ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤

He’d been sent after me on a mission, handed down by SHIELD. He was supposed to kill me – eliminate the threat. He made a different call when he found me – a skinny rat of a girl that he felt pity for.

I had my own mission, too. Eliminate the threat.

But the opportunity for escape presented itself. The opportunity for freedom, for surcease from pain and torture.

The first thing that happened to me, after a flurry of talks and paperwork and being forced to make promises of good behaviour, was an examination. The dark-haired doctor, Banner, had a gentler touch than I was used to, fingertips light as he probed my bruised and broken ribs. I didn’t flinch as he felt his way along my fractures, giving nothing away, and his eyes flickered an ominous green as they shifted to mine.

He'd ssat me down afterwards, running through the list of things he’d deemed wrong with me. Along with a litany of scars and bruises, he held up x-rays that showed my entire body, pointing out old fractures that never healed right.

“Most of these don’t pose a significant problem, but I’m concerned about this wrist.” He gestured to the bones of my left arm, a ragged and poorly-fused line across the end of my radius dark in the brightness. “It must be painful, and that’s not to speak of the mechanical limitations.”

I’d winced and looked away, fingers curling around the permanently-aching joint beneath his desk. “It’s fine,” I lied, voice flat and emotionless.

“Well, either way – even if it doesn’t cause problems now, it certainly will later. I’d like to put you under so I can-”

“No,” I interrupted, a snarl creeping into my tone, eyes narrowing with suspicion. I’ve only been here for five minutes, and they think I’m stupid enough to let them perform surgery on me? My eyes closed briefly, flashes of blood and pain passing before my lids, and I swallowed hard before meeting his gaze once more. “No. No surgery.”

He’d simply watched me in silence for a moment, making a note on my chart. “… You know it’s my duty to make sure that you-”

“I’m fit for whatever mission they want to send me on,” I snapped, jaw set, arms crossed across my chest. “I’m not letting you poke around inside me, and that’s that.”

Two weeks later, and here I was, shifting through a salad while they pretended to be happy. Pretended that they weren’t just as trapped as I had been, albeit in a nicer cage. The bowman’s eyes never strayed from me, drawing lines from my sparse portion to the curve of my ribcage hidden by second-hand clothes that hung too loose on my lithe frame. I couldn’t help but draw myself up taller, crossing my legs as I leant back, letting the witch’s skirt fall higher up my thighs, and smirked internally when I saw him gulp.

I know what I am.

I’d been seducing men since my Breaking, using body and skill to lure them in before taking them out. This archer was nothing special, and I could win him over just as easily. I stretched my arms high over my head, chest pressing against the button-down I wore, letting out a soft, sensual sigh as my gaze moved to his.

“See something you like?” I purred, looking up at him through my lashes as my body relaxed. His cheeks were pink, and he seemed unsure as to where he should look, fingers flexing uncertainly against his thigh.

“You wince.”

Surprised, I blinked, recoiling a little in my shock. “I… What?”

His face had already returned to its normal hue as he gestured at my arms now folded tight across my waist. “Your wrist. The one Bruce wanted to fix. Whenever you move it, you wince.”

My mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, stunned into silence, before my expression creased into a scowl as I recovered. “What’s your point?”

“Why won’t you let him fix it?” he asked softly, turning to face me more fully, pale eyes locked on mine in a manner so encompassing I found myself unable to look away. “He just wants to help.”

I snorted, one eyebrow arching. “Sure.”

Silently, he watched me for a moment, thoughtful. “… I don’t know much about where you came from,” he started eventually, head tipped to one side. “Nobody does. There’s rumours, but nothing concrete. But I have a faint idea of the sort of things you’ve been through, and I’m not surprised you don’t trust us. I hope you will, in time. We really do just want to help you.”

“Why?” I pressed, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why do you care? You don’t know me. You don’t owe me anything.”

His brow creased in surprise. “You don’t have to matter to us on a personal level for us to want to help you, Natasha. You matter. You’re a person, and you deserve not to be in pain.” He offered me a soft smile, and I looked away from the pity in his eyes.

“… Fine,” I agreed at length, returning to stabbing my lunch vehemently, anger bubbling in my veins for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

It was in this way that I found myself sat on the edge of a medical bed in a gown that made me feel humiliatingly exposed.

“You’re not going to steal my kidneys or anything, are you?” I teased, my voice just a little too terse, treacherously betraying my anxieties.

Bruce’s eyes raised from where he was drawing on my arm, hazel gaze steady and warm. “I won’t make a single movement you haven’t agreed to.”

I nodded stiffly, watching through narrowed eyes as he continued his dotted lines. “… Why are you all like this?” I asked, the words coming soft and quiet despite myself.

He paused once more, but didn’t look up this time, contemplating the question silently. “… We have all done some terrible things,” he murmured after a moment, the hands on my skin gentle. “I suppose one could argue it’s penance. We help to heal the damage we’ve done.”

“What if there’s been too much?” I pressed. “What if I’ve hurt more people than I could ever save?”

“I don’t think that’s true of anyone,” he offered, tipping his head up to meet my gaze once more, the sincerity in his eyes startling me. “I need to believe it isn’t – or else more than one of us is irredeemable.”

I considered him for a moment – this kind, mild-mannered doctor carefully probing at my arm and determined to make me feel as safe as possible – then shook my head once. “I can’t imagine anything you’ve done could even come close to-”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

It wasn’t delivered as a threat, or arrogance; there was a degree of sadness to his tone that hit me square in the chest, breath catching as I shook my head. “No, I… I guess not.”

“I’m only Bruce to those who know me. The media tends to refer to me by a different name.” His eyes lowered, shameful but resigned. “Most people have only heard of the Hulk.”

I frowned for a moment, confused, before comprehension dawned. “The big green guy? That’s you?” I clarified incredulously, one eyebrow arching as he nodded. “But you’re… Not - I mean…”

He flashed me a weak smile, shrugging a shoulder. “I transform, in a way. It’s a long story involving a lot of quite interesting science and gamma radiation, but I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say, I fell victim to my own hubris. And when I’m him, the green guy, I can’t… I can see it all happening, but I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Surprise flickered across my face, and I felt my own sympathetic smile form, slow and hesitant. “That sounds… Horrible,” I murmured, mind flashing through all the times my training had taken over while I screamed in the background – flashing through all the times before my training when I’d watched the people I cared about suffer, powerless to stop it. “It sounds like hell.”

He nodded once, sitting back in his seat. “It is. But doing this, just being a scientist, helping people… It goes some way to paying off my karmic debt, I think. I hope so, at least.”

My head cocked thoughtfully, assessing the man before me. “… I think so,” I agreed softly, nodding. He seemed too tortured by the things he’d done to be damned for them, after all.

It wasn’t his fault. He had no choice.

When I woke in an unfamiliar bed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling through hazy eyes, dressed in an unfamiliar gown, my heart rate spiked and I struggled upright, my movements clumsy and sluggish. There were wires protruding from under my clothing, and a heavy cast encasing my left arm. The sight of the plaster calmed me, memories flooding back into my clouded mind. My gaze trailed along the edge of the bed and up the curve of my feet beneath the sheet, a frown creasing my forehead. I hadn’t any idea what I was searching for, only that I hadn’t found it yet.

A sound beside me startled me from my investigation, and I turned tooslownotfastenoughnotsafe, wide-eyed, toward it.

The archer was snoring in a chair beside my bed, his head back and jaw slack. My eyebrows rose in surprise, and I cleared my throat pointedly, biting back a laugh when he jerked awake. “You’re here,” I noted, my tone carefully neutral. He yawned and nodded, stretching his arms high overhead.

“Didn’t want you to wake up alone,” he grunted, pushing a hand through sleep-mussed hair. I hummed an acknowledgement, picking at the cotton appearing from the edge of the cast. My refusal to let him see how slow and lethargic I was had me sitting further upright, shaking my head to clear it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I replied, the words coming harsher than I intended, but he simply shrugged.

“I know.”

My lips parted to tell him that he was free to leave, but the sound of the door opening interrupted me, muscles tensing. I relaxed infinitesimally as the doctor stepped inside, a gentle smile crossing his face. “Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff. Surgery went well.” He moved to the end of my bed, eyes assessing my expression carefully. “It’ll take a few weeks for you to recover, and it may take a little while for your grip strength to be back up to the standard you’re used to, but you’ll get there in time – better, most likely.”

I nodded once, my eyes still on the archer. “What do I have to do?” I asked automatically, unthinkingly, and Clint frowned.

“‘Do?’”

“For this,” I clarified, raising my encased arm and the wires hooked up to me. Clint’s eyebrows dropped further, confusion flickering across his expression.

“You don’t have to do anything. We told you… We just want to help.” He spoke softly, his tone sincere, but I snorted, my inhibitions lowered by the anaesthetic still coursing through my system.

“Is that why I’m in this little gown, hm?” I probed, my voice light and innocent as I pushed back the blankets to reveal my bare legs, marred with scars as they were. “Because I don’t have to do anything?”

Clint blushed heavily, averting his eyes, but Bruce moved closer, frowning. “It- It’s standard medical procedure, Natasha. We talked before your surgery, remember? If you had any concerns, I asked you to tell me… You seemed to consent quite readily.”

“Where does consent ever come into it?” I snapped back, jaw set. “Just do what you have to do, okay? I won’t fight. I’m too tired.” My body sank willingly back against the sheets, and I closed my eyes against the silence around me, resigned to my fate.

My body has always been used for payment. At least this time it’s benefited, too.

“Natasha… Nobody’s going to… We’re not…” Bruce’s stammer trailed off with a helpless sigh, and I winced at the sound of Clint getting to his feet, muscles stiffening pre-emptively.

His hand in mine startled me, surprisingly soft and gentle, and my lids snapped open once more in surprise. “What are you-”

“We didn’t do this for any form of payment, or gratitude, or quid pro quo,” Clint interrupted quietly, azure gaze locked on mine. “We did this because you were hurting, and you shouldn’t have been. Nobody here will ever expect that from you, Nat. Never.”

I watched him in silence for a moment, eyes narrowed as I assessed his open, honest face. “They don’t?”

He shook his head firmly, glancing at Bruce, who echoed a confirmation. “See? You’re safe here.”

The lump forming in my throat was beginning to make it difficult to speak, so I simply nodded, letting him pull the sheets back up until they sat around my waist, his other hand never leaving mine.

Bruce allowed me to head back to my room – third floor, two doors down from Clint and with an empty space either side of me – late in the evening, my bare feet padding almost noiselessly on the hard tile. I still couldn’t get used to having my own space; the only time I was alone at the Academy was when I was in Isolation. It was strange to try and sleep without the breathing, snoring and sounds of pain from a dozen other girls – to not wake to sobbing from a nightmare muffled by a thin blanket that did little to keep out the chill.

They never lasted long, those girls.

Widows don’t cry.

But now I had more space than I knew what to do with – and the permission to do with it as I wished. After two weeks it still sat exactly as I’d found it, the bed made with military precision and the dishes unused, with almost no sign of life save a pillow ferreted away from a sofa downstairs and hidden under the small table.

I liked it under there. The bed was too exposed, too open – there was too much to look for and too many places to guard at once. But under the table, the four chairs, carefully positioned, could act as a barricade in three directions, providing a moment’s warning against attack.

A moment can be the difference between life and death.

No sooner had I shut the door behind me lockedboltedchainedsafenotsafeneversafe than a soft rapping sounded on the wood, making me tense.

“FRIDAY?” I called uncertainly, still unused to speaking to the bodiless entity.

“Yes?” replied the dulcet tones, intended to be soothing – but I only found it creepy and unnatural.

“Who’s at my door?”

“Agent Barton, Ms. Romanoff.”

I blinked in surprise, turning back to stare at the wood hesitantly. The chain was still on as I cracked the door open, finding the pale blue staring back at me and accompanied by a soft smile. “Hey. Uh… I just wanted to see if you need anything. You know… Painkillers, or…”

“I’m good. Bruce has it handled,” I replied shortly, surprised and thrown off by his arrival. He nodded once, still hesitating at my door.

“Okay, I, uh… I guess I’ll leave you to it. Wake me if you need anything, yeah?” I nodded back, but still he didn’t move, his eyes flickering between my face and the room behind me. “How’s the room? Comfortable, or…?”

Another curt nod, flexing my fingers at the end of the cast. The sling was uncomfortable and disarming, and the longer Clint kept me talking, the longer it would be until I could disobey the doctor’s orders in private and remove it. “It’s fine.”

His head bobbed jerkily, and he stepped back, reluctance evident.

… Maybe I don’t owe him anything, but maybe he still expects…

I leant against the doorframe, head cocked, smiling softly. “Did you wanna come in, Barton?”

His eyes widened in something akin to alarm, and he swallowed. “I- Uh… I…”

“We can talk some more. Or we don’t have to talk at all, not if you don’t want to…” I added, peering up at him demurely through my lashes as I offered him my free hand.

His jaw twitched, and he took another, stumbling step back. “I-I should… I… I should get to bed. And you need your rest, too.”

I blinked in surprise, standing stiffly upright. “I- Oh. Sure.”

“Goodnight, Natasha.” He half-turned, and I baulked, brow furrowing.

“… Are you really just going to walk away?” I clarified incredulously, unimpeded arm curling protectively around my waist. Is it me? “What’s wrong with you?”  His eyebrow raised, and I scowled. “Nobody walks away.”

He shrugged a shoulder, offering me a weak smile. “I don’t want that,” he replied gently. “I just want to be your friend, Natasha.”

“But this is how it is,” I countered hotly, an edge of judgement creeping into my tone. “This is how it works. This is how good things happen, and how we avoid the worse things.”

His eyes softened as he considered me, head tipped slightly to one side, thoughtful. “… I can’t imagine what those worse things were,” he murmured, grimacing, “but I can promise that you never have to do anything you don’t want to in order to avoid punishment.”

My eyes narrowed, suspicious and uncertain, and I watched him for a moment, considering his open,  honest expression. “… Whatever you say,” I conceded eventually, stepping back into my room a little. His face lit up, and I scowled, unimpressed by the joy he found in the beginnings of my trust.

Why is he so eager for me to trust him?

“Goodnight, Nat,” he said again, more brightly this time, and I offered him a curt nod before I closed the door.

It wasn’t until I stood staring at the wood, processing what had transpired in the corridor, that his words sunk in, and I blinked in surprise.

He called me ‘Nat’. … He did that earlier, too.

… I’ve never had a nickname before.

Everyone knows that Mario's little brother is shy. Nobody knows that his name is Luigi, except those that have been graced by his overflowing kindness. Some people learn his name and choose to reciprocate his love; others reject it, reducing him to "Green Mario" and refusing to understand how his loved ones don't consider him a burden.

There's someone else that Luigi wishes to share his love with…the King of the Koopas. Despite everyone around him considering the fiery turtle an object of horror, despite being tortured and nearly killed by this heinous beast, despite almost losing everything…he found no room for malice in his heart. For Bowser specifically, it was a more logical than emotional choice to not hate him.

Yes, he was harshly questioned by the king about his beloved fratellone, but only because Bowser's love for the pink princess blinded him.

Yes, he dangled precariously in a cage over a pit of lava and probably suffered a burn on his toes for how close he came to the magma. But he was just one of many victims that Bowser chose to lock away, either as punishment or as a trophy for his attempt at world domination.

Yes, he watched his brother be pounded into unforgiving asphalt and glass. Watched the Koopa King attempt to steal away everything Mario cared about. Watched a regal woman potentially sacrifice her safety and well-being for a stranger, all in an effort to rescue a man she hadn't even met yet.

But…none of those injustices were ever directed at him, specifically. And through his display of arrogance and rage, Luigi could see through the Koopa's heart and realized there was a familiar feeling. A feeling of being afraid, afraid to fail, afraid to disappoint or to be deemed nothing was accomplished. Or not be recognized or appreciated if anything was accomplished. Afraid to be anything that wasn't enough. Luigi could see this pain in Bowser's eyes, his soul. The main difference being that Luigi was surrounded by loving people, while Bowser was mostly not. Sure, he had Kamek, but Luigi viewed the king's relationship with the Magikoopa as more like a toxic marriage than a loving bond. Bowser's subjects claimed to adore him, but how much could they be trusted? Taking on the challenge of loving the Mushroom Kingdom's sworn nemesis would be no easy task. But if there was ever a time when love had freedom to blossom, it was the night of the Star Festival. Which was approaching in a few short hours. Prior to the Festival, Luigi and his dear older brother had returned from Tostarena about a week ago, after completing a rather unusual plumbing job. Instead of being rewarded with just some gold coins, they were given something far more valuable—a new friend, a strangely cute green dinosaur named Yoshi.

Luigi wasn't quite sure how Yoshi had gotten himself trapped in the Inverted Pyramid in Tostarena. But once the brothers discovered the sweet reptile wasn't a threat, it was a no brainer that they would adopt him. And Yoshi wasn't just some pet; he was an intelligent, kind hearted soul with fierce loyalty. Anyone who had ill intent for the Bros. would be sure to face his wrath. The green plumber hoped that Bowser wouldn't be a recipient of that rage, whether from Mario or Yoshi himself. He had already been spending time with the mini tyrant at Peach's Castle, teaching him to paint and encouraging him to explore his creative spirit outside of music. He knew that Mario disapproved of these meetings, and the red plumber would hardly speak a word unless it was to insult the Koopa King in some way. But if Luigi was going to push through this adversity and heal Bowser with his affection, he couldn't let anything get in his way—not even his beloved brother. And Luigi believed that deep down, in the dusty, cobweb-laden corners of their hearts, Mario and Bowser didn't truly hate each other. Unless he was just unwilling to open his eyes to the truth.

"Lu? You ready?" Mario was busy brushing his cherished mustache (say that 3 times). The Bros. had briefly returned to Brooklyn to prepare for the Star Festival, because Mario had ordered a present for Peach and his mother had kept it safe until the night of the festival.

Luigi snapped out of his thoughts and grabbed his custom 'stache comb, straightening the strands above his lips with care. "Just about. Where's your gift?"

For some reason, Yoshi thought it was a good idea to grab the gift with his mouth, as if he were some guardian of the present.

"Bro, put that down!" Mario said, rushing over to pry the pink box free from the dino's tongue. "That's for the princess!"

Yoshi immediately released his hold on her gift, previously unaware of who it was for. He lowered his head in apology and made sad Yoshi noises, and Luigi chuckled warmly.

"It's alright, buddy," the younger brother assured him as he rubbed Yoshi's massive nose. "I know you can't resist eating everything."

"Oh, don't coddle him," Mario grumbled playfully, reaching for a towel to clean off Yoshi's spit from the box. "If we let 'im, he'd eat the walls of our house."

Yoshi made a raspberry sound after Luigi comforted him. Mario shook his head, but his eyes gave away the unwavering adoration he had for the silly dinosaur.

Luigi finished his mustache routine and smiled, as he prepared to exit the house and go back to the Mushroom Kingdom. "C'mon Mar, I'm ready now. Let's go see your girlfriend!"

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!" Mario yelled, his chubby cheeks tinted with a furious red hue of embarrassment. "Would you PLEASE stop saying that??"

"You can't stop me from telling the truth," Luigi smirked. Yoshi laughed in agreement, teasing Mario with his eyes.

"There IS no truth," Mario retorted. "We're friends, and we care about each other. Besides, it's her birthday. Why wouldn't I get her a gift?"

"I'm not talking about the gift, Bro," Luigi replied. "You'd be surprised how many spicy secrets you've spilled in your sleep…"

Mario's face nearly matched his omnipresent red cap. "Wh-what are you t-talking about, Lu…" he mumbled.

"You know exactly what I mean. I just want you to stop doubting yourself." Luigi gently placed his hands on Mario's shoulders and looked him in the eye, his cyan irises gleaming with uncharacteristic confidence. "She clearly likes you. And this is the perfect night to confess…you just have to be brave."

"But, I don't wanna ruin the moment…" Mario sighed. "Today is about her, and the Star Festival. If I confess it'll make me look selfish."

"How is it selfish to tell her about your feelings?" his twin asked.

"Because, I…I would just be inserting myself. It's her birthday. And it's her kingdom's celebration. Let the night be about her."

"And you honestly think she wouldn't consider your confession as the best birthday gift ever? You don't think she's planning to confess herself?"

The older twin was silent for a bit, as if he'd not considered this possibility. There's no way she likes me, she's too important. I'm just a plumber…

"You're not just a plumber, Mario," Luigi asserted, using his Twin Telepathy. "You are the most extraordinary, kindhearted human being that she's ever had the pleasure of befriending. If she didn't love you, why on Earth would she go through all that trouble to save me, when we hadn't even met?"

Mario blinked. He'd always thought that Luigi was just as capable and strong as him, but it was rare that his brother actually showed this side of himself.

"Thank you, fratellino," he said softly, wrapping Luigi into a warm hug. "I'm just scared to mess things up."

"You won't, fratellone," Luigi murmured, returning the hug and kissing his brother's cheeks. "Go get 'er."

Mario lovingly smiled. Yoshi barged his way in between their hug, reminding them that they needed to get going.

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Mario chuckled. "Let's get outta here, Lu."

Before exiting their childhood home, they stopped to hug their mother and she showered them with kisses. Yoshi gave her a satisfying lick on her cheek as well.

"Oh, my!" she giggled, wiping her face. "You boys ought to get a handle on him."

"Thanks for everything, Ma," her oldest son smiled. "We'll take pictures!"

"Please do!" she said. "I need a photo to cherish you and my daughter-in-law…"

"MOM!" Mario protested, rolling his eyes. "Not you too!"

"I don't know why he's so adamant about this," Luigi said. "Love you, Ma! Tell Dad we said hi."

"Take care, boys! Love you too!"

----------✨🍄⭐✨----------

With a cheerful "doo-doo-doo" chime, the Bros. and their green friend exited the Warp Pipe leading to Toad Town Plaza. Luigi always felt an overwhelming sense of relief whenever he finished warping somewhere. Though he'd grown accustomed to the magical tubes, he found them to be claustrophobic, and they were also responsible for separating him from Mario when they first entered the Mushroom Kingdom and the Badlands. He had a small fear it would happen again.

Yoshi took indulgent sniffs of fresh air. "Mmm! Yoshi 🍿!!"

"Popcorn?" Mario asked.

"Yeah, he's right," said his brother. "There's a popcorn stand right down the road."

Given this auspicious day, with the joyful celebration of Peach's birthday (though some would argue you couldn't really call it that, since Peach was already born before the Toads found her, but "birthday" just sounded better than "Happy Day-You-Were-A-Lost-Little-Girl-In-A-Warp-Pipe-Who-Might-Not-Have-Her-Parents-Anymore-And-We-Decided-To-Raise-You"), and the centennial arrival of the Star Festival, Toad Town was glorious to behold. Streamer lights in the shape of stars lined the Toads' adorable mushroom abodes, children ran here and there with sparklers and cotton candy, and couples leisurely strolled with their hands bonded in love. Luigi grinned, having found a sense of peace that was previously unattainable in America, and grateful to share that peace with his loved ones.

They stopped at the popcorn stand as Mario pulled out some gold coins. Luigi often wondered how the coins had any value, given that they could essentially be created from thin air.

"Mario, Luigi!" the popcorn Toad greeted them. She had yellow spots with red ribbons tying the ends of her braids, much like the color palette of the popcorn and its bag. "Lovely to see you two! I'll give you bags on the house."

"That's quite alright," Mario smiled, ever a gentleman at heart. "We're more than happy to patronize you."

The shroom lady pushed 3 overflowing bags of buttery, delightfully crunchy popcorn in front of the trio. "Enjoy!"

Yoshi licked his lips and devoured his bag in one fell swoop, shooting out his frog-like tongue and eating the popcorn whole, paper and all. Luigi immediately grabbed his bag for fear that Yoshi would invade his snacks too.

"Geez, Yoshi!" he cried. "You gotta slow down!"

Yoshi burped with glee, a wicked smile on his face. "Yo-yoshi 👑🍑,🍕🍟🍰🍗 (It's Peach's birthday, I'm gonna chow down)!!"

Mario laughed at his favorite green besties. He waved the popcorn Toad goodbye, and paused. "So uh, I'm gonna go find Peach now…give her the present."

"Yiss!!" Luigi said, pumping his fist. "You need good breath when kissing, so you probably shouldn't eat your popcorn…"

"LUIGI, for the LAST. TIME!!!" Mario roared. Luigi paid him no heed and put some chapstick on his brother's lips, knowing Mario wasn't truly angry with him.

Yoshi nuzzled Mario's face and grinned, taking his popcorn. "Yaaa-shiii 👍(good luck)!" he cheered.

Mario sighed in exasperation, running his gloved fingers through his cocoa-colored hair. "You two are the worst…" he mumbled.

"We know," Luigi snickered. "Love you lots, Big Bro!!"

"Love you too, idiot," his Big Bro muttered as he headed toward Peach's Castle. If brotherly love was a medicine, Luigi believed it could cure the world of all hatred.

"Right!" said the green handyman. "We need to follow him and see if he's successful, but first…there's one stop I need to make."

"Hrnn-yo 🗺🚶‍♂️(Where's that)?" Yoshi asked.

"It's…also in the castle," Luigi admitted. "There's someone I want you to meet…"

Luigi didn't think it would be fair for everyone to enjoy Peach's sorta-birthday bash, and not allow Bowser to taste a small part of the fun. Of course, the tall twin understood that he needed to continue serving punishment for his crimes, but Luigi didn't want Bowser to feel left out or forgotten, as he often was. He planned on discreetly keeping him in his trouser pockets, and walking around the Festival so the tiny turtle could take in all the sights and sounds. Yoshi blindly followed him to Bowser's "cell," having complete trust in the plumber. Perhaps if he understood the history between the brothers and the beast, he might've tried to stop Luigi. But Yoshi was pretty neutral in general—again, unless someone crossed his loved ones' paths. Since mostly everyone had left the Castle, at least on the inside, Luigi had no problem reaching Bowser's room door. Creaking it open, Luigi softly stepped towards the king's mock castle, and found that he was sleeping.

He probably wants to sleep the Festival away…the plumber mused. He stopped to watch Bowser snoozing, noticing that the rise and fall of his chest was hidden by his seemingly impenetrable shell. His claws tightly gripped the fabric of his blanket, and he let out low grumbles every now and then. Luigi found this to be adorable, and he didn't even realize his cheeks were warm until Yoshi nudged him.

"Yoshii yo-hmm 🐢💤(Aren't you gonna wake him)?"

"O-oh, right!" Luigi jumped, blushing harder. "Sorry…"

Yoshi eyed him curiously as he lifted his hand to knock on Bowser's upstairs entrance. For some reason, Luigi's heart pounded furiously. It wasn't like he hadn't met with Bowser before, but he could feel that this time was…different. He could only hope that his quest for reconciling Bowser with the princess and her kingdom, as well as his dear twin, wouldn't end in disaster.

Here goes everything.

----------✨💚🧡✨----------

Thanks for reading! ^^ As always, feedback is greatly appreciated :D Like I said, I haven't wrote angst before, but I'm not trying to make this too dark. If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them in comments (I will block you if I find your reply to be inappropriate. This is a no-hate zone ✊🏿🏳‍🌈✨). I'll try to see if I can post the next chapter on the release day of the Galaxy Movie, April 1.

Chris had never run faster. Sprinting out of his room, he found himself staring in horror at the scene in the living room. His sister was on the ground, shielding her face from her father's blows as he screamed at her, "No child of mine is gonna be a goddamn homosexual! How dare you bring that trash into my house?!”

"Dad!" Chris yelled, crossing the room to his father's side and blocking a particularly harsh blow. All that did was earn him a backhand to the face and a rough shove from his father. His head smacked the ground before he could throw out his elbows to soften the landing, his vision temporarily blurred, and it took him a moment to regain his bearings. He could still hear his sister crying as their father delivered one last verbal blow, "I ever see you with that girl or another ever again, you're both fucking dead. You hear me?" It was only when Auggie heard a broken whimper from his daughter that he stomped off, grabbed his keys, and left their house yelling something about going to a bar.

She looked so broken. So defeated. What in the world could his sweet little sixteen year old baby sister have done to cause their father to reign such hatred down on her. He didn't know if he'd ever seen her cry before. He'd heard it through their shared wall a few times late at night, but never seen it out in the open like this. It hurt even more seeing the blossoming bruise around one of her eyes and dried blood dripping from her nose. His hand hovered inches from her shoulder, unsure of whether or not a comforting hand was what she needed. Instead, he whispered her name in uncertainty. A question that recieved a soft sob in response.

Her gaze finally lifted from the ground, finding his in defeat, "He found out about her, Chris. I didn't know he'd walk in without knocking. He saw us kiss."

He stared at his sister for a long moment, confused— no, beyond confused, "Found out about who?" Another soft sob fell from her lips, a noise that could only be the kind that knocked the wind out of you.

"My girlfriend, Chris."

Oh.

"Your… girlfriend?" He knew he probably looked like a floundering idiot. Wide eyed and mouth agape. He had no clue his sister liked girls— how could she like girls? Whenever they hung out and listened to Motely Crue (one of the few bands they agreed on), she would drone on and on about how hot Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx were, or she would talk about the fat crush she had on Eric from Boy Meets World, "You're a lesbian? How? You're like in love with Nikki Sixx-"

"I'm bisexual you dumbass." She murmured in defeat, "I like girls too." His heart clenched for a moment as her eyes avoided his like she was afraid he'd react like their father. Chris wasn't like their dad though. Sure, he sought Auggie's validation like twenty-four seven, but he didn't agree with a lot of what he believed— okay, he disagreed with like pretty much everything.

"What, like Bowie?"

This ellicit a small laugh from her, finally lifting her mood ever so slightly, "Yeah. Like Bowie."

***

Present Day: April 12th, 2022

"No, I don't have room for another class in my schedule, Jan." Work bags and grocery bags were ballanced precariously in her arms and her phone was pressed to her ear by her shoulder as she attempted to unlock the front door of her apartment. She let out a pissed off scoff, "No- Jan, that's my free period. I use that to grade. There are other English teachers, ask one of them." Finally her apartment door swung open and she was able to get inside, weaving through scattered dog toys and an overly excited pittie. She bites back an immature grumble as she sets down her groceries, "Well, I don't know what to tell you. Hire someone new because I don't have the time." Click.

Her palms rested against the cold granite counter of her kitchen, calming her frustrations ever so slightly. This school year had already been enough to make her question why she went into teaching in the first place. From a rowdy Freshman class that tested her patience, a new principal who doesn't seem to have any regard for the class loads she gives to teachers, and a lazy piece of shit boyfriend who was two seconds away from being dumped, she was ready to say fuck it and run off to the country side.

The thumping of her dog's tail against her leg pulled her from her pity party. She glanced down at her pittie, Eggsy— a name given after realizing that dogs could have a favorite movie and for some reason his was Kingsman: Golden Circle. Smiling, she kneeled down to let him press into her arms, "Hi, buddy. D'you have a good day?" She glanced around the quiet apartment, "Did Cody actually get off his ass and leave the house?" Her fingers paused on his head, so Eggsy pulled away from her to walk over to his water dish which turned out to be bone dry, "Motherfucker- CODY! ARE YOU HOME?" Her fury from the day returned with a vengence as she filled the dish back up. The silence she recieved told her he was either miraculously out of the apartment or gaming with his fucking noise cancelling headphones on.

She rose from the ground, her gaze zeroing in on her closed bedroom door, eyes narrowing as she stalked towards the room and muttered vulgarities that only a salior could manage to string together, "That lazy fucking piece of shit…" If the #ihatemybf trend had a face, it would be hers. "CODY!"

Cody's face paled, startled out of his game. He was completely frozen in place like a child caught doing something they shoudln't, "Hey, baby… when did you get home?" He knew she was going to lose her shit on him. She'd told him time and time again that if he didn't get a job, he needed to get things done around the house while she was at work— evidently, he'd yet to do this in the slightest.

She could tell by his face that he knew he was in deep shit, "Turn off that fucking game and take off your headphones." She didn't wait for him to do so before launching into her speech, "I am so sick and tired of your lazy ass. I feel like I have a teenage son, not a boyfriend. At this point, I'm ready to—" Knock knock knock. A scoff fell from her lips at the interuption, holding her finger out at him, "I'm not done."

She couldn't imagine who would possibly be at her door at the moment, but whoever it was would probably get a taste of her anger too. Without looking through the peep hole, she tugged the door open and froze, "Chris?"

"Hey, sis." It had been so long since they'd spoken that Chris was almost convinced the woman before him wasn't even his sister. The last time he saw her was the night of her high school graduation where she told him she'd be leaving for college in California with no plans of returning (spoiler alert: she came back). That was over a decade ago. Giving her a once over, he noticed all the things that made her his sister. Those forever furrowed eyebrows, the necklace she hadn't taken off since she was twelve, and that tilt of her head that told you everything you needed to know about how she was feeling.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Who's at the door?" The voice of her idiot boyfriend was like nails on a chalk board. The one time he manages to do something outside of rotting in their shared bedroom, it ends up being something to piss her off even further, "Babe, who the fuck is this?"

"I'm her br-"

"None of your fucking business, Cody." She whipped around, staring the man down for a long moment before speaking again, "We're done. Pack your things."

"What?"

"Pack your things and go."

***

She stood at her kitchen counter and watched her brother with a curious gaze. Normally, he was spotted out and about constantly in his Peacemaker costume, but he'd done her the favor of wearing normal clothes to show up on her doorstep.

After a long sip of her wine, she spoke, "So, you're out of Belle Reve?"

A shallow nod, "Yeah… how'd you know I was arrested again?" Chris had been arrested a few times before for his vigilante behavior, but after a mission for A.R.G.U.S. went wrong, he was sentenced to thirty years at the super prison Belle Reve.

He'd used his one phone call on her.

She didn't answer.

After listening to the voicemail he'd left for her, she felt absolutely horrible for not answering. They hadn't talked in years, and yet he used his phone call on her. From there on, she'd made a point of keeping tabs on him through his prison sentence via a security guard she knew, "I keep tabs on you."

"You've been keeping tabs on me?" He asked incredulously, the beer she'd given him stopping short on it's way to his mouth, "How the fuck were you even doing that?"

"I know a guy." She smiled playfully, letting her guard down ever so slightly.

She wasn't sure of Chris at the moment. He was everything to her growing up, but after they lost contact, she assumed his dad had stuffed his nazi propaganda down his throat. In the long run, he was still her best friend growing up. He was to her what Keith was to him. Just like Chris and Keith, their dad had torn them apart.

"You know a guy." Chris murmured into his beer, eyebrow raised slightly, "You uh… you really grew up, huh? You're different." Meaner, he thought to himself. Especially after he witnessed her breakup just minutes earlier.

"Yeah, well… I'm not sixteen anymore." She swirled the wine in her glass, watching it with a sad smile, "You're not very different, are you?"

"Probably not."

It was comforting to know that he hadn't changed much. Somehow, it was like she was a teenager again, just hanging out with her big brother— yet, she still hadn't completely let her guard down because she didn't truly know what this Chris was like, how he'd changed.

"Did you tell your little side-kick about me?" She asked curiously, a small smile quirking up at the corners of her mouth, "He stalked me for a minute after you got arrested, he wanted to see if I would help him break you out.

"Fuck," Chris sighed heavily, shaking his head, "I mentioned you like one time."

"Just one time," she repeated with a chuckle, "It's fine, I'm not like mad or anything. Seemed sweet. Reminded me of someone…. still can't put my finger on it though."

"Sweet?" Chris replied incredulously, "Dude, he's weird as fuck."

"Oh, c'mon. Clearly he thinks you guys are best friends, give him a break."

She thought back to that night he finally approached her. She'd noticed Vigilante haphazardly following her home on a few occasions before he 'saved' her from a mugging and took the opportunity to reveal himself as "Peacemaker's best friend". It was heartwarming the way he talked about her brother, so passionate and determined. He was genuinely serious about breaking Chris out of Belle Reve, but she talked him down from the idea— "You can't help him if you're stuck in prison too" she'd explained.

"Best friends," he murmured, "Bullshit, Eagly is my best friend."

"Eagly is a bird, Chris."

"Yeah, and my best friend."

Finally, she let out a real laugh. Comfortable banter had settled back between them like nothing ever changed, like they were back to being kids again listening to Motley Crue and sharing a beer they stole from their dad. It brought a smile to Chris's face to see her finally opening up to him.

"So, what are you doing now that you're out?" Her head tilted to the side curiously, her wine hovering inches from her lips as she waited for him to respond.

"Probably lay low for awhile, then go back to crime fighting." He shrugged like it was nothing, like he didn't want her catch onto what he let slip.

"Lay low?" She narrowed her eyes, "Chris… did they let you out or did you break out?"

He stiffened, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, "They didn't exactly let me out, but they haven't come for me either, so…"

"What the fuck, Chris?!" She set her wine glass down with a loud clang , reflecting the fury she suddenly felt, "You're a fucking fugitive and showed up on my doorstep?"

"Hey hey, no! I am not a fugitive! They left me in a hospital! I just walked out!"

Tension thickened between them as Chris's sister grew angrier. She wanted to express her anger, but she didn't get the chance to speak. There was no time for her yell, let alone get out a single thought because her front door suddenly swung open under the force of four people rushing into her apartment.

"Christopher Smith!" One of them yelled, rushing into the kitchen with his gun raised. He was an angry looking man, the glare of a man on a mission staring through her and into Chris.

"FUCK!" Chris swore, looking between the three agents furiously, "Come on!"

"You really think we'd let you skip out on your sentence without a catch?" The man raised his eyebrow, gun still pointed, "Sit down, we need to talk."

She glared between each person that broke into her apartment, two women— one, an experienced looking agent and the other a little nervous looking. There were two men as well, sharing similar demeanors as the two women. Except, one of the men snuck off towards her fridge where he began riffling through for food.

"Hey, asshole! Get the fuck out of my fridge!" She snapped, watching as the man glanced over at her with the look of a kicked puppy and a mouth full of olives.

"My blood sugar is low…" He whined, popping another olive into his mouth with a frown.

"Yeah well, those olives are expired." Her eyes narrowed as he spit the olives back into the jar before placing it back where he found it.

"Smith," the other man brought their attention back to him, holstering his gun and calling off the two women, "And… other Smith. We have a mission we need you for. It was only supposed to be Peacemaker we were after, but we could use Chaos too."

Her heart stuttered in her chest as the man referenced her old alter-ego. She hadn't operated under that name since she started college, the fact that this man knew it was her chilled her to her core.

"How did you—"

"They're ARGUS," Chris's face turned in her direction, but his eyes never left the man, "They know everything."

"Focus up, Smiths." The angry man pulled their attention back in, "My name is Mr. Murn. That man is John Economos, that's Agent Harcourt, and Agent Leota Adebayo." He pointed to each respective person who gave Chris and his sister their own greeting, "We need you both for something we're calling Project Butterfly."

***

It was mere hours later that she found herself sitting at a table at Fennel Fields, each person who'd invaded her home now sitting around the table with her and waiting on her brother. She hadn't said a single word to any of them, she didn't want to. They'd just met, they expected her to join in on some fucking mission, and she already had something against them— with good reason. She'd be sending ARGUS an invoice for her splintered doorframe.

"Hi- hey… what's up," a voice next to their table cleared their throat, awkwardly standing just a little too far away from them, "Can I take any plates for you guys?" It was Adrian Chase, Gut Chase's little brother— someone her brother knew from high school.

Adrian, who used to be a gangly and awkward boy, used to follow Gut around like he was the coolest person on planet Earth. Which meant, whenever Gut came over, so would Adrian. She'd always hid in her room because they were all much older than her, but she'd harbored a small crush on him— one that she wasn't sure had gone away, especially considering how much he'd beefed up.

"We're okay, Adrian. Thanks, though." She smiled kindly, adding a little nod to each person at the table to make sure they agreed. When she did speak to him, she'd always been extra kind to him. She wasn't sure he even registered or cared, but all the other boys were mean to him. She wanted to be the one person who wasn't.

"Oh," he seemed a bit disappointed, yet on the inside he couldn't believe she had remembered his name— she was so pretty now, "Okay… just let me know if you need anything." He tacked on her name at the end with an added flair, like a 'I remember your name too' kind of way.

"Thanks, Chase." She nodded to him, watching him scamper away just as her brother finally showed up… in full uniform. Fucking helmet and everything.

"Hey, guys." Her brother squeezed himself into the booth, leather squeaking awkwardly as he moved.

"Why the fuck are you wearing that?" Harcourt grumbled, gesturing to his stupid getup with disdain.

"It's a uniform… we're working." He made a face at her, almost like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "D'you guys eat without me?"

"Yeah, man. You took forever to get here." Economos complained— something he did quite often, she noted.

Chris rolled his eyes and waved over a waitress, "Hey, sweetcheeks! Yeah, can I get the zoodles?"

"Sure thing, hon. I'll get 'em right out to ya." The poor waitress quickly took his order and disappeared, leaving the table to stare at Chris in disgust. His sister wasn't surprised. That's exactly how her father acted, so in turn, that's how Chris learned to act— even if he wasn't fully aware he was in the wrong.

"Seriously, Chris?" She murmured, nudging him under the table with her foot.

"What? They're zucchini. It's healthy."

"We're not talking about what you ordered, man!" Adebayo backed her up as she shook her head, "Sweetcheeks? Really?"

"What?" He became defensive, feeling offended that they would invalidate him like this, "She has cherubic cheeks! It's a compliment."

"Sweetcheeks doesn't refer to her face, dumbass." She glared down her oblivious brother, watching the realization dawn over him before he quickly returned to that self-assured look.

"Well, I wasn't looking, but I'm sure her ass was nice too. She has a good figure."

Another eye roll passed around the group before Murn grabbed their attention back to the mission, "Smith's, these are for you." He handed them each a manila folder, nodding to each of them seriously. He quickly grew angry as Chris immediately opened it despite the contents being extremely sensitive.

"Don't-" his sister slammed the folder shut and gave him a glare that the rest of the table reflected, "Don't open that shit in public, dumbass."

"Take it home and read it, Smith." Murn sighed, dragging a hand down his face. To which Chris merely shrugged and set down the file.

"Why is that busboy staring at us again?" Harcourt questioned, looking over to Adrian once more. Everyone looked over to see Adrian give Chris a supportive fist pump and big dopey smile.

"He's got mental issues." Chris whispered, earning a hard kick from his sister, "What? He does."

"He also has a crush on your sister." Adebayo teased, sending her a wink in support.

"What? On my sister?" Chris laughed like he'd heard the most absurd thing in the world, "Yeah, that's likely. I mean, she's not ugly, but…" he muttered like she couldn't hear him, "she's not the prettiest of the bunch.

Another kick.

"Dude, fuck off."

"Can we get back on task please?" Mr. Murn seemed to be getting more exasperated by the second, glaring at the plate of zucchini green zoodles placed in front of Chris. He nodded to the waitress before dropping his polite expression the moment she walked away, "Go home and read the file."

She nodded to Murn before forcing her brother out of the bench so she could take her file and leave. She needed to get back to her apartment for peace and quiet— aka space from her overbearing and obnoxious brother, and now the team of asshole agents that recruited her.

As she weaved her way through the restaurant, she couldn't help the glances she made through the room in an attempt to spot Adrian. She didn't want to admit it, but when Adebayo joked about Adrian having a crush on her, it made her heart race. It even made her wonder— no, hope that it was more than just a joke.

"Shit-" She stumbled back a step as she walked into a poor busboy carrying a bucket of dirty plates. He looked damn near ready to chew her out when Adrian rushed over, "I'm so sorry, dude. I wasn't paying attention."

"Hey! Daniel!" Adrian snapped at the other busboy, "Maybe watch where you're walking? We have a rule here about not walking into customers." He placed his hands on his hips in an attempt to seem authoritative, leaning forwards, "Fuck off, man."

The busboy- Daniel- just rolled his eyes at Adrian before muttering an apology to her and walking away.

"That's not actually a rule," Adrian smiled at her, looking proud of himself, "I just said that to make him think he could get in trouble. It really should be a rule though. We should not be walking into customers like that, it's bad for business."

"Adrian," she chuckled softly, "It's okay, we were probably both at fault… thank you, though. That was very kind of you."

His smile widened, "Yeah, duh. Of course. How could I just stand by and let you get assaulted like that. That guy deserves to lose his job— I bet that wasn't even his first time running into a customer. Man, we really should crack down on this."

She stood there, smiling like an idiot as Adrian ran through all of the possible scenarios in which that could have gone south— a knife jumping out of the bin and stabbing her, the bin falling on her and breaking a bone, etc. It was detailed and completely unrealistic what he delved into, but she stood there and took it in like he was reasonable in warning her about the dangers of wandering busboys.

"Anyways," he shrugged, still smiling widely, "I should probably get back to work before my boss gets on me for not working… I'll see you later, crocodile."

She furrowed her eyebrows with a chuckle, "I think its alligator— ya know, since it rhymes with later."

"No…?" He scoffed, giving her an unintentional condescending look, "It's definitely crocodile. I should know, I know a bunch of crocodile facts. You should quiz me."

"Yeah?" she laughed, "I'll have to take you up on that sometime… maybe you should give me your number. You know, so I can call and quiz you."

Adrian looked like a kid in a candy shop, completely lighting up at the prospect of getting her phone number, "Uh yeah, I can do that." He whipped out a pen and paper from his apron and jotted down his number before handing it over with a flourish.

"Thanks, Ad." She smiled softly, taking it from him with an uncharacteristic wink, "I'll call you."

"Yeah. You do that. You just… type in those numbers and give me a good ol' ring." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as she walked away, grateful she probably didn't hear the last part of that.

As she walked out to the parking lot, phone number in hand, she read the digits to herself a few times over. She swore she'd seen this number before— did she already get his number? Surely not or she would've gotten closer to him already. She shook off her confusion and stuffed the number into her pocket, unlocking her car and getting in, smile still lingering on her face.

The drive home wasn't long, which she was grateful for. She hadn't bothered turning on her radio or putting in a CD, instead she drove home in silence and continued to think about her interaction with Adrian. He was always so refreshingly awkward. It was a much appreciated divergence from the average overconfident dickhead she normally ran into. Which is why for the entire drive home she continued to think about that dopey smile he always wore and the way he seemed to have filled out since the last time she'd seem him… and he really bulked up. She could feel herself get hot as she thought about what his biceps would look like in a tighter shirt as he picked up those heavy dish baskets, muscles rippling behind the fabric.

"Shit-" She blinked back into reality and realized she'd begun to slowly drift towards the side of the road without realizing, "Note to self: Don't think about biceps while driving."

It was when she finally arrived home that she sat down on her couch to punch in Adrian's number and shoot him a text. Nervously, she glanced between the paper and her phone, typing in each digit only to find one of her contacts remaining steadily in the suggested bar. Then, when she'd had the whole number punched in, she continued to cross check each number: On the paper she would count out the first three digits, then look at the contact on her phone… the same digits, then back to the paper for the last four. Each number completely identical, and yet before now these two contacts would have been two very different people.

When her brother went to prison and she was first introduced to him, he'd given her his number in case of emergency. Now, here she was, staring at the number of someone else entirely and coming to the realization of one very big secret.

Adrian Chase is Vigilante and without realizing, he'd completely blown his cover by giving her his number for the second time.

She was now left with a very important decision: tell him and risk a potentially violent fallout or pretend she didn't know a thing.