think of the best way to frame it.
“She kind of killed all of them, it was pretty morbid actually. There were like piles and piles of aliens in the middle of Metropolis park. Kind of badass th-”
“Thank you Stephanie, that’s enough.” Bruce cuts in, “But yes, she handled the eminent threat to Earth. Jon is at the Kent farm now to finish healing, he will make a full recovery. However, the Emuphuians -the alien’s that invaded- came in search of a Kryptonian. We are unsure of why, but we know that she went with them. She agreed to go with them, so long that they left Earth peacefully and never returned.”
Jason’s really trying not to get sick all over again. His nightmare just got ten times worse. You went with aliens who have kryptonite and aren’t afraid to harm you, for a reason you don’t know, and to some planet none of you have ever been to or heard of before. Hell, he doesn’t even know if you’re still alive.
That thought has him about to hyperventilate and Bruce sees it. He’s almost convinced that Bruce can read minds, because he instantly starts comforting him.
“Try not to stress out, she’s alive-”
That’s when Jason breaks. Shooting to his feet, his vision tilts but he can’t hold back any longer.
“Try not to stress? B did you hear anything of what you just said to me?” Jason’s arms are flailing and Bruce stands to meet him in the middle, again, “I was away for a week on a mission and I come back to find out that my girlfriend has been taken by an alien race to fuck knows where to do who knows what to her.”
At the word girlfriend, Clark seems to finally snap back into reality.
“So it is true?”
Jason squeezes his eyes. This has got to be the most overwhelming night he’s had in a while. He’s grateful that Clark doesn’t sound accusatory, he merely hums and starts eyeing Jason up again.
To be honest, Jason didn’t want it to go like this. If it was up to him, he would’ve told Clark straight away, but you had this whole thing about not wanting to do it so he respected it. He wasn’t one to talk anyway, he kept it from his whole family. When he went to meet Lois for the first time he brought flowers and helped cooked dinner. He was oddly traditional about that stuff. He promised himself he wouldn’t mess it up- not with you. He had to do it right.
“Yes sir,” Jason finally looks him in the eye for the first time since he found out, “it wasn’t my idea to keep it a secret-”Dick scoffs and Jason shoots him a look, “-It wasn’t my idea to keep it a secret from them, Dickhead.”
Turning back to Clark, he notices that he’s still baffled on why his daughter is dating him. “Believe me sir, I wish this could’ve happened under better circumstances, I would’ve presented myself with a little more grace.”
Tim can’t bite back the snort at Jason calling Clark sir repeatedly.
They’d met before, they were on a first name basis with each other during missions and when he visited the manor. Jason grew up around him, and Clark was the one who talked Bruce off his high when Jason died. He can’t have imagined he wouldn’t have been surprised to see how their lives continued to be intertwined.
He can’t help but think how complicated shit’s gotten. If you had told thirteen-year-old Jason Todd that he was going to be dating Superman’s daughter, he would’ve laughed in your face.
Now here he is, trying to talk himself out of throwing up again at confronting his girlfriend’s father, who just so happened to be Superman.
This has to be every guy’s worst nightmare.
“Okay son, we can talk about this later.”
Jason has to bite his tongue and all the Bat’s eyebrows shot to the moon. Jason was notorious for hating being called “son.” It was a huge problem when he came back. Bruce tried calling him it and Jason would fly off the deep end, but right now he just kept reminding himself that it’s a southern charm thing.
Turning back to Bruce, his eyebrows are still raised, but something like pride is resting in them. He looks so proud of him that he’s handling this and Jason is fighting every demon in his stomach right now.
Why does his body hate him so much? He couldn’t just sweat through his clothes or get light-headed like a normal person. No, he had to empty every single content in his stomach the moment the anxiety got to be too much to handle.
“Okay back to the matter at hand, we have a plan,”
Then Bruce starts explaining the whole thing, but the second he realizes that the flickering light on the batcomputer is your heartbeat, everything falls away.
The only thing that Jason Todd can focus on is getting you back. He’s now made it his life mission to save you. It was the least he could do after you saved him from himself.
So after Bruce, Tim, and Clark go on and on about the plan, all he focuses on is bringing you home.
•───────•°•☀︎•°•───────•
The trip, from what you were able to tell from Jon’s watch, took a little under two days.
The Emuphuians left earth peacefully, but in no way acted the part to you. From the moment the door closed, they exposed you to kryptonite until you’d gotten far enough from the sun to dull your powers.
They threw you in some cell in the cargo hold of the ship to spend the whole trip there. It was a little dull square, metal bars separating you from the other cells. Bringing you food and water twice a day was the only form of hospitality they offered. Nothing much happened besides that.
No one else occupied any of the other cells- well almost no one.
There was a little neon green kitten looking thing. It looked every bit a cat, except that it’s tail had a little opening at the end that shot some form of ice through it and her ears were longer than a normal earth kitten’s.
She was a sweet little thing. At first she wouldn’t get near you and shot your leg with ice once or twice. It wasn’t until you offered her some of the water the Emuphuians brought you, she realized you weren’t a threat.
It took her half of the first day for her to warm up to you. She ran around the little cell, jumping in between the bars until she flew. That was the most damning part of it all. You were positive you were hallucinating most of it, until she landed right on top of your chest and slept the night away there.
You named her Baja Blast- BB for short.
It was probably a bad idea to name her, the last thing you needed to do on this trip was to develop an attachment to something -something your father would have a stroke if he saw you come back with- but you couldn’t help it. She was so cute and kept you company for the two days you were locked in here. BB spent most of the trip experimenting with shooting ice on the floor. You ended up laying on the bench while she created an ice rink for her pleasure.
If it weren’t for her, you would’ve gone insane.
At the end of day 2, you finally feel the ship come to a stop. It jolts as it lands on the floor, sending BB into the wall.
You instantly shot to your feet to make sure she was okay, only to almost slip on her little ice rink.
She’s small enough to fit in the palm of your hand and with an annoyed growl from her, you can tell that she’s alright.
“And that’s why, we don’t make ice rinks BB” you mumble to her while petting the spot in between her ears. She doesn’t purr, you’ve noticed that’s not a habit this species partakes in, but she does nuzzle into your touch.
Turning around to go back to the bench, you hear the main door slam open. BB -the scared little thing she is- shoots up in fear and almost body slams the roof of the cell. She doesn’t come back down and a part of you can’t help but wonder why.
Maybe they don’t treat her well? The thought almost sends you spiraling to rip the heads of these soldiers off.
Ulgod isn’t the one to come retrieve you, it’s the two soldiers that he had with him. The two soldiers that seemed to enjoy their time exposing you to kryptonite.
The recovery was brutal. It was about two hours where you felt every blood cell attempting to crystalize into the green stone and your veins were mirroring BB’s fur through your skin. The fatigue hit you like a bus after too. You didn’t do much standing for the two days. It was laying on the floor or on the bench watching the kitten run around.
Even eating proved to be difficult the first two meals. Your body hadn’t recovered enough to be able to successfully chew, swallow, and digest the food.
You feel it before you see it. The planet they’ve brought you to revolves around a red sun. You had no powers here. There was no fighting your way back home. Your wrists were still bound together by the hand cuffs. You weren’t strong enough to break it, and your eyes couldn’t melt them here.
There’s a dep sigh that escapes you upon coming to terms with your fate. If they didn’t kill you, Jason was sure too. You went with a hostile species to their planet for unknown reasons just so they would leave your planet alone.
The soldiers don’t say much when they unlock your door and take you with them, and you’re a tad grateful for it. You weren’t sure you’d be able to stomach it if they began taunting you. However, they weren’t nice in the slightest. Each of them gripped your biceps with nails digging in hard enough to draw blood. Biting your tongue to hold back a wince, you continued marching forward with them.
Then as if it wasn’t enough, when you exit the cargo hold, they throw a rag over your head. Why? You didn’t’ have the slightest idea. Maybe it was so you couldn’t retrace your steps, maybe it was a customary thing.
Either way, you were annoyed.
If it wasn’t for the small sounds that you heard from above, you wouldn’t have known if BB was following you. The soldiers didn’t acknowledge her, either from lack of caring or not hearing you also didn’t know.
The walk was about ten minutes. From what you were able to tell from the different floors you felt under you; you left the ship and walked on some soil for a while where you heard murmurs of a language you didn’t understand. Presumably walking through the outskirts of a town, in order to avoid attention of the general’s new prisoner. Then you reached a stone pathway of sorts, here the soldiers traded some words and allowed you three passage inside.
Only then, do you walk on a floor that felt like a smooth tile- marble maybe? Your steps echoed in the air around you and after a few twists and turns, a grand door opens. A hush falls around the room you’ve just entered.
You take ten steps in when the soldiers let go of your biceps and kick your knees in.
And finally, they rip the rag from your head.
Allowing you to see your new environment, it takes a few blinks until you’re able to focus your vision correctly again. It’s not too bright, the room is lit by a few purple flames lining the wall and a small window on the roof.
There’s two thrones a few yards in front of you, where you can’t quite see the family because of the dim light. Squinting your eyes, you barely catch a glimpse of them before one of the soldiers pushes your head back to the floor. You were right, it did look like marble.
“Commoners are not permitted to look at the royal family.” The soldier spits in your direction while pushing on your scalp.
You deserved an award for how hard you bit your tongue. It was a miracle it hadn’t bled yet.
“Arrin, please,” a feminine voice calls from ahead of you, “she is far from a commoner.”
Arrin, the soldier you imagined was gripping onto your hair hard enough to rip out, hesitates before letting go. When he does let go, he does so with a little push that almost sends you face first into the floor.
Above you, BB growls and a little smile teases at your lips that the kitten has made it this far.
Turning your gaze back to the supposed royalty ahead of you, you still don’t get a good look at them even when you’re allowed too. They all wear light blue robes and veils over their face. They have something similar to crowns but it is a mere silver band over the veil, each with a yellow jewel rested in the middle.
“Welcome to Emuphus,” the same feminine voice rings out, “we thank you, Kryptonian, for your cooperation in joining the Emuphuian cause. We have heard great legends of the power you hold. I am Onas the queen,” she then motions to her right, “this is my husband King Elas, and our son Prince Rolim.”
You don’t say anything at first, confusion taking hold of your mind. What cause is she talking about? You weren’t even sure on why they recruited you here.
“Um hi, I am a descendant of the House of El from planet Krypton,” you weren’t sure exactly what that may have meant to them, but decided to throw it our regardless, “It’s my pleasure to be granted hospitality on your planet,” hospitality my ass, you thought to yourself but this people could kill you instantly if they wanted too, “I do not want to disrespect either of you, but I do not know why I have been brought here or what the Emuphuian cause is my lady.”
They ought to make you a diplomat with how you were shit you pulled out of your ass. Maybe hanging around Dad was starting to rub off on you.
“Ah well,” The King takes his turn to speak, “The cause we speak of is to make great warriors- warriors so legendary no one will not know our name.”
You had a feeling on where this was going and your face pales.
“We wish to create an army of Emuphuian-Kryptonian hybrids,” your jaw drops, “using your DNA and eggs.”
What. The. Fuck. Holy shit these people were insane.
You’re never relying on plan B again. This has got to be top ten worst outcomes that could’ve happened. They couldn’t have just wanted you to fight.
No, they want to take your fucking DNA.
A noise comes out of your throat you’re not sure how to describe. What you do know is that it wasn’t a good one. You start sputtering and genuinely feel as though you’re about to faint.
“I appreciate the interest- flattered truly, but I do have a boyfriend. I’m not really looking for another life partner- we’re actually really happy together he’s a great guy! His nam-”
The King holds up his hand to stop the blubbering mess that’s coming out of your mouth, and your teeth catch your cracked lips. Your heart is about to be thrown up from your mouth, you’re not even sure if you can see straight.
“We have no interest in having intercourse with you Kryptonian,” relief can’t even cover what you feel right now, he says a few words that you miss in knowing that these people do not want to impregnate you, “-rom what our doctor has told us, we understand that your body only produces eggs in the ovulation stage of the female reproductive cycle.”
That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but you’re not about to correct them. You’re not sure what the hell would happen if they find out you were already born with all your eggs, and you’re not keen on finding out.
They point toward the doctor, and translator you imagine, to their right . He seems pretty small, a little shorter than you and fairly thin compared to the other Emuphuians. They all seemed to have double the muscle mass that Jason had, and this guy looked- well, like Jon.
He only nods at the sudden attention from the royal family. Then they look expectantly to you, to confirm the information.
“Uh- yeah,” are the only words your incredibly articulate brain can manage to spew out in this moment, “unfortunately I am on day four of my period so you just missed the cut off.”
“That is alright.” Onas nods, “we have waited years to find the Kryptonians, we can wait a few weeks.”
You didn’t know what you were expecting by telling them they missed the window, but keeping you here seems to just be about the worst outcome. You weren’t hopeful enough to think they would let you go, this just wasn’t ideal.
“And how do you plan on retrieving the egg?” the question came out more sassy than you hoped, “Do you think I’m just going to agree on your plan of just cutting me open? Are you really stupid enough to think I’m going to let you take my eggs from me?”
Right when she opens her mouth, and the soldier step forward, surely to reprimand you for speaking to royalty like that, you feel it before you see it.
In the small window that rests at the roof of the throne room, you feel the color shift from the previous red sun, into a faint tinted green.
This planet has two suns.
A red one,
And a green one.
Now you remember why Dad and Aunt Kara never traveled to this system before.
It would’ve killed them.
You caught yourself before face planting into the tile, with your forearms. Your breath comes out heavy and ragged. Your veins are already turning green at the exposure again, and you’re really starting to hate life.
“To answer your question girl,” the Queen hums, “yes we do think you will let us cut you open, because there will not be much you can do to counter it.”
“This-” you heave, “will kill me,” another desperate breath, “before you get the chance.”
“No, it will not. The green sun only lights the planet for three hours for each full day. While it will drain the life from you quite quickly, it is enough to render you incapacitated, but still allow you to perform your duty.”
You barely manage to hold your head up. She has a small smirk on her face and you would spit in it if you could get closer.
“You’re sick.”
“Maybe my dear, but we do what we must to survive.”
Then without another word, she waves you off. The soldiers throw the rag over your head and haul you to your feet.
You didn’t last on your feet very long. It turned more into of the soldiers just dragging you through the castle. At the very least you still hear BB following closely behind. They don’t take you through the same route. It’s much quicker and this time you descend one floor on a staircase.
It’s two left turns and one right turn until you hear a door open. They don’t brace you for it at all before throwing you into the cell.
There wasn’t much strength left in your body, not enough to pull the rag off. So you lay there on the floor until a familiar neon green kitten bites on it and pulls.
She pulled on your scalp in the process and a small hiss escapes at the pain. But after a few tugs, she’s pulled enough off that you can see your home for the foreseeable future.
The cell is a blinding shade of white, and that’s about it. There’s a bench, a sink, a toilet, and some paper they’ve left you to wipe and use for the remainder of your period.
The depression from the situation and lack of energy keep you on the floor. You can’t even bring yourself to glance at the watch to see how much time has passed. BB has curled into you and fallen asleep there.
You can’t imagine it’s been less than two hours when you have your only other interaction of the day.
The doctor comes in and speaks to a nurse in the same language you heard while walking past the village. It’s not one you’re familiar with and not one you’ve heard Aunt Kara mention.
They hook up some monitor to wrap around your wrist. He pricks your finger for blood and doesn’t offer anything when you whimper. It’s almost odd how they don’t pay any attention to BB.
They act as though she’s not even there and you’re anxious you’ve hallucinated the poor thing. If it wasn’t for the freezing cold fur of hers, you’d be sure she was a hallucination.
Two minutes pass, when the screen he ran your blood through blinks red at him. If you were to guess, that’s what they’re using to test if you’re ovulating.
Having completed their business, they walk out without another glance in your direction. Abandoning you on the floor of a cell you’ll learn to call home.
And for the first time since they shot Jon, you cry.
It was a horrific habit, but you didn’t cry often. Being the oldest, you never wanted your siblings to see you that way. However, no one here knew you. You lost every ounce of shame you could possible have.
So you sob, you weep and curse the gods that gave you this fate. The guilt from the fight in the park. The blood that is still stained on your clothes and limbs. The concept of these people using you. The knowledge that you may never see your family again. The idea that Jason will never kiss you and laugh in the early hours of the morning again. It all bubbles over.
They could probably hear you down the hall, but there’s not much left for you to do anyway. All you can do is just sit here in the hell of your own making as your veins crystalize, and hope that someone finds you.
•───────•°•☀︎•°•───────•
It’s been eighteen days.
Eighteen long drawn out days of waiting for the monitor to go off.
It took you two days to finally stand up and wash the blood from your body. It took five to get the courage to get on the bench. It took ten to accept this.
After day fourteen, anxiety started chipping away at your stomach, waiting for the inevitable beep and check up from the doctor.
It was like clockwork. Everyday he’d come in with the nurse and take the monitor off and hook it up to his machine. And every day, it would blink red at him.
You would let out a breath of relief every time.
None of them spared you any sympathy. You weren’t expecting any, but did they have no emotions? Did they feel no guilt for the fact that they were going to tear you open and steal your future kids from you?
A lot of emotions came and went in those eighteen days. Anger, grief, distraught, and then acceptance. This was your life. And as much as you hated that this happened to you, you’d do it in every life time if it meant keeping Jon safe. You wouldn’t change a thing if it meant everyone on Earth was safe.
It wasn’t all bad anyway. BB stayed with you the whole time. She never left. You never asked them, but one day- around day six, you realized they couldn’t see or hear her. You accepted her as she was. Even if she was some figment of your imagination, it was better this than nothing.
It was all fine, everyday the screen would blink red. Everyday you’d rot for three hours, barely breathing as the green sun took you for everything you had.
You’d learned to predict the cycle.
That was until day eighteen.
The monitor on your wrist beeped around 5 in the morning.
The red sun hadn’t risen yet, but the doctor rushed to your room regardless. Your blood thundered in your ears as he pricked your finger. You were convinced these were the longest two minutes of your life.
When the screen flashes green, you gag. You actually almost managed to throw up the little food they gave you. The doctor pays you no mind, but smiles to himself instead. He speaks to the nurse rapidly, and luck seemed to finally catch up to you upon meeting your fate.
They left the cell still chattering to each other. You knew they were most likely on the way to prep the surgery. You had about seven hours until the green sun rose. Physically being able, but mentally being drained, you decided to spend the day like every other. Laying with BB until they came for the inevitable.
If the situation wasn’t so cruel it would be nice. You were offline, spending a lot of time processing your thoughts, really getting to know yourself, and you had a pet.
That’s what you tried to focus on. There wasn’t much to be positive of, but if you wallowed in pity it wouldn’t get you anywhere. You were already miserable. There was no way to sugarcoat that.
You may as well make the best of a bad situation.
The sun rises earlier today as if it was the will of the gods.
You were playing with BB, petting her as she laid on your chest, when the sudden need of air hits you. You almost toppled off the bench in desperation. The air in the cell felt as though it physically depleted for the eighteenth day in a row. You were almost used to this symptom, you’d grown accustomed to except it every other day. Yet you hadn’t prepared yourself today, it was too early.
Heaving for air, you sit up, BB flying up in front of your face. She growls at you to show how happy she was with the current predicament of changing positions.
Your hands fall forward on the bench, as you gasp for air, hunching over yourself.
That’s when the door opens again.
This time, they finally look at you for the first time since the throne room. They brought their version of a gurney. It didn’t look nearly as comfortable as the one’s on Earth. It was a metal table with some mechanics on the bottom to keep you floating.
The men he brought with him don’t even let you make an attempt to let you stand. They just pick you up and throw you on the table. Strapping you down and tying you to the table before you can even leave the room.
And then there they go again, with that fuckass rag over your head. It was really starting to get old. It wasn’t like you could do anything. They made sure of that.
The trip to the operating room wasn’t a long one. Maybe two left turns and two hallways? When the green sun rose you lost all your senses and you couldn’t tell. It was just a matter of trying to stay alive. You did know it was on the same floor as the other cells.
BB is next to your face again, you feel her head curl into your neck. At least the universe was graceful enough to offer you that small comfort. They hadn’t offered you much mercy, but for this, for this you would attempt to be grateful for.
They kept the rag over your head the whole time, not even removing it when they began the surgery. Maybe it made them feel better about themselves. If they didn’t see a face, maybe it felt less real to them.
Tears start to fall down your cheek and soak through the rag, when you a finger grace your top. They were going to pull it up and there was nothing you could do. They were going to cut you open and all you could do was fight to breathe.
The fabric is barely pulled up a millimeter when you hear the door open again. It barely slides open before shots start firing and screams echo around you. You would be anxious if you had the energy. You’d shoot up if you could breathe right.
But right now? You’re just happy that this is getting postponed.
BB stands up and starts growling when the attackers get closer.
Then, the rag is pulled off your head and you see the last person you imagined would be on this side of the galaxy.
Jason fucking Todd.
He looks destroyed and like he can breathe again all at the same time. He’s in some goofy spacesuit and he’s drinking you in like he can’t believe you’re real. One gloved palm touches your cheek and you swear his eyes are glassy through the helmet he’s wearing. The other hand interlocks your fingers, holding on as if you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“Oh my god,” you breathe out with a tired smile and fresh tears.
“Hey baby,” his voice cracks, eyes roaming over your body, “guess we’re even now.”
“I guess,” you manage your first smile in the past few weeks at the sight of him.
Relief floods you like a bucket of ice water. You’d saved Jason more times than you could count back on Earth. You always joked that he’d make it up to you one day, but you both hoped he’d never have too.
And now here you are.
“Kyle, come here and help me get her loose.”
Turning your head to the other side, you see the one and only Kyle Rayner. He’s wearing a distraught expression and you can’t help but laugh. You’re positive that you look like death incarnate.
“Got yourself into quite a mess didn’t ya?”
“Something like that yeah?” a cough escapes you while answering.
Jason starts looking around anxiously trying to get you a glass of water. Kyle’s constructing a sword to cut the ties when BB aims her tail at him, ready to shoot.
“Hey, um- is the radioactive kitten a friend of yours?”
Your head whips from your devastatingly handsome boyfriend to Kyle in surprise, “You can see her?!”
Kyle looks away from BB, to you, to Jason, then both of them turn their gaze back to you; a question and worry painted across their face.
“Yes?”
“Oh thank fuck, I thought I was going crazy,” you breathe out, looking at the roof.
“Why?”
Turning back to Jason to answer the question, “None of these people ever said anything about her, I don’t know why but they couldn’t see her. I thought I was hallucinating her.”
“Well I can assure you the neon green cat is very real, and pointing her tail at me,” Kyle has the sword raised in anticipation to deflect BB’s shots, “I’m going to assume she’s yours then.”
“Yeah, that’s Baja Blast.”
Jason snorts and has to, begrudgingly, turn his face away from you to hide the rest of his laugh when you give him a look.
“Cool,” Kyle’s still standing there with a popped hip, BB won’t let him get close to you and it’s almost sweet how protective she is, “call her off for me?”
“BB,” you turn your face and land on your right cheek. You “pst” at her before she turns her little face from Kyle to you, tail still aiming at him. You shake your head with a small smile, “He’s a friend.”
You know there’s no way that she understands you, but you hope the genuine smile and soft sound of your voice eases her. Her head merely tilts 30 degrees while you attempt to reason with her. The universe seems to intervene on her thought process, and she crawls on your chest to curl into a ball.
“Kyle go,” Jason orders from where he’s standing next to you. His hand hasn’t left yours and you highly doubt he’ll let go of you anytime soon.
Within seconds Kyle’s cut the straps loose from you on the table. If you had any energy, you’d love the new found freedom. The sun however, had different plans for you.
“Kyle take the cat.”
He looks up, appalled, at Jason, “Are you kidding me? It wants to kill me, you take it.”
“She has a name.” your words went in one ear and out the other.
“Rayner come on, Tim can only keep the comms in the castle down for a few minutes. Just grab the cat.”
Neither of them move, and if you didn’t feel like death it would be almost funny.
“Oh c’mon Kyle, she doesn’t wanna kill you,” you scoff and he finally turns to you with a raised brow, “Just maker her a nice bag to get in, like the ones they have to take to vets- preferably one with a pillow.”
“You’re serious then? About taking this thing back to Earth with you?”
“Yes.”
With a deep sigh, he constructs the travel bag for BB. With a speed that rivaled Wally’s, Jason manages to pick her up and place her in it before she’s fully woken up and growling.
“See she blends right in!”
Jason snorts and Kyle shakes his head.
Then temptation finally won out again Jason as he drops his helmet to your forehead. His eyes are shut as he allows himself to feel you, whispering an “I missed you.”
He steals a few seconds from time in that position. When he does pull back, you peer up at him. You know you look like shit, yet he still manages to make you feel like the most beautiful being in the Universe.
“I missed you too.”
“Alright, c’mon lovebirds we don’t have all day,” annoyance is evident in Kyle’s voice as he’s now been shackled with BB, “Hal’s waiting for us outside.”
Jason’s arms scoop you up from the table, slipping them on your back and under your knees. Your head falls against his chest, almost cackling at the sight of Kyle. He’s standing with a popped hip, the travel bag hanging off his elbow which has a cranky BB inside growling up a storm.
“It suits you Rayner,” you feel Jason’s chest rumble as he speaks.
“Shut it man.”
Leaving the castle was surprisingly easy- at least in how you experienced it. You’re not entirely sure how they managed it, but they must’ve timed it right to make sure that soldiers were at shift change or something. From what Jason said earlier, you imagined that Tim also had the castle comms go dark for your rescue.
You don’t remember much, the green sun had a habit of making that happen. When it would rise, you couldn’t do much of anything. The three hours it was in the sky, you just focused on keeping your body working.
Jason felt it. He felt the lifelessness in your body and held on tighter.
Neither of you knew who his tight grip was a comfort for, you, him, or both. In the whole march out of the castle, he remained whispering sweet nothings to you. The blinding white walls fading away as his gaze continuously found yours.
Your hearts could finally beat in tandem, as they were once again reunited with their other half.
A few minutes and turns later, the four of you make it outside. The air was harsh along with the light. It was the quietest you’d ever been on a mission. Even BB seemed to understand the nature of the plan and kept to herself while Kyle swung the bag ferociously.
With the sudden exposure to the green sun, you can’t hide the gasp that escapes you. You feel yourself go limp in Jason’s arms and breathing becomes thirty times more difficult.
“Hey, stay with me now,” Jason shakes you the tiniest bit in his arms, you don’t do much but groan in response, “It’s only a little while longer until we get you out of here.”
Next to you, Kyle’s calling for Hal. He couldn’t carry all of you plus himself, so Hal remained on the outside waiting to be called in.
It’s a very long and gruesome seventy-two seconds later when Hal finally descends to where the lot of you are. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the older man tilt his head toward Kyle’s arm. He goes to open his mouth and Kyle holds a hand up.
“Don’t even ask.”
You manage to smile while Hal snorts. Walking over to you, he pushes some strands of hair from your face with a tender smile.
“Hey kiddo, you ready to go home?”
You try to answer -really you do- but all you can get out is a pathetic nod. Jason’s grip tightens when he feels how weak you’ve gotten. You really wanted to get out of here soon.
Hal goes to take you from Jason, and your boyfriend hesitates. It’s only for a second, but everyone feels it. He knows that Hal’s going to help. He knows that nothing is going to happen. It’s just the idea of being parted from you again kills him. It actually tears him apart from the inside out. It’s as if someone’s ripped his veins from his body and wrapped them around his neck. He can’t breathe at the mere idea of you not being near again, but you have to go with him. He’ll get you out of here faster. He’ll get you to the yellow sun.
After a deep breath, he transfers you over to Hal in an awkward passing of arms. Giving your hand one last squeeze, his arms are horrifically empty again.
Hal doesn’t say anything to him, understanding immediately.
“I’ll meet you guys at the ship.” Are his parting words before shooting into the sky with you.
You imagine letting out a “fuck” at the sudden pressure from the flight, but you’re not sure if it actually left your lips or if it was a thought. For a second, you can’t breathe at all as the green sun gets closer. It’s like one last final “fuck you” before Hal shoots off into the other direction.
Slowly, as you get further from the green sun, you start to feel like a person again. It’s easier to breathe tucked into his chest. It brings back memories of when you used to visit the Hall of Justice as a kid. Hal and Barry used to play with you before and after meetings.
In the few times where Mom had an overlapping interview and the Kents couldn’t’ watch you, Dad used to have you tag along if you promised to be good. Planes weren’t your favorite toy, but Hal always brought you some mock ones and would sit on the floor as you created some dramatic storyline. He always went along with it too and asked questions.
Your bearings start coming back to you as the minutes pass. The ability to curl your fingers and take deep breaths without coughing return first.
Then you feel it.
Turning away from his chest, your eyes find your saving grace.
Hal lets go of you then.
It’s almost like night and day to how you were feeling a few minutes ago. It’s as if someone lit a fire inside of you. It genuinely feels like a million dollars as the yellow sun erases everything from the past three weeks.
Every ounce of kryptonite, every powerless night, every weak moment, it’s all gone. Strength pulses in your biceps and heat flows in your veins. Taking your first full breath of peace, a smile finds it’s way to your face. Your finally at 100% and you promised yourself you’d never take this for granted again.
Turning to Hal with the cheekiest grin, he lets out a sigh of relief.
“You gave us a real scare kid,” the only reason he’s not scolding you is because he knows who’s waiting for you back on Earth.
You’re not sure whether to be excited or scared to have to face your parents again.
“I know,” your arms extend in front of you while interlocking your fingers to crack your knuckles, “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” he waves off the apology and flies closer to you, giving you a side hug, “after all, who am I supposed to play airplanes with if something happens to you Kent.”
You snort but lean into the hug. “But really,” he starts again, “I’m happy you’re okay.”
You sigh against his chest, “Me too.”
Then, another green light catches your attention as it gets closer, a black vessel closely behind it. Instinctively, your shoulders pull back tensing, and you focus your eyes to tear it apart. A moment barely comes and goes before Hal places a hand on your shoulder.
“Hey relax,” he grips your shoulder a little harder to ground you, “It’s Kyle and Spooky.”
“Oh,” your cheeks flush with embarrassment, yet judgement never comes from him. If anything he looks like he pities you. You’re not sure that’s much better.
Kyle reaches you before the rest do. He still has BB in the bag and you full on laugh now. It’s practically a cackle as you digest Kyle with a constructed vet bag for your alien kitten. His face expresses how amused he is by the setup, which is none at all. Yet, you do notice that his lips twitch a tiny bit. After finding you in that state, it was good to see you look alive again.
When he gets closer, you fly toward him and pull him into a hug too. His arms also wrap around you with relief.
“Thank you Kyle,” you pull back and share a smile, “for everything.”
He nods graciously, “Anytime.” and you believe it.
Then BB growls, officially done with her cage. That snaps Kyle back into reality and he looks at the bag before to you again.
Without even letting him ask the question, you answer it. “You can let her out now.”
“Thank fuck.”
And with that, BB shoots off to fly into you. She’s a small little torpedo, sending you spinning back a few yards when she makes contact. Once you’re able to stabilize yourself, Hal looks concerned.
“What the hell even is that thing?” You can’t see it through his mask, but you’re sure his eyebrows have shot all the way to his hairline.
“Couldn’t tell you.” Kyle answers from his left, now crossing his arms.
“It’s my kitten, her name is Baja Blast, BB for short.” you smile while cradling her to your chest, “She found me on the trip to Emuphus and hasn’t left me since.”
They’re about to say something else when the ship reaches you. Kyle and Hal turn to look at it briefly, then turn their attention back to you.
“You should probably go in before Jason rips all his hair out.” Kyle jerks his head to where the ship remains stationary behind him.
“Won’t you guys come too?”
“We’ll be heading back first,” Hal informs you, “We’re going to give Supes and the JL the rundown so when you guys get there, you can have a nice family reunion.
“Ahh okay,” you nod along.
Before heading into the ship, you give them both one more hug and a thank you. Each of them return the hug a little tighter than they had previously.
You’re not sure who all was in the ship or what to expect, but stepping into a spaceship with Bruce, Tim, and Jason was not on your bucket list this year.
Jason’s at your side in an instant, his hand instantly finding your free one. BB’s still cradled against your chest. Looking at her almost makes you nostalgic, she’s grown in the past three weeks.
Bruce stands when you enter and instantly makes his way to you. It stunned you as he approached, you and the old man never really had many interactions, and none that were physical. So, when he pulls you into a very brief and tense hug, you’re past shocked.
Your jaw practically unhinged. Tim snickers from over his shoulder when he catches your expression.
As he backs away, you could’ve sworn you heard a sniffle.
“Clark was going to come, but we couldn’t risk any of them joining the mission because of the green sun. They would’ve become more of a liability than a help.”
Of course he didn’t address the sudden burst of emotion that overtook him. Not wanting to be insensitive, you decide to ignore it as well.
“I understand.” you nod, “Thank you Bruce- really it means a lot that you did all of this. Especially when you didn’t have too.”
“I did.” he answers with no room for debate.
“Thank you anyway.” you push it again and he does nothing but dip his chin honorably. Jason’s fingers tightens around yours again, a little reminder that you’re actually here.
Bruce steps away after that and Jason leads you to one of the benches against the wall. BB has now taken it upon herself to fly off and explore the ship. You let her have her fun, she would be fine for a few hours without you.
“I love you.” Jason rushes out when you sit next to him.
“I love you too.” You whisper, laying your head on his shoulder.
“I was scared I was never going to be able to tell you that again.”
Both of you let that sit in the air for a second, because the truth was that you were afraid of the same thing. It could’ve very easily become reality too. You decide to put that thought away before it takes advantage of your emotions.
“Me too.”
His head rests on yours and you allow your breathing to sync up. It was harmonious. His hand was still gripping yours but now he was filling up all of your senses, and you let him.
Because Jason Todd traveled across the universe for you.
Because Jason Todd risked it all for you.
Because Jason Todd loved you like it was the easiest thing in the world.
He was never one for big displays of affection, but when push came to shove. Jason didn’t blink to do anything for you.
So while you breathe each other in again for the first time in weeks, you let yourself fall asleep against the man who saved you.
•───────•°•☀︎•°•───────•
Bonus:
Arriving at the watchtower has your heart about to beat out of your chest.
Jason woke you up from the nap when you got back into the solar system. BB was now on his other shoudler, allowing you to curl into him.
When Bruce lands the ship, it hadn’t even hit the deck before he lowered the door. You stood instantly, shooting out before it finished opening. Your dad had already started flying toward the ship and you met somewhere in the middle.
His arms wrapped around you, crying in a way you’d never heard before. Then joined Aunt Kara, Conner, Jon, and your mom.
Your mom was the last to join the hug, but she somehow managed to end up right next to you. Her arms wrapped around you and the sound of her sobs pushed you to start crying too. Even though there were enough tears to fill a river, you don’t think you’ve ever been happier. Everyone you ever cared about was in an immediate radius.
With a relieved smile, you allow yourself to enjoy it. You let yourself be held and loved by the most important people in your universe.
Then as Jason approaches you all, watching from the outskirts, Lois made eye contact with him. She mouthed a thank you, and he waved it off.
He’s not sure whether to be surprised or not when she pulls him into the Kent family hug. And although he’s the tiniest bit uncomfortable, when he see you smile, everything falls away.
Because you were happy. And that’s what mattered.
•───────•°•☀︎•°•───────•
A/N: please can we pretend that people can talk in space for this and i'm sorry that the ending is rushed
summary: It's just a nightmare. It's the comfort you cling to, right alongside Bucky after your bad dream. But Bucky can't help but feel a sense of doom looming over the two of you. Like there was something coming you wouldn't be able to wake up from.
notes: this is me coping with the doomsday trailer dropping yesterday and remembering this may be the last few times we see Bucky.
Your eyes shoot open, heart racing as you awake with a start. Your body tingles, mind still trying to wrap itself around the fact you had been dreaming.
It's just a dream... just a dream.
A nightmare.
You were no stranger to bad dreams. It was a given in your line of work. But they seemed to be visiting you more frequently.
Like it wasn't just the stress and fatigue of your job infiltrating your subconscious; missions and warnings of danger and interdimensional threats.
More like somewhere, out in the vast universe, another version of you was losing everything she loved. A premonition of things to come.
You shut your eyes tightly, trying to ignore the sweat sticking to your skin, the feeling of the sheets clinging to your legs. The senses were overstimulating after such a horrible dream and you roll over, reaching over for the only thing that brought you comfort-
You pause, hand hitting the bare strip of mattress exposed by overturned sheets. Long turned cold. Absent of the man you were searching for.
You blink in the dark of your shared bedroom, searching for any sign of him.
As your eyes adjust, you can just make out the ajar door, cracked open just enough to let the glow of the tv from the living room spill through. You frown, tossing off the covers and creeping across the cold wooden floor slowly. Steps stilted as you shake off the tingling reminders of the dream. You shiver, the house cold in spite of the summer.
You find Bucky sitting in front of the couch on the floor. The line of his back is rigid, unnaturally straight and tight. His knees are tucked against his chest, cerulean eyes staring blankly at the news reel playing on the tv.
You let out a quiet sigh, carefully reaching for his shoulder to avoid startling him. Not that you had to. Bucky had probably heard you the moment you woke up. But you did it out of habit; the small things to try and pretend the two of you lived normal lives.
To pretend domesticity wasn't tucked between bloody missions overseas and conferences arguing over every decision he made.
To pretend a moment, the two of you were husband and wife, and not members of the avengers trying to keep the world from collapsing.
Bucky's chin turns toward you, blue eyes still glazed over, glued to the tv. It's only when you crouch beside him, cupping his stubbled jaw gently that he looks at you.
"Hey," you murmur quietly. He blinks, right hand reaching out automatically to help you sit beside him.
"What are you doing up?" He whispers, voice cracked from sleep. Like he'd been screaming-
“Don’t let go!”
You lean into his side and Bucky sighs tiredly as he wraps his arms around you.
"I could ask you the same." He hums, squeezing your arm.
"But I asked you first." You smile. Just a small one, still haunted by the dream. But you still don’t answer. At least, not wholly.
"Just missed you."
"You didn't even know I left."
You look up at him. "I always know when you're not here."
Bucky smiles at that. He tucks you closer to him, chin resting on the top of your head.
"What was the dream about?"
Of course he knew.
It was the same reason he was here. Sitting in the living room like he was watching the world from inside a fish bowl. Catatonic. Remembering.
Nightmares didn't go away just because you refused to sleep.
You're quiet for a moment, grateful he couldn't see the pale look that crossed your face. The memory of the dream, blood and ash and destruction. Bucky allows you to hide against him, hand running through your hair comfortingly.
"It's the same as it has been."
"You okay?" You think for a moment.
"No." He pulls away slightly, just to see your face. You don't meet his eye. Not even when he moves to look at your face, hand cupping your jaw.
"Hey. Look at me, love."
"Bucky..."
"What is it?" You finally meet his eye.
"I have a bad feeling. Like something awful is going to happen."
The dreaded sense of doom that had been following you around with the dream. Bucky had felt it too. With the tensions rising in the tower, the ugly campaigns smeared against the team and blurring lines of what was right and wrong.
But it was more than that.
It was something bigger. Something that crept into the back of his mind like a shadow, foreboding and inevitable.
The thing that had begun with the ship entering the atmosphere. The unknown. Heralding bad tidings.
Fate, maybe.
Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, holding you close.
“We’re going to be okay,” he chooses to say.
“But what if we’re not? What if something's happening? Something we can’t stop.”
He just sighs into your hair.
“Then we take it one step at a time. Do the next right thing until we can’t anymore.” You nod against him, fingers clinging against his bare torso. Your next words come out muffled, vibrating against his scar strewn skin.
“I miss when our problems weren’t so complicated.” Bucky huffs. Not quite a laugh but something close. He looks down at you.
“They’ve always been complicated. Just, not ours.”
“Maybe. But I don’t remember them being like this. Interdimensional people and world colliding threats.” Bucky thinks for a moment.
“I think they’ve always been there. We just didn’t have the burden of knowing.” You hum, looking up at Bucky. He looks tired. Worn down in an unusual way.
He looked less like a soldier and team leader and more like a worried man trying to keep himself together. You reach up and brush a fallen strand of hair out of his face, the pads of your fingers soft as you caress his scruffy cheek.
Bucky sighs, eyes closing as he leans into your touch.
“We don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
“I know,” he swallows thickly. You let out a quiet breath.
“Talk to him, Buck.”
“He won’t listen-”
“Bucky,” you give the man a look. Something soft and encouraging. “Sam will listen. Maybe not at first. But he will when he knows what’s on the line.” Bucky is quiet. Defeated, you think.
“I don’t know...”
You sigh, scooting impossibly closer and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“It’s late,” you whisper against him. “We should go back to bed.”
Bucky shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have to sleep. Just hold me.”
He looks at you, swallowing thickly. Bucky finally nods.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” You nod encouragingly.
“Yeah. Let’s go to bed.”
Bucky slips beneath the covers, his broad body pressed close against yours.
It’s hard to tell where you begin and he ends. You settle against him, your eyes already drooping closed in the dark. Even with the sense of dread weighing heavy on you. With Bucky, your worries are pushed to the side. Hidden by the comfort of his heartbeat against you.
“I love you Buck.”
“I love you too,” he whispers back, hands tightening ever so gently against you. Like he could protect you from the nightmares.
Bucky wishes he could. He wishes he could protect you from everything that was to come.
✶ THE VIEW BETWEEN VILLAGES / FAMILIAR FEELING. ( OOO.)
Mentions of death, allusions of alcoholism…
English is not my first language! I try my hardest to correct typos, but please forgive me if some writing isn’t clear.
THE FIRST TIME you rode this train, you were certain it was chugging along the tracks to your demise. Even so, you found yourself on the same train a second time. Only this time, you were the one sending someone else.
Exactly one year after you survived the 49th Hunger Games, the Capitol handed you another sentence with a smile, as if it were an honor to stand before someone your age and tell them to survive. Hope at least one of them makes it out alive.
You would’ve rather been a mentor for your own district. The only problem was, District Two had plenty of living victors. Twelve didn’t.
No one from Twelve had survived the games and become a mentor, and if they did, they didn’t seem to be thought of much. No name to mourn if you can’t remember a face. Or a voice.
You'd seen Twelve every year on television. The cameras never lingered long. A sweep across rotted rooftops. Thin bodies. Coal dust. The anthem played, and attention moved on to the career districts. A bunch of kids worth betting on. And that had bothered you more than you ever let show.
The train smelled of polish, and every gleaming mahogany table reminded you the Capitol had enough money to make the riches shine, but not enough compassion to feed the citizens living off of tesserae.
Your reflection trembled in the train window. Then another face appeared behind yours. That wretched woman, the creases of her lips smeared with a garish shade of ruby red.
You turned your head to get a better look at her as you brooded in that oppressive silence. She looked pale and washed out in the light of the train, and the mustard yellow leather she chose didn’t seem to be helping with her complexion.
The thin old skin at her temples was pinned tight by metal tacks, which she adjusted with her long fingers in the gold-plated mirror. In her other hand, the ember of a cigarette burned low, the smoke curling around her face like a veil and making your nose scrunch.
Drusilla Sickle caught your gaze in the glass and turned, her movements unhurried and deliberate. You lifted your chin slowly to meet her eyes.
"(Y/N)," she drawled, tilting her head. "You look positive.”
“I’m thrilled…” You say; turning your head back toward the window.
Drusilla Sickle was a woman who valued two things: her appearance and her obsession with beauty, despite seeming to lack it both mentally and physically, and the Capitol’s reputation—the very thing built on the profit made from slaughtering children.
You swirl the tea in your china cup with a gold spoon, eyes fixed on the blur of the world beyond the window glass.
The train begins its travel, and you would be in District Twelve before you even had a moment to prepare your heart. You weren’t ready—not to meet the children likely your own age, the ones destined to be sentenced to death before their lives had begun.
Maybe thinking that was pessimistic, but what are the odds that a district who has no living victors will finally have a hero? Maybe the odds are higher. It is double the children they’re murdering this year. A horrifying anniversary
"It's grotesque, don't you think? That they're making me relive this. Even if I'm not the one in the arena again..." You set the teacup aside, unable to swallow another sip of the surprisingly generous serving.
You let that sliver of vulnerability show. Maybe Drusilla would offer some sympathy you. But of course, Drusilla Sickle only cared about two things in this world.
"The Games leave marks, child," she said, her voice curling like smoke. "Some hide them behind a smile or a drink. Others grow prideful, living like kings and queens in the luxury of the Capitol." She chuckled, sharp and witchlike. "Pick your poison. There's a right way. And I certainly believe you’re getting the better side of the bargain.”
Drusilla sank into the seat across from you.
"Let's get on with a few things," she began, resting her oddly angled chin on the palm of her gloved hand. "Some tributes thrive on flair and audacity." Her eyes glittered. "Do not underestimate it, and do not let them get away with it—especially the little piglets from District Twelve."
"I'm supposed to be mentoring them, not punishing them for disobedience. Don't the people like rebellion?"
"Don't be silly." She laughed, the sound sharp and hollow as glass. "No one likes rebellion. It's just entertaining."
Being scared for your life. Paralyzed in fear. That was entertaining? I didn't know what to say. There wasn't much to say—that was the point. It was all spectacle. Nothing more.
"Do you ever feel anything?" You mumble. "Do you feel anything for them?"
Drusilla scoffed, amusement and disgust twined together.
"This is a business, (Y/N). Children are a terribly dramatic commodity." Her laugh was small, rehearsed, the kind that leaves no room for pity.
The train hissed and slowed as you rolled toward District Twelve. You pressed your palm flat against the cool window and watched the gray edge of the town slide into view.
You couldn't let yourself care—not really. And yet the truth sat in your chest like a stone: it would be your job to try to get someone out of that place alive. Even if you had to do it the wrong way.
Posted this late, it was meant to come out on July 4th in honor of Haymitch’s birthday, sadly I was away from home and stressed. Extremely nervous because I’ve never written or posted fan-fiction on this app. Please give me feedback if you have any tips! If you’d like to be added to this tag-list, let me know. I’m excited to get this story going! Don’t be afraid to talk to me in my inbox either. I am out of school and lack things to do, so expect more chapters soon! Also, I impulsively posted this, so I might make tweaks and changes. It is only a prologue, but I don’t want any part of this to be crappy…
You really really got Drusilla and the descriptions of the Capitol so down, they both felt the same way they did in the book if that makes sense?? Anyway, amazing job, and I'm super excited to see how this goes!!!
