#He shouldn’t be learning how to shoot a deadly weapon

[sunnyxjarrus]

Ottie gets to learn how to shoot a gun

Dia is going to teach my little boy how to shoot a gun

in a much nicer way than her father taught her

she’s adopted him

I’m treating my book with negative chapters (a few handwritten chapters out of order) like it has an actual fandom knowing it doesn’t but maybe if I keep blabbing here you’ll be as attached as I am

[pluviophile-imagines]

Shiggy hand 🕴🕴

I gotchu anon

You think, maybe, that you’re being a little heavy-handed (pun absolutely not intended, but hilarious nonetheless).

Really, it’s the oldest trick in the book. You used to scoff and roll your eyes at the girls who would do it with their crushes in high school—oh, if they could see you now, a secret villain trying to make a pass at your infamous boss.

To be fair, Shigaraki’s hands are quite nice, large and slightly veiny but in a nice way, with long fingers that aren’t quite spindly or skeletal but just thick enough. They’re deadly, though; if his touch were less lethal you’d have done this weeks ago. Instead, it’s taken days of planning with Magne and Toga to get a solid plan in the works. But you’re certain it’ll be worth it—it’s an investment, a present you’re hoping both you and he will be thankful for in the future.

Magne informs you as you walk into the bar tonight that the package you ordered had arrived, and that Toga had already delivered it to Shigaraki. He’s not out in the main area with the others, but he’ll make his entrance now that you’ve arrived. You’re pretty sure past the first week of joining up he’d never missed a single day you’d visited (and to be fair, that could be written off as simply being a good leader, considering your appearances are a lot more rare than those of your other associates save perhaps for Dabi, but you like to think he wants to be around you).

Sure enough, not even three minutes after you make yourself comfortable at a small table in the corner away from where everyone else is sitting, Shigaraki stalks into the bar with a small package held in one hand, pinky up like always; you’ve always found that cute.

“What’s that?” You try to act coy as he comes to find a chair across the table you’re seated at. You’re pretty sure he knows you’re behind this; he’s not a fool, and Toga’s not the quietest of your colleagues (though none of them are exactly quiet right now as they greet their leader quite loudly and he solidly ignores them in favor of, well, you).

“Toga gave it to me.” He’s willing to play along at least, and you’re fairly certain that’s a good sign. Occasionally when you set him up like this he’ll be a bit more amused. If anything, he looks more nervous; he’s not wearing Father, but he’s keeping his head low, letting his hair drape over and provide some cover for his crimson eyes.

Five fingers brush against the shipping envelope, quick and efficient, no need for a knife. A single sealed package is left on the table in the dusty remains. He picks it up, two fingers raised this time, and inspects it.

“She said they were anti-fouling gloves.”

“Artists use them.” You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand and looking up at your boss through your eyelashes. “They reduce smudging for traditional mediums, friction with tablets…”

They’re black, made of nylon, covering his pinky and ring finger and velcroing around the wrist. Costing less than $10, you’d actually gotten three pairs, because you’re pretty sure there’ll be a bit of a learning curve getting them on.

“You seem to know an awful lot about a present Toga got me.”

He definitely knows you’re behind this, then, but still no clear indication of if he’s put two-and-two together as to why, or even if he’s more excited or nervous for what you have planned.

Instead of getting yourself worked up thinking about that, you reach forward and gently take the packaged gloves from his hands, busying yourself with opening them.

“I think they’ll suit you.” It’s a bit of a struggle; kind of embarrassing, but you play it off by ignoring it as you take out your pocket knife and cut the package entirely, leaving you with a pair of identical black swaths of fabric. “There we go.”

You don’t allow yourself to hesitate or give him a chance to take them from your hand. Dropping on, you reach forward to take hold of his left wrist, pulling it towards you so that you hold his hand over the table right between the pair of you.

Shigaraki’s hands are weapons, this you know; you’ve seen him in action plenty of times between sparring and watching the news. You’ve never quite had the chance to touch them like this—actually, now that you think of it, you don’t know if you’ve ever really touched them at all. He’s not the most tactile person; even when you’ve sparred with him he hasn’t bothered to help you up.

This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have thought you could get away with it.

But when you pause halfway to pulling the glove over his fingers, he doesn’t let you retreat. His free hand comes up, three fingers holding you hostage so you can’t set down the glove.

Your breath hitches. You glance up to see him staring at you, face no longer hidden behind that blue hair and eyes locked on yours, and the intense look in those irises makes your heart beat a little faster. You can’t quite place what emotion he’s trying to get across, something like anxiety or anticipation or excitement. He doesn’t say anything, but the message is loud and clear: don’t stop. Keep going.

So you do.

You pull the glove all the way onto his wrist and velcro it closed. His gaze moves to it now, and you watch as he slowly moves to plant four fingers onto the top of the table, then solidly presses his thumb down. Nothing happens. There’s a little hint of a smile that quirks his mouth as his eyes dart back up to you, then immediately to where your own hands lay laced together on the table before you.

That’s enough of an invitation, you decide. You lift your right hand just as Shigaraki removes his left from the table—you’re pretty sure he’s caught on—and raise it so that it hovers, almost touching.

Then you press your palm to his, fingers bowed back so they still don’t touch. He’s warmer than you expected; you’re not sure why you expected his hands to be cold, but somehow you did, and it’s a pleasant surprise that they’re not.

His eyes never leave where your hands touch, anchored there, but you’re captivated by his face. You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow and decide to go further.

One by one, you press your fingertips to his (or rather, as much as you can, because his are long and on a notable few yours don’t quite reach), pinky and then ring, followed by middle and pointer, and then thumb. Still gauging his reaction, you let your fingers rest fully, hand entirely pressed flush to his.

You hear him sigh; a quiet sound, one you’re pretty sure you weren’t meant to hear but cherish nonetheless. He’s stark still, stiff and unmoving, and you’re floored by how much you like this simple touch.

Is it intimate? You can’t really tell. It’s strange; you’re pretty sure those high school girls who flirt this way aren’t this stunned by it, but to be fair none of them are doing it to an S-class villain whose hand could kill them with a simple slip-up. Your heart is beating fast; you wonder, fleetingly, stupidly, if he can hear it. Now that your fingertips are also pressed against his, his warmth is more obvious, sending gooseflesh rising up your arms.

It’s dumb, you think, insecurity sinking into you. Shigaraki probably thinks you’re a fucking airhead. But the words come automatically; you’re possessed by the spirit of those little high school girls you used to envy as a first year and they spill out as if drilled into your mind.

“Wow. Your hands are so big compared to mine…”

Behind you, all the way at the other side of the bar, Dabi lets out an emphatic groan. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You whip around towards him, shooting him a glare and flipping him the bird to get a lazy eye roll in response. Ordinarily you’d get at least a little huff of laughter from Shigaraki for that, but he stays uncharacteristically silent, which pulls your attention solidly away from Dabi and back to the man you really want to be talking to because damn if that didn’t make you all the more insecure.

You’re not sure if you’ve given Shigaraki or yourself too much credit, but this was clearly a bad idea. Either you’re too awkward to pull this off or he’s too awkward to pick up your signals. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. Either way, you can feel your face burning.

You move to pull away, removing your palm just barely, but Shigaraki’s hand stops you. It follows, as if desperate to keep you there, and in the same motion his fingers shift.

He moves them to the right just slightly, aligning with the gaps between yours, and then tentatively threads both of your fingers together, resting the pads of his on the back of your hand.

Your gaze shoots up from your now linked hands to his face. His Adam’s apple bobs again. He might not have Father to cover him, but he’s tipped his head further downward so that curtain of pale blue hair shields his whole face from you—you can’t tell if he’s still staring at your joined hands or if he’s moved on, but you’re decently certain he’s still looking at you.

“I can’t wear them often or I’ll get out of practice going without them, and I can’t risk that,” he says softly, almost reverently; you get the feeling he might be talking about you. His head tilts up slightly and you decide, quite suddenly, that you’re very glad he’s been covering his face. He’s giving you a look that takes your breath away. The way his red eyes are wide and blown and soft like a villain’s should never be is not something you think you want anyone else to see. It’s yours; you want to keep it all to yourself.

He gives a little squeeze and you swallow thickly as his mouth quirks up, just barely. “But maybe I’ll keep them on just a bit longer.”

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

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S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[terrm9]

Count Me In (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 3 800 Warnings: none. this is just pure fluff and I like to believe that there are also funny parts. 

Author’s note: I had an idea about the gang roasting Ethan for a long time and Chapter 17 made me write this (set some days after the chapter). It was supposed to be just the gang making fun of Ethan, but in the end I got a little bit carried away and it’s basically Bryce Lahela appreciation post oops

Getting dressed for their roommates Sunday brunch has been filled with a newfound nervousness this Sunday. Yesterday evening, as Sienna and Aurora were discussing whether they would make waffles or pancakes and Jackie added that Bryce and Kyra would be joining them, so they need to make more of anything that would be served, Elijah subtly nodded towards the girls and then turned to Chiara with a wide grin on his lips.

“We were actually thinking about inviting Dr. Ramsey too, now that you guys are official and everything. We know that Sundays are his days off too.”

Chiara’s eyes widened at the offer, not sure if they were joking or not.

They were not.

And so now she was sitting in her room, ready to eat and drink while also comforting her… boyfriend? Partner? What was he?

Whatever he was, she was comforting Ethan through the phone, secretly smiling at his nervous rambling about the wine he was planning to bring and sweater he was wearing (‘Is it too formal? Or should I wear something more formal? My white Oxford?’)

“Deep breaths, Ethan. Jackie is probably going to stay in her pajamas the whole day, so there really isn’t a dresscode. Just wear whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“Okay. Yes, of course, whatever I am comfortable in,” he muttered, and Chiara could hear Jenner’s barking in the background and then a soft thud, muting the dog’s calling. “I am leaving the apartment now, so I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

As Chiara hung up, she heard new voices coming from the living room, indicating that Kyra and Bryce were already there. She decided to take the chance and talk to her friends before Ethan comes.

After hugging both Kyra and Bryce and helping Sienna set the table, Chiara took a deep breath and said: “Ethan will be here any minute now. Please, please, please guys, be nice to him, okay? He is so nervous, and I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

Bryce smiled sweetly and nodded, while Sienna replied: “Don’t worry Chiara, we will be nice, stuffing his mouth with the best pancakes he’s ever eaten and smiling politely. No worries.”

“Exactly,” Kyra nodded in agreement. “We would never do anything to embarrass you.”

“Or him,” Jackie added, smiling all too innocently for Chiara to believe a word of what they were saying.

Before she could inquire any further, the soft knock on the front door disturbed them and all she could do was to shoot everyone a deadly glare before opening a door.

“Hey, handsome,” she whispered with a smile as she spotted Ethan standing in the hall. He was wearing a knitted cream-color sweater and dark jeans, a bottle of wine in his hand.

He kissed her softly before stepping into the apartment, trying his best to maintain his usual attitude of composed, distant Dr. Ramsey they all knew.

I am still their boss. I shouldn’t be nervous about having an early lunch with them.

“Dr. Ramsey!” Sienna jumped out of living room before Chiara could even try to calm him down. “We are all so happy you decided to join us. Come in, everything is ready.”

Glancing at Chiara one more time, Ethan moved to the living room, where all of Chiara’s friends have already been seated around large dining table.

The room was filled with sweet aroma of freshly-made pancakes, maple syrup and raspberry jam, whipped cream and coffee. He handed the bottle of wine to Sienna.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he finally said as he sat down on the chair next to Chiara. “The pancakes look delicious. Which one of you is such a good cook? I know for sure it’s not Chiara,” he couldn’t help but tease.

She smacked his arm lightly but didn’t say anything, knowing rather well that Ethan was right.

“Sienna is the best cook and baker of all of us,” Elijah smiled just as Sienna made her way to the table, the bottle of wine already open. “This is hers and Aurora’s work.”

“Yeah, I was even more terrible cook than Chiara when I moved in and ever since Sienna discovered the fact, she’s been giving me private lessons. Today, I’ve learned to make pancakes,” Aurora chuckled.

With everyone seated, they started to fill their plates with pancakes and fruit and chocolate chips, the room filled with sounds of cutlery meeting plates and occasional sipping of wine.

“This wine is really good, Dr. Ramsey,” Jackie nodded in approval. “I never took you for an expert on wine.”

He chuckled softly at that and after swallowing his bite, he answered: “I am not, but I thought you aren’t such big fans of whiskey as I am. Few years ago, it was the last year of my residency I think, I saved the man who owns vineyards in Tuscany and he sends me few bottles of the wine every year, no matter how many times I tell him there is no need to do so. I brought some more, it’s in the trunk of my car. I’ll go grab it.”

Chiara beamed at his words, thankful to her friends for actually sticking to their words and acting nice. Ethan’s hand found Chiara’s knee under the table and he gave it a light squeeze, their own way of communicating without attracting the attention of others.

Another silence followed, however not an awkward one, rather simply comfortable silence between people enjoying the good food and company of each other.

Thank God they are not embarrassing us-

Before she could finish her thankful thought, Bryce cleared his throat and spoke.

“Surely you understand, Dr. Ramsey, that now that you and Chiara are officially together, we need to ask you some questions to make sure that your intentions with Chiara are absolutely pure.”

Ethan swallowed the pancake a little bit harder than he normally would, but he knew how important these people were to Chiara and also how important Chiara was to him, and so he simply nodded.

Meanwhile, Chiara put her fork down loudly and exclaimed: “What the fuck, Bryce?”

She looked around the table only to see all of her friends smiling mischievously and it all clicked.

They invited Ethan for the brunch so that they could roast him. That was also the reason why Bryce and Kyra made sure to come too.

“What? Your mum asked as to do so,” Bryce shrugged.

“No she didn’t,” Chiara shook her head, throwing murderous glances at her so called best friend Bryce Lahela.

“Okay, no, she didn’t, I made that up,” he admitted, grinning. “But I am sure she will be happy to know that your boyfriend passed the test.”

“Just shut up, Lahela. We are leaving,” she gritted her teeth. She could feel her cheeks flushing and hot at the word ‘boyfriend’ that Bryce used so easily. Even she didn’t dare to call Ethan her boyfriend yet!

She turned her head to look at Ethan and to her surprise, he was leaning against the chair, amused smile on his lips.

As he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, he said: “It’s okay, Chiara. I can answer the questions. I am an open book.”

At that, Chiara snorted loudly and murmured: “No you are not.”

“Bring the questions on then, Dr. Lahela,” Ethan nodded in the young surgeon’s direction. “As long as they are not too private, I am pretty sure I can pass your test.”

He wasn’t sure, of course. He was even more nervous than before and all the terrible scenarios ran through his head faster than Jenner ran while hounding squirrel in the park.

But to fake a confidence was his only weapon right now and he made sure to use it.

“Great, I’ll start then,” Bryce smiled even wider and Chiara clenched her hands into fists to not to wipe that smirk off his face. No matter how hard Bryce tried to explain that what they were about to do was for her own good, she knew that her friends stupidly enjoyed the position they were in right now.

Because right now, Ethan Ramsey wasn’t their boss. Right now, he was Chiara’s boyfriend and an intruder in their group and they could tease him and roast him and use all those sarcastic comments he’s been using their whole intern year on them, on him.

She crossed her arms on her chest and waited for Bryce’s question.

“I’ll start lightly, we don’t want to scare you in the beginning after all. We all know you are an outstanding diagnostician – I mean, even I have read parts of the textbook you wrote – and that’s pretty cool, sure. But what are the other things you are good at? Can you dance? Sing? Swim? Can you offer more than just your abilities to diagnose everyone?”

“There’s no ‘just’ in his abilities to diagnose,” Chiara barked at him, the need to protect Ethan stronger than anything else. She couldn’t let them scare him. She knew better then them about his habit of running away when things get too hard or too uncomfortable and right now, the amount of ‘uncomfortable’ in the room was enough even for her to run away.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have too much time to do anything big other than being doctor, the free time is precious commodity for me. Answering your suggestions, I can dance, yes. Singing? Probably not, but I have never had a chance to hear anyone’s opinion as I don’t sing in front people. And yes, I can swim too. Other than that, I like to think that I am rather good cook-“

“Oh, you cook?” Elijah interrupted him. “For how many people do you usually cook?”

“Just myself, usually,” Ethan shrugged, confusion clear on his face. On the other hand, Chiara knew very well where Elijah was heading and despite being terribly angry at them, she had to grin. “Sometimes for two people, when someone comes over for dinner.”

“Do you think you would could cook for, let’s say, eight people?”

“I think I would be capable of doing that, yes.”

“Great! You are welcome to crash in anytime you want and cook anything you would like to for us. I am so tired of living on ramen and plain pasta,” Elijah sighed and at that, everyone let out a short laugh. “However, sorry to disturb you. What else besides cooking?”

“I don’t know. I am good at learning languages, I guess. I speak German, Italian, French, Spanish and at the moment am learning Swedish.”

“Holy crap, that’s a lot of languages,” Kyra whistled under her breath.

“I choose wisely on what I spend my free time on and what occupies my mind. But when I choose something – learning a language, learning a new recipe, dating someone – I make it my priority and I am trying to give my everything into it. I once said to Chiara that I make it my mission to be good at everything I try and so I can assure you that I am willing to try my hardest to be a boyfriend Chiara deserves,” he answered nonchalantly, looking right into Bryce’s eyes at the word boyfriend.

He smiled at Chiara and kissed her temple, while Sienna whispered something like ‘that was so beautiful’ at the same time Jackie muttered ‘that was so sweet I might get cavities’.

“You are doing better than we expected, Dr. Ramsey,” Kyra smiled with devilish spark in her eyes. “But now it’s my turn to ask questions. You made sure to let us know that you, indeed, are capable of bunch of things but there also must be something you cannot do. Something you are seriously absolutely terrible at.”

Chiara couldn’t help it – she was beginning to enjoy this little show. It has probably everything to do with the fact that Ethan was handling the situation so well and wasn’t showing any signs of an escape.

“There is one thing that comes to my mind but Chiara already knows about it.”

“Oooh, so it’s a matter of an… intimate nature? You don’t have to share that, of course.”

Ethan choked on the sip of a wine he was just having and his eyes widened at the obvious misinterpretation of his words. The tips of his ears turned bright red and Chiara – more and more relaxed every minute – had to add her friends that have been viciously laughing at the sight.

“No! Jesus Christ that’s absolutely not what I was saying. I just thought it wouldn’t be important to share as Chiara already knows about it and still decided to give me a chance. But if you must know, I am seriously absolutely terrible at making… pancakes. I never get them right. That’s why I am so impressed by whomever made these,” he gestured at the table, where the rest of pancakes laid.

“I can teach you!” Sienna squealed. “It’s seriously so easy once you get it.”

“I am afraid it will not work, Dr. Trinh. My father tried to teach me, Youtube tutorial tried to teach me and still, my every attempt fails.”

“Please,” Aurora stepped into the conversation. “If she could teach me, she can definitely teach you. Next brunch, you are learning with her and I will be watching,” she grinned.

Aurora was nervous about this brunch. She was excited for Chiara and she was even more excited to enjoy a little bit of fun by teasing Ramsey, but even more she was terrified of what it would feel like to talk to him about anything else but work, knowing that he dated her aunt for six years.

Harper has made it clear, several times, that her time with Ethan has been more about physical attraction and supporting each other’s careers than affection, just as she admitted to Aurora that she knows Ethan Ramsey and she has known that his relationship with Chiara wasn’t simply professional for a long time. When Aurora asked her about her opinion on the new couple, Harper simply smirked and said that she was happy Ethan found someone who could tame his stubbornness.

Knowing that neither Harper nor Ethan felt any kind of hatred, jealousy or anger towards each other, she felt more relaxed about him coming as her friend’s partner. Yet, until this moment, when she teased him herself, about something as mundane as pancakes, she couldn’t get rid of a certain tension in her body.

But now, laughing at his expression as she suggested that he should learn to make pancakes with Sienna, she knew – even without any further investigation – that Ethan was a good man for Chiara.

“Okay, so you can’t make pancakes. Bruh,” Kyra rolled her eyes. “What else? You can’t be good at everything.”

“I am also rather terrible at drawing. Every time I am with a child patient with a broken leg or arm, I just hope they don’t ask me to draw something on their cast. For so many years I refused to draw anything and when they insisted, I tried to draw what they asked me to draw and they were so disappointed. Some of them even cried, that’s how ugly those drawing were,” he chuckled to himself, deep in his own thoughts and memories. “I decided to step it up a little bit a few years ago and after many, many Youtube tutorials, I can now draw a decent cat, dog, princess, car and dragon. So now, there are five different pens in the pocket of my coat and every time a child asks me to draw something on their cast, I pull the pens out and say ‘Okay little buddy, I have a red pen that can draw a nice car. I have a pink one that can draw a princess. I have a blue one for a dog and an orange one, which can draw a cat. And at last I have a green one and that one can draw an impressive dragon. You have to choose one of the pens’. Usually, that does the trick and for the last three years, nobody cried after I finished the drawing.”

He finished with a small laugh and looked around the table, only to find Bryce, Jackie and Elijah grinning, Aurora smiling softly, Sienna wiping her tears with a napkin and Chiara staring right back at him, her eyes filled with so much affection it warmed his heart.

“I wanted to hear something embarrassing and you proved that you are even better man than we expected. That’s not fair, Dr. Ramsey.”

“I think it’s okay for all of you to call me Ethan at this point,” he replied, ignoring Kyra’s compliment. He didn’t want to blush. “I probably won’t even be your attending much longer.”

There was a slight shift in the mood as the weight of his word settled down on them. Edenbrook was doomed and they all knew that the damage was beyond repair at this point, but right now, they didn’t want to talk about that.

Therefore Jackie decided to step in and turned to Ethan: “Okay, Ethan. I know you said you don’t have spare free time, but when you do and you decide not to learn anything, when you just want to relax, if you know what that word means, what do you do? How do you relax?”

“I have a dog which needs to be walked twice a day. I take him with me when I go for my morning run and then I walk with him through the park every evening I can. It makes an hour in my day, but it’s a relaxing hour. When I decide to relax at home, I usually read a book. Historical novels and poetry, mostly.”

Jackie wanted so badly to find something in his answer that she could tease him about, but really, there was nothing. This man was both, pretty impressing and pretty boring.

“You are a successful, famous, rich doctor,” Sienna smiled at him. “So, cards on the table now. What is your weakness? You know, those vices that successful, rich people have? What is it that you can’t resist? Beautiful women? Fast cars? Yachts? Golfing? Watches that cost more than my kidney? Tell us.”

Chiara shook her head in amusement, not expecting that kind of question from Sienna, of all people. However, she was curious too. She knew it wouldn’t be yachts nor golfing, but what are his vices? And so she didn’t even try to salvage him from answering.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that I have a weakness for one particular beautiful woman,” he answered without missing a beat, pulling Chiara closer to him. “Other than that, I don’t think something will come to my mind. Yachts and golf, Christ no. I despise those activities. Fast cars? There might be something about that. I have a dream car, Mercedes C 300. I almost bought it, but it’s sedan and it’s too small for me. There was no space for my legs and getting in and out would be a torture. As my father like to say, I am too tall for my dream car. But I like the one I have now, it’s a reliable car,” he shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Yes, his car was incredibly expensive and probably luxurious, but he bought it because it was elegant and reliable and didn’t attract too much attention.

“If I would have to choose a vice of mine, it would probably be whiskey in the end. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much money I am willing to pay for a good bottle of whiskey.”

“Okay, you are a decent guy with a brain of Tesla and almost as little bad attributes as me,” Bryce sighed dramatically. “Do you at least snore?”

“Okay Bryce, now you are just nosy,” Aurora laughed. “You don’t need to know that.”

“I don’t, but Chiara does! She is going to spend nights with him!”

“I already know that, Bryce,” Chiara rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t.”

Ethan lowered himself so that nobody else but Chiara could hear him and whispered: “But you do.”

She turned to him with her eyebrows raised, the silent question visible on her face.

Are you serious, Ramsey?

“Okay, I guess we should let you go for now. Next time, I’ll be asking about your teenage years, med school parties you attended, if you ever got arrested and the sex positions you prefer,” Bryce grinned, putting his hands behind his head as he leaned into the chair.

“I am not going to discuss the last one with you.”

“So you just agreed to discuss the other topics!”

“No.”

Bryce pouted at him and disappointed, added: “Okay, I won’t bring a marriage and kids up, either. I will probably leave those for Diana.”

“Diana?!” Chiara sang out. “Since when are you on first name terms with my mother, Lahela?”

“It just happened,” Bryce shrugged carelessly, finishing his glass of wine. “I told you the women can’t resist my charm. She is no exception.”

Chiara wanted to make a remark about not needing to know about the charm Bryce used on her mother, but stopped herself when she noticed how Bryce’s face was slightly pink and he still held the empty glass near his lips to hide the fact.

She knew what it was all about. Bryce Lahela was her best friend and knew all about her secrets and problems and also everything about her past. And she knew about his.

When she decided to spend her two free weeks in the summer after her intern year back home, in San Francisco, she invited Bryce to go with her. He agreed gladly and while their fourteen days in Chiara’s house, he became incredibly close with both, her mother and her younger sister Alicia.

For Bryce, Diana Ray was a mother he never had. They called each other at least once a week, he would send her postcards from all of his trips and she would send him presents for Christmas and birthday in return.

For Diana, Bryce Lahela was a son she lost six years ago. Chiara’s brother Liam, along with her father died in a car crash and being with Bryce felt like being with her brother again. And she knew that her mum felt the same way. After all those years, she had a ‘young handsome man’ to call, to care for, to be proud of again.

A pang of guilt found its way into Chiara’s chest as she realized that this whole brunch idea was Bryce’s idea and that it might have been an opportunity to roast Ethan for others, but for Bryce, it was exactly what he said it was. It was making sure that his little sister would be taken care of with the man she chose.

It was making sure that this time, Ramsey wouldn’t break her heart and leave.

‘We need to make sure that your intentions with Chiara are absolutely pure.’

He meant it.

taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers​ @ohchoices​ @adrex04

[walkerwords]

“In Her Sights” F!Reader & Negan (Daryl x Reader Background)

Summary: You are a former special ops member. When Negan killed Glenn and Abraham you were on a run for weapons. When you learned of what happened, you were pissed, especially since Negan now had your husband, Daryl. When Negan comes for week one pick up, you are waiting for him, unseen and with demands.

Word Count: 2250

Warnings: cursing

Song I Wrote To: “Bloodlust” by The Phantoms

Note: some things are different, just go with it! :) Requests are welcome, go ahead and send prompts for everything TWD.

-------

The rumble of the trucks alerted the scouts on the edge of the perimeter. 

Tobin immediately called in the arrival of the Saviors. You wasted no time in getting into position. Since you had arrived back in Alexandria and learned about Abraham and Glenn, the rage that you normally kept at bay boiled in your chest. Then Rick had told you about Daryl. You had destroyed half of your bedroom when hearing of that particular news.

The guilt was heavy in your heart. You were their wild card, the one that always kept them safe. You were the one who took out the snipers at Grady and even most of the Termites that threatened them when Carol attacked Terminus. It was your job to be invisible. You and Abraham were the two veterans of the group and while he took charge with war tactics, it was you, the former special-ops member, to take out their enemies unseen and show their true strength. 

However, the night that Maggie was sick and needed to get to Hilltop, You were out on a run to a nearby Air Force base with Jesus. You needed a few extra trinkets to work on your weapons and incendiary devices. When you had returned home to the news, you swore you wouldn’t leave them undefended again. 

You made your way to the vantage point in the trees. You and Sasha had managed to camouflage it perfectly with the help of Eugene and Carl. It was invisible unless you knew what you were looking for and it gave you the perfect view of the front gate and the hostiles that approached Alexandria. You readied your rifle, adjusting the silencer on it as well as the laser sight. Through your scope, you could see both sides of the wall. Rick and Aaron were waiting for your orders. Aaron on the ground and Rick hidden on the watch post. Two other weapons were at your side on the platform as well as three soaked sheets of Walker blood to detract the Dead from circling your hiding spot. 

You trained your weapon on the approaching vehicles, counting the Saviors and gaining a perspective on their weaponry. While they may have more ammo, they didn’t know about you, and Rick was careful to keep it that way for as long as possible. The Saviors exited their trucks and readied their weapons as the boss finally made an appearance. You sneered as Negan strutted towards the gate. His leather jacket hugging his broad chest and his infamous baseball bat hitched onto his shoulder as if he was putting on a show. 

“Little pig! Little pig! Let me in!” He bellowed and you switched on your laser sight. You aimed it right at Negan’s heart. Immediately, the man to his right pointed it out. The man with the pornstache, Rick called him Simon, pointed to his boss, taking a step back. Negan glanced down and anger filled his face. “What the shit!” he yelled. 

“Aaron,” you said into your walkie and the gate slowly slid open. The Saviors all turned their weapons on Aaron who ignored them and walked towards Negan. He held out the walkie to the leader without saying a word. Negan stared at him, unmoving, so you raised the laser to right between his eyes. Simon grabbed the walkie and offered it to his boss, a warning look in his eyes. Negan snatched the radio and Aaron walked back inside the walls, shutting the large gate behind him. Aaron nodded to you and you then lowered your sight back onto the man’s sternum. 

“What the fuck is this, Rick?” Negan said into the walkie. 

“This isn’t Rick, asshole,” you said calmly into the radio. Negan looked around, trying to guess where the shooter was, but he would never find you. Even if he discerned where you were held up, you had activated traps around the tree. The Saviors would be blown sky high before they even got the chance to reach you.

“Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” Negan asked, slipping back into his cocky performance. 

“That’s not your concern,” you said, your teeth grinding together. “You know, we haven’t met, but I like to think we have something in common, Negan.” 

“And what’s that?” he asked, gripping his bat harder. 

“The whole ‘we are Negan’ bullshit. That’s how I work too. I’m everywhere you sick son of a bitch. The only reason you are still alive is because when you slaughtered my friends, I was out on a weapons run. If I had been in that RV, your first roadblock would be a pile of charred bones right now.”

“You’re real brave to threaten me, sweetheart,” he growled. “Why don’t you come on out and we can discuss this like grown-ups?”

“I prefer to keep my distance,” you responded. 

“Sounds a bit cowardly to me,” Negan spat back. 

“At least I didn’t kill an unarmed soldier and the husband of a pregnant woman who kneeled at your feet as she struggled to keep her unborn child alive,” you returned with as much venom as you could muster, feeling both Glenn and Abraham’s loss in your chest. Negan had gone quiet, looking at Simon.

“She was pregnant?” Negan finally asked. 

“No, she just had a bad case of food poisoning. God if you were even still remotely human you would have asked what was wrong with her. Not that any of that matters now. Maggie is dead along with her son.” Negan hung his head slightly as he heard the news. You, of course, knew that Maggie was fine. The widow was now at Hilltop with Sasha and Enid as she finished her pregnancy. However, Negan didn’t need to know that. “Congratulations, asshole, you killed a pregnant woman.” 

“What the hell do you want?” Negan fired back. “What game are you playing?”

“This isn’t a game, Negan, this is just how things are going to be from now on. I have some demands and you’re going to meet them or you die.” 

“Again with the threats, darlin’,” he said, still searching the trees. It was silent for a moment. “Did you disappear on me?” You raised the laser sight to his throat. 

“I know you have Daryl,” you said, your tone deadly calm. 

“I do,” Negan said smugly. “What interest is he to you?” You watched as the man on his left, Dwight, you figured, glance back at one of the trucks. Even at this distance, you could see the unmistakable mop of hair of your husband. 

“You’re going to release him,” you told him, “You are going to let him go and you will return both his vest and his crossbow or I start shooting.” Negan glanced around, nearly laughing amongst his Saviors as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Here’s a question for you mystery lady,” he said, taking a few steps towards the main gate. “Who is he to you and why shouldn’t I just put a bullet in his brain right now?” You flexed your hands around your weapons, trying to stay calm. Rick had warned you that Negan would try to get under your skin and that you needed to be careful. You were trained to control your emotions, but even you had to admit that this man knew how to get under people’s skin. It made you want to shoot him even more. 

“If you even try to pull a gun on my husband, I will fill your body with so many holes that even your Walker body won’t be able to get up and walk again,” you threatened evenly. Negan nearly dropped the walkie at your words. 

“Woah! Husband! Did you hear that, D? Your man Daryl has a goddamn woman to warm his bed!” Negan said to Dwight who was looking like a fidgeting weasel. “Well, shit, sweetheart, I didn’t know our Daryl was such a lucky man. Tell me, what it is that you find so fucking special about him? Cause if I’m being honest, he’s not much to look at, at least not since we’ve had him.” Negan sent a smile in your general direction, clearly enjoying all of this very much. However, you were tired of playing this back and forth shit. 

“You have ten seconds to do what I asked or my rifle finds its first target,” you said. 

“I have a better idea,” Negan said, “why don’t you take that rifle and shove it up your ass?” 

“Fine,” you said and then quickly retrained your weapon, “Ten,” you counted and fired, shooting a Savior right between the eyes. The body dropped quickly. “Nine,” you shot another man. “Eight,” a woman to Negan’s left went down in a spray of blood. “Seven,” the man next to Dwight dropped. 

“Stop!” Negan bellowed and your finger stalled on the trigger. Simon stared around in horror at the scene, seeing his four dead comrades creating pools of blood across the asphalt. 

“Daryl. Now,” you repeated. 

“Shit!” Negan cursed and then looked at Dwight. “Get him,” he ordered. Dwight wasted no time in running to the truck Daryl was being held in. You watched every move as Daryl stumbled out of the truck and besides a few bruises and cuts, he seemed to be in one piece. You would make sure Rosita took a look at the gunshot wound that must have still been bothering him. Dwight shoved Daryl towards the gate, past Negan who glared at him.

“And the vest,” you said into the walkie. Dwight shrugged out of the leather vest and shoved it into Daryl’s hands. Daryl approached Dwight, getting into his face. Leveling a stare that made the other man swallow hard. “I believe he wants his weapon,” you said, easily reading the body language of your husband. Dwight just stared back, being stubborn. Daryl took a few steps back and then raised his right hand hooking his fingers towards you. You adjusted your aim and shot at Dwight’s feet, causing him to jump a foot or so back. 

“Dammit Dwight!” Negan yelled and Dwight grabbed the bow from the back of his truck and tossed it to Daryl who caught it easily. You then moved the laser sight towards Aaron and then back to Daryl and Aaron opened the gate. Daryl wasted no time in turning and walking back into his home, not even bothering to glance back at his captors. 

“Great,” you said, “now, kindly fuck off because I still have six more bullets with Savior names on them.” Negan nearly crushed the radio in his hands. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Negan promised. 

“That’s funny,” you laughed, “my friend said the same thing to you.” You then turned to see Rick stand up and make himself known. Negan turned to the leader of Alexandria with a sneer. Rick stood on top of the gate like a king as he stared at the Saviors below. His hand was resting on his gun. Negan noticed that immediately. Rick smiled. “A friend recently made a visit to the Sanctuary while you were on the road,” you explained. “Don’t worry, Fat Joey is still alive, he’s just missin’ a few fingers.” Jesus had retrieved the colt only an hour before the convoy had arrived. It was just icing on the cake for your plan.

“Why don’t you just pull the trigger?” Negan said into the radio, but his eyes remained on Grimes. 

“All in good time, Negan,” you said, recentering your crosshairs on him. “I want you to live for a little bit longer knowing that any point I can blow your brains out with a twitch of my finger. It makes me sleep better at night. So, you’re going to get back in your cars and leave Alexandria and if you come back, I will not only kill you, but everyone with you and then take them all back and let them loose on the Sanctuary and have your people fend for themselves. Do you understand?” 

“We had a deal, dick!” Negan called up to Grimes, swinging Lucille around in his hand. 

“She doesn’t make deals, Negan!” Rick called back. “Now go before I do kill you.” You didn’t wait for another witty comeback as you took aim and fired on another Savior. 

“Six,” you said. Negan threw the walkie down on the ground and strutted back to his truck. You watched them leave, their vehicles disappearing down the road. You then turned the channel on your radio and called to Tobin and Carl who were on standby at the end of the drive. “You can release them now.” 

————

A mile or so down, Tobin and Carl released two Walkers that stumbled out into the road.

As Negan’s convoy came across them, he slammed on the breaks. You and Rick had taken your time to perfect the art project. Both Walkers were male, dressed in biker boots, jeans, and leather jackets that they had found in the back of the closet of an empty house in Alexandria. Rick then had found two baseball bats and tied them to the Walkers’ hands. Letting them loose for Negan to see was Carl’s idea and you had loved it immediately. 

Negan got out of the car much to Simon’s disapproval. He wasted no time in swinging Lucille and killing both of the Negan-Walkers. He smashed their heads until there was nothing left but red. He turned his face back towards Alexandria, roughly wiping the blood from his face. “I’m going to kill that bitch.” 

[jaeminscoffee]

Misunderstood | T. Lee

Pairings- Ten Lee x Reader

Genre- Angst, slight fluff,

Warning(s)- Character death.

Word count- 1.88k

Type- requestedddd

It was a whole cat and mouse game at the beginning. 

You know how it's always portrayed that all cats and mice despise each other? Well maybe it's because the friend and foe never really go together since they indulge in a much predator and prey relationship. That's how you and Ten's blooming relation started.

Just like any other fable, or the famous cartoon, might as well be a life lesson, Tom and Jerry; Ten and you never got along. You weren't meant to get along. After all, which super agency's top sniper would befriend a wild criminal? Apparently you did. You'd always find yourself letting Ten off the hook each time in the last minute. The lad was fun to have around. And just like any other untold truth of the behinds of a story, the mice in your story was also only just a misunderstood soul. Ten was more than what he portrayed himself to be. 

Chasing Ten and catching him, the first glimpse was your mission. Bringing him back to the headquarters dead or alive was your mission. To turn a deaf ear to anything and everything he'd let out was your mission. To heartlessly end him if he pulled a smart stunt was your mission. But having him voice out his thought processes and you gladly listening to the entirety of it was most definitely not your mission. 

You'd been known as the top all rounder sniper of your agency, one for your amazing skills, two for your ability to make ends meet, and three for being a kind soul yet thick skulled if the situation called for it. Your boss, the head, of course ended up assigning a very confusing mission to you as, for the matter of fact, were a very trusted pawns of his. It was intriguing yet confusing because you weren't given much insights on why you're asked to serve summons on him. 

Ten on the other hand was to this point, tired of running. Hurt. Wounded by having to bear the weights of his family when all he'd wanted was to lead a normal life of his own. To not wake up in cold sweat, fearing for whether his days would shorten the next second. To make it until arvo without anyone, or anything hot on his trail. To make his way back home from his work space; a small corner dance studio where he'd teach the one's who'd not be able to afford trying to learn at those fancy known dance studios who charged way more than what's required, without having someone tackle him to the floor. To sleep after supper without having to wake up every other minute, paranoid whether one of those people trailed him back home and somehow managed to sneak in. 

"He's still watching ,you know?" Ten rasped out loud enough for only the two of you to hear his voice which helped you step out of the cloud of guilt for what you were about to do. 

You, just as assigned, started immediately. Still confused, of course. The boy seemed little to not harmless at all. But nevertheless, you went about it. Watching the boy feed stray animals on the way, smile brightly at passerby's, buy a drink or two for the hungered on the pathway, keep the dangered ones accompany on a night walk, he seemed like a moral, ideal member for the lacking society, nothing like the heartless murderer he'd been described to be. 

"I know, b..but i can't, Ten" you sigh out, shutting your lids tight to clear up your blurred vision. 

He seemed to be the only calm in the chaotic, messed up world you lived in. Now obviously, you did try catching him each time only to let him go, thinking of all those out in the streets and beyond waiting for their daily dose of hope in this dark realm. And to keep a close eye on the said predator, of course. 

Finding him crouched down by the alley turn towards his usual workplace, you found it a little heartbreaking to continue heartlessly end him. He seemed so.. vulnerable, broke, and nothing like the walking sunshine he'd been since the beginning of your mission and definitely nothing of that of a murderer. He seemed just like the misunderstood feline in all fables who are usually portrayed as the predator and heartless and only wanting to fulfill their needs type. But much matured and smart you'd finally, spiritually understand the personality of the character, hurt, scared, 'does want to care and show it to all but scared to be misjudged again is what they really are. 

"Oh? That most definitely wasn't how you felt when you'd first initially pointed the same rifle at me, remember?" Ten chuckles from in front of you, still in the uncomfortable, cornered, back pressed to the brick wall with your left arm on his chest the other pointing straight to the middle of his skull. His retort making you let out an airy, shaky laugh of your own. 

The first time you'd done it, your eyes were fueled with determination, you'd get this done and there would be nothing bold enough to dare stop you, except Ten, he was bold enough apparently. "That department store just got mobbed and you're going to stand with a stupid toy gun pointed at me who's not proven guilty of anything? Seems right enough for me that you work as a puppet for that messed up government," your eyes widen at his statement, turning back to see nothing but a tranquil customer filled store, turning back to the lad to find him out of sight. Ten lee had relatively gotten much more experienced and better and running out of sight, "Ten, You drive me crazy," you speak through gritted teeth. 

"You were the first one to outrun me, you know?" you lean closer, only to hear your colleagues get their own weapons off safety and ready to fire any second,

"Now, isn't that why you're so drawn to me? Your work would've been so much more boring if it weren't for me, if anything, you're welcome." Ten replied smugly, proud of all his interactions too absurd to be categorized as normal, nevertheless the few of moments in his life that makes him happy thinking back at it. "Tsk," you slightly pout, feeling your eyes glaze over the nth time that night, this would all soon fade into memory and for what? For the fact that no one was ever ready to listen to the wrongly framed. 

"Is the target acting hard to surrender, Agent 02?" you hear from your in ear piece, immediately responding with the most stable voice you could muster, "No, Sire, not at all," you reply, "Then why is it taking you so long, Ms. Y/l/n?"

"It's time, isn't it?" Ten asked with a sad smile on his face. All the days of running were finally coming to an end yet he felt like that wouldn't make up to all his lost days. Yes, he was more than grateful to you. For showing something humane exists where no one ever tried caring for what the other does or says. He liked that, though with the choice of path or career that called for some serious human emotion control, you nevertheless wanted to remain human. Ground to earth, and kind enough to valid his feelings. Valid his existence. Valid him and not see him as a target of any sort. 

"I don't want to, Ten. I could try explaining this to them-but-" 

"But they aren't like you, they work for those on a higher post and won't stop even when given a solid reason to and you know that better than anyone else," Ten explained rather calmly.

"Yes, but you don't deserve this.." You let your voice waver, finally, gripping the deadly weapon tightly, mindful to keep your fingers away from the trigger, "Agent 02, pull the trigger when I count down to 1." you flinch at the sudden voice interrupting the intimate moment between you and your now, friend. 

"15.."

"I shouldn't have accepted the tasks, then i wouldn't have had to be the one doing this, and i wouldn't have had to meet you, and right now, at this moment, more than anything, I wish i'd never met you," You scramble through your words to form coherent sentences and the stipulated time you're given, 

Ten laughs out a closed mouth laugh, "14.."

"Really? But i don't wish so," He hums, closing his eyes to fully indulge in your warmth. The same familiar warmth that embraced him during one of the most vulnerable nights of his life. The same warmth that kept him company on each day following all while still radiating coldness of suspicion, "13.."  which slowly but surely turned into nothing but warmth all after uncoiling what most before you didn't even bother to, "12.."

"It's not that I wish i didn't meet you, it's just i wish we'd met in different circumstances," One where you wouldn't have to go for all the cat and mouse chase all over again, where he'd be, "11.." a normal bachelor and you'd be one too, who'd oh so much in a cliché manner meet at a café,

"Well, we don't get everything we wish for now, do we?" His voice sounded so exhausted, yet, no hints of fear or despise or cruelty shone through. Just exhaustion, and maybe a bit of….relief? "10.."

"Ten, we still have a chance. I can still give it a..-"

"Y/n, look at me." 

"You being ready enough, human enough to study me thoroughly before conclusion has been more than enough for me to prove that humanity still exists, that listener still exists. And I wouldn't want anyone, rather you put an end to this little game of ours,``''9.."

"You need to do nothing else other than stay the same, " he started once again, this time, finally allowing his vulnerability to shine through his voice, "8..", "And to do the same you'd done with me with all those potential targets of your people," "But Ten, just-" "7.."

"It's either you or me, doll. Your helpers there look more than ready to shoot any betrayer," "Then so be it! But i can't.. I can't get myself to- I love you, i car-" "6.." 

"There. The only words that were left for me to hear," "5.." 

"Your people seem generous enough to let me go in this much of a, how do I put it? Grand.. Way?" "Ten I've got 5 seconds to change my mind, I can do something you know?-" 

"Y/n, my love. You're making this hard for both of us, so.. "

He did the said stunt move your head had warned you about, swiftly shifting your positions so that you were the one pressed against the unbelievably uncomfortable wall making your eyes widen, words "I love you too, doll" and "Fire!" mixed together, all you could see the next moment was a small smile on the lads face, red seeping through the material of his white hoodie before his now lifeless body slouched and fell right in front of you. 

The misunderstood had been deprived of their life once again. 

[noyourenotreal]

Hunger Games AU

Well, I did a thing. Let me know if you think it’s worth expanding lol. ❤️NYNR

“Hey mutt.” The brunette, the one named Koga, called from below. One of the Careers. District One. Fan-fucking-tastic. “You planning on stayin up there all night?”

Inuyasha looked at his surroundings. Actually, he did plan on staying up there all night. He was perched on a strong branch of a tall tree, surrounded by foliage and other branches, which made him feel a little bit protected. He could strap himself up there and spend at least one night up there, but in the morning, he’d have to find some food. He hadn’t been able to grab anything from the Cornucopia. And it was too late to start hunting— the simulation of the sun was already beginning to descend. Night was coming faster than he liked.

“Mutt? You go fucking deaf from the cannons? We know you’re up there.”

He groaned. That “mutt” nickname was going to stick, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it his whole life back in District Twelve, but he had hoped he could avoid the taunt on Panem-wide television. Then again, it was probably only a matter of time— being a muttation and ending up in the Hunger Games wasn’t exactly something that had happened before.

Surrounding Koga on the ground were three others that he recognized as the other Careers. Ayame, the girl from One. Then there was Byakuya, the male from Two, and Kagura, the female from Two, and the only one that actually scared him. From the looks of it, not only had they all managed to get to the Cornucopia and survive the bloodbath, but they’d been able to gather a significant amount of supplies. They all had their respective weapons, with the exception of Koga’s claws, which he was thankful for. Would have made taunting him a very stupid mistake.  

Buy Inuyasha couldn’t help himself, really. Not with those smug bastards eyeing him like he was their next meal.

“Bet ya can’t come up here and catch me.”

He watched from his perch as the Career dug his fingers into the bark, trying to get purchase on anything. Koga made it up the first few feet fast, and for a second, Inuyasha thought he had made a huge error in judgement. But soon enough, the self-proclaimed “Wolf” slipped on a piece of flimsy bark and fell back to the ground with a thud. Inuyasha laughed, hearty and loud. Looked like the bastard’s speed on the ground didn’t translate when climbing up a tree.

Koga growled from below, staring up at Inuyasha, having landed on his back. Ayame ran over to him, attempting to make sure he was okay, but he shrugged her off. The look in his eyes was livid. Above him, Kagura fanned out her throwing stars, smirking, her deadly aim giving him pause. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed them. The girl from Two opened up her mouth to say something when someone else approached them.

It was her. Kagome. The girl from his district.

She was looking between the Careers and the ground carefully as she stepped lightly to join the group below him. And to his shock, none of them attacked her. Didn’t raise even so much as a finger when she approached. He frowned in confusion.

“We should make camp for the night. I’ve gathered as much as I can for any medicine we may need, and I shot a rabbit,” she said, holding up her kill in her left hand. The others watched as she reached them. Byakuya clapped her a little hard on the shoulder, causing her to stumble for a brief moment.

“First we have to decide what to do with your lover boy here,” Kagura sneered.

Right. Her “crush” on him. The one she’d declared on live broadcast throughout Panem.

Kagome glanced up at him from the ground. Her hair was tied back neatly, which is something he really should have considered doing himself. Sweat caused wispy tendrils to stick to the sides of her cheeks. Her face, smudged in dirt, a cut over her right eye, held the countenance of disinterest. No, not disinterest— apathy. A completely blank expression. Even her eyes, the brilliant blue he’d become accustomed to noticing even from across the training room, were neutral. Dispassionate. She saw him, to be sure, but it didn’t feel like she was actually seeing him.

“I can try and shoot him down,” she said.

What? Inuyasha frowned and braced himself on the branch, familiar with her deadly aim. His stomach ached— was this what betrayal felt like? This was the girl with whom he’d walked into this hell with. Sure, they hadn’t really gotten along at first— nobody ever really got along with him no matter how hard they tried— but her friendliness, her kindness had seemed so sincere. Even Totosai had said it on the way to the Capitol, that she would be the one to get the sponsors, the one to charm the privileged Capitol citizens, the one to save their asses if they needed something like medicine or water or food from above. He wondered how this little turn of events would shatter that image of the sweet, kind girl from District 12. He felt shattered himself.

How stupid was I to even think…

It as those eyes, he thought. Those damn eyes, and the memories they brought back. When he was starving in the rain, and she’d thrown that crust of bread to him instead of feeding the pigs, she looked at him with those eyes. Really looked at him. Not like now.

She’d dropped the rabbit and her pack to her side. Deftly, she pulled an arrow back, and his heart skipped a beat. For a split second, he thought that was it. He was done for. So much for Totosai believing he could actually win the damn thing. He was sure Kaede would be disappointed. And he hoped Kikyo wasn’t watching, if only to spare her the shame.

But Kagome let the arrow loose, and it before he could blink he heard a thunk right next to his ear. It came so close to his head that it cut through a few pieces of his long, black hair, blowing the rest of it away and into his face. His eyes widened.

“Huh,” he heard Koga mutter below. “Thought you didn’t miss.”

“Too much foliage,” Kagome responded. She lowered her bow towards the ground.

“You sure you aren’t trying to spare him?” Byakuya said, narrowing his eyes.

Kagome shrugged, picked up the rabbit she had dropped, and sat down underneath one of the large adjacent trees. She pulled a knife out and began to peel the creature’s skin back.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, sounding detached. “He can’t stay up there forever. Either he stays up there and starves, or he comes down here and we kill him.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Koga. “You hear that, mutt?” he yelled up at Inuyasha. “You’re as good as dead!”

Inuyasha pulled the arrow out from the tree and held it in front of his face. Definitely Capitol-made. Some sort of reinforced metal tip, not poisoned from what he could tell, but even the fletching on the end of the arrow were sharp enough to slice through skin. For this one time, and this time only, Inuyasha had to agree with Koga— Kagome didn’t miss. And she’d had a clear shot. The foliage line had been bullshit, but only someone who’d learned to survive in Twelve would know that.

So what the hell was she doing?

He looked down at the Career’s camp again. Kagome continued to peel the skin off the rabbit; the others had scattered about the surrounding area to find wood and anything for shelter. Just once, he could have sworn he caught her stealing a glance up at him, but before he could decide whether or not his eyes had been fooling him, she was focused back on the rabbit.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[chaoticevilbean]

To get this out of my Head so it Won't haunt me Anymore, here Atla fans:

Post-war

The Gaang, the Mean Girls (Azula got therapy and is ~Okay~), and a few Kyoshi Warriors are in a market Shopping and Browsing and just generally having Some fun. Sokka hears someone comment on one of his Friends. Maybe they said Azula was evil. Maybe they said Zuko was a bad Firelord. Maybe they were Asking why there were Earth Kingdom warriors protecting Fire. Maybe they were talking bad about Aang, or saying Katara was fragile and shouldn't have even Fought in the War. Whatever is Said, Sokka hears it. And Sokka gets Mad.

He tracks that Person down, like a hecking Sonar or Bloodhound. Then he stands in front of them, one Hand on his hip, the other Hand waving his Boomerang in front of the Person's face.

He starts ranting. On and on about the various accomplishments of the insulted member and every single way they had been good or tried to be good. The Person tries to Fight back.

For Zuko, Azula, Ty Lee, or Mai:

"They did horrible things!"

For Aang, Katara, or Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors:

"They shouldn't have been fighting! They're children/neutral!"

Sokka tears them a new One.

Fire Nation: "That's the past! Now, they've made great strides in doing good! All of them are Traumatized from young ages and are attempting Recovery! How dare you ignore their Effort for their Past that they're Making up for!"

Other: "Yeah, they shouldn't have! They shouldn't have had to fight when they were so young, and just wanted to protect their families, their homes! They had no obligation to fight in the war, and yet they played the biggest, most difficult roles!”

Sokka proceeds to continue this for a good amount of Time. It draws The attention of everyone Near, and some Far. He Shoots down any Interruptions from the Person, and makes both an aggressive and irrefutable Argument. At the end, this happens.

Sokka: *In the Person’s face* *Rage-filled* “So don’t you ever insult them again, or I’ll sick Toph on you!”

Person Nearby Who Was Not An Idiot: “If they did all that, then what in the world did you do?”

Sokka: *visibly becomes calm, cool, collected in an instant* *turns to new Person with a happy smile and absolutely No Rage left* “I witnessed it all.”

Sokka walks off. People think that might be the end. Then it is Collectively realized that only One Kyoshi Warrior left with Sokka. The Others wait for the boy to disappear from sight before they turn to The Nice Person.

Katara: “He’s a skilled swordsman.”

Suki: “He’s a Kyoshi Warrior.”

Aang: “He knows the fighting styles of every Nation.”

Zuko: “His Boomerang is deadly.”

Toph: “He invented submarines.”

Zuko: “He invented airships.”

Katara: “He dated the Moon.”

Aang: “He entered the Spirit World for an entire day.”

Toph: “He’s friends with a sabertoothmooselion.”

Katara: “He’s been Chief of the Southern Water Tribe since he was a preteen.”

Suki: “He’s one of the few people on our team that can read a map and a compass.”

Ty Lee: “His schedules are legendary.”

Azula: “He came up with two different plans to escape the Boiling Rock prison, and the only reason the first failed was because he wasn’t participating.”

Zuko: “He’s a junior member of the Order of the White Lotus.”

Mai: “He can beat almost anyone in Pai Sho and he just learned to play last month.”

Katara: “He’s the only reason we got from the South Pole to the North Pole.”

Aang: “He’s the only reason we got anywhere at all.”

Toph: “He’s our surrogate father figure for when we had none.”

Suki: “He’s friends with King Kuei, King Bumi, and Chief Arnook.”

Mai: “He made friends with a lot of really powerful people because he’s persistent.”

Azula: “He’s a nonbender and can still beat most benders in a battle.”

Suki: “He was critical in bringing down the airships on the day of Sozin’s Comet, and therefore saving a large amount of the Earth Kingdom.”

Katara: “He once saved an entire Fire Nation colony on his own.”

Aang: “He befriended some badgermoles.”

Ty Lee: “His sarcasm is listed as a weapon in the official index.”

Katara: “He found Wan Shi Tong’s Library after searching for less than a day.”

Aang: “He’s had Spirits speak directly to him.”

Toph: “He discovered cactus juice.”

Azula: “He figured out how to bring down the drill that attempted to breach Ba Sing Se’s walls.”

Mai: “He’s a haiku master.”

Katara: “He was a soldier in the Fire Nation Army that received great honor.”

Toph: “He’s married to a Fire Nation woman and has a kid.”

Ty Lee: “He can make anything Dramatic if you ask him to or he just wants to.”

Katara: “No matter what people say, his instincts are always spot on in some way.”

Toph: “Hama?”

Katara: “Yeah.”

Aang: “Don’t forget Jet!”

Katara: “And that volcano.”

Aang: “Going into the Fire Nation the first time. But he did almost fall off Appa that day, so he was biased.”

Ty Lee: “He’s a therapist.”

Azula: “He planned the entire Black Sun invasion and it only failed because an idiot king told us the plan so we were expecting them.”

They state the rest of his accomplishments as Matter-of-factly as possible, then turn and leave That entire section of the Market in utter Confuzzlement and awe. The one Dude who was so protective and Smort and provided an actual Backed up Argument to fight Someone, who walked off and acted as though he Wasn’t much and Nothing had Happened, has done Alout. Like, submarines? Airships? He’s a Chief? And he acts like his greatest accomplishment was being a witness?

There, now my brain is free. Here, ya Sokka stans, coME AND GET IT!

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Can I ask for some badass jason moment like maybe he does something badass and people realize wow Jason's powerful and idk maybe percy just drools after his badass himbo boyfriend

Idk I'm not feeling great and just need some badass jason love all mixed in with percy being the one who drools not the other way (I dont mind the other way but I really want jason to be admired)

Hello sweet Anon. I'm so sorry you aren't feeling all good🥺sending you warm hugs and light☀️

Here's some dark!jercy featuring badass!Jason and some badass!Percy too. I hope you enjoy.

And if you're in need of anymore badass!Jase here's some other fics of mine: Dark!Jason trying to save kidnapped Percy; Dark!Jason forcing the gods to save Percy

If anyone else has badass!Jason fics please link them for Anon💖

Masterlist

But onto this one!

TW: dark, murder, blood. This is not for the faint of heart, please proceed with caution.

"On your right!" Someone screams. It's not for his benefit. He is a weapon of mass destruction. The warning is for his opponent.

Percy Jackson slides under a gleaming sword and vaults back up with a wicked smile on his face. “Missed me."

The demigod shrieks, turning back around to face him.

"I will kill you Percy Jackson."

"You know I get tired of hearing that after ten years of this."

"Stop talking and fight me like the hero you're supposed to be."

He bares his teeth, green eyes flashing with anger, "I'm nobody's hero."

"Now that's a lie if I've ever heard one." A deep, clear voice from behind them drawls.

"Now is not the time you hopeless romantic." He laughs, turning to see his godly boyfriend landing on the ground with a soft thud.

"There's always time to appreciate you." Blue eyes twinkle, love and amusement glittering like stars.

"Can you two just shut up for like five seconds?" The demigod he had forgotten about growls, "I have shit to do and I'd prefer if we could get this over with."

"Better things to do than killing us?" Percy raises a brow, "Gee so sorry we're keeping you from your busy schedule."

"What's the problem anyway?"

"Your worthless trash of a boyfriend refuses to die."

"Oh," He winces, "You probably shouldn't have said that."

Jason's eyes flash with something otherworldly, dark, sinister, beautiful, "Why are you trying to kill him?"

The demigod' s expression flashes with disgust, like this simple task is beneath them, "Orders from the boss."

"And who is the boss?" His boyfriend asks quietly.

Percy can feel the air turning electric around them, can see the lightning slowly crackle in Jason's veins. After all these years, he knows better than anyone when his love is going to explode, can read the signs faster than even the blonde himself.

"We're under oath to keep the secrecy of the boss' identity."

"Cowards!" The Son of Jupiter growls, "Tell us and we can make this easy."

The sky above them goes a sickly shade of grey, and there are bolts flashing behind those blue eyes.

The demigod looks between them, fear finally seeping in. But they see Percy's smirk and something becomes visibly stone in their expression.

"Fuck you. I'll kill both of you."

The world detonates and green eyes dance with laughter as the demigod claws at their throat, eating lightning like candy.

"Tell us." The blonde's voice is deathly quiet. Soft with malice.

"Chiron." They gasp. Their body stiffens, hazel eyes freezing in an expression of horror. And with a single flick of his wrist Jason effaced the air from the demigod's lungs, carrying it in his golden fingers, and blew a kiss to the sky with that stolen oxygen.

"Gods you're hot," Percy sighs, looking at him with dark eyes and seduction.

"Later," His boyfriend laughs, "First we got a centaur to kill."

He grabs onto those broad shoulders, nuzzling his nose into his neck. Jason wraps his arms around him and kisses his forehead.

"You ready?"

"Fly me away Superman." He giggles.

And so they take to the skies, Percy clinging onto him with all his might and Jason laughing into the world.

"Why do I let you convince me this is a good idea?" He groans, "I hate this."

"The excuse to hold me outweighs your fear," The blonde whispers in his ear.

"It's your fault for being so godsdamn attractive."

His answer is met with laughter, and happiness, and never-ending love.

"Do we have to kill Chiron?"

Jason's body goes taut with anger, not at him. Never at him. "He tried to hurt you. He will not get away with that."

"I know," Percy winces, "But he raised me in this world. It seems... wrong?"

"What do you want to do instead?" The blonde finally gets out. Compromise. Collaboration. He knew it took a lot to get to this stage.

"Maybe we could—"

The Son of Jupiter gasps, his whole body shuddering.

In an instant Percy knows something is wrong, very, very wrong. A growing pool of blood is growing on the blonde's shirt, and a pretty wooden arrow is sticking out of his back.

"What the fuck?" He yells, looking around for the shooter.

"Perc," His boyfriend whispers, "I can't hold us up for much longer.

And then they're plummeting to the ground, wind screaming in their ears, twin hearts beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings.

But Percy is not afraid. For below them is the ocean and in his many years of living that great blue expanse has always been a safe place, a comfort, a protector. So they hurtle to their watery end and when they hit the sea Percy feels himself come alive.

He snaps the arrow at his boyfriend's back and puts a bubble of air around him.

"Here," He offers the ambrosia with a stern look, "Eat."

"We have to go out there and kill them."

His smile is vengeance incarnate, "Oh we will.” It was fine when it was just him they were attacking but to target Jason. To target his love. There are no lines he wouldn’t cross, no place too dark to venture to. He is a hypocrite for it. But he doesn’t care. “First you're going to heal. Because this isn't going to be quick. They will suffer for drawing even a drop of your blood."

Jason's eyes widen, darken, fill with desire, "I love it when you get like this."

"Destructive?" He grins.

"Powerful."

And then his boyfriend is pulling him close and kissing him like the world ends today. He can taste the ambrosia still dissolving on his tongue, more than that he can taste lightning and potent love. The kiss is rough and stinging and full of teeth. But it's raw with hunger and relief too.

"Let's go have some fun." Jason breathes.

And he can't help but giggle with anticipation as they rise through the ocean and walk across it.

The destroyer and his healer.

An arrow flies towards them. With a single swipe of his hand Percy shatters the cool metal. Jason gathers the shards in the air and watches as they group to form a broken spear pointing back at their attackers.

With a whispered hum the broken pieces fly across the sea and pierce six hearts perfectly.

Finally the two reach land, grainy sand sinking under their weight as they take in the scene in front of them. Twenty centaurs, four demigods, and an array of bodies convulsing on the ground as their own arrows slice their organs.

"Why?" Percy tilts his head, staring directly at the centaur he had known for so much of his life.

"You are too powerful. We cannot risk letting you roam free. We must keep the balance." Chiron's voice is almost robotic, as if he had rehearsed the words so many times they've lost all meaning.

"Roam?" He laughs, "I do not roam. I'm not a fucking animal. I live." He glances at the crowd, "And you are afraid because you do not know how to."

"Shoot him." Chiron bellows.

They all pull their bows taut, eyes gleaming with misplaced hate. The arrows let loose. Soar towards them.

"I don't think so." Jason smirks. And suddenly those deadly shafts are frozen midair, hanging like gleaming charms.

Someone gasps, another faints, dies from fear.

"Leave us alone Chiron." The Son of Jupiter says softly. It is not a request. It is a command.

"Stand your ground," The old centaur mutters grimly.

"You know you will not walk away from this." Jason's voice is music, and melodies, and opulent demolition.

Percy can't hold in a beam as he stares at the blonde. Now is probably not the time to be drooling over himself with attraction but there's just something about Jason Grace like this that makes him feral with excitement, temptation.

"Stand your ground!" The centaur screams.

And it works because everyone, cowering or not, straightens their backs and sets hard gazes on the two demigods.

They release twin sighs, knowing they tried their best.

"Why does no-one ever listen?" He rolls his eyes.

"You think at some stage they'd learn." His boyfriend snorts. And the arrows still suspended in the air quake, as if trying to break from their hold.

"Shall we then?" He turns to meet that electric gaze.

Jason let's the arrows go and Percy whips his arm in a circular motion, lifting the ocean from behind them and slamming it into the crowd of killers.

Bloodied and choking the diminishing group sprint towards them, arrows bouncing out of their skin.

They don't get more than ten steps before lightning rains down, stabbing their every orifice. And just to make it special Percy feeds each of them ocean water and laughs as their insides fry, electrocuted by the sea and the sky.

It is over in a matter of seconds, not a body moving, twitching, breathing. Except one. A demigod with bright hair, drunk on fear.

"Please," She begs, "Please don't kill me.

"You tried to kill us even when we asked you not to. Why should we give you the courtesy?" He spits.

"Please," She cries, and that's all she says, all she mutters over and over again.

"Lucky for you," Jason shrugs, "We like to have one survivor to pass the warnings on. The stories."

She whimpers, clawing at the sand in an attempt to get away.

Percy laughs, wraps the earth around her ankles. "Not so fast. Tell them. Tell all of them what happened today. And make sure they know that it was not us who started it. But we gladly finished it."

"Nobody ever wants the villains to win," The blonde looks at her sympathetically, "But I ask you this: if we are the villains of your story, who do you think are the villains of ours?"

Her eyes widen, and then she turns on her side and heaves.

"Take care darling," He waves, "And here's some ambrosia for that wound on your side." He tosses her the little bag of golden squares with a wink.

And then Percy Jackson and Jason Grace link hands, glance at the decimation they caused and share twin smiles.

Villains or heroes?

No, that had never applied to them. They had always be something else, something more.

They are gods.

[sebastianshaw]

In one of the X-Men Discord servers that I’m on, there is a section for the internal thoughts of the characters that you write. Naturally, I use this to be COMPLETELY HORRIBLE with Shaw. Here is a compiled list of things he has thought there. Read at your own risk, and trigger warning for. .  . honestly I don’t know how to begin, but if you follow this blog I figure you know I ENDORSE NONE OF THIS. under the cut for your sake

-  if you didn’t want to know about picking up a Filipino bar girl why would you ask how my day was it’s like screaming at a sushi chef for undercooking the fish -  they bring me back to life but can’t give me a new goddamn back?! -  Note to self, petition to Council to resurrect son Note to self two, remember his name and which one he is this time -  so there’s just an indeterminate number of telepathic teen girls here who look almost exactly like Emma before her nose job? I don’t even want to know at this point seriously though how many are there I can’t tell they’re goddamned identical--- -literally just going to hire this girl to scratch my back she's good at it JESUS THE RELIEF -  Aloba Dastoor is a sweet, well-mannered young man. I think I'd like to rearrange his intestines with my--- -  why does every gay man into pup play have a dead mother he didn't get to come out to what is the connection here IT'S EVERY TIME -  by damn why does no one discipline their children, you may think this is cute but everyone else is looking at you to sort your little crotch debris out or SOMEONE ELSE WILL -  that boob job is so bad she looks like a Hasbro knockoff -  you just can't be sure about a person until you know what they think of  the fall of Constantinople in 1453 by the Ottoman forces led by Mehmed II -  they're NOT bongos they are CONGAS they are the SAME SIZE -  This is less an ingrown hair at this point and more of an ingrown wig -  such a lack of decorum, I have bad days sometimes too but it hardly ever results in murder -  his arm looks like a big veiny cock never thought I'd get hard just seeing an arm -  wish you really could get oil from babies -  gold plated bare breasted - Wait so who was in the trunk - thinking about how this island doesn't have taxes is better than opioids -  It’s gonna be a closed casket funeral buddy -  it looks rather anal -  organizer my ass that fool couldn't organize a blow job if he was in a Nevada brothel with a pocket full of a hundred dollar bills -  I'd rather put up with a candiru than these people -  some people are impossible to underestimate -  cannot sit down without a beautiful woman trying for my wallet I'M FUCKING WORKING JESUS F---- -  -- wait which one is my kid fuck which one do I take maybe both maybe just say my kid wanted to bring a friend home fuck fuck fuck maybe I should just ask the daycare they have to get fathers asking that SOMETIMES should also ask if she’s free tonight --- -  fucking PLASTER in my mouth need to learn to close my fucking facehole when I barge through a wall--- - Cannot BELIEVE that woman asked me if I dropped Shinobi on the head as a child, that's making a very bold assumption that I EVER HELD HIM AT ALL -  another morning where I can’t seem to piss quite everything out, is this a resurrection issue or do I have another kidney stone - -  -not that I am complaining about the view but why don't hippies wear bras do they think it kills trees is it the rubber in the elastic since rubber comes from plants or maybe it's the metal underwire do they not like metal is that why they don't shave--- -  it's a paradox. I believe a man is responsible for his own mistakes. This means Shinobi alone is to blame for his failures. At the same time, he is -my-mistake. -  note to self, if a mother asks "but what if the baby remembers it?" the correct answer is not "then he'll know how to please a woman" -  how was I supposed to NOT laugh when it slipped out of the slave?? -  do me this, flog me that, sometimes I just want to sleep. it's been a long day. it's been a long life. - oh god I'm stuck in her like the Suez Canal -  Nope, don’t do it old boy. She’s crazy. Not typical clingy co-ed with daddy issues crazy, this is wake up with your cock in a jar crazy. I know we love that. But we love our penis more. -  I'm not handsome but jesus his teeth look like he was breastfed through a grease nipple - Even a shotgun wouldn’t shoot its load on THAT face - I’ve seen bigger breasts in the chicken meat aisle -  Looks like the kind of guy who would call his grandmother to change his flat tire -  Why does no one listen when I warn them "hold on tight, this will hit you like a tank" WHY DO YOU THINK I INSTALLED THE HAND RAILS YOU IDIOTS -  why do I even take the triple espresso shots overthinking keeps me awake enough - I'd rather shit in my hands and clap than spend ten seconds in these Council meetings -I don't see what the fuss is, there shouldn't be any fluid left on it -  It’s all fun and games until somebody loses a penis -  ok, plan is to suck a lemon first to mitigate the taste, then bypass my tongue with a boba straw -  note to self: tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of cloth. tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of cloth. tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of--Message #internal-thoughts -  how the fuck am I this drunk and STIll have a headache? besides Shinobi that is - that man’s penis is a deadly weapon -  It’s alive you can see it’s mouth open up right before it gets deep throated -  This is why I keep a dozen fresh eggs in my car at all times. -  You see anti-homeless spikes, I see free seating for hundreds -  Well, I suppose him calling me a "bootlicker" was TECHNICALLY not incorrect but--- -  in fairness to her, if I were covered in fingers, I would be doing that too -  I am not a squeamish man but "genitalia turns into a blood hyperbeam cannon" was not a power I was prepared to very LITERALLY face - The amount on the ceiling is mind-boggling -  her gag reflex is as absent as her father -  I'd tell @Roberto Da Costa  he's a disappointment, but I'm afraid he'd call me daddy - God damn, he still ate it?? Go buy new lettuce you weird fuck - Wait, are they gay racists? Gaycists? BROKEBACK BIGOTS?! - It burns, but that's how you know it's working. - How was HE the fastest sperm? Must have been like a goddamn Special Olympics swim

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Survival

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (soft, secret/quiet smut. Some thigh riding. None too graphic), death, blood

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: My first Ezra fic! I was gonna wait until tomorrow to post this but I’m really impatient and just said fuck it, it’s 2020. Hope you lot enjoy! As always, requests and prompts are open.

Masterlist

You didn’t want to be stuck on this godforsaken moon.

The Green is what most called it due to its forestry nature. It was beautiful, but deadly all the same. Being the oldest to Cee, it was your responsibility to look after her and show her the ropes.

Damon was not your biological father but took you in anyway after the death of your mother. You didn’t particularly like the man; he was just as cold and distant with you (which you didn’t mind) as he was with Cee. That was what bothered you.

Cee was a very intelligent girl, and you always encouraged her to keep writing her book despite what Damon said otherwise about it. The smile you would receive after was worth all the fights and arguments you would have with Damon over her.

This kind of life wasn’t suitable for a young girl like her. You weren’t related to her by blood, but you always felt like a sister to her. She looked up to you more than she did her father, relied on you for any piece of humanity and comfort. Every decision you ever made was always in Cee’s best interest, because she mattered more to you than anything else in the world.

But it was hard to depart from Damon. Cee still loved her father despite their differences, and so the only thing you could do – while you bided your time to eventually leave and take Cee with you – was to stay and deal with Damon.

His greed was also something you could never stand. Yes it was nice to be rich and plentiful, and you were not oblivious to the realities of the world you lived in; but Damon’s greed was starting to become dangerous, and it was putting Cee in danger as well.

So when you’re standing in the middle of a draw, the man you had learned to be Ezra and his silent partner trying to negotiate, and Damon robbing them point blank as they had tried beforehand, you couldn’t help but feel that this was all a very bad idea.

You rob anyone and it always results in a firefight. You were prepared for it, but yet when the mute and Damon both fired at each other, both you and Cee stood there with blank expressions. Shocked and scared, Cee started to panic as Ezra, the last man standing, quickly went for a weapon.

“Go!” You said to Cee, pointing your thrower at him.

Cee hesitated before making a bee line for the lander. You only hoped that she would be able to get there in one piece.

Ezra smiled and shrugged as he watched her run away, eyes still trained on yours.

“I don’t believe I got your name,” he said.

You hated the fact that despite the situation at hand, his accent – even through your helmets – sent little trembles through you.

“You don’t need it,” you said gruffly. “And tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you down where you stand?”

He huffed. “Well, I think you would’ve by now if that’s what you really wanted sweetheart.”

Your firsts tightened around the grip of your gun. “Don’t call me that,” you growled.

Ezra put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. But I’m serious. You seem like a reasonable person, and I’m willing to negotiate.”

You hesitated. Could you really trust this man? He was partly responsible for Damon’s death, although Damon was just at fault for the whole situation breaking out the way it did, and you had Cee to protect. Ezra hadn’t moved a muscle, watching you with trained eyes.

“We follow through with Damon’s plan,” Ezra continued as he saw you contemplating. “I help you with the girl, offer my protection for the both of you. Not that I think you need it,” he added with a small smile.

You chewed on your lips as you contemplated his offer once more. You eventually aimed your thrower down, glaring at the man.

You told him your name, which brought a shiny grin to his lips as he tested it out with his natural drawl. You hated the way your heart flipped at the sound of it.

“Well then,” he stepped closer to you, and you couldn’t help but take a step back as he did. His smile faltered, just a little. “Let’s go find your girl.”

It didn’t take too long to find the damaged lander. You gave a pattern of knocks before calling out to her. Cee quickly rushed to the hatch, eyes meeting yours in relief but wavering at the sight of the man partly responsible for her father’s death.

“He’s going to help us,” you told her. “We came to an agreement. We’re going to try and find a way off this fucking moon but we gotta move now.”

Cee looked back and forth between you and Ezra. You could see the internal turmoil she was having and hoped like hell she would cooperate with you.

“Okay,” she finally said. You thought for sure she was going to say more, and she most likely wanted to but bit her tongue.  

…

It had only been a week now. You knew time was precious, but the three of you had been monitoring The Green. You weren’t surprised to find other diggers and mercenaries; it was to be expected. Outnumbered, it was your suggestion at biding time and scoping them out, making sure you all had at least a good chance at making it out of there alive.  

You made Ezra promise that if anything happened to you, that he would protect Cee. Their lives didn’t matter, only hers.

“Of course,” the conviction in his voice settled you, as did the firmness in his eyes as he promised you.

Ezra was not only incredibly handsome (which you would’ve fought tooth and nail to dispute), but he was also smart. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, how to dig, fight, track. You figured he had been at this lifestyle for quite some time now, and the old, tired look in his eyes seemed to prove your theory.

Cee wouldn’t give him her name at first, and he – much to your appreciation – did not push it. Eventually, however, you heard her blabbing away about her book to him; your heart swelled at the soft smile Ezra held as he encouraged her to continue.

It was rocky at first, your little partnership. You only answered his questions when it was necessary, and always kept your thrower in your hand just in case. Ezra was nothing but patient with you and overtime you had begun to open up to him.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough,” you said to him. Cee stayed behind to rest in Ezra’s tent while you and Ezra went out to scout. “For Cee, I mean.”

Ezra, who was walking in front of you, stopped to turn around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy. “I- I mean that I’m not doing enough for her.”

He nodded then in understanding, turning back around to lead the way. “You’re tryin’. Putting her wants and needs above yours, it’s the best you can do for a young one.”

You nodded. You knew he didn’t see it, but you were so deep in thought you didn’t even realize he stopped dead in his tracks until you literally bumped into him. He caught you before you could fall, and you wanted nothing more than to melt in his arms in that moment.

“She obviously cares about you very much,” he assured, arms still settled around your forearms. You looked up at him, fighting hard not to trail your eyes down to his lips, which you desperately wanted to feel against yours. You wondered if they would feel soft or chapped, what he would taste like against your tongue.

“And I can see that you do too. Now I know that we had a rough start, but I gave you my word. The girl will see off this moon alive, no matter what.”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah,” you croaked. “She will.”

You also couldn’t deny the sexual tension that coursed between you and Ezra. He didn’t miss the way you would quickly avert your eyes once he caught you staring at him, or the way you would hold your breath when he was close to you, fingers twitching as if you were desperate to feel his touch.

Being the man that he was, he teased you. Little brushes against you, blowing it off by reaching behind you to grab a bar or a tool. Throwing you little smirks when you explain something to him. It was driving you crazy, and you wanted nothing more than to jump the man. The only thing that stopped you, really, was that you had Cee.

You knew Cee had detected the flirting, and she rolled her eyes every time Ezra cracked a joke at your expense. It felt like your skin was crawling. The thick, fiery boil in your stomach coiling and coiling until it threatened to explode. The ache in your core was one of the worsts of all; it had been so long since you felt the intimate touch of another.

While Cee was dead asleep, you had decided enough was enough. The next sunrise was the day to finally make a move for the Queen’s Lair, and there was no guarantee for anyone’s safety. It was now or never, and if the feelings were mutual between you and Ezra, then you refused to die without feeling him. Pushing your small excuse for a blanket back, you tip-toed across to Ezra’s bunk. He looked so peaceful, and you could see now his age, but it only made him more beautiful in your eyes. It was enough to almost change your mind. Almost.

You gently shook his shoulder. His mouth, which was slightly open in a quiet snore, quickly shut, eyes opening wide in slight panic.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you whispered, hand still on his shoulder.

Ezra glared up at you, sleep washing away from his eyes. “Okay?”

You hesitated. He kept staring in puzzlement until it finally clicked. Your flushed state, the embarrassment, chest heaving silently in eagerness. He grinned, opening his blanket to you.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered huskily.

You inhaled sharply before practically jumping onto the bunk. Your hands sat awkwardly between the both of you, now enclosed in his warmth.  

Ezra covered you both, arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him. You gasped, one hand on his covered chest and the other just under his chin. He brought a hand up to your face, brushing your hair way before cupping your cheek. Your lips were barely touching now and it was electric, breaths mixing together as you looked into his dark eyes; they were blown wide, and it only made you clench your thighs together for the friction you desperately craved.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he said against your lips.

Such a foolish thing to say. You never wanted him to stop. He hadn’t even kissed you yet and you were already a puddle at his feet.

You answered with a clash of lips and teeth. Ezra had to hold back the groan that threatened to claw its way out, exhaling sharply through his nose instead. It had been a while for him as well.

His lips were better than you imagined. They were rough, slightly chapped, but somehow still soft all the same. You were convinced only Ezra could pull off such a distinctive and alluring spell with only the touch of his lips.

The hand that was wrapped around your waist slowly trailed down to your ass, groping it and kneading the flesh, earning a gasp from you; he took this opportunity to explore your mouth, both of you sighing at the taste of each other.

He slipped a thigh between your legs, bringing the other leg around his hip. You couldn’t help but to start grinding against his thigh, knuckles tightening around his arm as his lips trailed down your neck. You closed your eyes in bliss, his hand ghosting over the skin left uncovered by your shirt. Your stomach clenched, pulling back to pull the shirt over your head. Ezra looked at you in awe.

“Use me,” you whispered.

He gulped. It was all a blur, and suddenly he was on top of you, tearing down your pants and working on his. You shuddered at his thick girth, slapping against his stomach. You both looked over to Cee, still sleeping comfortably with her back turned as he pulled the blanket closer over the both of you, making sure to cover up your nakedness.

He kissed you again, palming your breast in one palm and tweaking your nipple in the other. Your back arched up into him, legs opening wider for him. His hips shifted against yours, the head of his cock brushing against your clit; Ezra had to bite back the moan, body shaking from restraint as he broke the kiss to look down.

“Please,” you begged. “Ezra.”

Ezra pressed his forehead against yours as he pushed into you. A moan would’ve escaped you if it hadn’t been for his lips. His breaths were shaky as he bottomed out, hips pressed firmly against yours. Your walls clenched from the fullness, making him close his eyes tightly and bury his face in your neck. The both of you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Shit,” he whispered in your ear.

He started to move once you shifted your hips up, starting as slow and quietly as he could. He felt divine inside you. You trailed kisses down his gorgeous neck, biting down softly when he hit your sweet spot. He gripped a handful of your hair, tightening his grip as he started to move a little faster. His mouth stayed firmly planted on your collarbone as your hands trailed up and down his back, feeling the muscles ripple with every thrust before finally settling in his hair and back.

In that moment there was nothing else in the world but you and Ezra. You would die a happy woman if it meant having this moment with him. In the short time you had known him you grew attached, which you realized this to be a dangerous thing.

Where he was hard and calloused, touched by the harsh years, you were soft, sweet. The combination only fueled the desire, the need for each other. Where he was fire, you were ice, forming together in perfect harmony and creating something terrifyingly beautiful.

It felt as though Ezra felt the same, because when he pulled his head back to kiss you as your orgasms started to peak, you felt all the words he couldn’t say bleed into you like pure air – nothing like the sterile, recycled oxygen you were so used to.

You feel so fucking good around me.

I’ve wanted you since day one.

We have to fight through this together.

I can’t let you die.

I won’t let you die.

Every molecule in your body sang with euphoria as your walls tightened around his cock. His thrusts had turned harder now, not enough for it to be loud, but enough to bring that delicious ache you know you’d be feeling for days. You bit down harshly on his shoulder as you came, nails digging into his back. Ezra gritted his teeth and dug his short nails into the tender skin of your thigh, releasing himself into you.

You didn’t let go of him as you tried to catch your breath. You looked over to see that Cee had turned a little but was still otherwise very asleep. Thank god she was a heavy sleeper.

Ezra kissed your forehead, nose, then lips before pulling out with a small hiss. You grabbed your shirt to put on, watching as he pulled his pants back up. He reached over you, fumbling underneath the bunk until he found what he was looking for. He gently cleaned you off with the cloth, throwing it back under and pulling you into his chest after helping you with your clothes.  

“I apologize,” he said after a few moments of silence.

You frowned. “For what?”

“For…” His eyes trailed down, and it took you a second before your eyebrows raised in understanding.

“It’s okay. I liked it.”

You felt the rumble of his small chuckle, smiling softly.

“I’ll remember that then, sweetheart.”

…

“Go!”

Ezra was bleeding from the stab wound in his abdomen, pushing you towards Cee. The whole thing had gone to shit. Bodies laid out around you, their blood seeping into the patchy ground. And now there were mercenaries after you and only one pod to your ticket home. It was so close, but Ezra was already pale from the blood loss and you couldn’t find your fucking kit and you were crying and you can’t lose him.

“Ezra,” your voice shook. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” he panted. “You need to go. Don’t die because of me. Take Cee and leave.”

Cee. You had to protect Cee. Your chin trembled. You pressed your helmet against his before whispering an apology.

Ezra watched as you grabbed Cee’s hand and ran. He closed his eyes, struggling for air. But, oddly enough, he was okay with his death. Because it was to protect you and Cee. He wasn’t the definition of noble or good by any means, had killed plenty of people himself just for the precious gems alone. He did what was necessary to live. But if he could do this one right thing, if he could die knowing you were alive and safe, then he could accept it with open arms.

He suddenly felt an intense pressure against his wound, eyes going wide and mouth opening in painful shock.

You sat over him, patching his stab wound to the best of your ability before looping his arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist.

“C’mon!” You grunted.

Ezra stood up, grunting at the pain but letting you carry him – as much as you could anyway, even dying he was still mindful – towards the pod. Cee helped you carry him in and closed the hatch.

You and Cee sighed in relief once the pod had successfully taken off. You made sure Ezra was patched up properly and relaxed as you sat down next to him. He looked at you in amazement, offering a gently smile in thanks.

You smiled back as you grabbed his hand, reaching to your right to hold on to Cee’s. A new sense of hope coursing through the three of you. You survived.

  Tags: @scarlett-berserker​, @justlovetoreadfics​, @lil-baby27​, @mando-vibes​, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch​, @im-the-music-whore​, @certifiedhunter​, @outlawers​, @hejahockey​, @okaydacre​, @lemongrove​, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony​, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd​, @elusive-ivory​, @dizzydazed​, @bluejeancntrygrl​, @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi​, @evalynanne​, @purplewaterbird​, @angel-hunter-winchester​, @pascalisthepunkest​

[asterekmess]

S3A - E5

AAaannddd, we’re back, with another episode! Wow, this rewatch is gonna take for-fucking-ever isn’t it? Yeah, I thought so. Anywho, on with the show.

Read More’s Are Polite

Thoughts:

Boyd and Isaac sharing a bus seat, even though there’s clearly empty seats available. I love it. I love the packness (I will cling to the barest hints at pack until the day I die)

I think this is the most I’ve ever heard Boyd talk. I want MORE BOYD.

Also, all these fucking twenty-somethings riding the bus, tryin’ to pretend they’re just wee little 16/17 year olds. HA. They look so uncomfortable.

This is also the most I think I’ve heard Danny speak. I want MORE DANNY.

Oh god, this episode is gonna give me a headache. I don’t even know how to start going about writing this. Do I follow the show, with the flashbacks every ten seconds? Or do I actually follow the timeline and try to piece together all these lil bits? Oof.

Why why won’t Scott talk to Stiles about the Darach thing? This is literally the exact thing that Stiles said was happening, and now Scott’s beloved Deaton has confirmed it and Scott just...refuses to talk to him about it?

As usual, I’m on Stiles’ side. Why the fuck are they going to this cross-country meet after what happened?? “safety in numbers” what does that mean? NONE of you should be going???

Also, injuries from an alpha take longer to heal yeah, but like, not days? There’s no reason that Scott should think that’s normal. Surely he went to Deaton with his injury, right? Did Deaton tell him it was normal?? ALSO, just to get that whole anti-scott thing out of the way. If Scott’s becoming a real Alpha, then there’s no reason the injury shouldn’t have healed way before this. It’s almost like he only has a few cosmetic traits of Alphas, but none of the biological ones. Hmmmmmmmm.

*slides in from the left* also, side note, it’s canon that wolves in a pack are stronger and faster “better in every way” which includes healing faster. So It makes total sense for Boyd and Isaac to have healed way faster than Scott. Scott’s an omega, while Boyd and Isaac have a pack. They’re literally automatically more powerful than him.

That was such a random way to introduce the premise of the episode. “I can’t believe he’s dead” where is that line coming from? We were talking about the slash in your side and werewolf healing abilities.

wow. that’s literally the first time I’ve heard Scott say ‘i looked it up.’ I’m actually....impressed? He actually did research...of his own volition? I’m fucking flabbergasted.

where the hell did he hear about that agreement between Allison and her dad? Did Chris tell him? Did he say it in the last episode and I can’t remember?

I...okay hear me out. I see the tension/teasing they were going for between Allison and Scott, but like...I still don’t vibe with it? Like, the point of the conversation is “Is Allison capable of fending off a werewolf” and it’s like....yes? Obviously? When she says “I have skills and training” she doens’t just mean with the bow, dude. She was specifically taught how to fight someone who is far faster and stronger than her. Her training included how to deal with claws. Your argument is just ‘I have all the same traits as what you were taught to defend yourself against’ and it doesn’t actually lend itself at all to him being too capable an opponent?

WHERE? Where does Scott get these moves from? I’m not sorry, but hand to hand abilities are not innate. Scott doesn’t get to just be a fighting genius because he’s a werewolf. Derek was trained. Isaac and Boyd were trained. Allison was trained. So what the fuck is up with Scott suddenly being able to do all these things? Reflexes don’t cover that. It’s the fucking lacrosse thing all over again. Being a werewolf isn’t a replacement for actual skill. And why are they so desperate to show that she’s not capable of fighting him? What is romantic about her spending months training to fight a werewolf, only to be immoblized by a fucking omega? That’s terrifiying?(not to mention it makes no sense for her training to have sucked that bad when her family is one of the most deadly hunter clans in the world?)

for that matter...how does he know where she lives now?

....did he have do the creepy “looking up through eyelashes” thing with the ‘and they should scare you too.” he just looks fuckin demonic with the grr face. It’s almost as bad as that nasty grin they gave Derek at the end of S1.

also, WHY are all the camera angles tilted diagonally? That’s how I take instagram pictures, not how to shoot a fucking tv show. everybody looks like they’re in a fun house??

Do the argents know that there is an entire pack of alpha werewolves living above them? Did anyone think to tell them?

Derek. STOP just telling people that they’re going to help you. You’re supposed to ask. Peter’s a horrible influence on you. I also kind of hate the implications of this fight Derek is planning. I hate that it’s more than just them killing Erica. It’s Derek trying to do what his sister wants him to do. She was pissed at him for not attacking them, and he tried to explain they weren’t ready yet, but she was so fucking angry at him. So now he’s doing this, to prove to her that she shouldn’t be disappointed in him. Can you imagine the pain of finding your long lost sister alive again, and the first thing she does is tell you that you’re a complete disappointment and you’re weak and she regrets coming to find you?

*snort* in these random slow-mo flashes to the mall fight, it’s so easy to see how fake the fighting is. Like, obviously I don’t blame them, cus’ it’s not like they could actually beat each other up, but watching Derek’s fist completely miss is hilarious.

Dude, obviously he’s listening. You’re two seats away from him. JARED is listening. The both of you, get some fucking volume control.

How’re you plannin on stopping them, Scott? Hm? Boyd’s been able to take you down since day one, and Isaac is a beautiful lil vicious boy.

Why is the default plan always murder? Um, because these are literally serial killers and there is no form of human law enforcement that could ever take them down? God, the idea of ‘reasoning’ with them is literally like reasoning with Hitler. Every one of them personally murdered their entire pack to be a part of Duke’s group. They killed Erica. There is No Reasoning with them.

Oh how I love Cora. Yes. Good girl. And No, Derek...he didn’t? He followed you into the vault begrudgingly and then enlisted the help of a fucking hunter who helped more than he did. Like...? I don’t get it? PLUS. What do you mean save her life? You already know that the Alphas intended for them to get out and they weren’t planning on killing Cora. They wanted her to kill other people so you would have to kill her. Which you were never gonna actually do, so how did anybody have to save her life? Derek? Wtf?

They already made the first move by kidnapping your sister and your betas, then killing one of them, and then injuring another. Honestly, they’ve made like five moves and ya’ll are super behind.

.....dude what is with this whole ‘Scott suddenly gets all the literary references” thing? I mean, i get that he’s supposed to have gotten all enlightened over summer break, but why tf was he reading the myth of Herakles? Also, spoiler, the Lernean Hydra was defeated by Herakles working with Iolaus to cut off its heads and cauterize the wound before more could grow back. So cutting its heads off still fucking worked. (Fun side-fact: Only two of the Hydra’s heads did the double growback thing. The middle head was completely impervious to Herakles’ weapons and was immortal, so he chopped it off as close to the body as he could and just buried it. Worked pretty well.)

God, I’m still just so disgusted with this whole Lydia/Aiden Danny/Ethan thing. Like, I saw someone somewhere say that Aiden and Ethan were well over eighteen...but then...how did they get enrolled at the school? Whatever, even if they were seventeen/eighteen, or hell, even nineteen, My issue is with the MURDER part. THEY ARE MURDERERS. WHY has no one explained this to Danny or Lydia?? WTF?

Ew. Why would Lydia ever wanna bang in a school office? She has standards, people.

Scott, this is the one time when you could actually say ‘i can smell it.” or ‘i just know” Because that’s LITERALLY how chemosignals work. and instead you just point out his claws?

why is this elevator so fucking big???

...i do not know what to think about the whole Deucalion is blind, but only when he wants to be, thing. Like...why’d they give him a disability and then just make it so he could turn it off anytime he wanted? It would’ve been so much more badass if he was always blind and had just learned to use his actually hyped up senses to navigate the world instead? It would’ve been even more badass if the only physically disabled person they have on the show weren’t a goddamn villain.

Okay, but like, Peter and Cora. His greeting to her, such a quiet, unassuming introduction to her? Clattering something to announce his presence. Keeping his distance. “it’s just me, your uncle.” But then, it intrigues me that he specifies. “Your uncle Peter.” DID THEY HAVE MORE THAN ONE UNCLE???? And Cora’s instant tension, but keeping a sass that sounds so much like something she would’ve learned as a kid, mimicking that terminology. “Uncle Peter who killed Sister Laura.”

I WANT THEM TO HUG SO BAD.

Okay, but timeline-wise. why didn’t anybody go to the bodies right after the fight? They all watched Derek and Ennis fall, but no one went to check on them? Huh?

what is with this voiceover??? You have no idea if Derek’s going to get them all killed! Them not doing anything is definitely going to get them all killed! “Don’t stop them, lead them.” GAG. Fuck you Deaton.

????I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Why does Boyd just randomly back down?? Is it supposed to be seeing that Scott’s hurt? Why would that matter? Is it supposed to be hearing that Scott cares? Cus’ that’s bullshit. Even if Scott does care, it’s not like he’s the only one? It’s not like Boyd’s all alone? Isaac’s RIGHT NEXT TO HIM and Cora and Stiles have all made clear they care about him. Even PETER is around.

Yes, Stiles, you do have a very perceptive eye for evil. It’s fucking wonderful.

.....when did Stiles get danny’s number? ARE THEY BROS? I see a previous text bubble from Danny above Stiles’ first message which means THEY”VE TEXTED BEFORE THIS. I”M CLAIMING IT.

Is anyone else like..super depressed that Ethan is showing more of a pack bond with Ennis than like...anybody else has with Derek besides his actual family? Like, yeah, Stiles has worried about him plenty and Boyd’s clearly fucking pissed off, but the actual fear in his eyes, that quiet worry, that’s so much more pack-like than anything else we’ve seen?

I am SO confused about why they can’t fucking hear this shit. Why can’t ethan hear them talking about it? Why didn’t Scott hear Ethan telling Danny? Just PRETEND for a MINUTE that these are fucking werewolves.

THey’re going after the others ANYWAY Morrell! Helping save Ennis isn’t going to change that. They’re gonna kill Scott ANYWAY.

Also, why can’t Morrell just open the gate herself?

why is Jared so nauseous? They’re at a standstill? I thought the point of car-sickness was the movement??

God, that moment with Lydia on the phone? I love it. I love it so much. Just the chill “Heyyy Stiles.” “...okay.” So good.

“Do I have a PhD in Lycanthropy?” I’m CACKLING. Fucking snorting like a pig, why is this so funny to me? God, Dylan your delivery is so perfect.

I can feel Stiles having a fucking aneurysm while Coach whistles at him. I can feeeeeell it.

“hey Jared. How ya doin?”

Dude..that is not...that’s not what happens when you don’t heal out of guilt. That’s just not. We see IN THE NEXT EPISODE that that’s not what happens. Their blood doesn’t turn BLACK. That’s a POISON thing. GUYS COME ON.

....i’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel bad for ennis but I like REALLY don’t feel bad for him.

Allison honey, this’d be easier if you laid him down on the floor.

JEsus CHRIst. HOw fucking toxic was her relationship with her mother than Allison hallucinates getting SCREamed at? Also, Allison seriously needs a doctor bc these hallucinations started way before the nemeton. This is so unhealthy.

Putting aside my fury at Isaac going to Scott after what happened with Derek, I hate this whole “you’re not going alone” thing. Like...what the fuck is this supposed to be? If Isaac knows what happened, then he wouldn’t insist on going for Scott’s sake. he’d be doing it for BOYD. HiS PACK. He’d be doing it for ERICA.

I love how chill they let Lydia be. “Ah, screw it.” God, it’s so nice for her not to have to be the hyper-feminine “better than all of you” character anymore. She’s allowed to have some depth.

duke you’re not...you’re not fucking blind. Also, how exactly did Kali GET up there?? and WHY DIDN”T ANYONE NOTICE? Scott’s just fucking useless at this point, but ISAAC? PETER? DEREK? BOYD? CORA? COME ON.

WHY ARE THEY SHIRTLESS? WHY NO SHIRTS?

God, what the fuck is wrong with these people? WHy do they insist on making ethan and aiden masochists? It’s literally disgusting, having them fucking laugh every time they get the shit beat out of them.

NOpe. NOPE. NO. Scott does not get to do the Alpha thing. NO. I SAID NO.

I love Cora’s normalcy like yeah, she’s all wolfy, but she’s also so well-adjusted? KNocking on the door. It’s so fucking nice.

“Out cold,” Deaton says, and then Ennis immediately opens his eyes. Love it. Some vet you are. Deaton, what the fuck happened to “difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble” “Not in here you won’t”?? Why is Duke suddenly able to kill his own packmate in your fucking office? And why can Duke leave with blood on his hands and no one realizes he’s the one who killed Ennis? Why didn’t Kali HEAR that??? Why Didn’t Aiden and Kali notice Peter and Cora hiding behind a CAR?

ALSO peter’s holding cora’s HAND. I LOVE FAMILY. (i’m complicated, okay?)

Yes, Allison THANK YOU. That’s the kind of shit I LIke “Sounds like saving your own ass” YES.

BUT. HOw the fuck does ALlison know where to go????

....Allison, the first three flashbombs helped. After that it’s just a light show. YOu could literally have killed the ALphas RIGHT THERE with an Arrow EACh to the heart. WHy were you aiming at the floor??

nobody questioned ALlison and lydia getting on the bus? Finstock? No? OKay, sure, fine.

I like Stiles getting to actually talk to someone about the Darach, since scott refuses. Lydia’s got his back.

for once, it’s true. That wouldn’t have been Scott’s fault. Slicing up the back of Ennis’ leg doesn’t make it his fault that Derek fell.

Shaky cameras are so gross.

NO. NO NO NO. NO. Fuck you.

Last Thoughts: This episode was just...bad. Like, it was just this constant contradiction of (Still flimsy) baseline abilities and behaviors set up for the characters. It’s even more Scott centric than all the other episodes and it’s SUPPOSED to be about DEREK DYING. How do you have an entire episode about Derek’s death without actually giving him any real scenes?? God, it’s so frustrating to get more satisfaction out of a three second scene with Peter and Cora than it is with any scenes with Scott in them.

Also, sorry I took so long to put this one out. This is slow going my dudes, it’s hard to get up the mental fortitude to watch these, make notes, and also make real notes about what I’m changing/adjusting in my rewrite. Oofta.

[aion-rsa]

15 Best Resident Evil Bosses and Monsters Ranked

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You don’t go 25 years with a name like Resident Evil without introducing a good mix of macabre monsters primed to haunt the nightmares of players everywhere. At their best, these frightening beasties make you want to run away and hide, challenging you to use your limited resources wisely while trying to survive the night. Even at their worst, any Resident Evil monster worth its weight in viscera will still have you gawping at just how disgusting it appears. Eugh!

With the release of Resident Evil Village and the arrival of nine-foot-tall vampire Lady Dimitrescu, we thought it worth ranking the 15 scariest monsters in Resident Evil history. That’s right – not even a top 10 would be good enough to do the creatures of Capcom’s iconic survival horror franchise justice.

15. Ustanak – Resident Evil 6

Resident Evil’s much maligned sixth entry has a lot of problems, we’ll admit, but one area where it does succeed is in its litany of boss fights. While the game features four interconnected campaigns with plenty of unique enemies, Ustanak breaks away from the crowded roster of other monsters thanks to his relentless pursuing of Jake Muller and appearance (however brief) in almost all of the featured storylines. As far as bioweapons go, he’s also one of the most mean-looking, boasting a tank-like physique and threatening mechanical claw. 

You’ll fight Ustanak multiple times as part of Jake’s Resident Evil 6 campaign, first within a wintery Eastern European town as he clambers from chopper to chopper to get to you, then as part of a team-up with Leon in a shipment yard, before eventually finishing him off in a fist fight as boiling lava bubbles below you. Very much following the Nemesis template of growing persistently stronger, Ustanak is easily one of the redeeming elements of Resident Evil 6’s overt bloat.

14. Comms Officer/Scaghead – Resident Evil: Revelations

The mutated Comms Officer in spin-off title Revelations is one of the first major hurdles you come across. After learning that Chris isn’t aboard the Queen Zenobia, Jill is forced to venture into the bowels of the cruise ship, and this oversized piece of sludge is the only thing standing in your way. Taking down this two-headed behemoth involves getting him close to the various gas cylinders littered around and firing, all while keeping his many ghoulish minions at bay.

The comms officer’s human half is where the monster is at its weakest, so by placing a few well-timed sniper shots in this area players shouldn’t have too much trouble. Even still, only having a limited number of windows to jump through and tight passages to go down makes him a real problem early on. That’s why it pays to be patient (as well as smart) with this lumbering mass of goo. 

13. Regenerador – Resident Evil 4

Capable of regrowing any limbs you shoot off with relative ease, the first time you encounter a regenerador in Resident Evil 4 is easily one of the adventure’s scariest moments. Though Leon is by this point well-equipped, and without Ashley as his tag-a-long helper, these sludgy beings are still quite the challenge, as they continue chasing you unless you equip your thermal vision and target their specific weakness points.

An enhanced version of the Regenerador greets you a little later in the form of an Iron Maiden. This hellish creature would enjoy nothing more than to hug Leon and impale him on the long nails that protrude from its flesh. You have to be sure to not get to close and maintain your distance, all while targeting the leech-like Las Plagas cells scattered all over its body to make it out safely.

12. Executioner – Resident Evil 5

It may have been the entry that saw the series swerve fully into action blockbuster territory, yet Resident Evil 5 also features some extremely unsettling monsters that still haunt us to this day. One of the first you come across are the handful of executioners who look and act exactly as their name would suggest. These immense figures have pins sticking out of their arms and wield a deadly axe, one swing of which is enough to turn Chris and Sheva into nothing but jam.

The executioners pose a real problem early on in Resident Evil 5’s campaign, as your weapons are severely underpowered, and you’re only given limited space in which to lead them around. Hold out for long enough, though, and you’ll manage to avoid the edge of their blade, only to encounter a more imposing version of them later on in the Desperate Escape DLC. It’s here where their axe is now laden in flames and primed to roast your skin.

11. Licker – Resident Evil 2

Arguably not just one of the scariest but also one of the most iconic monster designs to come out of Resident Evil, lickers are known for their ability to move fast, climb walls, and trip players up using their incredibly far-reaching tongue. The lickers’ one weakness is lack of sight, which Leon and Claire are wise to take advantage of when exploring the zombie-infested R.P.D building. Sometimes, however, these brain-exposed mutants are simply impossible to avoid, forcing you to outwit them and stay at a distance. 

Believe it or not, lickers are thought to be an advanced form of zombie. These particular subjects were designed to be even deadlier bioweapons. We’d say they succeeded. While lickers are easily dealt with in most of the games (provided you know what you’re doing), their arrival is always unsettling since you need to remain quiet, often while trying to contend with other undead threats. 

10. Lisa Trevor – Resident Evil 

Altering an existing game’s story or structure is always a tricky prospect. On the one hand, you want to be true to what fans know, yet at the same time sprinkle in a few surprises. This was the case with Lisa Trevor’s debut appearance in the 2002 remake of the first Resident Evil game. She isn’t just a ho-hum boss fight, but rather a fully formed character with a surprisingly sad back story that involves her being experimented on by Umbrella for at least 20 years.

Lisa Trevor’s animal-like posture and distorted appearance is a result of this constant testing, which makes having to slay her alongside a true series villain (Albert Wesker) all the more heart breaking. The encounter itself may be relatively straightforward, but hearing Lisa wail and cry out as you’re forced to pump rounds into her is genuinely unsettling. Lisa Trevor is a welcome addition to the original Resident Evil’s canon, not least due to how terrifying her circumstances are.

9. Dr. Salvador – Resident Evil 4

What makes Dr. Salvador from Resident Evil 4 even scarier than he looks is the fact he’s not even a boss. No, all this relentless, bag-wearing maniac needs to try and keep Leon Kennedy at bay is a thirst for blood and a ripping chainsaw primed to rip our protagonist to shreds. He’s surprisingly fast and nimble in spite of his wide-set frame, which makes for a deadly combination when you’ve just heard the rumble of his tool-turned-weapon from a distance and are trying to get an accurate lock on him. 

Typical handgun bullets will do very little to stop the swing of Dr. Salvador’s chainsaw. Instead, your best bet is to barrage him with shotgun shells or attempt a stun with a flash grenade. Either way, every die-hard Resident Evil fan remembers where they were the first time they heard the grinding of a metal chain so soon after entering Resident Evil 4’s Spanish village. 

8. Cerberus – Resident Evil

Dogs have always played a huge role in Resident Evil, but most players will never forget the first time they smashed onto the screen. Slowly traversing down an innocent hallway of the Spencer Mansion in the original Resident Evil, the unsettling silence is suddenly disrupted by the sound of windows shattering and what appears to be two undead Dobermans. They are, in fact, four-legged monsters known in canon as Cerberuses – bio-organic weapons infected by the T-virus strain.

These doggos are far from the good boys you first expect them to be, leaving a mark on your mind as well as the hallway floor thanks to the amount of blood they drip. Their introduction kicked off the classic Resident Evil tradition of having to take down zombie canines quickly. If you don’t, they’ll continue to pursue you around most corridors or until you can bide your time in the nearest safe room. Cerberus dogs are living proof that no mammal is safe from Umbrella’s experiments. 

7. Nosferatu – Resident Evil Code: Veronica 

Code: Veronica often gets forgotten about as far as Resident Evil games go. This is a shame considering its host to two of the most merciless franchise villains in siblings Alexander and Alexia Ashford. What makes them so monstrous? Possibly their willingness to experiment on their own father, eventually transforming him into the near unkillable monster known as Nosferatu. Strung up, blinded, and suffering from a gaping hole in the chest, he serves as one of Code: Veronica’s most nightmarish monsters and boss fights.

Nosferatu is another Resident Evil monster with a deep and disturbing back story, which makes fighting him even creepier. After whipping Claire whips her partner Steve Burnside away to one side, she faces Nosferatu on a wintery helipad without much visibility. It may be fairly obvious where his weak spot is, but you’ll quite literally need to play it cool to pump enough rounds in.

6. Deborah Harper – Resident Evil 6

Bombing it through the underground cavern in a minecart while trying to avoid the clutches of Helena’s gloopy sister is one of Resident Evil 6’s best sequences. At first it seems like you may have rescued Deborah in time, but it isn’t long until Leon and his partner discover she’s already been subjected to the C-virus, causing her to catch alight before birthing a more monstrous version of herself from out of her own back. 

If this imagery alone isn’t enough to make you fear Deborah, just wait until she comes at you with her four whip-like tentacles. First you face her head-on while trying not to get repeatedly lashed as the caverns crumble around you, before gunning at her from the back of a racing minecart as mentioned. The fight culminates once you hit a ridge and squeaky Deborah is forced to fall to her death. For a short while there, though, this gruesome bioweapon gets close to giving Leon and Helena the kiss of death.

5. Queen Leech – Resident Evil 0

Don’t be fooled by how regal the monster known as Queen Leech looks in human form. By the time Billy and Sherry come across her in Resident Evil Zero, she’s increased in height, gained multiple flaps, and sports a face full of enough teeth to finish you in one bite. This boss fight serves as the climax of this prequel adventure, and as such she chases you throughout multiple areas.

She’s one of the scariest Resident Evil monsters due to her disgusting final form, coupled with her ability to control loads of smaller leeches, too. Players with a hatred of slithery creatures are sure to find her disgusting.

4. Marguerite Baker – Resident Evil 7

Almost any member of Resident Evil 7’s Baker family would have been a good choice for this list, but we had to pick Marguerite due to how distinctly spooky your boss encounter with her is. Not only has she grown abnormally long limbs by the time you take her on in an abandoned outhouse but the majority of the fight also takes place in the dark. This makes your attempt to burn her all the more unnerving since she’s prone to sneak up on you and strike.

Players will likely have already developed a deep hatred for Marguerite even before this fight, though, due to the handful Metal Gear Solid-esque missions where you’re forced to sneak past her as Mia. However, all bets are off by the time you face her as Ethan. It’s just a simple case of knowing where to look and what nooks she may pop out of. Sending both Marguerite and her army of insects to Hell is satisfyingly tense and a good showcase of Resident Evil 7’s more claustrophobic first-person perspective.

3. G-virus William Birkin – Resident Evil 2 Remake

The mutated version of William Birkin already looked grotesque in Resident Evil 2 on PlayStation One, but Capcom outdid itself when returning to the character for the 2019 remake. Transformed into a ghoulish monstrosity as a result of injecting himself with the G-Virus strain, Birkin constantly cries out in pain to his wife and daughter as players concentrate fire on the gaping eye bulging out of his right-side shoulder. This final hint of humanity makes fighting him feel devastating.

Dr. Birkin loses more control of himself as the Resident Evil 2 campaign barrels towards its end, eventually transforming into a wall-crawling mass of daggers that tries to tear your head off. His pursuit of Leon and Claire eventually leads to his downfall, however, after his attempt to derail the train escaping Raccoon City is thwarted by a few pokes. Still, Birkin goes down as one of the gooiest monsters in Resident Evil history.

2. Nemesis – Resident Evil 3

Resident Evil’s original hulking stalker is still one of the scariest. First appearing in the original PS One version of Resident Evil 3 before being slightly modernized for last year’s remake, Nemesis is a massive pain the ass for ex-S.T.A.R.S member Jill Valentine because he just doesn’t stop and can appear unannounced at almost any time. His Terminator-like determination to pursue means that you’re never safe when exploring the streets of Racoon City.

Nemesis is easily recognisable by his missing lips and stitched-together skull, both of which result in a face that only a mother could love. He becomes more deformed the longer Resident Evil 3’s campaign progresses, too, making each fight feel scarier than the last. Nemesis has only ever returned in spin-offs, but you never know when he’ll pop around the corner next.

1. Mr. X – Resident Evil 2 Remake

Mr. X is the reason many players start panicking whenever they hear the sound of approaching footsteps in Resident Evil 2 Remake. Don’t be fooled by his bowler hat and trench coat, this Tyrant model T-103 looks like a wardrobe but moves at a brisk pace. As such, facing him head-on is always a bad idea, especially since he won’t stay down for long, even after pumping him full of explosive rounds. The opposite direction is always your best bet whenever Mr. X unexpectedly shows up. 

While he gradually evolves into something more monstrous and unsightly towards the end of Leon and Claire’s adventure, even Mr. X’s initially plain appearance is unsettling. You simply have no way of defeating or halting this 7-foot-tall stalker, and you’re instead forced to navigate R.P.D headquarters using an entirely different route than you first intended. This endless game of cat and mouse never fails to get the heart pumping, especially since he follows you in real time.

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[hobidreams]

Curiosity | JJK {M}

when innocent jungkook comes to you with a not-so-innocent question... you decide it’s easier to just demonstrate.

pairing: switch!jungkook x reader genre: smut words: 3.6k contains: college au, best friend’s brother, oral (m), bondage (m), kinda soft dirty talk/praise, condomless sex, jungkook has a huge dick (of course), he also has a massive crush on you a/n: thank you for the request, anon!

Of one thing you are deadly certain: you should not have left this essay to the last minute. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, tapping out words you hope form sentences coherent enough to net you a decent grade. There’s no other sound save for your occasional grunts of frustration, as your roommate is out on her long-awaited date with a cute lit major (Namjoon, was it?). You’re only a hundred words away from finishing, and you can’t wait to be done with this so you can get started on the million other things on your to-do list.

You’re so focused, you don’t even notice when the lock on your front door turns. You certainly don’t realize someone has slipped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, bright-eyed grin on cute lips. It isn’t until— “Hello?”

“Gah!”

You jolt, leaping back as you grab the weapon nearest to you: a ruler. You point it towards the source of the voice, which reveals itself to not be an axe murderer, but Jungkook, looking amused. “Are you going to measure me?”

“God, Jungkook.” You let the ruler clatter to the table. “You have to stop doing that.”

He plops down onto the couch. “Sorry.” He flashes you an innocent smile that you’re sure has all the girls in his lectures fawning over him. Not that he would know what to do with them. Not this sweet, boyish Jungkook.

“Anyway, your sister isn’t here.”

“I know.” He strips off his jacket, draping it neatly over the back of the sofa. He’s in a plain black tee, looking more handsome than anyone has the right to in such basics.

“Okay then.” You swivel your chair back to your laptop.

Recently, Jungkook’s been hanging out here a lot more often, with or without his sister. You don’t actually mind; you keep to your own devices, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s a good kid, always up for a movie or a talk about anything and everything. Navigating first year at university is always a rough time, so you’re usually happy to help him when you can. But right now… The paper takes absolute priority.

You re-focus and resume the rapid-fire typing, trying to ignore the shuffling you can hear behind you. It gets harder to not notice when Jungkook stands up and pads to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, then the freezer, then pours himself a noisy glass of water. He comes back into the living room with the cup in hand, leaning against the doorframe as he sips. You can feel his eyes on you, no matter how you try to remind yourself that you have to finish this.

To your relief, he eventually gives up and walks to the sofa. But a minute later, he’s back at it again, this time heading to the rack of CDs. You can’t help but track him with your peripheral vision, watching him restlessly fumble around with your collection. The minutes tick by, and to your absolute shock, the words on the document aren’t writing themselves.

In the end, Jungkook does nothing at all except distract you. When he turns from the CDs emptyhanded, you catch his gaze. “Don’t you have papers to write or exams to study for, Jungkook?”

“No, I finished all of my work already. At least, all the important stuff.”

It must run in the family, you think begrudgingly. Lucky them.

“Well—”

“Actually!” Jungkook interrupts you in a voice so loud it scares even himself. He takes a step forward, softening his tone. “Actually. I did have something I wanted to… erm… study. I wanted to ask you about it.” He shoots you the look that you both know you’re weak to. Curse the gods for making him so darn adorable.

It’s not like you’ll get any work done with him around anyway, so you figure answering him just might get him to leave. “Okay. What is it?”

Why does he look so nervous? His fingers knot themselves before he reaches up to touch his hair, smoothing out kinks that aren’t there. He sniffles.

“Jungkook?”

You see his lips move, but you can’t quite hear what he’s saying.

“Pardon?”

“…ndage… Uh, can you… maybe, possibly, please teach me about bondage?”

Nothing on earth could have prepared you for that to come out of his mouth.

You practically fall out of your chair, your jaw slack. “What makes you think I can teach you?” Flustered, that’s the best thing you can come up with.

“You’re more experienced than me.” He walks closer, towering over you. “There’s no one else I can ask. Please.”

You didn’t even know he was experienced at all in the first place! How had you been so mistaken in your impression of him? “Why do you even want to learn?”

“I…” His cheeks slightly flush with color. “I’m just curious. Really curious.”

You take a hand through your hair. “It’s not really something that can be verbally taught.”

“Show me then.”

You can’t help the pulse that runs through you at the dip in his tone, at the stubborn desire that you’ve never taken notice of before. Where has this Jungkook been hiding all this time? His arms are crossed, the veins from training prominent and rippling. They’d feel good wrapped around you. Are you really contemplating this? Hell.

“I… I’ve gotta finish this paper.”

“Take a break.”

“No way. Not unless I get to tie you up.”

“Deal.”

“Thought so. Wait. What?”

“Deal,” he repeats. “Tie me up.”

“Jeon Jungkook.” You stand, trying to stare him down even though he’s taller than you. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You know we can never go back if we do this.”

He nods. Just that simple action sends dangerous tingles from the pit of your stomach, a sensation that lets you know you’re on the cusp of doing something you really shouldn’t be doing. But you’re starting to want to.

Suddenly, he walks away. For a brief moment, you actually find yourself disappointed before you realize he’s just picking up his backpack. A quick zip, and he’s pulling out thin, solid-looking fabric in a dark navy. As he makes his way back to you, he offers a smile, but it no longer looks innocent to you.

Your eyes dart from him to what he holds in his hands, then back to him. You swallow. You’re almost done the essay anyway, right? Snatching the straps from his palm, you stalk into your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you as he follows so obediently.

In the room, you flick the lights on but dim them low. You circle around, tilting your head to look up at the boy you never thought you could ever see in this way. In this light, with that dangerous glint in his eyes, you can’t see him as anything but.

You reach for him, pressing your body flush against him as your lips meet for the first time. He tastes faintly like candy, a sweetness that you recognize as dangerously addicting. He traces your lips with the tip of his tongue, his broad hands sliding up beneath your oversized hoodie to find you’re wearing nothing underneath. Meeting your bare flesh makes him growl with fresh arousal.

“I… I was just studying so I didn’t bother,” you mumble, a lame excuse but to your credit, the firm bulge that’s pressing against you is very distracting.

“Makes things easier.” He smiles as he steps back to tug his tee over his head. It falls to the floor along with his belt, his jeans.

“Impatient?” You ask, raking your eyes down past his sculpted chest, the subtle outline of his abs. The mirth in your eyes dies completely when you take in the prominent, massive outline in his boxer-briefs. Yum. Your own restraint runs empty as you hook your fingers into the waistband, and tug down.

I want that inside me, is your first thought when Jungkook’s cock is freed. The smooth curve that stems from a short tuft of midnight hair leads to a dark-red head, prominent and full. Sparse foreskin just barely covers the ridge that looks like it’ll be merciless. You gulp, steadying yourself. You remind yourself that you’re meant to be in charge here.

“Get on the bed.”

Jungkook obeys, letting his head rest on the multitude of pillows. He licks his lips, managing to make even that simple action ridiculously enticing. Especially now that you know what that tongue is capable of. You advance, sliding the straps between your fingers. You’ve only done this once before so it’s not like you’re particularly well-versed either, but you can’t find it in you to give up this opportunity.

His eyes never leave you as you guide his arms up, looping the fabric around his wrists, careful not to hurt him. “Is that too tight?” You ask, cinching the knot around the poles of your bedframe. You hadn’t considered this to be an advantage of this particular bed before.

“No.”

When you’re satisfied that your ties are secure, your fingers leave his skin much to his chagrin. You circle around to the foot of the bed, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. You consider leaving your clothes on, but they’ll only be a distraction. Especially with the heat and sweat that’s already prickling on your skin.

Off it goes.

Jungkook’s eyes are saucers as he takes in your naked breasts, full and pert. He never could have imagined he would actually be seeing them instead of in his dreams, over and over again until he ruins his pants in his sleep. But now he knows that none of his fantasies can compare to the real thing.

You fight back the giggles at how shell-shocked he looks. It makes you want to take off something else to watch him react. But the only thing that remains… You eye your terry-cloth shorts and can almost hear Jungkook whispering yes.

Fine.

Those go too, leaving you standing in the cheeky black panties fringed with a flirty lace. You take it deliberately slow, strolling to the bed so he can watch how the undies shift with every movement, so he can wonder if you’ll expose what lies beneath by accident. Crawling onto the mattress, you wonder if this is how a predator feels when beholding its prey.

Jungkook shivers when you draw a path up his legs with your fingertips. His first moan is when you flit to his inner thigh, so close to his cock but not quite. You let your nails gently scrape at his skin, drawing closer only to pull away. “Fuck.” The expletive uttered in his once-shy voice is a juxtaposition that drenches you.

You didn’t think anything could top that noise, but then he gasps your name when you finally curl your fingers around his cock. The veins that run along his shaft ripple beneath your thumb, racing with adrenaline as he stiffens even more. It all only crescendos from there.

“Ngh!”

The bedframe rattles violently against the wall as Jungkook tugs against his restraints, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hips buck upwards, trying to force more of himself into the palm that you keep carefully, infuriatingly slack with every stroke. He is the very picture of need with his slightly pouty mouth, effort glistening on his skin in the sparse light. You could definitely get used to a sight like this.

“Shhh, you don’t want the neighbours to hear, do you?” You whisper, amusement thick in your tone.

“Forget them,” Jungkook moans, “just don’t stop.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me commands.”

Each pump is now accompanied by a wet squelching from the pre-cum that only gathers when he’s torturously aroused. How could he not be, when the girl he’s been crushing on for god knows how long is on her knees, bent before him in only her panties? The wicked smirk playing on your lips tempts him more than you could ever know.

God. Jungkook wants to touch you. He would give anything to wrap his fingers around your waist and submerge himself in your pretty cunt. He wants to watch you fall apart at his hands like he is at yours. But you tied these restraints too well.

“You’re so cute like this, Jungkookie,” you tease, “so hard and eager.” He jerks when you push against his frenulum, groans rising in volume when you twist your wrist. “And I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” Drawing closer, you exhale, letting your hot breath dance across his shaft. His cock jerks in response.

“Want a reward?”

A desperate whimper escapes him and the tingles between your thighs practically explode. How can any one man look so delicious when he has no power at all? You want him sliding into you, can practically feel how he would stretch and force you to his shape. He could easily bottom out and then some, with a size like this. You don’t think you’ve ever craved a dick this badly before. But you remind yourself that this is meant to be a lesson for him.

“Yes.” He lifts his hips. “I’ve been good.” He’s using those adorable eyes to his advantage, unleashing them in fervent hope that you’ll cave.

“Mmm.” You let his cock fall against his taut tummy, freed fingers now running up his torso to appreciate how his sculpted body responds to your touch. “I don’t know...”

“Please…”

You kiss along his inner thigh, fighting your own urgency despite the sticky arousal pooling between your legs that you’d rather slather on his shaft. How will react when you take him in your mouth? Will he whimper, or will he groan? You’re having way too much fun with this, but there’s just something about Jungkook that is irresistible.

When you finally lick a trail up the length of his arousal, he bucks. “Ha-aah…!” Your tongue swirls around the head, dripping saliva messily around the head to really give him a show. When you cast your eyes up, he’s struck by how much he wants to shove your head down, to stuff your mischievous mouth until you’re choking on him. You recognize that glimmer in his eyes and find yourself a little relieved he’s tied up at the moment. You can’t have him interrupting you, after all.

Wrapping your lips around him, you start a suction that no man has ever been able to resist. Jungkook is no exception as the bedframe is sent shaking again, especially when he hits the back of your throat. You can hardly keep your jaw open but it’s worth it if you can see him like this. You manage to take almost all of him into you, a hand making up for what’s left.

“I-If you keep doing that, I’ll come,” he stutters when you come up for air, tongue dragging lazily along the ridge.

“Should I let you?”

“No.” He shakes his head for emphasis.

You raise an eyebrow. “No?”

“I… I wanna come inside you instead.”

He already knows you’re on the pill. Cheeky brat. You eye him and he grins, playing innocent, though you both know he’s fooling no one. As much as you want to turn him down for sheer satisfaction, his cock is too convincing. You reach for your panties.

As you peel the ruined fabric away from your soaked cunt, you point a stern finger at Jungkook. “No moving. Or else.”

“Okay.”

He’s holding his breath as he watches you straddle him, shifting into the perfect position that he half-wishes was over his mouth. He hopes there will be time for that later. At least, he’ll be trying his best to make time. For now…

You lower, and the glans parts your folds, sinks inside. “Oh, goooood.” Nothing could have prepared you for this. You are going to be so sore tomorrow, but right now all you want is more. “Why are you so big?” You cling to his sides, focusing on just breathing. Your clit is begging to be touched with each inch that you take.

“You like it that much?” Jungkook sounds proud.

“Maybe.” You can feel him everywhere, the fullness that violates your senses and forces all thought to dissipate. “Just. Maybe.”

When he’s hilted, when your thighs are meeting his and you feel him nudging against your cervix, you have to pause to gather yourself. But that doesn’t last; you can’t resist from sliding yourself along the dick that only seems to get harder inside your heat. He’s watching you, eyes glued to your form as you tremble and shudder, a carnal beauty that he can’t believe is all his, at least for the next few moments.

You were trying to hold back your moans, but they start to drop freely from your lips by the third stroke as you adjust to catch your clit on his pelvic bone. He loves when you grind against him, so blissed out that you’ll do anything if it means you’ll cum. You were right, he thinks, that there would be no going back from this. He already knows he’ll never get enough of how you throw your head back and ride him, thighs slamming into him, cunt impossibly tight and dripping because of him. It almost makes being tied up worth it. Almost.

You’re getting faster. The bed whines under the weight and motion as you swing your gaze up and find him just as drowning in this as you are. His hair is a mess against the pillows, half-obscuring those lust-consumed eyes. No matter how your muscles ache, you can’t stop. Not anymore. Not when pleasure glows white hot in your veins, ready to explode.

So close. You’re so goddamn close—

“Ah, ah, stop, stop.”

Instantly, you halt, frowning as the wisps of climax escape your gasp. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“The ties. It hurts. It really hurts.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry!” With Jungkook still buried inside you, you lean forward. You dig your nails into the knots and hurriedly undo the cloth that binds him. “There. Are you okay?”

The fabric falls onto the pillow and he rolls his wrists a few times, testing out his newfound freedom.

“Jungkook?”

His dark eyes swing up to meet yours. Uh oh.

Everything flips.

Your back hits the mattress. Strong arms wrap around you. Now Jungkook’s the one on top, body heavy, keeping you pinned. He has the audacity to smile before he gives a single pump of his agile hips, a taste of what he’s capable of.

“Did you—Jungkook!” You want to smack him, but any anger that you might have felt is overridden when he kisses you, really kisses you with an urgency that can only come from denial. Your tongues mingle and explore, tasting each other’s need like lovers starved.

“Sorry, but I have to fuck you now,” he breathes against your lips.

Your smart mouth can’t come up with a retort. Not when he’s pumping into you, using that thick cock way too well to stimulate your sweetest spots. Each slippery stroke shoves you closer to the climax that promises to break you. You’re already pulsing, nails scoring scratches on his back while he sucks at your neck, both instinctually trying to stake claim on the best sex you’ve ever had.

At his mercy, all you can do is breathe as he forces your legs back with strong arms hooked under your knees. Now he can go deeper, slam himself against your cervix while you drench him with arousal and fill the room with broken sighs. He wants every bit of his cock soaked in you.

“Baby,” he pants, bangs falling, “I love how wet you are.” Where had that pet name come from? But you’re not so much surprised as you are aroused by this side of Jungkook, carnally grunting as he ruts. “I’m close, fuck.” he spits it out like he doesn’t want this to end, and you know exactly how he feels. He reaches for your clit, haphazardly circling with his fingers and you cinch around him desperately.

Five seconds later, you’re gone.

You’re vaguely aware of the heat he spills into you as you tremble, pulsing and shaking against him as you cry his name. He gives you his deepest strokes yet before he slows, collapsing onto you, exhausted. And in this moment, all you can do is hold on to each other while pleasure rolls and ebbs, and the sparks melt into comfort and satisfaction.

Eventually, the heat is too much to take. “You’re too heavy,” you say, lightly laughing as you shove him off.

He lands facedown on the mattress with an oof. “You didn’t mind it five minutes ago.” When he looks up, rolls over to flash his teeth at you, all smiles again, you know better than to underestimate him. You let him cuddle up, rest his cheek on your arm.

“So, did I sate your curiosity?” You ask sarcastically, pressing a hand to your sweaty chest to find your heart is still racing.

Jungkook tilts his head. His eyes find yours. “Not yet.” He drops a kiss on your skin. “I think we’ll need to do it a few more times.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t quite turn him down as his kisses get deeper, shift over to the soft skin beneath your breast. He licks the curve, nibbles. “Your sister is going to kill me.”

Pushing onto his knees, Jungkook picks up the discarded straps from the pillow. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.” He holds the ties out, and there’s that smirk again. “Now, I think it’s your turn.”

[itsreallylaterightnow]

Now All Our Memories (They’re Haunted)

Author’s Note:

Alrightyyyyy so here it is!!!

A painful one-shot!

This is an AU of Journey's End - the saddest Doctor Who episode ever

I hope you enjoy

Also, biggest thanks to @notapartytrickparker for being my incredible Beta!! You mean the world to me! <3

Peter grabbed a wrench from Tony’s bench and rolled his chair back over to his work table. May had a big charity event on Sunday, so Peter had decided to spend his weekend with Mr. Stark. The man had invited him over to help work on a car that he recently bought. It was a fixer upper, but that’s what the two loved about it.  

They would talk about life. Mr. Stark never seemed to be able to leave Peter alone when it came to talking about Michelle. He made jokes or teased Peter about kissing her. Peter would just blush – a bright and hot horrible blush. Then they would talk about college. Peter was a junior now, and closer to needing to make a decision than ever. He hated having to think about his future. Sure, he knew he was smart. He knew that he would regret it if he decided to skip out on college, but he loved to be Spider-Man. He loved swinging through the streets of New York, stopping kids from walking in front of cars and keeping peole safe on their walks. He wanted to stay in the city and focus on web-slinging. But between May, Mr. Stark, and Michelle – there was no way that was going to happen. The three of them agreed that he needed to experience college, to go and learn and be young. Mr. Stark pushed MIT, of course. The man would say how easily he could get Peter in. He would offer to pay his way completely, take care of May while Peter was gone. And he really wanted to. Peter desperately wanted to go to MIT and learn more, be challenged. The more he thought about it… well his chest would get all tight and his hands would shake, and tears would slowly fill his eyes. Because he had gotten a second chance. When Mr. Stark had snapped – Peter knew that he was going to die. Peter could hear Mr. Stark’s heart slowly fading out. Could feel the man’s life slowly leaving him, and it had crushed him. Peter was still having nightmares about that day. Stephen Strange had stepped in just at the right time. Doctor Strange and Shuri had rushed Mr. Stark to Wakanda, gotten to work healing the man. It took too long. There was a period of time – days that felt like years as Peter sat on a chair waiting for someone to come in and tell him that Mr. Stark hadn’t made it. That their attempts had been futile.

Then Shuri had come in, smile on her face. She had explained that they had done it. He lost his arm in the process, but she was already working on a replacement for it. He was awake and he was going to be okay.

And yeah, since then, the idea of leaving Mr. Stark, of not being right beside the man all of the time caused Peter to freak out. Because what would happen if he were in a life-or-death situation and Peter wasn’t there? He couldn’t be the reason Mr. Stark died. He wouldn’t let it happen.  

Peter was so caught up in his thoughts, that it took Mr. Stark physically shaking his shoulder for him to hear the alarms. His mentor had a strained look on his face.  

“Suit up,” he said, before tapping his chest-plate. Peter gulped before he reached for his backpack, ripping out his suit. He slipped easily into it, pressing the spider-symbol as the material tightened around his body.  

“What’s going on?” Peter asked as Tony stood still. “Shouldn’t we be going … well, wherever the fight is?”  

“We’ve got a ride coming. Listen.” The faceplate on Tony’s suit flipped up – his face wrought with hard lines, worry evident in his eyes. “This is going to be dangerous. Strange requested the both of us, but you stay out of the way. We’ve got a rogue sorcerer in the New York sanctum. He’s after the time stone – I swear on my life I’m sick of those damn stones – and Strange needs our help with this one. But you – you stay out of the way. Web him up from the side. Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to explain to your aunt that I got you shish-kabobbed on our lab weekend,” Tony teased, but Peter could feel the worry radiating off the man.  

“Got it. Stay out of the way. Web him up from the side. No big deal.” Peter was about to make another joke when his senses pricked.  

A gold circle formed in the lab, and Peter caught sight of Strange, a cut to his forehead and stress wilting his face. Tony flipped the faceplate down and nodded at Peter.

“Well, are you two coming or not? I don’t have all the time in the world, Stark.”  

“Well, technically you do-“

“Shut up and get in here.” Tony nodded, and the two jumped through the ring.  

Peter figured he never would get over the strangeness of being in one location and then suddenly being a completely new one, but he couldn’t think about that right now. The sanctum was a wreck.  

Ancient artifacts had been knocked over; glass was everywhere. Peter looked and saw that Doctor Strange was looking pretty terrible – it made sense that he called the two of them in.  

“What’s this guy’s deal?” Peter asked. They were on the top floor of the sanctum and Peter looked down the massive staircase to see the man in question.

“He used to be head of this Sanctum, surprise-suprise, he went dark side and he wants the stone for God-knows-what.” Strange’s voice was bitter as he prepared himself for the next attack. Peter nodded, as the man who had previously been on the floor forced himself to stand.  

He was tall and burly. His hair was greasy enough to make Peter think he couldn’t have showered in weeks. His eyes were dark – too dark. Like something was shifting behind them, an ocean in a storm – restless and unforgiving.  

“I… will get that stone.” He said, and then he was flying – literally – forward. Peter jumped onto the railing, shooting a web at the man. It connected with his shoulder as Mr. Stark shot out a beam. The sorcerer opened a portal and the beam went straight through it as Peter yanked down. The man began to fall, but he used a spell to create some strange glowy-sword and sliced straight through Peter’s web. Strange made his own… Peter really needed to think of a better word than “glowy sword”, but it was all he had now. The two met – face to face. Their weapons clashing in an onslaught of sparks. Tony and Peter gave one another a small nod – and they dove into the fight.  

The battle went on for too long. Logically, the three of them should have been able to take care of this sorcerer with no problem, but he was no second-rate wizard. He could open portal after portal, in such a precise way to catch Mr. Stark’s repulsor beams and Peter’s webs, and it almost rendered them useless. Strange was going hand to hand, but things weren’t looking good.  

Then things went from “not looking good” to “absolutely detrimental”. Because in one, swift move, the Sorcerer clocked Stephen in the side of the head with a glowing club. Doctor Strange dropped like a rock, hitting the ground with a thud that caused Peter’s heart to race.  

“Kid! Get the wizard away!” Tony cried, his voice robotic. Peter immediately shot a web, pulling Doctor Strange away from what would have been a deadly blow from the Sorcerer. Tony stepped in, throwing everything he had into the battle.  

Peter knelt beside Stephen, tapping the man’s face.

“Doctor Strange? Hey, um, didn’t your mom ever tell you it was rude to fall asleep when you’ve invited people over for a fight?” Peter opened his mouth to keep talking, but Stephen let out a grunt.  

“If you keep speaking, I’ll send you to Antarctica.” He grunted; his eyes still closed as his face twisted into a grimace.

“Yeah… I would last, like, two minutes – you know, spider DNA and all.” Stephen just grunted again.  

And damn himself because Peter should have paid attention. Damn himself because in no way should he have allowed it to happen. Because his spider-sense alerted him one second too late. And Peter turned and what he saw had him bending over in pain . Gasping because this was supposed to be a simple fight. It was one sorcerer. One. They had fought a mad Titan and his entire army, and they had won… so he should not be looking at Mr. Stark, gripping the sorcerer’s shoulders with a look of shock on his face. He should not be seeing the sorcerer holding a sword – found on the floor of the sanctum – punctured straight through Tony’s abdomen. He should not be seeing blood – too much blood – pouring into the room.  

But he was. And it was happening, and he wanted to scream at Doctor Strange to fucking GET UP!  

“Mr. Stark!” But the man didn’t look at him.  

And Stephen was still down, sporting a profusely bleeding head wound, his eyes closed. Peter knew that he wasn’t going to be any help right now. And Peter, for the first time, was noticing that the time stone had been knocked loose from its hold.  

Peter had started to pride himself on his decision-making skills. Sure, he still made poor choices, and got in trouble on the regular – but he really wasn’t as stupid as he used to be. He didn’t throw himself in the way of every harmful being coming at him.  

But this was different.  

Because Mr. Stark was on the ground now, and Peter could hear his gasping breaths and his heart slowing – and he could not do that again. The sorcerer was looking at him now – his eyes black with rage. Peter wasn’t much of one for violence. He used webs in order to keep from killing people, he did his best to pull his punches… but not right now. Now was the time to make his punches hurt.

The sorcerer lunged forwards, but Peter was faster. He grabbed the stone, his arm screaming as the pain began to unravel. He had watched Strange use the stone over and over again – he had seen Mr. Stark almost die when he wielded all six, and honestly – Peter had no desire to suffer the curses that the stones gave out. But he would not let Tony die again – not on his watch.  

The sorcerer smirked as he came at Peter with the sword – still dripping with Mr. Stark’s blood.  

Peter felt the stone then, although it didn’t speak to him, it provided a sudden wave of clarity that made him certain of what he had to do.  

He pulled the Time stone back and snapped his fingers – just like Tony had. The exact thing that Mr. Stark had done that had almost gotten him killed. And Peter understood that – if he lived – Mr. Stark would officially murder him, but he didn’t care. Honestly, Peter didn’t just do it because of Mr. Stark – who was still bleeding out – he did it because that sorcerer could not get ahold of the stone. He could ruin the world.

The snap resonated in his ears.  

But the sound wasn’t what stuck with him.

It was what he saw.  

Galaxies and murals and stars and all of time and space laid out before him. He saw the realities that Strange had seen. He saw how it could have played out, the devastating things that could have happened. He understood why Strange had allowed Mr. Stark to do what he did. He could see everything. Things that he never would have understood before. He could see all of the realities that he could have had – ones where his parents lived. Ones where Ben lived. He felt his mind wrapping in on itself – warping in and out like a kaleidoscope of ever-shifting colors.  

Then there were hands on him – strong hands that he knew.

Peter blinked and the galaxies vanished.  

“Peter! Peter – God, sit down kid!”

Peter just shook his head – his mind felt like it was running on a conveyer belt. Constantly bringing him new knowledge, overflowing the bin. Like every single idea was piling on top of one-another until he couldn’t breathe – couldn’t think.  

“PETER!” He snapped out of it.  

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He muttered.  

“Mr. Parker – please sit-” He shook his head, grabbing Tony’s arms.  

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” Peter asked - his voice a grain of sand shifting on the shore.

Mr. Stark just shook his head. “I’m fine – you idiot. I’m fine. You – fucking fixed that. Now, listen to the Doctor here.” Peter nodded, Strange stepping up to him, his eyes flaming with worry.  

“Peter, how are you feeling?” His voice was low.  

“I feel… fine.” Peter said, and honestly, he did. His mind was filled to the top with knowledge – overflowing with knowledge.  

“Your head? How does your head feel?” Strange asked, his voice persistent.  

“I feel fine. The stone opened my mind – it’s better than it has ever been.” The waves crashed against the shore. His mind was running on voltage – too high. Overloading – something was popping in his head - like he had touched a transformer box. Liquid dripped down his lips. It was iron and metal and sharp, and he didn’t like it.  

“Peter, pay attention. I need you to focus on me right now.” He let out a deep breath and looked up at Strange.  

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.” Peter said, his voice felt like it was stuck, like he couldn’t stop speaking even if he tried to. Someone squeezed his shoulder – too tight. His winced looking to see Mr. Stark, worry etched into every line of his face.  

“Peter, calm down buddy. We’ve got you, just calm down.” Mr. Stark’s voice - calm. A gentle breeze rustling through tall grass.

The lightning struck again – a blinding pain and he winced. His knees felt weak… they weren’t working.  

“Do you know what’s happening?” Strange’s voice cut through the noise, cut through the pain and the blinding –  

“Yeah.” He muttered… thinks he muttered. Because he knew that his mind wasn’t meant to handle this. He knew too much – more than his brain could take. Like charging an AA battery with a car battery. The input was too much.

“There has never been someone who could use the Time stone – use the Time stone without training. Do you know why?” Strange’s voice was filled with dread. Peter just nodded, a rush of water flaring through his soul.

“Because it’s too much. It re…reveals too much.” Peter responded and Strange gave a soft nod. Another lightning strike – more water flowing out of … the taste of iron. Firm hands on his shoulders.

“You know what I have to do?” The Doctor asked. Peter nodded once more – not understanding why-how he knew, but he did.  

“What – what do you have to do?” Tony asked, his voice terse. Peter felt like a tree – hurricane winds too strong as they pulled and tugged and pushed. Threatening him down.  

“I have to -Stark I am truly sorry. I need to remove his memories of these events. If I can get rid of the knowledge, he has that this happened – then all of the certainly overwhelming knowledge that is residing in his head… it will be like folding it into a box, tucking it away in a corner. If he doesn’t remember this, he won’t know the box is there to open. He’ll be safe.” And Peter blinked as he saw Tony shaking his head – fear, worry, dread.  

“Seeing you will only open the box right back up. We have to erase the fact that you two met, keep you apart so we can keep his brain together.” Strange said, and his voice was soft.

“No – no way. You will abso-fucking-lutely not erase his memories! I-” Tony surely would have continued to rant but the winds were too strong. Peter’s roots snapped; he was a tree falling. Towards the ground … the tile… the

Someone caught him, and he was being held up against a wall, voices that he couldn’t comprehend because there was too much .  

“Stark, if you don’t want him to die, then you have to let me do this. His mind is shutting down – his body is shutting down.” And Tony must have seen it, in the way the leaves were shaking, he must have seen it. Because he gave Strange a nod. The same nod Strange had once given Tony.  

Strange lifted his hand - and suddenly Peter was done with this idea. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to forget the times he had.

He didn’t want to forget meeting Mr. Stark in his apartment. Webbing him to the door out of fear for Aunt May finding out. He didn’t want to forget Germany, or the argument with Tony that had pushed him into becoming something better. He didn’t want to forget lab nights, meeting Pepper. He didn’t want to forget staying at the tower and the first time he and Mr. Stark had watched all of the Star Wars movies together. He didn’t want to forget taking a fake internship photo after Mr. Stark had insisted it would shut Flash up. As strange as it sounded, he didn’t want to forget going to space. He didn’t want to forget dying or coming back. He didn’t want to forget any of it. He didn’t want to.  

“I want to stay.” Peter stated indignantly, ignoring the blood that dripped from his nose, a waterfall of pain and dread. His head pounded like a river breaking on the shore over and over and over again. He could feel it. The energy that was racing through his bloodstream. His mind was a supernova. Flashes of lights and stars and images of things he had never seen – things he could never understand. Time warping around his consciousness, bending his thoughts into an everlasting loop. He felt the world at his finger-tips and he wanted it to go away. Like a black hole coming to wrap around him as he tried to claw his way back to the surface. Peter took a ground shattering breath – the earth’s plate shifting every time he inhaled. “I was going to be with you… forever.”  

Tony was crying now – a waterfall cascading down his face. Peter suspected he was doing the same thing.  

“Look at me. Peter, look at me.” He didn’t want to. But he did. Lifted his eyes – the earth. Looked into Mr. Stark’s coffee and motor oil and love.  

“I want to stay with you.” Peter whispered. “The rest of my life… stay with you – saving the world. I don’t want to forget all of this. Who will I become?” His voice was barely a whisper as Tony nodded.  

“I know. But you will be exactly who you are. Exactly as good as you are.” Tony’s hand rested on the side of Peter’s head, his eyes holding the sadness of a lonely ocean. “Peter. God, kid, I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” And they had. They really had.  

Then someone’s hand was on his head – Strange.  

“No –“ He wanted to fight, but trees without roots have no means of staying upright.  

“The best. Goodbye.”  

“No – no – no – no!” He didn’t want to go.

And like being struck by an unbeatable force – into a black hole of time and space and gravity – his entire world shifted into darkness.

-

Peter wouldn’t remember what happened. He wouldn’t remember why May was crying when he walked out of his room from where he woke up on his bed. He asked her, but she just told him that it was private. He would just go about his day, telling May that he was going to go out as Spider-Man. That made her cry harder, but she just nodded. Peter dropped open his trap door, his onesie falling out and he grinned, pulling it on.  

He would spend the rest of his life feeling like he was missing something. He would go on to study Biomechanical Engineering at MIT, on some weird scholarship May had put him in for. It was called the IS Scholarship, and Peter had tried researching it, but nothing came up. He just knew he wasn’t spending a dime to go to school, and he was happy about it.  

Peter felt as though there were this… gaping hole in his head. It was the same feeling he always got when he got a concussion – like a hole in his memory that he didn’t know how to fill.  

And every once in a while, he would feel as though that hole were filled. He would catch a glimpse of a man. A man standing off just out of reach. He would always be in a hat and sunglasses, a coat pulled tightly up to his chin, hiding behind the corner of a building. Peter would find him staring – stock still. Sometimes it felt as though they were locked. A magnet drawing nearer to itself. But every time Peter tried to grasp it – every time he walked forward; he would get there a second too late. A cat and mouse game in which he somehow knew that he would never catch the man. He would never be able to fill that hole.  

Peter caught himself looking forward to those moments… it was almost like a glimpse into his – past? That didn’t make sense, sure. Because as far as his memories made known, he had never seen that man in his life.  

But Peter Parker would never be able to deny, seeing that man felt like home.  

[youwouldneverbreakthechain]

Fic: Terra Incognita

Title: Terra Incognita Author: Kairos Summary: Rocket had a very limited number of people he loved, or even tolerated, and most of those are dead. What now? Why bother? And what happens when they come back? Wordcount: 4345 Warnings: Some violence, some language. No sex and no spoilers for anything post-Endgame.

Read it on Ao3 here.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

In the moments after Groot slipped through his fingers, the battleground became a graveyard. That wasn’t so bad; what was a graveyard but a place of remembrance? Rocket would have stayed there, just remembering, but it changed again. Time kept moving, people kept reacting, and the battleground turned into what it had been before Rocket had ever seen it -- a stretch of savannah that belonged to the nation of Wakanda, a nation of Earth.

The people changed too. They had been brothers in arms, and now they were Terrans. It shouldn’t have mattered; Rocket had never had his own kind anyway, but there was something unsettling about an entire world that was populated by just one sentient race. They all had the same biology, the same history, the same prejudices in spite of it. They all called him a raccoon. He never bothered to make one of them show him some justification for it.

Thor was the only exception, and Thor was broken. It took only a few days of sheltering with the so-called Avengers for Rocket to realize that he would never have a real friend among them. His only hope was for the survival of some part of his family, and that was no hope at all.

He held on anyway, long enough for Nebula to win her throw of the dice and make it down to Earth to confirm everyone else’s loss. It was as hard for her as it was for Rocket, he realized. There had been a time that understanding another’s pain would have been beyond him, but that was from before he had met Quill and the others. Losing them didn’t erase the way they had changed him. Nebula needed him now. He needed her.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

In the early days, once Thanos had been executed, all of Rocket’s work was done alongside the Avengers. They explained as much about their world as was needed for him to help reconstruct it, and they asked him whatever they thought they needed to know. The same went for Nebula, but since she and Rocket were usually together and she looked more like them than he did, they asked her first. 

There was plenty of living space for everyone at the Avengers headquarters, but Rocket didn’t officially claim a room. He strung up hammocks near his current projects, or found beds that nobody was using. Sometimes he fell asleep in Nebula’s room, which contained a few achingly familiar weapons that she had salvaged. She never remarked on it, though she tossed him a blanket if he needed one.

One day, Rocket finished updating all of the power sources in the building, and for the first time, was left with nothing to do. Instead of lowering himself to asking someone to help keep him busy, he took a walk outside and began to cross the expansive lawn. Footsteps soon took up behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know that it was Nebula.

At the edge of the property he stopped, sniffed the air, and said, “So Quill grew up here.”

“No wonder he never chose to return,” Nebula rasped.

Rocket’s impulse was to agree, but he knew that looking out to a distant city from a secluded compound wasn’t seeing a world. He hesitated, then ventured, “I might go check it out.”

She betrayed no emotion. “We could take a vehicle.”

Nebula drove. The transport units that Terrans used were mostly earthbound, difficult to maneuver and impossible to adjust for greater comfort. As soon as they had reached a living town, Nebula parked, and they left the car to explore on their feet.

Of course there was nobody but more Terrans, and few enough of those. They gawked, some shouted, but none approached, apparently too full of fear or apathy to investigate the foreign species in their midst. A Flerken strolled by, which raised Rocket’s hackles, but Nebula explained that they were called cats here and that none had ever been known to use its deadly power.

Quill’s frequent boasts about his home planet seemed to have no basis in reality. Rocket hadn’t expected much anyway, but he had been harboring a small secret hope that something would remind him of his late human friend. All of that, apparently, was back at the base. Even the music that the Avengers played was more like Quill’s than whatever was now drifting out of someone’s apartment window overhead.

That made sense, he had to admit. The Avengers were more like Quill than the other Terrans in almost every way.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

Rocket knew the real reason that Quill had never returned to his home, although he suspected that Nebula didn’t: like everything about Quill, it had to do with his mother. He had said more than once that he would never be able to set a foot on the planet without grieving for her all over again. 

When the team was still together, Rocket had quietly wondered how true that really was. Maybe it was an excuse for something else, or maybe Quill thought he meant it but would have changed his mind if he ever found himself on Earth again. 

What would Quill have thought about this version of Earth? About the Avengers? 

Rocket still didn’t particularly like them, but he tolerated some better than others. Rhodey had a kind of pragmatism to his despair; his grief was shared and not personal. When Rocket gave him engineering tips, he listened. Banner was intelligent, for a human. His goal of fusing his two personae into a single mind and body was one of the only ideas on Earth that had interested Rocket for its own sake, and Banner didn’t mind him coming into the lab to observe. 

Tony Stark had earned Nebula’s respect, which was enough to get Rocket’s too, but he was never around and the Avengers said he wouldn’t be back. Something about having a baby. That made Rocket think about Groot, so he tuned out every time it was mentioned.

The Terran that Rocket saw most often was Natasha Romanov, which he found unfortunate. She was as subdued and miserable as any of them, but she retained a detached amusement over anything she found incredible, and that included Rocket. When she spoke to him, it was after a brief pause, as if each time she had to convince herself all over again that he was real. He overheard her referring to him as “the raccoon”, long after she had learned his name. She turned all her attention to Nebula when he was standing right next to her.

All of that was typical enough to be barely worth the notice, though, and he found he didn’t want to get back at Romanov even if she were openly laughing at him. Everyone had to find something to not be subdued and miserable about.

For him it was Terran food. They had a knack for combining their meat and produce and grain and artificial flavors into unexpected and delicious snacks, and Rocket tried whatever was available and liked most of it. He seemed to like it more than the Terrans did, actually. They were all so goddamned picky.

One of the first times that he heard any of the Avengers laugh was when Rhodey gave Rogers some kind of candy that made him crease his brow and turn it over in his hands. “Marshmallow...Peeps?”

Rocket pricked his ears. He loved marshmallows.

Rhodey shrugged and ambled over to the monitor where he always checked the daily statistics. “It’s the week after Easter, they’re practically free. What, you didn’t have Peeps in your basket back in the old days?”

Rogers shook his head, smiling. “I think I’ll pass. Nat, you want these?” He tossed them over to her without waiting for an answer.

“Not even if you paid me,” she retorted even as she caught the cellophane-wrapped packet out of the air. She barely spared it a glance as it travelled in a smooth arc from her hand to the nearest wastebasket. 

The humans began reminiscing about the holidays of their youths, so Rocket took it upon himself to liberate the Peeps from the pile of crumpled paper they were sitting on in the basket. The packet hadn’t been opened, but it still smelled strongly of sugar. He tore off the plastic and pulled out one of the soft pink shapes inside, inspecting it with his hands and nose.

“Rocket, man,” said Rhodey suddenly, just as Rocket was stuffing the sweet blob into his mouth. “That is nasty.”

Rocket swallowed and glared. “Wastin’ good food, that’s nasty.”

“Yeah, but from the garbage?”

“I wouldn’a had to get it outta there if one of you dweebs offered me some before you trashed it.”

Rogers sat up straighter, his mirth fading. “I’m sorry, Rocket. Should have thought of that.”

Rocket shrugged. “Don’ matter.” He bit into a second Peep, glad that he wouldn’t have to share them, but the atmosphere in the room had changed. His ears flicked back and forth, sensing that the humans outside of his line of vision were trying to have a silent argument with gestures and facial expressions.

Not Rhodey, though. “I can get you more of those things,” he offered. Rocket nodded emphatically, unconcerned about whether this was going to become a running joke for them.

As he was leaving, absently licking sugar from his hands, he saw Romanov shoot him a quick but unmistakably disgusted look. It was a relief to find Nebula again, although there was no chance she would have understood why he liked the Terran candy. Nebula had never enjoyed any kind of food, as far as he could remember.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, after they had both been silently engaged in their own engineering tasks for a few hours. “Y’know they don’t need us here, right?”

She nodded. “Where should we go?”

“So what did you think of Earth?”

They went to Xandar. Rocket knew that it wouldn’t be easy to see it again, and it wasn’t, but there was work to be done there.

Rhomann Dey’s wife and daughter, he learned, had been taken by the Snap. Dey himself was among those slaughtered by Thanos’s army when it had come to retrieve the Power Stone. The wave of rage and hatred that swept over Rocket when he heard the news was stronger than anything he had felt in months, though still a dim reflection of what he had felt before this new reality had begun to sink in. 

It was energizing, in a way, and he channeled it into restoring the planet’s technology so that the remainder of its people could have some kind of comfort to rely on. They were grateful, in their deadened, glassy-eyed way, but Rocket wished that they blamed him and demanded satisfaction. He explained who he was to anyone who didn’t know, detailing the story of how the Guardians had defeated Ronan but left the Orb instead of keeping it safe from Thanos, and how he was the only Guardian left to atone for their mistakes.

They simply didn’t have the heart to care. Sometimes they interrupted him just to ask when he thought the television would be back on.

“I dunno what else to do,” he said quietly to Nebula, one day when they had retreated to the Benatar, which was the only place they could bear to live. She had been going through the same thing that he had, but moreso. When she told the Xandarians in no uncertain terms that she had last come here as an enemy and a killer, it barely raised eyebrows.

“Keep moving,” she answered promptly. 

They went to Contraxia, Tetra, A’askvaria. Everywhere it was the same. People accepted the help they gave, asked for nothing more, cooperated as needed, and showed no will to survive. Rocket and Nebula ended up spending much of their time chasing down opportunistic criminals, although their stated mission was still research and exchange of information with the team they had left on Terra.

One other, the woman they called Danvers, was moving freely around space. She was both powerful and knowledgeable about the universe outside of one little solar system, and that made Rocket curious about what she could accomplish. Before long, though, it became evident that damage control was all she had in her arsenal, just like him and Nebula and the Avengers and Stark with his baby and absolutely everyone else. Danvers was just one more Terran, and she didn’t even listen to good music.

By the time Rocket was summoned back to Earth, he didn’t have any expectations of hearing an idea with even the possibility of providing the slightest chance of a meager improvement on the current state of reality, but it didn’t matter. It turned out that Earth wasn’t any worse than anywhere else.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

The battle was raging all around him when he found them. Drax first, broadcasting his presence with mad laughter. Rocket dispatched the enemy between them to catch his eye, hailed him through the smoke, and moved on with a grin he couldn't have dropped if he tried. 

Mantis was nearby, as he had expected. She reached up with one bared hand, timing it just right for Rocket to reach down and touch her fingertips as he leaped overhead. She laughed in sheer delight, which he transmitted right back to her as it echoed through the empathic contact. 

He saw Quill and Groot at the same time, apparently right after they had found each other. They were hugging, and though it only lasted for a second, Rocket’s first impulse was to cuss them both out for dropping their guard in the middle of a battle. Quill should know better. Quill was a seasoned fighter. The only time he ever left himself so open was...was when he was overcome with emotion.

Rocket’s anger ebbed away, and he watched the two of them without letting himself be seen so he could cover them until they broke apart and went running back into the fray. It wasn’t hard to decide which one to follow; Groot needed him. He had been alone when he died and must have come back alone, scared and confused.

But when Rocket caught up to him, he only looked happy -- and determined. “I am Groot!” he insisted, extending a branch to point out the next enemy he wanted to slay. Rocket had never felt so proud in his life. 

He stayed by Groot’s side for as long as he could, though still keeping an eye out for Quill. The chance for a real reunion, even the split-second kind he had had with the others, seemed to keep slipping away. The first thing that Quill said to him, between heavy breaths, was, “Did you see Gamora?”

Rocket shook his head, dazed. Gamora was dead with no chance of resurrection; Nebula had told him about it. Had Quill gone mad?

“No. Listen, you gotta gimme a lift. I figured out this move with Rhodey, if you got the jets on your boots I can--”

Quill opened his mask, and Rocket saw his eyes for the first time, frustrated and wild. “Who’s Rhodey?” he demanded. “Forget it, there’s no time. Captain America’s in command, he’s the one with the shield--”

“I know who Captain America is!” Rocket snapped. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you!” 

The rest of the discussion was cut short; they both had to get into formation and there was no efficient way to make it work together. It didn’t bother Rocket that this had been their first conversation after so long, but it did bother him, even as he spotted Rhodey and jumped onto his back for the move they had invented, that it might be their last.

So what did you think of Earth?

Quill started packing up the Benatar as soon as Stark’s funeral was over. Rocket was sure he hadn’t even begun to process what happened, let alone taken a moment to explore his roots. 

“So you meant it, huh?” Rocket asked him after completing the final check on every gauge. “You really don’t wanna be on Terra.”

“Of course I meant it,” Quill muttered, tossing a sack into the hold. “Why, do you?”

Rocket knew better than to respond to what was obviously a sarcastic question, but he did have a silent, unexpected brush with doubt about his answer. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to leave Earth; on the other, there were a few goodbyes coming that would be harder than he had expected. 

Rhodey was standing solemnly outside the hatch, eye level with Rocket, halfway up the steps. “You ever need anything, you just ask,” he said.

Rocket laughed. “From Earth? Yeah right.”

Rhodey laughed along, but wouldn’t withdraw the offer. “You just ask,” he repeated. He handed Rocket a packet of Peeps, and then he was walking away, waving flippantly. “Catch you later, mister ringtail. Keep an eye on Thor.”

Rocket didn’t realize that Quill had been listening until after the Benatar had left the solar system. It was quiet, almost meditative, if you were into that kind of thing. Quill was in the frontmost seat on the right, Rocket on the left, and everything felt so right. 

“Was that guy an Avenger?” Quill asked in that too-casual tone he used when he was feeling pissy about something.

It was a tone that Rocket hadn’t heard in five years, and there was no way he could have reacted the way he used to, with rolled eyes and a barb. He wanted to cry for joy, just being here again, sitting next to this sulky idiot. Instead he grinned and replied, “Eh, they call all of ‘em Avengers now. Probably even us.”

“I’m not an Avenger!” Quill protested. 

As he was getting even more upset, Rocket was feeling even happier. “Who cares? The job got done. Nobody’s tryin’ to tell us we ain’t Guardians.”

Quill’s voice dropped under his breath. “Figures.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve got other friends now. It’s fine.”

It was stupid as hell but it was still funny, and even a little bit touching. Rocket let him change the subject to their flight path, and then Thor came in and started telling some off-the-wall story and it was a while before Rocket and Quill were alone together again.

But the next time it wasn’t funny. They were charting a routine supply run, and Rocket had to keep correcting him because of all the ways that the routes and businesses he had known had changed over the past five years, not to mention the various upgrades to the Benatar itself. Quill’s fuse kept getting shorter and shorter until finally he unstrapped his holster and slammed it onto the table, blasters and all, like that was the only gesture that could match his words. “Fine! You want Thor to be captain so bad, Thor’s captain now!”

Neither of them had been saying a thing about Thor, or who should be captain. The topic hadn’t even come up since they had left Earth. Rocket bared his teeth. “Whatever’s got its claws in you, Quill, you better start dealin’ with it. The rest of us did already.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to deal with it? Gamora’s the only one who ever understood me, and she’s dead! And now there’s another Gamora out there somewhere who doesn’t know us and hates my guts! And you - you -”

Rocket was down on all fours on the table, his fur bristling under his clothes. “Me what? Me went through hell all this time while you got to skip past it? Had a family one day and then nobody but Nebula the next? Gave everything I could to try to get you losers back?” 

Quill crossed his arms and locked eyes with Rocket. “Yeah,” he said, making it sound like a challenge. “All of that.”

There was a short but echoing pause. Rocket stood up. “I’m still here, Quill. Gamora’s not the only one who understood you. She never was.”

“After that battle…” Quill’s voice broke slightly, and he swallowed and took a deep breath before going on. “I saw the way people talked to you. How they respected you. And I thought, man, it took us four years to get to know each other that well. And then I thought, oh, right. They had five.”

That wasn’t news. Rocket had done the math himself, counting the days since Thanos won, and dismissed it as meaningless trivia. But the idea that the Terrans had respected him? Why would they? 

“I get it, y’know,” Quill stated bitterly. “Why the Avengers and all of them didn’t like me. If you feel the same way, I get that too.”

Rocket tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re all still mad because I screwed up the plan on Titan. Stark probably told everyone how I flipped out because...you know.”

“That’s your problem? Friggin’ mushbrained…” He inhaled, then bellowed, “THOR! Get your royal ass in here!”

Thor didn’t hurry, but he did come. He was looking better, although his depression had taken a toll on his body and his full recovery would take time. “Hello Rabbit, Captain Star-Lord,” he said, nodding to each of them. “Is there a cause for concern?”

Rocket jerked his head at Quill. “Yeah. Look, I need this moron to know what you did while he was gone, so just interrupt me if I get anything wrong, okay? Like, we all caught up to Thanos in the Garden and we’re debatin’ what to do with him and you just decide to swing your fancy axe and kill him dead so’s we never get any more answers outta him, is that how you remember that?”

The jovial expression that Thor had been wearing vanished. “Yes,” he replied. “That is how it happened.”

“And then how about when you and me are in Asgard tryin’ to snag the Reality Ooze and the whole future of everything depends on us and that’s when you have your meltdown ‘cause I guess it’s all about you in the end?”

Thor nodded solemnly, but Quill, plainly aghast, muttered, “Geez, dude, let up…”

Rocket shot him a glare. “You think you’re the only one who screwed us all over? This here’s a friggin’ god, calls down lightning an’ shit, and he still blew it. Why are we keepin’ him around, huh? What makes you think he’s gonna be a better captain than you?”

Quill gave Thor a hard look, then turned back to Rocket. “Maybe you’re the one who should be our captain.”

“Right,” said Rocket sarcastically. “Because I’m the one who never made a mistake. You’re a clown, Quill. Think back a little.”

As memories of life with the Guardians played openly across Quill’s face, Rocket took the chance to confront his own past. He had been born in a laboratory and raised by scientists who had barely acknowledged his capacity to feel pain. With everything that had happened, it no longer seemed so important, but he clearly remembered the days when he had thought that all he could be was what they had made him. Time hadn’t taught him differently. The Guardians had. 

Thor stepped forward and put a hand on Quill’s shoulder. He spoke softly and with infinite kindness. “I was the king of my people. I chose to abscond. I have no desire to take your place, Peter Quill, and it’s you that your people need.”

“They need each other. Not me.”

Hearing those words from Quill was as painful as death, and Rocket knew what that meant: there must be some truth to them. The team was fractured. Groot was Groot and Drax was Drax, and Mantis could bypass hours of heartfelt talk with one touch. But Gamora had left an open wound, and Thor was welcomed by all but still an outsider to the ones who had been gone.

Most of all, Rocket and Nebula now stood apart from the others. They had grown. They had changed a little, maybe a lot. It didn’t matter to Rocket, so he didn’t know what to do when he saw how it mattered to Quill.

“Yeah,” Rocket heard himself saying. “Five years without you, an’ I survived it. Never woulda thought it myself, but I guess that’s proof I didn’t need you.”

Thor’s eyes were wide; Quill’s were bloodshot and unfocused. “Are you…” He paused and inhaled deeply. “Are you going to go back and join the Avengers?”

“Like hell!” Rocket growled. “I’m a Guardian of the Galaxy, not some pansy-ass Avenger, no offense Thor.”

“None taken.”

“There’s nothin’ left for me on that d’ast planet. Just bad memories. People dyin’ who I didn’t want to die. You oughta get this better than anyone, Quill.” Rocket raked his claws through the fur on his head. “If you don’t, then why did we leave?”

Quill’s response was plainly automatic, and it took a second for his brain to catch up to his words. “Because my mother--!” He blinked. “Oh.”

Thor was grinning broadly, all of a sudden. “Well,” he announced, “I think I’ll go and have a salad.”

After he had left, Rocket and Quill were left staring at each other for a few moments, and then finally, both sighed and sat down at almost the same instant. 

“Five years, man,” said Quill.

“Still waitin’ for you to ask what I was doing all that time,” Rocket replied.

The laugh that Quill let out was as real and familiar and sweet as his anger had been. He sat up straighter and asked with cautious eagerness, “So...what did you think of Earth?”

Rocket felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, making his whiskers twitch. He cocked an ear at his friend. “You ever had a Marshmallow Peep?”