#We want to give him a “Bomb Rod” where you shoot bombs out of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haywire-cebus · 2 years ago

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Several Months

We Could Have Been Anywhere Part 8/9

Wild finishes a fight, then falls into a spring that Twilight knows very well.

Things can never go as smoothly as Wild wants them to, can they.

Sure, Hylia, give them a fight with a handful of black-blood moblins. Oh, please toss in some electric chu’s. Some skulltula? Perfect!

And they had it handled. Most of the monsters lay in piles of bones and jelly and blood scattered across the grass.

But this is Wild’s Hyrule, and nothing can ever be easy. He feels the blood moon coming even before the first wave of the battle is over. He calls out to his friends, but most of them are too far away to hear. They’re fighting on a bunch of rolling hills, splitting their party in the most inconvenient way. Twilight, fighting at his back, hears his shout and spits out a curse that he has told Wild he is not allowed to repeat.

Wild repeats it often.

As the sky shifts to vibrant purple, Wild hops back and readies his bow, aiming right where the moblin’s head will be once it stands up again. Twilight tosses a bomb the other direction, and it’s almost done hissing as the monsters begin moving again.

It explodes, right as Four’s “what in the Goddess-” carries across the field of enemies returning to life.

Wild scans the battleground, shooting arrows at any monster that tries to sneak up on one of his brothers; there’s something off, in the air. He doesn’t know what, but something is wrong. Twilight gets closer to him, his own bow out, and asks, “your world, you got-”

“Shh,” Wild hisses, ear twitching as he frantically looks around. He drops his battle stance, now frantically trying to figure out what the feeling is. His instincts are going haywire, one of his senses picked something subtle up but he doesn’t know-

Shit. “Everyone! Head east- now! Run!” Wild grips Twi’s arm and starts booking it, no longer fighting the enemies in their way, just sprinting full speed.

They pass Hyrule, who needs no more warning than Wild running to move. He tugs on Sky’s shoulder and the two begin to run, the rest of the chain following as they begin to notice. Wild’s warning was just enough, they make it to the treeline as-

Wild drops Twi’s arm to cover his head as rocks rain from above; debris of an explosion kicked up around them. He spares the quickest glance behind him, to see the shining blue eye glimmer once more. Shoulder checking Twilight to the side, the blast passes over where they had been standing. Wild leads everyone deeper into the treeline, far enough in that the guardian can't see them.

Time calls out, “what is that?”

“A guardian! They’re the worst- I-” Wild struggles for breath. He should be over this, he’s killed nearly a dozen undamaged stalkers since waking up, and countless more decayed, but they never fail to make his chest stutter. And if they are already fighting black-blooded monsters, the odds of this one being so as well-

“They’re fairly nimble from far away; we just need to keep moving. If they lock onto you, wait to dodge so it can’t adjust its aim.” Twilight finishes for him. The rest of the chain stands around them, trying to catch their breath, and it’s quiet for a moment.

A flaming arrow whizzes by, and Legend already has his flame rod out for a returning blast. The black-blooded moblins caught up, and with the lackluster aiming Legend used, Wild can tell he’s more injured than he’s letting on. He can’t tell how bad off the other’s are at a glance, so he flicks his slate to a sickle he stole off a Yiga last time they were in his Hyrule and advances on the enemy, hearing his brothers behind him.

The others are stupid, impulsive, and just like him, so he takes care to keep the others in his periphery. It’s hard with his bad eye, but he’s well-used to it.

He can barely remember life without his eye like this.

Ha.

His head hurts, and so no more jokes like that right now, got it, stupid brain.

The guardian is making a considerable effort to get through the treeline, the sounds of trees being uprooted and crashing to the ground echoing.

“We need to keep moving, now.” He calls out.

They’re not normally this stubborn- nor do they have such a good memory. He’s hidden behind a horse before and a guardian lost track of him; he wasn’t trying to use the horse as cover, he was barely even hiding. He fell off the horse from a bokoblin arrow to the leg and-

He dodges the swing of a club and curses himself. That wasn’t even from before! Why was that memory so interesting- there’s a fucking guardian that’s probably black-blooded, however that would work, destroying this forest to get to them and the others are starting to clear a path further into the trees and-

Twilight’s hand grips tight around his arm, tugging him away from the now-stunned bokoblin he was slicing at.

Right, running. Smart right now. He made the call, and he can’t even focus on it.

It is such a shitty night.

The others are up ahead, flashes of color in the dark. He can barely make out Sky supporting Warriors, or maybe it’s the other way around-

“Wild, come on. Did you hit your head?” Twilight’s voice is jarring to his ear- Twi’s on his left side. He’s normally better about that, but Wild’s also normally better with his awareness.

“I’m good, just- I fucking hate those things.”

Twilight snorts, “join the club.”

“No, I dodged that.”

If they weren't running for their lives, Twi would have hit him. Wild’s going to allow himself to be grateful for that, at least.

Hyrule’s voice rings out, “portal to the right!”

Everyone looks, and Wild stumbles a little at how Time is being supported by Hyrule. That’s not a good sign at all. The portal is to the right, but it’s also up a hill and there’s more of the fucking black-blooded monblins in front of it.

A tree behind them explodes.

Wild makes a decision. “Wars, get everyone out of here. Four, watch my right side- use your boots if you need to keep up. Twi, I’ll need Wolfie next to me to guard my left. Some of the other black-blooded monsters are still back there and I need to focus on the guardian.” Wild doesn’t wait to hear the others argue. The only reason he picked Four over anyone else was because he’s too small to help carry any of the injured members of their group, and unlike Wind, he’s fast enough to keep up with Wild’s pace on land.

Trees rush past him, and the soft crunching of branches and leaves on either side are his only indication his brothers are with him. Trusting the others to clear the way for the portal, he keeps his eyes forwards on where the guardian is. He can see its spindly legs ripping a particularly thick tree up out of the ground, and prays to Hylia that if he can’t see it’s eye, it can’t see him.

Slowing his movements, Wild rounds to the back of the guardian, nocking an arrow and letting it fly with a clang against the back of its head. He’s already rolling out of the way once he fires it, dodging its impulsive counterattack with practiced ease.

“Wild!” Four calls out, “don’t play hero right now!” He clearly disagrees with Wild's plan, but at least he listened enough to follow him.

Or, figured Wild would be safer with him than without, which is good enough for him.

He calls back as he dodges another blast, keeping the things attention on him, “this thing isn’t normally in this area- any traveler won’t be on guard for it. I have to kill it!” He can just make out the wet crunches that mean Wolfie has taken down a bokoblin.

Four doesn’t answer, and Wild would be nervous if he couldn’t hear the telltale whoosh of his fire rod. He’s probably just mad at him, which he can deal with later.

He curls down behind a fallen tree trunk and glances at his slate- no ancient arrows left. They haven’t been portaled close enough to Akkala to make the trip, which was stressful at best and downright dangerous at worst.

At worst meaning now.

Twilight is going to be so mad at him.

He pulls out an old travelers shield, wooden and fairly damaged as is. He’s been meaning to toss it, but this is less wasteful. He’s being practical . He’s also almost out of good shields so he’s not going to waste one on a guardian. They don’t deserve to be destroyed by anything nice.

A metal claw clangs over him, and he’s running before it can cover his hiding spot completely. He can hear Twilight yelling at him- he’s not transformed which is against the plan, so he’s not going to listen to him either.

He backs up as the red laser focuses on him. He stays steady, ignores Twilight’s increasingly frantic shouts, and hefts the shield higher, ducking behind.

The build of the guardian’s attack continues, and at the peak of the static tension that fills the air as it charges, he waits just a split second before pushing back.

The laser ricochets off his shield, blowing the ragged thing to shreds before slamming back into the guardian. The increased power of the thing should counteract it's increased defense.

Which is good, because that fucking hurt. It was loud, he’s dazed, and someone’s got their hands on his shoulder and yelling, which is also still loud.

He sees a flash of color ahead that can only be Four, which means that it’s Twi at his side- when did he get there- pulling him along with increasing urgency. He goes easily. The two of them are smart, so if they’re taking him somewhere, his headache-addled brain allows him to follow.

His arm aches; places where the splintered shield exploded are bleeding heavily when not stopped by the wood chips still embedded in it. He can feel Twilight’s heavy arm under his shoulders, and is only walking forwards on pure adrenaline.

The anxiety sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach has long-since bubbled over; killing the guardian means the danger is gone, so he can live in the horrible feeling properly.

They approach the portal, his vision is fuzzy but the unmistakable hum of magic gets stronger and stronger-

And they’re falling.

He feels Twi shift to soften his landing, something he is totally going to yell at him for later because he knows Twi is also hurt, but he’s not complaining when the landing jars his arm as much as it did already.

They land in water, the soothing cool already easing the aches and fevered pains of battle.

Well, no. It’s not just water. It feels too nice. It’s way too cold to be hot spring water, but the effect it has on his arm is similar. He tunes out as someone approaches, Twilight’s lack of tension means it's one of their brothers. He’s too busy dragging his arms through the water, watching the wounds sluggishly stop bleeding. His arm is yanked above the water, and he decides to zone back in to hear Twilight’s furious, “keep it dry- we need to get the splinters out before we heal it.”

And, yeah, that makes sense. Warriors settles on his right, reaching for his arm with a pair of tweezers in hand.

“This is going to suck,” he groans. The sight of Warriors steady on his feet is good- their group came through the portal a few minutes before him and Twilight, so they must have gotten the full (or, enough) effects of the healing water.

“It wouldn’t suck if you would stop using your shitty shields to parry those blasts-” Twilight gripes as he keeps Wild steady, as he’s too tired to sit up on his own. The water helps, but not enough to assuage the dizziness.

Which is good, in theory. It means he isn’t concussed or anything like that. It’s bad, though, because he hates when his panic makes him dizzy and shaky.

He chooses to ignore the feeling, “I don’t want to use my good shields if they’re going to break from that.” Wild says, right as Wind’s voice overlaps with the exclamation:

“You parried that things attack!” The kid is by his side in an instant. There is an already-scabbed over cut down the side of his face, the blood passively washed away. It’s the kind of thing that would normally leave a nasty scar, but as Twilight splashes Wind, it heals a little more.

“Keep that cut in the water, Wind.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Wind ducks below water again, pushing a splash towards them as he moves back towards Four and Hyrule, who are hovering over Legend, trying to keep him away from the shore. Four shoots him a glance that would probably make sense if his head wasn’t two seconds away from exploding.

Everyone seems much more settled than they should be for just coming through a portal after a bad fight. He may be more out of it than he assumed.

Time has made his way over, which isn’t something to easily miss, but he still jumps. “This isn’t any of ours, so we are assuming this is your world, pup?”

He can feel Twilight nod from where he is leaned against him. When the awful stinging pull of wooden splinters from his arm doesn’t come for a few seconds, he looks to see Wars giving it a full once over. When he nods, Wild takes the opportunity to stick it underwater again.

“I think,” Twilight says softly, eyes moving across the treeline, “I think I know exactly where we are.”

“Who’s there!” A voice calls, and Wild catches a glimpse of metal before Wind is approaching the voice, his sword pointed towards the person.

“Don’t come any closer.” Wind shouts, standing his ground. Sky quickly follows, placing a hand on Wind’s shoulder.

Twilight stands, leaving Wild in the care of Wars as he moves to the waterline. “Don’t attack, Wind. Rusl, is that-”

“Link? Is that you?” The person approaches, Wind’s sword lowering the moment Twilight identified the voice.

Twilight lets out an excited laugh and starts running, only the smallest stumble betraying his battle-weariness as he nearly tackles the man.

Wild hasn’t gotten the chance to meet Rusl, but he really feels like he didn’t need to- Twi has told enough stories of him to last a lifetime.

Seeing the man for the first time, he looks both nothing like imagined and exactly what he expected. Based on the way Twilight almost complained about him mothering him, Wild had actually pictured just an older, bearded Twilight. He couldn’t tell you the number of times Twi would lecture him using a story of Rusl lecturing him.

The imagery stuck, okay?

But the actual man looks so little like Twi. The rounded ears, for one. His build is all different, and his skin is much lighter than Twi’s. His hair clearly used to be brown, most of it grayed with age.

Still, he smiles just as Twilight does. And even if he fails to get him off the ground, he still goes for one of those hugs where the person is picked up off the ground and swung through the air.

Wild takes the peaceful moment to slump heavily against Warriors and close his eyes. He can vaguely hear Wars ask if he’s alright, or something to that effect, and gives a thumbs up.

The cool healing spring water soaks into his clothes and they really should get out of it soon before he gets sick, but it’s comfortable.

He’s asleep in seconds.

When Wild awakes, he’s surprised to see Twilight’s head smashed into his arms besides him.

Not that he expected to be alone, really. He knows the others too much. A glance to the other side of the room shows Four curled up on a sleeping mat. Twilight, though, is home. He should be out with his family, saying hello to everyone in the village, all that fun stuff people do whenever they’re back.

Even Legend takes time to visit with Ravio when they’re nearby.

And Twilight is here, at his bedside.

He should have stayed awake.

As he goes to push himself up, his right arm shakes with the effort and he slumps back down. The jostling causes Twilight to blearily sit up.

Maybe the fight fucked him up more than he thought.

“Wild! You’re up!”

“How long was I out?” He isn’t sure how late- or early- it was when they arrived, just that everything was tinged with darkness, just a smidge.

“I…” Twilight looks around and rubs his eyes. He steps to the curtain and looks outside, glancing up at the sky, “unless I was unconscious for more than a nap, you just slept through the morning. It’s around afternoon, we arrived late last evening.”

Evening has different meanings to everyone, and to Twilight, it means around when the sun is setting, which- that’s a while. He doesn’t often sleep that much, times he’s knocked unconscious notwithstanding.

The one hundred years also don’t count. Outliers and all that.

“You feeling better?” Twilight asks as he takes his seat in the chair pulled up at his bedside. Wild is still trying to get his bearings- he assumes they’re in Twilight’s house, because he’s described it before and it certainly looks like the inside of a tree.

“I think so- I wasn’t hurt, just the guardian brought up memories that were hard to ignore but my adrenaline pushed them down.” Wild shrugs and goes to pick at the blanket he’s covered in. Four lets out a loud sigh and tucks his face deeper into his blankets.

“Good, good.” Twilight smiles serenely at him.

And then raises his hands up and slaps Wild on his uninjured arm. “Don’t ever do that again- if you have to fight a guardian, use one of your good shields. I know you have them!”

“Ow!”

“Can you two be quiet?” Four sits up and glares, before blinking, “oh! Wild, you’re awake.” Four gets to his feet and moves to his side, glancing up and down his body. “You’re better?”

“Yeah.” Wild rubs at his arm, “no thanks to Twilight.”

“That’s great to hear,” Four’s eyes flash before he punches his other arm, which was injured before the magic water fixed it. It now hurts again.

He gets it, a little. Not that he’d ever admit that. “Ow! Come on Four, you just woke up! I just woke up, have a little sympathy.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to find the others, last time they were in here Warriors mentioned Rusl inviting us over for breakfast, and I’m starving.”

He slips on his over-tunic and headband quickly, leaving Wild and Twilight alone.

Wild tries to sit up again, Twi’s supporting arms the only thing helping him succeed. “You sure you’re okay?”

He glares over at him, “are you going to hit me again?”

“Probably not.” Twi grins. Wild glares for a moment before his expression falls. “Just be safer next time, cub.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try.” He slides off the bed, standing and only wobbling a little. He breathes for a second, finding his balance returning to him as he takes in the crisp forest air. They’re all safe here- and no guardians have been seen in anyone else’s land before.

Wild makes his way to the ladder (and, woah, this loft is cool but also so inconvenient- how did they even get him up there?), glancing over at Twi and he watches him, “come on. Before Four eats anything that remains.”

#linked universe #lu wild #lu twilight #my fics #others are there just not mentioned enough for me to wanna tag them

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years ago

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hear those bells ring: chapter 7 (a bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: We learn why Bakugo's been avoiding Reader... and then the two go on a date that's not a date if you ask Bakugo.

(I also jokingly told my best friend that this chapter was unofficially titled "Going on Dates and Giving Kirishima Heart Attacks: GTA Edition lmao)

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language. Small CW/TW: Reader does get briefly catcalled (but Bakugo obviously comes to her defense... expeditiously lol)

A/N: Had a lot of fun with this chapter! Hope you enjoy <3

Also question - Do y’all still want the tumblr links to the previous chaps down below?

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 4 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 5 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 6 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo felt like he’d been run over by a semi-truck, tossed into a pool of agonizing, burning, red-hot lava, and then dunked into the Arctic sea all within the span of an hour.

That fucking villain. Setting up bombs in the subway for after his inevitable capture. The goddamn coward. Bakugo would have been able to save everyone stuck in the rubble, if Kirishima hadn’t seen the blinking red light amongst the wreckage and stopped him, wasting precious time. The blond had been sure he could get in and out before the bomb went off, but his partner had grabbed his arm, dug his foot in, and refused to budge while he tried to call for a bomb squad. They’d argued, but then Bakugo had suddenly heard a rapid beeping, and he’d barely had enough time to grab the redhead and fly them both down the tunnel, at the last moment using his quirk to throw Kirishima further ahead of him. But he’d still been too close when the bomb detonated, which instantly blew out his eardrums and lodged the fucking rebar in his arm.

Bakugo was no stranger to pain, but every time the metal rod moved a fucking inch, it was like lightning was shooting through every nerve in his arm. Coupled with suddenly not being able to hear again unless people were shouting, he was pissed the fuck off.

But then you’d come stumbling into his room, into his life yet again, even though he had done his best to ignore you this week.

And now, here you were. Collapsed in his lap on the toilet.

Your breath was ragged in his ear as you sat folded against his chest, tremors running along your body. He had instinctively wrapped his hands around your waist to keep you from falling backward and cracking your head on the bathroom floor, but now he didn’t know if he should move them or not, and he unfortunately no longer had the pain in his arm to distract him.

In fact, he felt little to no pain at all. His back was sore from where the debris struck him when the bomb went off, and he could still feel some cuts stinging in various places, but he’d felt worse after training sessions at UA. The bone deep exhaustion that had been weighing him down since he’d crawled out of the collapsed tunnel had also abated by several degrees, and newfound energy flowed through his veins.

Your energy.

Goddamn it.

He flicked his eyes down to look at you but couldn’t see much besides the top of your head. Your breathing had evened out somewhat, and so had your shaking, but your face felt cold and clammy where it was resting against his bare shoulder.

“Hey,” he grunted, jostling you gently, and the toilet groaned beneath him, not meant for the weight of both of you. “Hey, Stitches. You still alive?”

“Still… alive.” Your breath tickled across his clavicle, and goosebumps erupted across his chest. Then he felt the tickle of your eyelashes fluttering against his shoulder, and you suddenly went stiff. “O-Oh. U-Um, sorry, I didn’t— let me just…”

You tried to reel back and stand up at the same time, but Bakugo felt your knees tremble along the outside of his, and this time he caught you around the hips before you tipped backwards off his lap.

“Just hold on a fuckin’ second,” he grumbled, turning his head to the side so your hair didn’t tickle his nose. “At least catch your goddamn breath before you go splitting your skull open. There’s enough damn blood in here.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you sat tense atop his thighs, like you were trying to keep some of your weight off him.

“I told you to stop apologizing.” He scowled at the tiled wall and abruptly shifted his hands when he realized one of his fingers was touching your bare hip through the holes in your pants.

“… sorry.” It was no more than a whisper, and he felt more than heard you start to take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The pattern was so rhythmic and soothing, the blond felt himself start to relax, until the next words fell out of your mouth. “Just give me a minute, and then I’ll leave you alone, Bakugo.”

The added “-sama” hit him like a slap, and he winced as he suddenly remembered something you’d previously said.

Then I’ll leave you alone, and you can go back to hating me.

Fuck, had he been that transparent? He’d managed to just avoid you altogether for the most part, sticking to the main floor of the agency while he was at work and then going straight home afterwards. The only time he’d run into you was at the elevator yesterday, and he knew he had been a little rude, but his mind had suddenly gone blank when he met your eyes because he just knew you were going to ask questions he didn’t want to answer. He’d hoped he just came off as busy, but now he realized he’d just been a “dick,” like you previously called him out about.

“Alright… I think I’m okay,” you suddenly said and drew him out of his thoughts, and he blinked to find you slowly rising out of his lap, using the sink counter to balance yourself. “I’ll, um, just go and let Kirishima know you’re al—”

“I don’t hate you.”

Bakugo didn’t know who was more surprised by his words, you or him.

You blinked at him as you froze, half crouched over his lap. “What?”

The blond mentally cursed himself, but he wasn’t a coward, and he always meant what he said.

“I said, I don’t hate you,” he repeated. “Earlier, you—”

“I remember.” You were the one to cut him off his time, but you didn’t sound angry. A small crease in your brow belayed your confusion, and you cocked your head at him as you fully rose to a standing position and took a step back.

“Yeah, well, I told you to not be putting words in my mouth,” he grunted, looking away from your calculating expression. But he didn’t like you staring down at him, so he quickly pushed himself to his feet. The tile floor was a fucking mess under his boots, slick in some spots and tacky in others, but at least he wasn’t still adding to the puddles of crimson.

He turned to the sink and flipped the cold water on, scrubbing at his hands and sides to get the majority of dust and blood off and give him something to do. You were silent behind him, so silent he thought you’d left to go find Shitty Hair, but he had said his piece, corrected your assumption, so it wasn’t like he cared—

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

He froze with the sink still running at full blast, and then he glanced over his shoulder to see you still standing in the doorway. Your face, although splattered with flecks of dust and blood, was carefully neutral. It seemed you’d been working on your poker face.

For a brief second, he considered lying, but no, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t lie, didn’t run away like a coward.

“Because I didn’t want to see you,” he said truthfully.

A minute flinch rippled across your features, but you quickly tried to cover it up.

“Was there… a particular reason?” you asked after a long moment. “Was it something I said on Monday? In the laundry room?”

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line and turned off the sink. He wasn’t going to lie, but he also didn’t want to explain himself. Even he knew he sounded stupid.

You fidgeted in the silence, waiting for his response, and when none came, you started to ramble.

“So, it was something I said. I— for the life of me, I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I’ve been trying to remember anything I could have— but truly, it was never my intention to offend you. Maybe I misused a word? I’ve been speaking Japanese since I was little, and I studied it in college, but regional dialects can sometimes be tricky, and I’m still adjusting—”

“Fucking shit, take a breath, Stitches,” Bakugo muttered, and you snapped your mouth shut with an audible click before inhaling sharply through your nose. But your face was still begging, pleading, with him to explain, and the blond suddenly couldn’t look at you, so he turned back to the sink and stared down into the bowl. “I— You didn’t offend me. I’m not so weak that stupid words are going to hurt me.”

“Then… why didn’t you want to see me? The whole reason you brought me to the agency was to use my quirk.”

“I brought you to the agency because I had to,” he said, still without looking at you. “The law requires that we pay for the damages and accommodate you until they’re fixed, so that’s what we’re doing. But I’ve decided I don’t need your quirk anymore. So you’re free to fuck around for the next few weeks until your building’s fixed, and then you’ll be on your merry goddamn way.”

“You… don’t need my quirk anymore.” Your tone was bewildered, and he could just picture your expression behind his back.

“No,” he ground out and tightened his fingers around the edges of the sink. “So, like I said before, get the fu—”

“Why?”

The question drew him up short, derailed the anger he was trying to build up. He darted a look at you over his shoulder, but you didn’t even give him time to think of a response before you were barreling on.

“Why?” you repeated with a furrowed brow. “What changed? Did you find another healer?”

“What?” Bakugo scoffed. “No. I’m not about to go blabbing my weaknesses to everyone and their goddamn mother.”

“So… you didn’t find a healer, or a doctor, and I’m assuming you didn’t request some type of assisted gear like hearing aids,” you said, and when Bakugo just scowled, you pressed your lips together. “Then I don’t understand why you don’t want me to use my quirk on you anymore. I—”

“Because I’m not a fuckin’ monster,” the blond snapped and whirled around to face you completely. “Alright? I’m not going to make torturing you a goddamn habit every time I get off patrol.”

Your eyes widened as your lips parted in surprise, but then your expression grew very shrewd, studying him.

“You’ve been avoiding me because you didn’t want to torture me? Is that what you’re saying?” You spoke very clearly, enunciating each word, and Bakugo did not appreciate being treated like a fucking child.

“I’m the one who’s going deaf, Stitches, not you,” he sneered. “You heard what I fuckin’ said.”

“Yes, I heard what you said.” You nodded calmly. “But I’m trying to figure out what you mean. The only torture you’ve put me through is trying to make me read your mind.”

Bakugo scowled fiercely at you, tightening his hands into fists at his sides. You were going to make him say it, weren’t you?

“You didn’t tell me how your goddamn quirk worked that night on the rooftop,” he spat, and you blinked in confusion at the non sequitur.

“Well, we didn’t have a lot of time, and you didn’t ask,” you said as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “You just told me I was going to help you, and since I knew you could very much ruin my life by turning me into the proper authorities, I thought I didn’t have much choice in my response at the time.”

Bakugo flinched, a tendril of guilt snaking through his chest, writhing and uncomfortable.

“Well,” he muttered as the anger started to drain out of him, and he averted his gaze so he didn’t have to look at you. “If I’d known your quirk made you feel the same pain you’re trying to heal, I wouldn’t have said shit.”

This was it. The reason he’d been avoiding you.

After you had explained how your quirk worked, he thought it just seemed… wrong somehow to literally steal your energy and hurt you in the process. Bakugo was injured often— not terribly, usually, he’d just had a string of bad luck lately— but he knew that you wouldn’t settle for just fixing his ears if he was actively bleeding. Just look at what happened tonight. And even if he could convince you to just fix up his ears, he had no way of knowing if that would fuck you up down the line. You said yourself that you hadn’t used your quirk for much more than smaller scrapes and accidents, so what if there was some kind of delayed backlash that you suffered from after healing his ears— which apparently were supposed to be so much more complicated according to shithead doctors— over and over? Recovery Girl always said healing came at a price…

He just didn’t want your blood on his hands, metaphorically. Especially since you weren’t even a pro. You were a civilian, a seamstress for fuck’s sake. You literally didn’t sign up for this, so he wasn’t going to force you.

An endless stretch of silence grew between the two of you, and Bakugo hoped you would just fucking leave already.

“I’m still failing to see how you’ve tortured me,” you finally said, breaking the silence and dashing his hopes. “The way you ‘asked’ for my help wasn’t exactly nice, but it’s not like you put an actual gun to my head and made me use my quirk on you 24/7. Hell, I basically had to fight you to save your arm just now. You also already promised you wouldn’t get me deported or imprisoned, and you seem like a man of your word. So, I’m not seeing the problem here.”

What… the fuck? Was there a screw loose in your brain?

“You’re telling me you enjoyed feeling like your arm was dipped in magma just now?” Bakugo shot back. “You liked feeling every bone shard wiggle back into place, every shredded nerve restitched?”

Because he certainly fucking didn’t.

“Well, no.” You frowned. “I’m not an actual masochist, despite the jokes you make. But I know the fallbacks of my own quirk, and I made the decision to use it to help you. Just like I made the same decision to save your life the night you crashed into my apartment. I’m not very strong, or talented, but I… I like using my quirk, I like helping people, in spite of the temporary pain it causes, no matter how bad. And someone as talented and powerful as you probably doesn’t understand, but I thought I would never be able to use my quirk for anything meaningful, purposeful. For a long time, I thought this power was wasted on someone like me. So, when you, one of Japan’s best heroes, asked for my help, I thought…”

Here, you trailed off and bit your lip, and Bakugo realized he was leaning forward, seemingly hanging on your every word.

“You thought what?” he muttered.

“I thought… I was finally going to be useful,” you sighed as you wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing away from him. “And maybe that’s selfish. You were looking for someone to help you, and I was looking to feel better about myself. But I thought my actions would at least level out to a net good, if I could actually help you retain your hearing. Still, regardless of my selfish intentions, I did want to help you, Bakugo. I… still do. Not because you forced me, not because you have some leverage over me, but because you have a problem, and I have the ability to fix it in some capacity. So, you really don’t have to worry about ‘torturing’ me. It’s my decision when and how I want to use my quirk, and I want to use it to help you. If… you’ll still let me.”

Your eyes darted back to his, hesitant and hopeful, and Bakugo floundered.

He hadn’t expected this, you fighting back now that he was trying to release you. And he hadn’t considered your perspective. You’d been right. As someone with a powerful quirk and, more importantly, the skill to wield it, he had never even considered what it would be like to not use his power regularly. To not be allowed to use his power. Even though you had tried to laugh it off, he’d heard the regret in your voice when you mentioned failing the hero course entrance exam, and he didn’t know why becoming a doctor hadn’t worked out, but he could tell you regretted that, too.

But you’d apparently been trying to overcome your shortcomings, taking on patients in the back of your shop, breaking the law to do the right thing, despite the pain and fatigue it must cause you.

You were a lot braver and stronger than he, or yourself, gave you credit for.

And now he kind of looked like an idiot.

“Tch.” Bakugo clicked his tongue as his face warmed up, and he turned and marched over to the top half of his soiled hero suit, still balled up and bloody in the corner of the bathroom. “Whatever, you’re obviously too stubborn to listen to common sense, and like you said, I can’t tell you what to do with your own damn quirk, so do whatever the hell you want.”

“So… you’ll still let me be your healer while I’m here? And you’ll stop avoiding me like the plague?”

“Yes, fine, fuck,” he muttered, his cheeks still hot, but when he straightened up and turned back to face you, a mile-wide grin was stretched across your mouth.

“Good,” you said, still smiling. “I’m glad.”

Your words and warm smile made him feel funny, and his reflexive urge was to snap at you, make you leave, but he was suddenly too tired to be angry. And maybe a small part of him— a very, very small part of him— thought that you didn’t deserve his anger after everything you’d done.

But anger, or at least annoyance, was how he addressed everyone, so he didn’t exactly know what to say to you.

“Masochist,” was what he finally settled on, but his tone was softer, less barbed, and your smile only grew.

“Stitches the Masochist,” you mused, tapping a finger against your chin. “That actually sounds like a pretty cool villain name.”

“The day you become a villain is the day I eat Shitty Hair’s boots,” Bakugo said as he dropped the top of his torn and bloodied hero suit. It was ruined, he’d have to get a new one, so he just left it there and stepped across the massacre that was the bathroom floor on his way to the door.

“Why Kirishima’s boots?” You frowned, backing up into the adjacent room to let him out.

“Have you fuckin’ smelled those things?” he scoffed. “They’d raise the goddamn dead. But that’s how sure I am that you and your bleeding heart won’t ever become a villain.”

You opened your mouth, looking like you were going to argue, but then you deflated with a sigh.

“Yeah, I can’t even come up with a good comeback,” you muttered. “I’ll probably think of it tomorrow.”

Your petulant tone and pouting face actually startled a snort of laughter out of him, and you snapped your head up with wide eyes. Bakugo quickly composed himself and cast his gaze around the room for a distraction, settling on the tray of food on the desk.

“What’s this?” he grunted, striding forward. He thought he remembered you mentioning food earlier.

“Hmm? Oh, that,” you said when he came to a stop in front of the desk. “That’s just some miso soup and crispy rice squares. I was making myself a snack before, uh, Kirishima stopped by and told me what happened, so I thought you might want some food.”

He’d been an ass to you all week, and your first thought had been to bring him food?

Bakugo stared down at the bowl of soup for a long moment before he picked it up and brought it to his mouth.

“W-Wait!” You stumbled forward, reaching out for him. “It’s probably cold by now, I can—”

“Too late,” the blond said as he finished draining the bowl, licking his lips before he dropped it onto the tray and picked up the rice squares.

He noticed an orange drizzle of chili oil on them, and could taste that you’d added some to the miso, and he wondered if you had remembered him saying he liked spicy food.

Then he quickly shook the idiotic thoughts away and shoved the rice into his mouth.

They were cold, just like the soup had been, but the rice was pleasantly crunchy and spicy in turns, and when they were gone, he wished there were more. He’d have to make himself some the next time he cooked.

Your cooking wasn’t half bad, though. Not that he would say anything like that to your face.

“Wow, you must have been hungry,” he heard you murmur, and he looked over to find you frowning at him. “Are you still hungry? There isn’t more miso right now, and I used the last of the leftover rice, but there are still some things left in the fridge down the hall. I could—”

“Nah,” he cut you off, marching over to the wardrobe in the corner. “I’m gonna go out and grab something to eat.”

Unfortunately, the wardrobe was empty except for some extra towels, so Bakugo grabbed two, spun on heel, and made his way to the door.

“Go… out?” you echoed, anxiously following in his wake. “I don’t think—”

“Take your shoes off,” he interrupted as he yanked open the door and tossed the two towels over the threshold.

“What?” You paused and blinked at him.

“Your slippers,” he grunted, jerking his chin at your feet. “They’re soaked in blood, and you’re just squishing out puddles with every step. So, take off your socks and slippers, and wipe your feet on the towel before going into the hallway.”

To demonstrate, he dragged the soles of his combat boots over one of the white towels, leaving crimson smears in his wake. He didn’t particularly give a shit, but he knew Kirishima would be on his ass for making more of a mess than necessary, and he didn’t want to deal with a lecture about trailing blood down the hall.

“Okay…” you said before doing as you were instructed, and a few moments later, you tentatively held your dripping socks and slippers away from your body and looked back at him. “Alright, what do I do with them?”

“Just toss ‘em in the fuckin’ corner, I dunno,” he huffed before he deemed his boots clean enough and stomped into the hallway. “One of the interns is gonna have to come by and clean up anyways.”

He stalked off down the hall, away from the elevators, past your door, and to one of the other empty rooms on this floor. The sidekicks and interns were always leaving their shit behind, extra clothes, phone chargers, some of them even brought special pillows and blankets from home. Bakugo usually didn’t give a shit what the extras did, but he hoped they would be of use to him right now.

His pants were still dusty and splattered with blood, but the fabric was pitch black, so it hid most of the mess well. Unfortunately, the top of his uniform had been torn to shit, so he needed a new shirt. He kept his own extra clothes downstairs in the locker room, but he would have to walk through the main lobby to get there, and Shitty Hair would definitely spot him. Then the blond would have to listen to his partner bitch and moan about how worried he’d been. Not to mention, if he went down there shirtless, he wouldn’t be able to explain how he was suddenly healed now, not without throwing you under the bus, and Bakugo was just really not in the fucking mood for any of that crap right now. He was hungry and looking to burn off this amped up energy flowing through his veins, so he needed to grab a shirt, and his keys, and sneak out of the building without being caught.

Thankfully, there were clothes in the wardrobe of this room, so he blindly grabbed what felt like a t-shirt before he closed the closet back up.

“Bakugo!” you suddenly hissed from the hall, and he turned to find you leaning against the doorjamb as you panted for breath. There were also bags under your eyes that he didn’t think had been there before you healed them, and your brow gleamed with sweat in the low light of the hallway.

“You should head to bed, Stitches,” he grunted as he walked back out of the room, pulling the shirt on over his head.

“No, I… is that your shirt?” You straightened up with a furrowed brow when he brushed past you.

Bakugo immediately knew he looked ridiculous. He could feel how tight the shirt was across his chest and shoulders, and when he glanced down, he could see it was also too short, revealing a strip of his stomach between the bottom hem and the tops of his pants.

“Obviously not,” he scoffed, his cheeks warming up again. “But I don’t have time to grab my own shit.”

Then his eyes flicked over your body as an idea came to him, and he held out his hand.

“Give me your sweatshirt.”

You gaped at him, fisting a hand in the material at your chest as a flush crawled across your face.

“W-What?” you stuttered. “No, t-this is mine.”

“I’ll fuckin’ return it to you,” he shot back. “Washed and everything since it’s covered in blood. Or I’ll get you a damn new one, in the same size since you like to be cozy or whathefuckever. So, come on, hand it over.”

“I… I can’t,” you said, dropping your gaze, and even in the dim light of the hall, he could see your cheeks were bright red.

“Why the fuck not?” He scowled.

You muttered something under your breath, and his scowl only deepened.

“What? Speak up. I told you I hate muttering.”

You let out a long sigh before you lifted your head, and voice, but you still refused to look at him.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath it.”

Bakugo blinked at you, once, twice, and then felt heat flood through his whole body. “What the hell, Stitches?”

You were naked. Under his merch hoodie. His eyes flicked unbidden to the orange X across your chest, meant to look like part of his hero suit, but he immediately forced his gaze back up to your face.

“I’ve been using it as pajamas,” you huffed, stomping your foot indignantly. “It gets cold up here! Besides, I don’t think you should be going anywhere right now anyway. You just—”

“If I wanted to hear another lecture, I’d go find Shitty Hair,” he cut you off and rolled his eyes. “And I’m not asking your permission to leave. I’m going to get some food, one way or another. Now, are you going to go back in your room, change, give me the hoodie, and go to bed? Or are you going to change and come with me?”

The anger drained from your face abruptly, like a plug being pulled, replaced by surprise.

Bakugo was surprised himself. He didn’t know why he’d asked you to come. He had planned to just take the hoodie and order you to go to bed. But that had slipped out instead.

You were still staring at him like he’d grown a second head, so he quickly tried to cover up.

“I-I mean, you’re just gonna fuckin’ pace and worry in your room until you break, go find Kirishima, and rat on me, so at least if you come with me, you know I haven’t dropped dead. And… you need food anyway, too, right? After using your quirk. I’m just being goddamn practical.”

You stared at him silently as he fumbled over himself, and Bakugo blamed the chaotic bullshit of this fucked up night for throwing him out of sorts.

Just when he was going to completely retract his statement and storm off, you finally spoke up.

“Alright,” you said slowly, eyes scanning over his face like you were trying to find something. “Give me a moment to change. But don’t go anywhere without me.”

“You think I want to go down looking like this?” he growled and gestured to his ridiculously tight shirt. “Just hurry up.”

Your gaze flicked down to his torso before darting away, and your cheeks were still pink as you turned and quickly hobbled on bare feet back to your room.

When the door closed behind you, Bakugo exhaled sharply before he ran a hand through his hair, cringing at the grit and dirt he encountered. He needed a shower, but that could wait an hour.

The blond spent the next two minutes and thirty seconds leaning against the wall opposite your room, and he was just considering banging on your door when it cracked open.

“About time,” he muttered as he shoved himself away from the wall.

“Sorry,” you said, your favorite word, but you closed the door behind you and held out a mass of black fabric. “Here.”

He took the hoodie, and it was still warm from your body against his fingertips. He violently shoved the thought away as he yanked the sweatshirt on, and he also blatantly ignored the way it smelled like you.

“Thanks,” he grunted and glanced back at you, and he noticed you’d swapped out your ratty pants for jeans, and the hoodie for a dark green pullover sweater. Your previously bare feet were now covered by sensible tennis shoes, and it looked like you had splashed your face and hair with water, too.

“Did I miss any blood or anything?” you asked as your hand rose to your cheek.

“You’re fine. Come on, let’s go.” He turned and strode down the hall to the elevators, smacking the button until he could hear the car approaching. It was a small thing, but just being able to hear that quiet whirring noise calmed him down a little, and his thoughts cleared as the elevator dinged.

He crossed his fingers and hoped no one was on the other side of the doors, and when they pulled open, the empty car answered his prayers. You followed him into the elevator, and then Bakugo pressed the button for the bottom floor.

“When the doors open, we need to run for the door.” The plan was already formulating in his mind as the elevator jerked into motion around him. “Shitty Hair will probably have everyone in the conference room, but in case there’s stragglers, duck down low and make a beeline for the entrance.”

“Is all this really necessary?” you asked, your eyes anxiously tracking the descending floors. “You could just tell Kirishima where you’re going—”

A sudden chime announced the car’s arrival on the ground floor, and Bakugo didn’t have time for your hesitations.

“Nope, come on.” He made a grab for your wrist but ended up with your hand, but then the doors were sliding open, and he had to act.

The blond crouched down and pulled you along with him. The front doors were to the left and a little behind the elevators, but they were directly across from his and Kirishima’s glass-walled offices, so that’s where his eyes jumped first. Thankfully, the offices, and the bull pen, were almost entirely empty. There were three interns or sidekicks— he didn’t know or care— sitting at one of the desks and reading over something, but they were all faced in the opposite direction.

Now was his chance.

He quickly but silently made his way along the edge of the bull pen, tugging you behind him. He made it to the reception desk in a matter of moments, and he dropped your hand as he yanked open a drawer and started rummaging inside.

“What are you looking for?” you hissed, and in his peripherals, he could see you looking nervously at the desk of extras halfway across the room.

“My keys,” he grunted, right before his fingers closed around the familiar fob. “Got it. Let’s—”

“Hey, guys?” Kirishima’s voice suddenly rang out across the main floor. “Have you finished your reports? I just wanted to… hey…”

Bakugo snapped upright to see his partner on the other side of the main floor, standing in front of the hallway that led to the conference room off to the right of his office. The towering redhead was squinting in the blond’s direction, and Bakugo saw the instant his friend realized what he was seeing.

“Bakugo! What the hell are you doing?” Kirishima immediately started to jog forward, the extras whirling around in their seats, and Bakugo knew he was out of time.

“That’s our cue, Stitches,” he grunted as he came out from behind the desk, grabbed your hand again, and lunged for the door.

You gasped wordlessly as you stumbled after him, and now Kirishima was yelling both of your names as Bakugo came out onto the street and sprinted towards his car. Thankfully, it was only several spots down from the entrance, so he hit the key fob to unlock the doors, pushed you toward the passenger side, and then jumped clear over the roof.

Fuck, either your quirk was super damn powerful, or he was running on pure adrenaline, because that felt too easy.

“Get in!” he shouted as he wrenched open the driver’s door and threw himself into the seat.

You were just falling in through your own door when he slammed the keys in the ignition and cranked the engine, and he glanced in the rearview just in time to see Kirishima shoving past the front doors and turning towards the blond’s car.

“Hold on!” Bakugo threw the car in gear and stomped down on the gas pedal, and the tires squealed against the asphalt as they sought traction.

“Wai— AH!” you yelped as you were slammed back in your seat, just barely getting the door closed before the car shot away from the curb like a bullet from the barrel of the gun.

“Bakugoooooo!” Kirishima’s voice trailed off as Bakugo sped down the street, and the blond glanced in the rearview again to see his partner standing in the middle of the road while throwing his hands up in the air.

He’d get an earful about this later, but that was a Future Bakugo problem.

Thankfully, since it was past midnight, there weren’t many people out, so Bakugo was able to reach the end of the road, turn left, and delve deeper into downtown in under a minute.

The car was silent save the growl of the engine and the sound of him shifting gears, and once he reached a red light, he glanced over at you in the passenger seat.

You were wide-eyed, gripping both the handle on the door and the center console, and your breathing was shallow as you half-hovered over your seat. Then you seemed to sense his gaze on you, because you slowly turned and met his eyes, and the two of you stared at each other unblinkingly for a long moment.

Bakugo expected you to start yelling or scolding him any second now, but what you did next shocked him.

You laughed.

It started off small at first, just some tremors in your abdomen, climbing up to the line of your shoulders. But then you started huffing air out of your nose as your lips twitched, and a moment later you were laughing— no, giggling— pressing one of your hands against your face to try and smother the noise but failing desperately. Your eyes glinted in the red light coming in through the windshield, and the unrestrained glee in them was totally disarming.

One side of Bakugo’s mouth jerked up, then the other, and before he could stop himself, he was laughing along with you. Not hysterically or anything, but a deep chuckle that rumbled out of his chest and provided a bass to your high-pitched giggles.

The two of you continued to laugh for a minute before you suddenly started shaking your head.

“No, no,” you gasped for breath, trying to recompose yourself but unable to keep the smile off your mouth. “No, this isn’t funny. Kirishima is probably so confused and concerned!”

“Oh, come on, Stitches, you can’t lie and say that wasn’t fun,” Bakugo snickered. “Besides, Shitty Hair saw me run out of there, so he at least knows I’m not dying. He’ll be fine for an hour.”

You pressed your still trembling lips into a thin line. “Well… maybe it was kind of fun.”

He smirked, triumphant, but then the light turned green, and he switched his attention to the road again.

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said as he shifted gears and pulled forward. “I don’t need to be getting a ticket.”

“You’re one to talk,” you laughed but did as he said. “You’re not even wearing yours.”

“I’m a pro hero,” the blond scoffed.

“So you won’t go flying through the windshield if we crash?” He could see your arched eyebrow and judging expression out the corner of his eye. “I’m sure a police officer will believe that.”

“Maybe I should have left your ass at the agency,” Bakugo said without any real heat, but he held the steering wheel with one hand as he grabbed his seatbelt with the other and clicked it into place.

Just so he wouldn’t have to listen to you bitch anymore, of course.

You smiled in his peripherals but didn’t say anything, and silence descended over the car. But unlike the other silences Bakugo had experienced tonight, this one felt… comfortable, almost. Easy. He didn’t feel the need to fill it, and for once you didn’t either, your typical nervous babble replaced by a quiet smile as you gazed out the window at the lights of downtown.

Bakugo ripped his gaze away from you and told himself to focus. He’d come out here for a reason.

After thinking about the current time and what places would still be open right now, he made a right at the next street and continued straight for several blocks, Unlike the last time you were in the car, you kept your questions to yourself, only sitting up straight when he parked down the road from a bar he’d gone to a few times with Shitty Hair. The bar wasn’t all that special, too loud and crowded most nights for his taste. But a food vendor always set up shop on the corner just to tempt drunken patrons to spend more money on hot, oily food.

“Can I, um, come with you?” you spoke up as he turned off the car.

Bakugo turned to look at you in the passenger seat, and you flushed as you fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I know we probably aren’t staying, but I just, uh, haven’t been to this part of town yet, and the shops and the bars on this road look cool, so I just wanted to see them a little closer,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “A-And besides, I’m supposed to be making sure you don’t drop dead, right?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “That’s more like my job, given how many times you trip over your own damn feet. But whatever. You can come if you want. Just don’t go passing out on me and eating asphalt.”

“Deal,” you said with a tentative smile, backlight by the yellow streetlights coming in through the window behind you.

Bakugo grunted wordlessly before he started climbing out of the car, and by the time he came around the hood, you were standing on the curb with your hands clasped in front of you.

“Wow, so you can get out of a car on your own without bloodshed,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Shut up,” you muttered, and the tips of your ears went pink, sticking out the sides of your hair. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“This way.” He turned and strode off down the block, feeling his shoulders tighten as he saw the small crowd milling around on the sidewalk between him and the food cart on the corner. The group of about thirty people was a mix of sober extras waiting to get into the bar, and already wasted extras who had stepped outside for some air or a smoke. They congregated in groups scattered across both sides of the sidewalk, and they were all talking and laughing loudly over the music spilling from the bar entrance.

Bakugo tugged up the hood of his sweatshirt— your sweatshirt, he was reminded when he got another whiff of your scent— and put on his meanest scowl as he started to stomp his way through the crowd.

“Move it,” he grunted as a drunken idiot stumbled backwards and into him.

“Whaa— why don’t you move it, huh?” The staggering moron blinked up at him through bloodshot eyes, and Bakugo just rolled his own before he shoved the guy out of his way and continued forward.

And he would have just keep going, if he didn’t hear the fucker’s next words.

“Heyyyy, where’re you goin’, sweetheart? Lookin’ so fine in that green sweater. Wanna show me what’s underneath it?”

“O-Oh, I’m just trying to get through here,” Bakugo heard you stutter. “If you could just—”

“Awww, no, come on,” the man whined, and the blond turned to see the bastard trying to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll buy you a drink? Then we can get to know each other! My name’s—”

“She doesn’t give a fuck what your name is,” Bakugo snapped, and he suddenly found himself holding the bastard’s wrist in an ironclad grip. He hadn’t even felt himself move, let alone cross the several yards of sidewalk that had previously been between you and him.

But at least this fucker hadn’t touched you… because he smelled disgusting, of course, that’s it.

“What the fu— you again?” the drunk grunted as he tried to wrench his arm away, but Bakugo’s fingers were like steel. “Let me go, asshole. I’m just tryna buy the lady a drink. What are ya, her boyfriend?”

“None of your goddamn business,” the blond sneered. “Go buy yourself a drink and fuck off.”

“Come on, dude, if she’s not yours, she’s free game, and I call dibs.” The man tried to tug himself free again and leered in your direction. “Ain’t that right, baby?”

Bakugo scowled and then slapped his free hand, palm first, against the dickhead’s face.

“You have two seconds to get the fuck out of my face,” Bakugo growled as his palm started to glow orange, the residual heat making the brow beneath his fingers sweat. “Or I’m going to blow yours off.”

The man’s eyes widened behind the web of the blond’s fingers, and he immediately started to panic, flailing, so Bakugo let him go. The idiot fell right back on his ass and gaped up at the blond before he scrambled onto his feet, and he scurried off into the bar like the pathetic rat he was.

You were staring at him wide eyed, but so were some of the other people gathered on the sidewalk, so Bakugo ducked his head, grabbed your hand, and tugged you away from the crowd.

The two of you were silent as he led the rest of the way down the block, and thankfully there were less and less people in his goddamn way. By the time he reached the food cart on the corner, there were only two people ahead of him in line, and they seemed to be getting their food quickly.

“Um… Bakugo?”

“What?” he grunted, a little more roughly than he intended, and he glanced down at you.

“I-I, uh, just wanted to say thanks for… back there.” Your gaze met his for an instant before darting away. “And you can, um, let go of my hand now.”

Bakugo’s eyes dropped to see his large hand cupped around yours, your dainty fingers dwarfed in comparison.

He dropped your hand like it was on fire and immediately wiped his palm against his pants. His palm had still been sweaty from summoning up his quirk. He hoped you hadn’t felt it. Then he wondered why the fuck he cared at all.

Thankfully, he was saved from the embarrassment of having to respond by the food vendor calling him forward.

“Yeah, I’ll take four orders of takoyaki and two sweet potatoes,” Bakugo muttered.

The vendor nodded and gave the price before he started plating up the orders.

Bakugo reached into his pocket, frowned, and then started patting himself down. A moment later, a string of curses left his mouth.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I— fuck,” he growled and dragged a hand through his still gritty hair. “I forgot I was wearing my suit pants. My wallet’s in my goddamn locker back at the agency.”

“Oh.” You blinked before you pulled you phone out. “That’s okay, I can get it.”

“I don’t need you buying my shit for me.” He scowled, embarrassed, but you just rolled your eyes at him.

“Technically, you’re still buying,” you said, flashing the credit card that you took out of the wallet attached to your phone. “It’s your card, so don’t get y-your panties in a bunch, Dynamight.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, having recognized you were throwing his own words back at him, but he couldn’t help the way his lips twitched.

“You almost had it there, Stitches,” he taunted. “After you build up a little more confidence, I can even teach ya some swear words.”

You rolled your eyes again, but then the vendor was holding out a bag of food, so you traded him the bag for the card. After you had paid, you smiled and bowed to the vendor before stepping off to the side.

“I’ll take that,” Bakugo grunted, plucking the bag from your hands. Then he paused and glanced at the crowded sidewalk further down the street, and after a moment of thinking about it but not really, he shifted the food into his right hand as he held his left out towards you. “Come on. It’ll be quicker if I don’t have to save your ass again.”

You stared at him, then at his hand, but before Bakugo could huff with impatience, your palm slid against his, and he reflexively closed his long fingers over yours.

“Fuck, you’re cold,” he hissed in an effort to not think about how soft your skin was against his scars and callouses.

“Sor— um, I mean my fingers are always like that,” you said, but he caught how you didn’t apologize this time.

“Need to get you some goddamn mittens,” he grumbled before he started marching forward, tugging you with him.

The crowd on the sidewalk parted for him easily enough this time, flattening themselves along the walls of the buildings or stepping off the curb and into the street. Bakugo kept his head ducked under his hood, but a smirk pulled at his lips as he saw one extra trip over his feet while scrambling out of the way.

Once the two of you reached the car, the blond unlocked it, opened your door, and placed the food in your lap once you’d sat down. Then he closed your door and glared off in the direction of the crowd one last time before he went around to the driver’s side.

“Open that shit up,” Bakugo grunted as he got in the car, started it, and threw on his seatbelt. “I’m starving.”

“Uh, what about your leather seats?” you asked, carefully setting the bag between your feet and then buckling your own seatbelt.

“Just try not to spill shit,” he said and pulled away from the curb.

“Alright… what do you want first?” You bent over and started rummaging through the bag.

“Takoyaki. I got like four damn boxes, so just open one.”

You did as he instructed, and the smell of warm, fried seafood filled the car.

Both of your stomachs growled in near unison, and you chuckled as you picked up one of the skewers and held it out to him.

“Great stomachs think alike,” you said, and Bakugo suppressed a smile at your corny joke, swiping the takoyaki from you.

While the car coasted down an empty street, the blond tore into one of the four bread balls on the skewer. The batter was fluffy and still hot from the fryer, stuffed full of grilled octopus and green onion, and he ravenously tore through the whole rod in under a minute.

He leaned over and tossed the empty skewer into the bag at your feet, and then glanced at you to ask for another one, but he drew up short when he noticed your cheeks were bulging out of your face like a chipmunks. Your eyes were closed as you chewed happily, sighing out of your nose, but then your eyes opened, and you jumped when you noticed his stare.

“S-Sorry,” you mumbled around your mouthful, discarding your own empty skewer in the bag as you swallowed hurriedly. “I’m just… a little hungry.”

“Why do you think I got four damn boxes?” he huffed as he turned his attention back to the road and held out a hand. “I don’t give a shit how many you eat, just give me some.”

Another skewer was placed in his palm a moment later, and then the car was quiet save the sounds of chewing.

“Hey, Bakugo?” you asked almost ten minutes later. The two of you had already gone through all the takoyaki, and you were currently nibbling on your foil-wrapped sweet potato.

“What?” he grunted around his own potato, holding the steering wheel in his left hand while he ate with his right.

“Where are we going?”

“Dunno,” he said as he took another aimless turn. But he could feel you staring at him, could feel the follow up questions waiting to fall out of your mouth, so he beat you to it. “Sometimes, I just feel like driving. ‘Specially at night. Don’t know if you dumped too much energy into me or what, but I was feeling amped up, so I just wanted to drive and eat before I have to deal with Shitty Hair and after action reports and all that bullshit. That alright with you, Stitches?”

His red eyes snapped over to you in the passenger seat, and you froze midbite around your potato.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed past your mouthful, bobbing your head, and Bakugo watched a strand of hair fall into your eyes.

He was struck with the sudden and stupid urge to move it, but he just turned back to the road, pressing a little harder on the gas pedal since he was nearing the outskirts of town.

Then he turned onto the highway that looped back around the edge of the city, and it was quiet for several more minutes. He finished his potato in that time, balled the foil up, and tossed it in the bag at your feet. You were still nibbling on yours, only half finished, and he could see a hint of your reflection as you stared out your window.

“Oh, wow,” you murmured as the highway turned into a bridge.

“What?” Bakugo asked, glancing over at you.

“Nothing, it’s just the moon looks so pretty on the ocean,” you said, the phantom of your smile reflecting back at him in the glass. “I’ve lived here for almost a year and still haven’t gone to the beach.”

“Seriously?” he snorted. “It’s like a ten minute drive from most parts of the city.”

“I know,” you sighed as you reached out and traced the line of the horizon against the glass. “I was so excited about it when I moved here, too. The ocean wasn’t very close to where I grew up in America, so I was planning on going to the beach every weekend once I moved here. But, well, settling in took a while, and then I’ve just been so busy with the shop and my… afterhours work. I kept telling myself I would go next weekend, then the next, but it just hasn’t happened. Yet anyways. But I’ll make it there someday.”

You covered up your wistful smile with a nervous laugh when you realized he was staring at you, and the car reached the other side of the bridge, the ocean falling out of sight. Then you stared down into your lap, fiddling with the foil around your potato, and Bakugo could see the side of your face was pink.

The blond didn’t say anything, but after a moment, he flicked on the blinker and started to exit the highway. He could see you peeking at him out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t say anything as he began winding down side roads again.

Until he came around a corner five minutes later, and the sea suddenly spread out across the foreground, glinting white with the reflection of the moon.

“Oh,” you gasped quietly, awe lighting up your features, but then you gasped again, more sharply this time, snapping your head to stare at him. “I-I didn’t mean you had to take me right now—”

“Shut up.” Bakugo rolled his eyes as he continued driving forward, aiming for one of the currently empty parking lots that butted up against the shore. “I never have to do anything. But I need to stretch my legs anyway, so…”

He trailed off, because the lie sounded flimsy, even to him. Well, it wasn’t a full lie. The food was starting to settle in his stomach and making him a little sleepy, so he did need to wake up a bit.

But truthfully, you had stitched his arm back together even when he was snapping at you like a wild dog, so maybe he wanted to do something to make it up to you.

He tried telling himself it was just because he was working on his image, trying to be a people-person like fucking Deku, like his PR manager had been begging him to be for years. But he also logically knew that, at this hour of the early morning, there was no one else around to see his so-called “good deed,” so who was he really doing this for?

He purposefully avoided answering this question by whipping the car into a parking spot, killing the engine with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t look at you as he opened the door and slid out of the car, but he could hear your scrambling with your seatbelt and then stumbling out onto the sandy asphalt a moment later.

Bakugo locked the car and then just started stomping forward, towards the water. The parking lot gave way to sand, and his boots sank deeply into the soft material. He scowled at the thought of having to now get sand out of his hero suit along with the blood and everything else, but he was distracted from his irritation by your stepping past him with this awe-struck look on your face.

“It’s so… big,” you breathed, and he noticed you were holding your socks and sneakers in one hand, your toes curling into the pale sand. A snappy comment sat on the tip of his tongue— something about of course it was big, the definition of “ocean” was literally big fucking body of water— but your soft smile gave him pause, and he turned to stare at the lapping waves.

“Well, do you just want to look at it, or what?” he asked, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie— your hoodie— and hunching against the brisk wind.

“Definitely not.” You grinned and then started walking forward, picking your way over the small dunes.

Bakugo stayed a few feet behind you, mostly making sure that you didn’t break an ankle, but you made it all the way to the waterline without falling on your face. He watched as you set your shoes just outside the reach of the lapping tide, and then you tentatively walked into the surf.

“Oh, shit!” you gasped in English as the presumably icy water washed over your toes, and you danced back a few steps. Then you started laughing as the wind whipped your hair around you, and Bakugo just stared at how you were silhouetted against the sea and stars. The moon was almost if not completely full tonight, so the full strength of its light reflected off the waves, making it just bright enough that he could see your smile as you turned to face him. “Do you want to join me, Bakugo?”

He noticed that you hadn’t added any honorific to his name that time. Then he cursed himself for noticing.

“Hell no,” he scoffed on reflex to your question. “I know that shit’s cold.”

“Yeah, but it feels nice,” you said, laughter still tinging your words. Then your smile took on a slightly mischievous tilt, and you kicked your leg up, water droplets glittering through the air before they fell to the sand. “Or are you too chicken?”

He immediately scowled, narrowing his eyes at you. He knew you were baiting him, but he also couldn’t take that shit lying down.

He wasn’t a bitch. He could handle some cold water.

“Gonna eat your words, Stitches,” he said as he bent down and started yanking on the laces of his boots. He ripped them off a few moments later, followed by his socks, and a slight shiver raced up his spine just from the cold sand.

But he quickly schooled his expression into a hard mask as he rolled up his pants, and then he marched forward, coming to a stop a few feet away from you just as the next wave hit. He bit the back of his tongue to keep from gasping at the cold, but you must have seen the minute flinch on his face, because you started laughing again.

“Shut up,” he gritted out, digging his toes into the wet sand as he faced you. “I fuckin’ got in, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you giggled, and your face was flushed from both the cold and your laughter. “But I can still see you shivering.”

Bakugo stared at you, and then, while keeping his face perfectly blank, he raised his left arm toward the ocean, aimed his palm several yards away, and fired off a single shot of his quirk, making sure his output was as low as he could get it.

The tiny explosion was muffled by the water so it was barely louder than the waves, but it was still large enough to cause icy droplets to explode up and rain down on the two of you.

You yelped, trying to cover your head, but the damage was done. He hadn’t soaked you, merely a splash, but your hair stuck to your face, and water dripped off your chin as you gaped at him.

Totally worth the icy water sliding down the nape of his own neck.

“Who’s shivering?” Bakugo smirked, and before you could retaliate, he turned on heel and walked back out of the water.

He returned to where the both of you had left your shoes, but he saw you were still standing in the surf, shaking your head. Then you turned to partially face the ocean, your profile standing out in stark relief against the waves, and he thought he saw you smiling before you turned your face fully away.

You seemed to want to stand in the water a little longer, and Bakugo wasn’t in a rush to go back to the agency and get lectured, so he plopped down on the sand next to his boots. He was already fucking dirty anyway. What was a little more sand?

He brought one of his knees up and balanced his arm atop it. His toes wiggled down into the sand, and even though it was still cold… it did kind of feel good.

His eyes flicked back to you, watching as you walked in the shallows, and every time the tide went out, you bent down to examine the sand, seemingly interested in some kind of shells or sea life.

Bakugo was surprised he felt… well, not shitty. The mission earlier had been shitty, loosing people had been shitty, getting metal punched through his arm had been extra shitty, but this… this was almost nice.

And Bakugo didn’t think anything was nice.

But you seemed to be getting over your awkward, shy stuttering, and you were even quipping back at him here at there. You seemed more… relaxed around him now, and Bakugo had to admit you didn’t have like, a terrible personality. You were way too nice and accommodating— he’d seen how much food you’d bought the damn extras back at the agency— but he had to admit your quirk was pretty strong, and you were obviously intelligent, knowing at least two languages and owning your own business. But even more than that, something about just your presence was calming, soothing even, like the sound of the surf lapping against the shore right now. He found he didn’t hate it, maybe even in fact--

Bakugo blinked as his mind ground to a halt, a record scratch ringing through his mind. What the fuck was he thinking?

Unbidden, Kirishima’s voice suddenly rang through the blond’s thoughts.

Well, doesn’t she look pretty?

His red eyes returned to you without his permission, and he stared at you as you stood there, with the sea up to your knees, studying something in your cupped palms as the breeze swirled your hair around you.

An answer came to mind immediately, and it was one he did not like.

He didn’t do this, do feelings. His hero work kept him too busy, he didn’t have time for a “relationship.” If he needed to get laid, he could just so out to the bars and find someone for a night. Hell, Kirishima was dragging him out to Dunceface’s party tomorrow— or today, rather, since it was close to two in the morning now. But Bakugo could find someone there to help scratch that itch, and then he’d be fine, he’d be…

You suddenly let out a startled peal of laughter, and he watched as you danced from side to side in the shallows, probably startled by some fish.

He hadn’t noticed before, but your laughter sounded nice, too…

“Fuck,” he cursed as he flopped back onto the sand, staring up at the stars. He was too tired for this shit. He needed some whiskey and to sleep for twenty-four hours, and then he could start thinking straight.

Hell, for all he knew, this was a side effect of your quirk, since your power seemed to “connect” you somehow to your patients.

Yeah. That was it. Just your quirk making him feel this way.

Satisfied, the blond let his eyes drift closed, and he was just starting to doze off when he sensed you standing over him.

“Bakugo?”

“Hn?” he grunted without opening his eyes.

You were silent for a long moment, but then he both heard and felt you sit down next to him. He peeked open an eye just in time to see you lie down a couple of feet to his right, but he closed it against when he saw you turn your head in his direction.

“Are you awake?” you whispered.

“No, I’m sleep talking,” he grumbled. “Course I’m fuckin’ awake. I’m just restin’ my eyes before we drive back to the agency. That alright with you, Stitches?”

“Mmhmm,” you said, and he squinted open an eye again to see you staring up at the sky, expression soft and happy in the moonlight.

Bakugo squeezed both his eyes tightly shut and told himself to stop noticing stupid shit.

It was quiet for a minute save the sound of the waves and wind, but then you broke it again.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” you murmured, sans honorific once again. “This was… really nice. Besides the whole you bleeding out thing, I had a good time tonight.”

The blond felt his cheeks warm up at the genuine sincerity in your voice, but he refused to answer, lapsing into silence and hoping you’ll think he dozed off. He would just pretend to be asleep for a few minutes, and then he’d drive the two of you back.

The waves and wind continued to mutter and whisper in the background, and Bakugo felt himself starting to relax into the sand.

Just a few more minutes…

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years ago

Text

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis.

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased.

He needed a reality check.

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.”

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?”

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?”

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?”

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.”

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.”

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win.

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.”

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money.

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!”

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready.

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.”

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?”

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?”

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?”

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked.

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate.

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through.

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two.

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up.

1st: (First initial). (Last name)

1st: H. Zemo

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before.

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.”

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round.

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?”

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone.

“Oui.”

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.�� His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name).

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you.

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything.

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth.

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress.

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego.

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind.

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce

#Baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #racing au #daniel brühl #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #john walker #john walker is STILL an asshole #multichapter story #chapter 2 #“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

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raeynbowboi · 4 years ago

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How to Play as Link in DnD 5e (2.0)

With the release of both Mythic Odysseys of Theros and now the new big expansion in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, I figured now would be a good time to reexamine Link with the context of new subclasses, class features, and game mechanics that weren’t around the last time that I built him. While I won’t do this for every character I’ve built before, characters who have new options made available with these updates will get a new rebuild for 2021. If you want to compare and contrast this build to the original, I will link that build right [here].

The Spirit of the Hero

Link’s a Hylian and that’s just a fancy way of saying elf. His best racial options are either the High Elf, the Wood Elf, or the Half-Elf. Half-elf’s extra skills are tempting, but as Link is never given any parents or an ancestral family tree, we can’t really justify him as a half-elf. We’ll call him a Wood Elf for the extra +2 to his Dexterity and the +1 to his Wisdom as well as that woodsy vibe. But if you wanna go for a Half-Elf for the power build, I won’t tell anyone.

Link’s alignment is tricky. On the one hand, he is shown kneeling before the monarchy, defeating the forces of evil and darkness, and doing odd jobs to help the common people he comes across. However, he can also start forest fires, break into people’s houses, smash pots, steal people’s life savings or personal belongings, and attack the chicken population until they attack back. I’d wager he’s Neutral Good if for no other reason than his morality is highly dependent on the player.

My first choice for Link’s background would be the Folk Hero for Animal Handling and Survival. However, Link’s background is so inconsistent, it’s easier to just list out the skills he tends to have and tell you to pick a background that has those skills, or create your own: Animal Handling, Athletics, Investigation, Nature, Perception, or Survival. There’s a case to be made for other skills as well. Acrobatics works a little and his jumps did involve sick flips in Majora’s Mask, but Link doesn’t tend to balance or platform jump very often. Link can play instruments fine and danced in the Subrosian Dance Hall in Oracle of Seasons for Performance proficiency, but he’s usually playing instruments to activate effects, not to actually perform for a crowd. Link shows some Stealth skills in Breath of the Wild, but this hasn’t been a longstanding skill of his, so I didn’t lump it in with his main skill list.

Becoming a Hero

When it comes to his build, Link has made some use of spells in the past, but he’s nowhere near the spellcaster that Zelda and Ganondorf are. Link is definitely more of a martial fighter who augments himself with a wide arsenal of magical items. So when it comes to picking Link’s class, we have a few things to keep in mind.

BARD

Link is a talented young man, and he has had magical instruments in a few games over the years, as well as dancing in Subrosia, among other things. While I don’t subscribe to the idea of Link being a bard myself, I understand why people would come to this conclusion, as Link isn’t really bad at anything... except talking. And lying. And looking threatening. Or haggling. Yeah kind of hard to depict Link as a CHA caster who isn’t proficient in any CHA skill checks.

Spirits (UA) This doesn’t fit for every Link, but especially for Breath of the Wild where Link gets help from the spirits of his fallen comrades, the flavor of calling on the dead works for Link. For a non-BotW example, maybe Link can tell stories of his past lives, and the memories he shares with each of them.

Valor This college has the downside of being built as a cheerleader, while Link really should be built for solo-combat since that’s how he approaches most fights. But Valor is better than Swords and also gives Link proficiency with martial weapons and shields, while Swords does not.

FIGHTER

While there are many martial classes, the Fighter differentiates itself by being the most down-to-earth option. It’s not beholden to rage, or smites, hunting, or sneaking. It is the simple skill of the blade, and this is a skill Link has in spades. From the earliest games, Link has been a master of the sword, the shield, and the bow.

Battle Master Link is a strategic fighter. He looks for weak spots, and he exploits them the best he can. Of all the fighter subclasses, none is more clever than the Battle Master. Its many maneuvers resembles the numerous sword techniques Link has learned especially in the later games. Even in Smash, Link showcases how clever he is by being able to combine his arrows with his bombs and shoot a bomb arrow. To my knowledge, none of the other characters can combine their abilities like this in Smash.

Cavalier The subclass is poorly named, and was better in its initial name as the Knight, as that is really what this subclass is. It is the idea of the knight in shining armor. They can also be flavored as bodyguards, a traveling sellsword, or castle guards. So Link does not have to be glued to Epona to make use of this subclass. The main reason to want this subclass is the Warding Maneuver, as giving Link the chance to either block or reduce all damage he takes is going to seriously improve how well he can tank a hit, and help keep him in a fight longer.

PALADIN

More than any other class, the Paladin actually stands for something. They fight for a value or a belief. They swear their life to a cause and are prepared to die fighting for it. Link works on a lore level as a Paladin. Especially when he’s dedicated multiple lifetimes to the same cause. Across every timeline and game over screen, Link has always returned and stood in defiance against whatever evil may come.

Ancients This oath makes Link sworn to the forces of nature, such as the Great Fairy, and protecting the balance and harmony of the light, life, and love against death, decay, and darkness. The Ancients Paladin is all about protecting the balance in the world and valiantly opposing evil wherever it might arise. It also has a druidic or fey aspect, which kind of works for Link.

Crown With this vow, Link serves the Hyrulian Royal Family. This makes Link the princess’ personal knight, and an agent of lawfulness, order, and peacekeeping in the land. While 5e has backed away from typecasting Paladins as Lawful Good, this is probably the most Lawful subclass one could pick, as it places the authority of the royal family above all else.

Glory Instead of being sworn to the light or the law, the Glory Paladin is the harbinger of the goddesses. They are flavored as legendary heroes of destiny, possibly being demigods or the personal errand boys of the setting’s pantheon. This subclass is clearly focused on being a frontline warrior, and the features make Link a true force on the battlefield.

RANGER

Anyone who’s played Legend of Zelda knows that Link is very good at surviving. The games don’t tell you how to navigate the wilderness, Link just has to figure it out for himself. What’s more, Link may be willing to venture into the wilderness, but he’ll be hard-pressed to find many NPCs that far outside of settlements or cities. Yet what they fear, he thrives in. And it’s no wonder that this is the class most peole would assume for Link.

Hunter This conclave is the slayer of all things that threaten civilization. They can choose to be better at chipping away at one enemy, counter attack bigger monsters, or mow through hordes of minions with more ease by taking out multiple at a time. Especially at higher levels, this conclave excels at ripping apart Ganon’s forces with nary a golden curl out of place.

ROGUE

The rogue doesn’t need to be a wanted criminal on the lamb. They can be a clever fighter with a variety of skills and a knack for evasion. That speaks a lot more to Link’s skill set than one might assume at first glance. It’s not a perfect fit for Link, but it’s really not that inaccurate either.

Inquisitive This roguish archetype is defined by being clever in combat, looking for weak points to exploit. They’re also much more observant, making them better at discovering clues or secret passages, or telling when they’re being misled. At higher levels, their ability to look for weaknesses can even increase their sneak attack damage. This especially fits some of the older games where boss fights were focused on using items to exploit the dungeon boss’ weaknesses, rather than hacking away at their health bar. In these older titles, Link was less of a straight up warrior and more of a clever trickster pulling off strategic victories.

Scout The Scout Rogue has heavy Ranger vibes, as they get free expertise in Nature and Survival, enhanced mobility, the ability to disengage from fights more easily, and at higher levels become masters of ambushes. This fits well with Link’s sneakier sniper playstyle that can be done in Breath of the Wild, as Link can take out entire camps without ever being seen.

Thief While Link is not a standard cutpurse, Link is a treasure hunter, a dungeon delver, and the jokes about him robbing the people of Hyrule and breaking into people’s homes doesn’t exactly help. The thief also gets to use more magical items, allowing Link to use things such as enchanted instruments without being a bard.

WARLOCK

Link usually isn’t the hero of his own volition. He often starts his journey with Triforce of Courage, a source of power gifted by his patrons. It’s honestly a weak connection, but it loosely works, so I’m including it.

Celestial While this subclass is geared toward serving something other than a god, I don’t see any reason why a Celestial Warlock couldn’t serve the Triple Goddesses of Hyrule or even Hylia/Zelda directly.

Hexblade The most obviously martial warlock option, this is a good choice if you want to incorporate Fi into your character.

Link’s Toy Chest

Hero’s Sword - Longsword (+1-3) Mirror Shield - Repulsion Shield Hero’s Bow - Oathbow Gale Boomerang - Storm Boomerang Fire Rod - Wand of Fireballs (requires spellcasting) Mastersword - Sword of Zariel, Holy Avenger Longsword* Hylian Shield - Shield of the Hidden Lord Goddess Bow - Ephixis, Bow of Nylea Golden Gauntlets - Gauntlets of Ogre Power Zora Tunic - Cloak of the Manta Ray Pegasus Boots - Boots of Speed Hover Boots - Boots of Levitation Hook Shot - Rope of Climbing

SIDEKICKS

Sidekicks are a new edition from Tasha’s that let Link bring allies on his hero’s journey. Experts are skill monkeys who focus on Help actions, Spellcasters dip into the INT, WIS, or CHA spell lists, and Warriors are trained to fight and don’t have to talk, so they can be animals.

Epona - Defender Warrior Riding Horse Navi - Expert or Healer Spellcaster Sprite Sidon - Attacker Warrior Merfolk Sheik - Expert Noble (Elf) Wolf Link - Attacker Warrior Wolf

Theros Piety

The Piety System from Theros lets us be devout to a god and earn features from worshiping them. As far as I’m aware, this is an optional feature, and not every DM will make use of these, but if you’re able to, here’s a handy guide. These gods really stood out as the clear choices for Link to go with.

Iroas - God of Victory

Domains: War Virtues: Achieve a great victory, Overcome slim odds honorably, Defeat a foe in single combat, Perform a great feat of strength or skill Sins: Being a coward in battle, Beat an honorable foe through deceit, harm innocents Piety Bonus: +3 Learn Compelled Duel spell +10 Learn Crusader’s Mantle spell +25 For 1 minute, creatures cannot gain advantage on you +50 Increase STR or CHA by 2 to a max of 22

Keranos - God of Storms

Domains: Knowledge, Tempest Virtues: Solve a riddle or puzzle, defeat an unwise enemy, plan ahead for an upcoming challenge, build or restore a temple to Keranos Sins: Jeopardize others through foolishness, ignore a wise course of action, fail to plan for a challenge, give in to anger or self-destruction

Piety Bonus: +3 Add 1d6 lightning damage to melee attack up to INT mod turns. +10 Reroll a failed INT or WIS saving throw +25 Advantage on Initiative rolls +50 Increase INT or WIS by 2 to a max of 22

Nylea - Goddess of the Wild

Domains: Nature Virtues: Help any wild animal, stop those who hunt for sport or profit, win an archery competition, slay an aberration, fiend, or undead Sins: Kill an animal without reason, Dedicate a building to or make a sacrifice for any god (including Nylea), protect a city from a natural disaster

Piety Bonus: +3 Learn Hunter’s Mark +10 Learn Speak with Animals +25 Attacking creatures must pass DC 15 WIS save or change targets. +50 Increase DEX or WIS by 2 to a max of 22

Cunning Tactician

Battle Master Fighter (12) Inquisitive Rogue (8) Fighting Style: Dueling Maneuvers: Brace, Disarming Strike, Feinting Attack, Parry, Precision Attack, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Tools: Thieves’ Tools, Mason’s Tools

While Link is brave and strong, he is most defined by his clever mind and unorthodox solutions to boss fights. With this class split, Link has prioritized strategy and tactics over everything else. While it leaves him a little squishier, Link is still a very capable warrior. As a Battle Master, he got a free tool proficiency. Mason’s Tools allows Link to find secret passageways in stone walls, which most dungeons tend to be made of. On top of that, with his Feinting Attack, Link can give himself advantage, meaning he can use Sneak Attack even in a 1v1 fight, which fits his solo adventurer playstyle.

One-Man Army

Battle Master Fighter (12) Hunter Ranger (8) Fighting Style: Dueling, Archery Maneuvers: Brace, Disarming Strike, Feinting Attack, Parry, Precision Attack, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Hunter’s Prey: Colossus Slayer, Multiattack Defense Tools: Mason’s Tools

I used this build once in a level 10 campaign. 6 levels of Fighter, 4 levels of Ranger with a +2 Longsword, and let me tell you something. This build creamed the competition, which was the other PCs at the table, who were also built as level 10 characters. Link nearly defeated his first opponent in a single round, dealing around 70 damage between his four attacks. When I say this is Link’s “power” build, I mean it. I didn’t even sweat when an adult blue dragon showed up after the tournament ended, that’s how much faith I had in Link’s ability to fight. I honestly forgot to even use Link’s battle maneuvers, he was just dealing so much damage that it slipped my mind. You could swap Battle Master for Cavalier, but for me, the Battle Master is more accurate to Link’s favor of techniques over basic hack-and-slash.

RANGER SPELLS

1 Absorb Elements, Ensnaring Strike, Hunter’s Mark 2 Cordon of Arrows, Healing Spirit

The Hero of Hyrule

Battle Master Fighter (12) Glory Paladin (8) Fighting Style: Archery, Dueling Maneuvers: Brace, Disarming Strike, Feinting Attack, Parry, Precision Attack, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Tools: Mason’s Tools

As a Glory Paladin, Link is driven by a desire to be a legendary hero, and at least in the UA version, the Glory Paladin served the gods, as Link does. Like the two builds above, Link balances the brute might of the Glory Paladin with the tactile diversity of the Battle Master.

PALADIN SPELLS

1 Cure Wounds, Divine Favor, Guiding Bolt, Heroism, Protection from Evil and Good, Searing Smite, Thunderous Smite, Wrathful Smite 2 Branding Smite, Enhance Ability, Find Steed, Magic Weapon, Warding Bond

Oaths and Promises

Glory Paladin (12) Celestial Warlock (8) Fighting Style: Dueling Pact: Blade Invocations: Eldritch Smite, Improved Pact Weapon, Maddening Hex, Relentless Hex

The builds from here on are more for the flavor than necessarily Link’s character. As a Blade Pact Paladock, Link becomes a CHA-focused martial with some extra spell slots that turn his smiting sword strikes into a bokoblin slurry machine. This build focuses Link more as a servant of the gods than anything else. Just make sure he has the Hex spell, but you can replace Maddening Hex with Agonizing Blast if you want to use the Master Sword laser beam at full potential.

PALADIN SPELLS

1 Divine Favor, Guiding Bolt, Heroism, Protection from Evil and Good, Searing Smite, Thunderous Smite, Wrathful Smite 2 Branding Smite, Enhance Ability, Find Steed, Magic Weapon, Warding Bond 3 Blinding Smite, Crusader’s Mantle, Elemental Weapon, Haste, Protection from Energy

WARLOCK SPELLS

C Blade Ward, Booming Blade, Sword Burst 1 Armor of Agathys, Cure Wounds, Hex 2 Lesser Restoration, Misty Step, Shatter 3 Spirit Shroud, Summon Fey 4 Galder’s Speedy Courier

To Serve and Protect

Battle Master Fighter (12) Crown Paladin (8) Fighting Style: Dueling, Interception Maneuvers: Bait and Switch, Brace, Disarming Strike, Goading Strike, Parry, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Tools: Mason’s Tools

Link is Zelda’s knight, bodyguard, and servant. So this build prioritizes features that makes Link the loyal emissary of the Princess of Hyrule. As such, this build changes Link’s role to be more of a defender to the princess than a solo hero. This build assumes that the princess or someone else who needs to be protected is joining Link on his adventure.

PALADIN SPELLS

1 Command, Cure Wounds, Divine Favor, Heroism, Compelled Duel, Searing Smite, Thunderous Smite, Wrathful Smite 2 Branding Smite, Find Steed, Warding Bond, Zone of Truth

After all is said and done, I hope I gave everyone a lot to work with. Of course my suggestions are not law, and if nothing else, I hope it gives you an idea of how you want to build him. Last time I built Link, I gave one set build for him, but I still laid out other options. Recently though, I’ve been trying to show multiple builds at the end of my build posts to offer a wider idea of what building a character can look like. Happy 2021 everyone, and let’s hope this year goes smoother.

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years ago

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Retrospective Review: Casino Royale (2006)

So after thinking about it, I figured that with No Time to Die coming out soon, the Craig Bond era Bond movies deserve a post per film. Casino Royale is the film that got me into Bond. I had seen some of the Brosnan films by then, but they didn't really stick to me much. Perhaps also because I was reasonably young when the Brosnan films came out. But Casino Royale came out during my teen years, where I was starting to get into more dark and gritty movies. To me, this movie and Batman Begins, are cut from the same cloth. Both rebooting characters that had gotten too campy in previous iterations, both brilliant origin stories, and both grounded in reality and gritty. Its no wonder that both version of these characters ended up being my favorite versions. Casino Royale is still easily my favorite Bond film to date.

Truthfully, to me this film is near perfection as an action-thriller. For classic Bond fans who have grown up with the franchise and want specific things like Moneypenny and Q and various gadgets, this film may not be as endearing because it very specifically goes away from being gadget heavy and doesn't give Bond a support staff other than Mathis. I think the most high tech thing in the movie was a portable defibrillator. But this film had me from the very beginning in the black and white sequence and how it showed Bond's two kills to become 007 and how it reimagined the classic opening shot of Bond shooting and the blood red soaking over the screen. I just new we were in for something special from the very beginning. What's amazing is the pacing of this film. This was the longest Bond film since OHMSS at the time. I have watched all prior Bond films and I have felt restless at times while watching them, but not when watching Casino Royale. There is constantly something happening and it keeps you engaged. Not once was I bored in the movie.

The action in the film is absolutely high class. I think its the best Bond action that I have seen. The most classic scene of course is the incredible Parkour chase. Its incredibly exhilarating and major kudos to the guy who did the stunts for the bomb maker. You also get a real understanding of what a brute force this Bond is. While the Bomb maker chooses to jump through the window, Bond will burst through the wall. The Bomb maker will climb construction rods, Bond will just drive a bulldozer and destroy the construction and climb up. When the bomb maker throws the gun at him, Bond just catches it and throws it right back. Little things like that give Bond a personality that is different. But this is only the first great action sequence. There is the Miami airport truck sequence that is also brilliant. You have to love the smug smile on Bond's face when the bomber accidentally blows himself up. There is the staircase fight which is brutal and visceral. Then there is final fight scene in Venice which is emotional and tragic and is the true making of Bond. In between it all, there is the Poker game which is surprisingly entertaining given it takes up quite a chunk of time. There are also some incredibly tense sequences which are laced with humor, like the Bond poisoning scene where Bond almost gets killed and then returns with a classic one liner to leave Le Chiffre dumbfounded. There is the torture scene which is hilarious because of how Bond reacts to the torture and eggs him on in a way. The film never lets up in the action and the thrills.

An enormous part of the success of the film is the casting of Mads Mikkelson as Le Chiffre. I had not known Mads from anywhere before this, but he is immediately compelling and enigmatic. More importantly, rather than just being an all powerful villain to foil, he feels like a human. The tearing blood is a great, sinister gimmick, but you feel like he is on the edge when he loses money in the stock market due to Bond. You feel his desperation in some of the Poker scenes, as well as when the african fighters find him at the hotel, and then when he is torturing Bond to find the location of the money. I am not sure whether I like him more than Bardem's Silva or not, but its telling that the best Bond movies of Craig's era have the best villains. This film put him on the map for me and I loved him as Hannibal, saw him Dr. Strange, and I want see how he does as Grindelwald in the next Fantastic Beasts movie.

However, what elevates this film beyond any prior Bond movie is the casting of Eva Green as Vesper Lynd. She is the best Bond girl ever put to film and the romance between her and Bond is one of the most heartfelt and tragic romances that I have seen. The chemistry between the two actors/characters is electric from their very first scene in the train. The film gives them everything. There are deeply intimate scenes between the two which are not remotely sexual such as the tender shower scene where Bond comforts Vesper after the stairwell fight, many instances of witty repartee, scenes of romance, and then the bitter tragedy of her betrayal and her death. Even her death scene is picturized in a way where you really feel the connection as you can tell that Vesper can't bear to live with what she's done. The film doesn't flinch when showing her drown so it engulfs the audience in the same horror and sadness that Bond is feeling. In general, you experience the same emotions as Bond does as you can't help but fall in love with Vesper and just at the point of happily ever after, it all turns to ash. Its a phenomenal character arc and it also does a great job of establishing how Bond became so cold. Its a fantastic performance from Eva Green, and yet another instance of an actor who put herself on the map in my eyes.

And then there is the man himself. Yet another actor who I knew very little about. At that point everyone thought Craig wasn't good looking enough, not tall enough, not charismatic enough etc... to play Bond. But boy did he just blow expectations away. He is my Bond for sure because his performance is just exceptional in every way. He is built like a tank and is a force of nature, but Craig brings a tender vulnerability, perfectly suited for a young Bond. He looks dapper, is charismatic, is great in the fight scenes, and you genuinely feel he could beat the crap out of people. As I have already mentioned, there are so many touches to his performance that is unique to him. The brutality he brings in the fight scenes, the smirk at the end of the Miami scene, the heartfelt tenderness in the shower scene, the twinkly eyes humor, the rage when he is betrayed, the devastation at Vesper's death, and then the coldness that comes after that. He gets to show a full range, and he delivers every aspect with perfection.

One of the major carryovers from Brosnan era, was Jud Dench as M. And she gets a lot more to do during the Craig era. She is phenomenal as she always is. The dynamic between her and Bond is slightly more stern maternal in the Craig era compared to Brosnan and their interactions are great. Jeffrey Wright brings Felix Leiter back into the fold for the first time since License to Kill and he's a welcome presence as always. Giancarlo Giannini is also pretty great as Mathis and I'm glad he came back in QoS. Jesper Christensen has a quiet presence as Mr. White, who makes recurring appearances in the future.

I feel not enough people give Martin Cambell credit for what he has done. Twice he has launched Bonds successfully. GoldenEye was really good and Casino Royale is just outstanding. I have never paid much attention to the Bond song but the song for Casino Royale is pretty great. Again its telling that the two songs that I remember from Bond movies are from Casino Royale and Skyfall. Anyways, Casino Royale is a near perfect movie, especially for someone who is new to Bond. It really launched Bond into the modern world and got him away from the cold war era type plots. If I had to quibble about something, I would say some of the scenes in the Bahamas are a little slower and maybe 5-10 minutes can be edited down but even those scenes are great character scenes and we get a new origin of the DB5. A 9.5/10 for me.

#casino royale #martin campbell #daniel craig #eva green #mads mikkelsen #jeffrey wright #judi dench #giancarlo giannini #007 #james bond #le chiffre #vesper lynd #felix leiter #mr white #jesper christensen

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

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Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

#bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou angst #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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uselessidiotsquad · 3 years ago

Note

👻🌧️🍻 for Sigilis and/or Galla ✨ warcat wives my beloveds

Thank you for the ask :D

👻For something that scares or disturbs them, but they refuse to tell anyone

Sigilis:

"Scares is maybe not the right word. More like confuses and bothers me. Mesmers. Yeah, I get it, it's magic but they all seem so shifty. I've known Ash trash with less suspect behavior than those magic using creeps. I like guns, turrets, and bombs. Those are just things. You might accidentally shoot yourself in your foot but it's your own dumb fault. But clones and illusion magic? How can you make sure they aren't gonna turn on you? Blech. They make my fur stand on end and can keep their fancy purple magic to themself, thanks."

🌧- For a heavy, emotional secret

Galla:

"Back before I knew I was a Revenant, I just thought there was something wrong with me making me hear voices. It never would have occurred to me that I was actually hearing who the voices claimed to be.

The last fight that I had in the pit, ended poorly. I don't mind losing if it's an honorable fight. But I'd won and the slimy bastard couldn't handle it, tried to get me with a wire as I was walking out. I managed to shake him off and then just lost it. Between my own pent up anger and the voice in my head of Kalla yelling about 'No mercy for cowards' - I killed him. I did more than kill him.

It took four of the pit's security to pull me off. By the time I had snapped out of it, you couldn't tell that it had been a Charr."

🍻- For something bad/mischievous you did as a child or teen that your parents don’t know about

Sigilis:

"Oh I got a list but I don't even think Galla knows about this one." The engineer cackles and rubs her claws together excitedly.

"Our Primus was a withered old bag, didn't give three shits about cubs just wanted the secure job. Any and all disagreements meant scrap duty or the rod. Y'can imagine that didn't endear any of us to her.

One of the cubs parents managed to sneak in and I was the only one that saw 'em. Big burly Charr, carrying a little plush griffon for his cub. He said if I didn't tell the Primus or the guards, next time he snuck in he'd bring me something and he asked what I wanted.

I asked for the biggest container of powdered slippery elm that he could find me. Burn me, his eyebrows might as well shot through the roof but he didn't ask why! Next time he snuck back through, I didn't see him, but I did find a glass jar of powder buried in the spot where I first did."

She takes a deep breath and sighs with fond remembrance, corners of her eyes wrinkling as she grins. "I loaded the cranky cunt's food up with so much of the stuff she was gone for three days and we had a temp come in. I bet she was still shitting for weeks afterwards. She sat funny for a long time."

#gw2 #sigilis forgemuzzle #galla strangleforge #warcat wives #Sigilis just isn't a fan of magic as a whole tbh #And Galla had it rough before she knew she was a rev it was just like 'oh great now i can't even trust my own thoughts'#it certainly didn't help her depression after losing her warband even though Kalla tried to be somewhat helpful #as helpful as a voice from the mists can be #Galla made sigilis promise not to go to her pit fights #just bc if she looked like she was losing she knows that her wife would just shoot the fucker from the stands #which she would

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peakyblinders1919 · 4 years ago

Text

Best Friend

“Married? Married?Can you fucking believe after two years he just shows up with a wife.”

“Y/N-“

“I don’t care that there’s no telephone lines on board, he could have told us before dropping it on us like a bomb.

“Y/N-“

“I mean really? The captain married them on board? That’s not like him unless...

“Y/N!”

“WHAT?”

You stopped in your tracks, your breathing increased as you rambled on, something you did when you were truly upset, not daring to let anyone else get a word in edgewise. Watching the women’s face next to you, she was glad that you had stopped, but the frown lines etched onto her features reflected her feelings towards the situation too; it was amazing how anger personified itself in people. “What?” This time your tone was calmer.

“Are you his mother or am I?” After a moments silence, Polly nodded. “That’s right, so let’s not go disowning him just yet.”

You couldn’t help but look behind you down the alley, Michael, your cousin and esteemed best-friend hold the door of a new beige Bentley open for his wife, the perfectly imperfect Gina, with the most American name ever whose doe-like eyes made it all the easier to want to shoot her between during a hunt. Knowing there was no room to discuss anything now, or fight Polly, you got into the passenger side rod the car with a side and sulked during the ride home.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this Polly.”

The women slammed on the breaks sending you forward. Saying you had a bad feeling in this family was the equivalent to saying Judgement Day was near.

“What do you mean?”

“Aside from the fact that he’s hiding something from us? She’s a snake, a cheater, a liar. I don’t know what exactly but my head started aching as soon as she showed up and started talking.” That was enough to convince Polly; she saw so much of herself in you, even down to the way yourGypsy instincts manifested in physical discomfort.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it, we always do. It’ll work itself out soon enough.”

“I just wish he would have told me... he’s my best friend, we’re supposed to tell each other everything.”

—

Even though you could see right through his antics, the ache in your forehead twinging as soon as you woke telling you you ought not fall for it, you agreed to meet with Michael, strolling into the Garrison at 9 am.

“You know, I was going to say it was a little early for a drink but we’ve done worse, haven’t we Mick? ‘Member at Tommy’s wedding when…”

You strolled into the pub like you owned it, which wasn’t far from the truth. Rattling on in excitement this time rather anger you thankfully caught yourself before spilling too much when you realized Michael wasn’t alone. Now was as good a time as any for a drink in your book.

“I thought we were meeting *alone* Michael? Surely she can get on without you for a day?” You glared at his wife while pouring some whiskey. It was a feeling that started as a swirling in your stomach and rose and rose and rose until everything vibrates, it was a feeling that was undeniable and even more so unexplainable. You didn’t know *why* you hated Gina, you just did, eyeing her from across the bar still wearing her expensive coat lined with fur bought with Michael’s money.

“Y/N, I wanted you two to meet probably, no one got off in the right foot yesterday. Anyway, it’s important to me that you both at to know each other, can’t have my wife and my cousin slash best friend hating each other.”

Figuring the least you could do was give it a shot for Michael’s sake, you sat down with her at the newly upholstered booth in the pub.

“I don’t hate anyone, don’t know where you got that idea.”

“Well I’d say you made it very clear yesterday,” Gina shrugged. “Not good at first impressions?”

“My first impressions are always right Gina.”

“Yeah? And your first impression of me?”

Narrowing your eyes, any reservation and respect you’d had for Michael in not insulting his wife was abandoned. “My first impression is one that’s going to be hard to change. You’re not here for love or the family, you're here for money. You have a hidden agenda behind that pretty smile of yours. Couldn’t believe Michael had fallen for someone like you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Michael interjected, the conversation over in his mind. But she seemed unphased, one leg crossed over the other as she comfortably leaned back in the booth.

“You know, Michael was afraid everyone would have thought that I changed him,” her American accent cut through the air, “but the truth is, he was always too good for this family. Hot heads and addicts the lot, and what about the one who’s married to a Gypsy, sorry…. I mean *was*-“

That was the last straw. You could deal with Michael of ignoring you for his new wife or brining her along to your outings, you could deal with him acting different and Gina being a complete bitch to you, but talking bad about the family, about John especially, was uncalled for. You wouldn’t stand for anyone disrespecting John beyond the grave.

Acting purely on the instinct you’d felt the moment you met her, without thinking you lunged at her. You weren’t much of a fighter but all your brothers made sure you could throw a proper punch or two and handle yourself in a fight. You saw red, anger not blood, your movements uncontrolled when Michael has edged himself between you two and hands were suddenly wrapped round your waist pulling you back.

“Hey, she’s pregnant!”

The room went silent, Arthur holding you back as Tommy and Polly watched from the bar, everyone’s gaze shifting to Michael and his wife. So many secrets, so may changes, you looked at your cousin as if you didn’t even recognize him anymore as your partner in crime.

#michael gray fanfic #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray imagines #michael gray fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction

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detectivedreameater · 4 years ago

Text

This Is Our Get Along Shirt || Kaden and Marley

TIMING: Sometime before Christmas PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: In which two fully grown officers have separate meltdowns while locked in a room together. CONTENT: Head Trauma mentions, Family Death mentions (parental)

Marley had decided she just wanted things to go back to normal. But the doctor wouldn’t approve her for work, and work wouldn’t approve her without the doctor. And so she was stuck. Between doing nothing and doing something that she didn’t want to. And didn’t need to. She was fine, she was doing fine. She didn’t need therapy or check-ups or supervision, or any of that shit. She just needed more time to heal and then she could go back to herself. She just needed time to find herself. And that started with getting back to work, whether anyone actually let her do it legally. She’d heard about some suspicious activity at the local escape room, and by the sounds of it, it seemed right up her alley. Some strange sort of supernatural being had to be behind this. And so she had taken her meds, made sure she had a weapon (they wouldn’t give her back her gun, yet, obviously, until she was cleared for work), and made her way down to the building. She enjoyed the idea of escape rooms, but during the day, when her abilities didn’t work, the claustrophobia of the places often got to her. But she was prepared, this time, for what was waiting inside. Hopefully. What she wasn’t prepared for was Kaden Langley to be inside. Frowning, she paused in the doorway. “Someone lose a puppy inside or something?” she grumbled, pretending to be interested in the pamphlets by the doorway.

The reports coming from the escape room place sounded nothing short of fae bullshit to him. What kind, Kaden couldn’t say. Neither could the owners but they had called about a weird animal showing up in some of the rooms when people were trying to complete the puzzles. Apparently they’d lied to patrons and told them it was all part of the experience. Guess he couldn’t blame them too much, he’d likely do the same. He debated grabbing the iron knives before heading out but he didn’t feel much like digging them out of the back of the closet. It wasn’t like Regan was going to be over anytime soon, a thought that made his heart sink, but he still couldn’t stop lying to himself that she might. He wasn’t ready to unravel any of the small stupid hopes that held him together at the moment. Didn’t mean he didn’t come at all prepared. He had plenty of knives and his gun, of course. He was prepared for whatever was there, brownie or leprechaun or whatever it may be. He was not, however, prepared for the voice he heard behind him. “Stryder?” he said, turning to see her just standing there, flipping through the brochures like she planned on actually participating or something. “Not exactly. What, are you planning your next event here? Celebrating the death of your bear or something?” The jab sent guilt shooting through him like a rod through his side. Pretty sure he hadn’t talked to her since just after all that. But he’d heard about her injuries. “Surprised to see you here and not chained to your desk.”

Marley wasn’t about to go into the details of her leave with Kaden Langley of all people, but the jab at being chained to her desk made her broil. She only wished that were an option, but without medical clearance, they weren’t even going to let her back into the office. No badge, no gun, no nothing. She bristled, breezing by him and up towards the desk. “I already celebrated that. Lots of champagne, some tequila, and a roaring fire,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Really, the only celebration they’d gotten was cutting the damn bear’s head off and dropping it on Roy’s doorstep, and while that used to be enough for her, the damage that he’d caused after made the victory seem pointless. In fact, everything seemed pointless now. Even arguing with Langley. She rang the little bell again but no one answered. “Isn’t there usually someone here? I even called ahead,” she grumbled, more so talking to herself than Kaden. She pushed away from the desk and wandered towards the back. “Hello?” she called out, “Anyone here?” But there was still no answer. She cast one glance back to Kaden before prodding the slightly ajar door in front of her. It said it led to one of the game rooms, but when she opened it, it looked just like an ordinary office. “It’s a weekday, right?” she asked, going over the days in her head as best she could. “Where the hell is everyone…”

Kaden rolled his eyes at Stryder’s comments. Honestly, though, it felt almost nice. This was standard. This made sense. Them bickering? That was normal. And it was very nice to have some small sense of fucking normal right now. Even if she was irritating. But she was also correct. There was no one here. “No fucking clue.” He stood and tried to listen for any sounds, any heartbeats other than theirs. Nothing in the immediate area, but there was a crash. Didn’t need hunter hearing for that one. “Follow or don’t, Stryder. Doesn’t matter to me.” Kaden didn’t look behind him to check on her choice, just walked past the reception desk towards the escape rooms. He wound down the hallway, following the direction of the sounds. Seemed like it was coming from one of the rooms. All the doors were open, there was no one operating the place, should be safe enough to walk in. He took a step inside and tried to pinpoint the source of the crash. It was hard to tell, there were plenty of odd items strewn about, likely puzzles to be solved. None of it made much sense to him. He could tell Stryder was behind him without even glancing back. The footsteps and heartbeat alone would have given it away. “So why are you here anyway? I know why I was called in but I didn’t think--” Kaden didn’t get to finish any sort of explanation. Because the door shut tight behind them. “Putain.”

Marley rolled her eyes at the annoyed sound in Kaden’s voice. She really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with his stupid grumbles and his tendency to mumble. She’d had enough trouble hearing normal speech lately, what with the tinnitus. She chose to follow him, because why not? What else had she come here for? And he led her down a winding hallway into a backroom. Nothing immediately jumped out at her as strange. Not until he was turning to ask her a question and then the door was slamming shut on both of them. “What the--” she started, but was immediately interrupted again when the big timer on the wall churned on and started counting down from one hour. “Did you do that?” she asked incredulously, whirling back to the door and yanking at it. “Oh, fuck this. Fuck this. I am not dealing with this bullshit today,” she growled, lifting her hand to turn herself intangible and-- finding that nothing happened. “What the…?” she blinked, unsure of what this feeling was. Her head pounded and she winced. A note was slid under the door and hit her boot. She stared down at it. Slowly, she picked it up and opened it, holding it out to Kaden after a moment. All it said was: Escape the room.

“I didn’t do shit!” Kaden shouted back as he watched her rattle the door. The room was never very big, but the longer the door didn’t open, the smaller it felt. He ran over to the other side, to the exit door and tried the handle. Nothing. He slammed into it. It didn’t fucking budge. Fuck. Fucking fuck. It felt like the walls were creeping closer in on them the longer they were stuck in a room together with doors that didn’t fucking open. “There was no one there, right? No one was here to run this. How did we get stuck here? How did this--” He inhaled deep and held his breath, trying to slow his racing heartbeat. He looked over and noticed a note in her hand. “What does it say? What is it? What do we fucking do?” He leaned over her shoulder to get a look. “Escape the fucking room? Are you serious?” Kaden groaned and tried the doors again. “I’m trying to escape the fucking room! Let us out!” The last thing he wanted to do was solve a bunch of shitty puzzles when there was a perfectly functioning door. Two, even. This was bullshit. But nothing changed despite his protests. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to focus on anything other than the fact he was stuck in a room, glancing around to try and take it in. All he saw was how small it was. “Where do we start?”

“Are you done throwing your tantrum?” Marley asked, as she waited for him to finish asking a million and seven questions that she didn’t have the answers to. Finally, he stopped banging on the doors and pacing the room, and she silently thanked the universe for that, because it was making her head spin and her eyes hurt. She pressed the butts of her palms into her eyes for a moment before blinking and looking back up at him. “We start by looking for the first clue. It’ll probably be something that looks strangely out of place.” She glanced around the room they were in-- it was a simulation of a bomb bunker, complete with the fifties get up of retro furniture, canned goods, and a bunny antenna tv. “Maybe like a small decoration that doesn’t fit the style of the furniture, or a picture on the wall that doesn't match.” She started sifting through the magazines on the table, checking under and around it and in the couch cushions, looking at him from the side of her eye. “If you start feeling like it’s getting hard to breathe, just close your eyes and count to ten.”

Kaden felt his hand ball into a fist by his side. A fucking tantrum? Really? “Sorry for trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of here.” He kicked the door one last time in anger before sighing and looking around the room. Somehow the room looked even smaller than it had a second ago. He was about to shut his eyes when Stryder made a comment that somehow wasn’t even snide. Almost helpful, even. “Right. Uh, thanks.” Kaden wondered if he should try that right off the bat. His heartbeat picked up pace, but not yet. He just had to focus. The problem was he didn’t know what he was supposed to be focusing on. Okay something out of place. Fuck. The room itself was already weird, he didn’t know what was considered in place. His eyes narrowed as he settled his sight on the bookshelf. There were some books pushed in, and some pulled out. “Uh, is this a clue?” he said, pointing it out to her. “That’s weird, right?” He didn’t know what it meant, but it had to be something, right?

Marley shuffled around the room, picking up trinkets and set decorations to try and decipher if any of them held any significance, but the pounding in her head was only increasing the more she tried to concentrate. She rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to drown it out or apply enough pressure to make it stop, but it proved mostly pointless. Langley’s voice cut through the ringing in her head and she set down the clock she’d picked up and came over to the bookshelf. “That’s definitely weird,” she said, taking note of which books were pulled out. “They’re labeled oddly, right? That’s not, like...normal for books, to be blank,” she said, plucking one out, squinting at the spine. It had a roman numeral V on it, and nothing else. No title, no author, no nothing. She flipped it open and found that even the pages were empty. “It’s gotta be a numbers puzzle.” But what sort? That was the real question. God, Marley really wished Erin was here with her, and not Langley. Did he even know math? Did hunter school include basic maths? She rubbed her head again, removing her sunglasses to do so, red eyes illuminating against her hand. “What other numbers are on the spines?”

She pulled out the first book that was set forward on the shelf and Kaden looked over her shoulder as she examined it. Empty. Alright. “Guess there’s no hint inside.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to piece together any of the puzzle. The spine had a V. Was it a letter? Kaden looked back at the shelf to see what the other books were. The book next to the empty space was pushed back. The three next to it were forward. The spines to each were more letters. X, I, and V. His head tilted to look at the next set of pulled out books next to it. M, C, M, L, V. Shit. They were definitely roman numerals. Which, alright, she said that. But he didn’t want to trust her right off the bat. But fine, she was right. “Uh not sure what exact numbers but it looks like…” Kaden pulled up his sleeve, looked at the tattoo on his inner forearm. Yeah. Sure looked familiar. “This is a date. I’m pretty fucking sure.” He looked closer at the letters again, started to convert them. “Five, fourteen. Nineteen, uhh, hold on.” He closed his eyes to try and sus it out. “Fifty-five. So that’s May 14th, 1955. Okay. Uh, what now?” He looked around the room for something that could need a date. “There’s a calendar over there. Might be something, right?”

Marley stayed quiet as he began to decipher the code of the books, grateful in that moment that he wasn’t a complete waste of space. Her head was pounding and concentrating on anything longer than a few seconds only made things worse. “A date?” she asked, looking over at him. But he was right. The numbers could easily be a date. When he peered at his arm, she tried to get a look, wondering just what it was. From the sound of his deduction, it, too, was a date for something. She opted to let it sit for now, heading over to the calendar he pointed out after setting the book back on the shelf. She flipped through the calendar and found the date. “Look,: she said, motioning him over, “there’s a note on the day. ‘Channel 3. 14:00’. That’s…” she glanced back at the television in the middle of the room. “Turn on the TV,” she instructed, moving away from the calendar.

“Channel 3?” Kaden repeated. “Uh, alright.” He saw the television, that much was easy to find. But there was no remote sitting by it. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled once more. “We’ll have to figure out how to turn it on, I guess.” Sighing, he started to fumble along the monitor, looking for any knobs or buttons to turn on the monitor. There were buttons. He pressed them. And nothing happened. The knobs on the front seemed like set dressing. They didn’t move or do anything at all. Which made sense. What was the likelihood of them finding a working authentic television from the 50s that didn’t require a shitton of maintenance? “Yeah, nothing,” he said, turning to Stryder. “Looks like we have to find the remote.” Glancing around, it felt like the walls were closing in again, like the space had gotten smaller since the last time he checked. His fingers curled around the edge of the table as he tried to stabilize himself and take slower, deeper breaths. What had Stryder said before? Right. He closed his eyes and started counting. The room didn’t look any bigger when he opened his eyes, but at least it didn’t look any smaller. He started checking under the table for anything taped there or something. Nothing. Under the pillow? Well, he found a weird coin and a slip of paper, but no remote. Under the mattress? Nope. This seemed wrong, but he figured why not and checked in the fridge. Some bottles and fake food sat there. At least he hoped it was fake. But no remote. The freezer, however, proved different. “Well. Found it. I guess. Let’s see what happens.” He turned and faced the television and powered it on and then hit the 3 button. “What now?” he asked.

Marley was growing more weary by the second. First they needed to find a code, now they needed a remote, but the remote was missing. And now the channel had nothing on it except static. She sunk down onto the prop couch that was in the middle of the room and put her head in her hands. “Just give me a minute,” she muttered, scrubbing her face with her palms as she listened to the static. It almost seemed rhythmic, like a beat. Or-- “Morse code,” she said, sitting up after a second. She looked over at Kaden. “Hand me a pen and some paper,” she waved, glancing around her spot to see if there was anything to write on in front of her. Just some old magazines. Well, they’d do well enough. When she was handed a pen, she began writing down the code she thought she recognized. And after a moment, it circled back. She filled in the letters and looked back up at him. “Guess we gotta make a word outta this now. We’ve got...Y, L, S, L, O, E, C, D, O, W, N.” Paused, contorting her face as she looked at the words. “Down lose yell? No… Slow dec-- no. Loss soc-- fuck!” She slammed her fist on the table before grabbing her head again. It was pounding and she couldn’t concentrate. She took her glasses off and rubbed her palms into her eyes again, trying to make the throbbing stop. “This is so fucking stupid. Can’t you just break the door down? Put that superstrength of yours to use or something! I’m sick of being here!”

Kaden was ready to give up. The whole thing just felt never fucking ending. And there was no clue to be-- Shit. Stryder was better than he gave her credit for. He nodded and found a pen and threw it into her hand. His arms folded across his chest, he planned to wait for her to figure out the rest of the message. She got the letters no problem, but she appeared to be struggling and the creases in his forehead grew deeper as he watched her flounder. “I’m not destroying private property after we technically fucking snuck in here!” he snapped back at her. “The fuck is wrong with you, Stryder? I thought you were supposed to be smarter than me.” He sighed and pulled the paper closer, looking down at the scribbled letters. Putain. Without any context, the letters came together in strange ways. Three languages overlapped in his mind, trying to fight for attention. Alright, English, it was definitely going to be in English given where they were. Pretty quickly, he saw the word “yell” and wrote that below. He tried “yell down” and that wasn’t right. He scrunched up his face and tried again. After another pause, he tried “yellow.” Hmm, maybe that wasn’t-- “Yellow second?” he said out loud. “Or ‘second yellow,’ maybe.”

Kaden tried to look around the room for anything that it might apply to. Interesting. Near the door was a panel of buttons laid out in a grid. There were colors down the column and numbers across the row. Four numbers and four colors, a button on each grid. One of those colors was yellow. “Second yellow?” he repeated. “Alright, worth a shot.” He hit the button in the yellow row and the second column from the right. Only… nothing happened. “Putain.” What the fuck else did the note mean then? “This has to be it. No.” He wanted to punch the button panel but thought better of it and dropped his balled fist to his side. Second yellow. Fucking hell. What did that mean if it wasn’t the second column? Then he saw the colon in between the second and third number. Wait a sec-- “Putain!” he shouted, excited this time, and hit the buttons in the yellow row and the third and fourth columns. The door creaked open. “Got it! I got i--” His excitement dissipated as he stepped through the door only to see… more fucking puzzles. Kaden groaned and leaned his back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, head in his hands. Fuck. This.

Marley stayed where she was while Langley parsed through the clue. She felt a rather large wave of annoyance, too, when he actually figured out the clue. She opted to not respond to his questions, they weren't relevant. There was a lot wrong with her, and she didn’t feel like spilling her guts out to Paw Patrol the Hunter. He’d probably just say that everyone’s lives would’ve just been better off if she were dead, anyway, and she didn’t need anyone else telling her that. Her own admission was enough. The change of tone in his voice got her to look up, however, and she jumped to her feet fast enough to cause the world to tilt sideways, stumbling as she headed over. The door swung open, they were almost free--

But beyond it stretched another room. With more puzzles. Marley was frozen in her spot for a moment, staring wide-eyed into the room. This couldn’t be possible. Escape rooms were just one room, usually. This wasn’t possible. This shouldn’t be here. Hadn’t this been the door they’d walked in? Wasn’t there a hallway beyond this? Marley turned back around, shutting the door, then reopening it. It was still the other room. She tried again, holding it closed for longer this time. Still the same. One more time and a click! Sounded and surely that meant that whatever was behind the door had changed, but this time the knob would not turn. She rattled it harder and harder until she felt her hand pulsing with pain and she kicked the door with the heel of her boot before storming off. “God dammit!” she howled, kicking something else. “What the fuck is wrong with this place?” She looked up at the ceiling. “Let us OUT YOU ASSHOLE!” But when no answer came and nothing changed again, she collapsed to the floor next to what looked like an incubator and put her head in her hands as well. “Fuck this,” she muttered. “Now what?”

Kaden sat there, kept his head held in his hands, pressed his fingers into his temples as he tried to push away the harsh clanging ringing in his ears as Marley kicked and trashed around the room. Loud, it was all too loud. And they were stuck and he could feel the walls closing in and he just wanted to curl up into a ball and wait this out, wait until he had space to move and breathe again. “Now who’s throwing a fucking tantrum?” he grumbled. He waited there a moment longer, not wanting to face another round of puzzles. This wasn’t his strong suit, not at all what he was suited to. There was a damn good reason he had no ambitions to be a detective. And of fucking course Stryder wasn’t on her A-game right now. Just their fucking luck. “We should look around or something. Or you should. Be a fucking detective or some shit.” He rubbed his face with his palms. They hadn’t been there that long, had they? It felt like it had been hours. He was tempted to curl up and just sleep, wait until someone let them out. Someone had to come here, right? “Unless there’s some fucking reason you forgot how to do that and want to announce Paw Patrol is the smartest person in the room right now. Which I fucking hope isn’t true for our sakes.”

“I’m allowed to be angry!” Marley shouted back at him, resisting the very present urge to grab whatever was in front of her and throw it at him. But she knew that wouldn’t do anything except piss him off and she was sure if he got angry enough, felt threatened enough, he would probably just stab her with one of his seven-hundred knives he kept on himself at all times. “I’m not on desk duty at work because I like it, Langley! Some stupid fucking asshole took something important away from me and now I can’t even think straight! So I’m allowed to be angry! What’s your excuse?” But somewhere deep down, she knew he was right. Through the splitting headache and speckled vision, she knew he was right. So she got up and she started digging around the room. She wasn’t even sure what half of this stuff was until she came upon a navigation console. “We’re in a submarine bridge,” she said stiffly, hand brushing over the compass. “The compass isn’t pointing North.” That had to mean something. It was pointing at-- “The porthole.” She went over and glanced through but...nothing. She stepped back, looked from the telescope to the compass. Maybe...She unlocked the hinge and moved it to point the direction the compass was and-- “A number. Memorize these numbers. 32. 24. 137.”

Her anger did nothing but fuel his, like gasoline to the fire. “I’m stuck here with you! That’s why I’m angry! I should just kill you and be done and be a fucking hunter but instead we’re solving fucking puzzles in a cursed escape room!” The words left Kaden’s lips before he could give them a second fucking thought. They hung in the air a moment, the silence ringing through the room. He wasn’t sure where the shame stinging at him was coming from, his failed sense of duty or whatever bullshit morals he was wrestling with. He sat with his head in his hands a while longer after she stood up. Let her figure out something for once. Thankfully, she did. He sighed and tried to commit the numbers to memory. “32. 24. 137. Great.” What the fuck did that mean? He stood and half heartedly looked around the room. There were a lot of buttons and levers. Some colorful flags on the wall. He looked at the station that seemed like the navigation area and there was a book. He flipped through it a bit and didn’t see anything in particular. It looked like some kind of emergency manual. But there were page numbers. “There’s a book or something over here. I don’t know. Emergency manual or something.”

Then do it, she wanted to shout at him. Then fucking do it. But she held her tongue and went back about her business. Marley didn’t know what was bothering him, but he didn’t owe her an answer and she didn’t owe him one. They owed each other nothing. Finally, he got up and started doing something, and she shifted, watching him from the corner of her eye, trying to not let the fear tangle her up too much. But it was always there around him, and it always would be. He was a hunter, and he’d said it himself-- he would kill her, should kill her, if given the opportunity. When he declared he’d found a book, Marley cautiously walked towards him, keeping a short distance. “Lemme see it,” she held out her hand, and waited for him to hand it over, before flipping through the pages slowly. After a long moment, she muttered, “Why haven’t you yet?” Looked up over the book at him, red eyes aflame in the dark bunker. “Tried to kill me.”

Kaden could practically feel the space between them like it was a third party in the room as Stryder sood off to his side, a step farther back than most might. There was no reason for it to be anything other than expected. So why did the tension he created make him want to throw something? He was a hunter. He was supposed to be the thing monsters feared at night. He used to be damn proud of that fact, too. In the spot once filled with pride was a dull thud of nothing. “Fine,” he said, handing her the book. He crossed his arms, watching as she found her way through the book. He expected her to bark off some order to him and his brows knit together when she posed a question instead. “I don’t know,” he spat back, far too fast. He bit the inside of his mouth and avoided contact with her red eyes. Even if they had been human, he was sure there would have been full of fire in their own right. “Can’t. Too messy. Killing a detective.” Right. That sounded like bullshit even to his ears as it left his lips. He reached up to rub the back of his neck and acted like he was looking around for clues and not trying to escape the question even more than the room they were in. His stomach churned at the question in a way he didn’t anticipate. It wasn’t that he liked Stryder, far from it. But there was certainly benefit to having a detective on staff in know of the supernatural. Was she good, though? Had she killed? He didn’t know and he didn’t ask. She’d been disgusted by Lydia but that was a low bar, right? Well, not for the supernatural. According to the codes he grew up with, at least. “Look, I just haven’t alright. Don’t give me a fucking reason to want to. Find the stupid answer to this stupid puzzle so we can get out of here.”

Marley watched him closely-- the way he snapped back too quickly, the way he rubbed his head, the way he turned away from her, pretending to look for clues. Even in her state, she could recognize those signs. Suddenly, getting out of this room didn’t seem like the most important thing. She’d already put together the book page pattern but set the notes aside for now and squinted at him. “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?” she asked, taking a step closer now, suddenly not so afraid of him. Still kept a tentative distance, one she was sure she could stop him from with her gaze if he did decide to try something. “Oh, c’mon,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, “I’ve given you plenty of fucking reasons to kill me. And believe me when I say I remember all those times you fucking sign off on me once the hard questions start. You ever figure any of those out? Or are you still pretending you have some moral high ground on us because you got lucky and were born human with superpowers?” She threw the book back at him. “The code is page numbers, dumbass. Figure it out yourself.” And she stormed to the other side of the room, where the only seat was, and plopped down, arms folded across her chest.

“Second thoughts?” Kaden started, rolling the words off his tongue to find time to figure out a comeback. “You’re right. I am having second thoughts. About stepping into this fucking building. I should have turned around and left the second I saw your fucking face!” He hated her. He hated her weird need to dig right under his skin. What was she even hoping to drag out? What the fuck did she want from him? He planned to stay stoic and avoid her questioning. But he couldn’t. “Lucky?” Kaden said, fingers digging into the book as he caught it. “You think I’m fucking lucky?” He had half a mind to throw it back at her with all his fucking strength. “Right. I’m lucky. I was born with a guaranteed short fucking life that’s nothing but pain. I’m lucky I didn’t get a childhood. I’m fucking lucky that monsters killed my parents. Really a goddamn fountain of luck.” His knuckles were white and he was so close to chucking that fucking book. Instead, he slammed it onto the counter with a thud that wasn’t satisfying enough. Not even close. “I don’t get to be fucking normal, either,” he hissed as he turned his back to her and started flipping through the pages. His fingers fumbled with anger and he kept going past the pages he needed. He wanted to fucking scream. Eventually he found pages 32, 24, and 137. Each one had a few letters. “T O R,” he read out from one page. “P E.” The next. “D O.” Kaden slammed the book shut. He had no idea what to do next, but he knew the word in question was “Torpedo.”

“Oh, woe is the hunter,” Marley spat, grimacing, “who lost his childhood and life because his family was a bunch of murderers. Were they killed by monsters or people just trying to defend themselves? Because you hunters think we’re all just fucking monsters, no matter what we do. We could be goddam nobel peace prize winners who haven’t harmed a single fucking person in our lives and you’d still call us monsters and justify slitting our throats. What? Are you seeing the other side of it, finally? Is that it? Is your girlfriend showing you that maybe-- just maybe-- we’re people, too? Weird how that works, huh?” She stayed sitting, wondering if the book was coming back her direction. She knew she could easily avoid it if she wanted to, even if her powers weren’t working quite right she knew she could turn invisible long enough to avoid a book to the face. But it never did. She flinched when the book slammed down. “We all have fucking sob stories, Kaden,” she said, her voice low now, “that’s just this fucked up world we live in. How many people do you think tell stories about how some hunter killed their parents? Or their family? Or their friends? Monsters may have killed you parents, but what about the parents of monsters you’ve killed? What do you think they call you when they talk about it?”

“Shut up!” Kaden shouted, spinning on his heel to face her. “Just shut up! Don’t fucking talk about my parents like that. They were fucking slaughtered so fuck you I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of it and you are the last person on the goddamn planet I want to talk about this with.” His voice raised in volume and he found himself stepping closer and closer to her. “Don’t fucking talk about me or Regan or my fucking parents. You don’t know me or anything about me so shut. Up.” His breathing was heavy through his nose as he clenched his jaw, hands balled into fists as he loomed over her, seething and full of rage and stuck in this goddamn place. He didn’t know what he thought anymore or where he stood but he knew he didn’t want to agree with Stryder and he didn’t want her goddamn superiority. Not for a single fucking second. And yet, he didn’t reach out to hit her nor did he reach for his knife to cut her. He was trapped in a room with a monster and all he could fucking do was shout at her to shut up. He thought about at least kicking the stool out from under her. Instead he he turned and kicked the fucking door one more time. No change. “‘Torpedo.’ Figure out what to do with that.”

“And you think I asked to be like this? You think any of us did?” Marley countered, throwing her arms out now. “We don’t get a choice, just like you didn’t! I get that some of us are shitty, and they prey on humans and other weaker species-- but we’re not all like that! And why the hell do you even think I’m a fucking detective!? I can do something about the cases that would normally go cold. The precinct at large might not be able to arrest supernaturals, but I can do something about them. Christ, do you really think you’re the only person that’s ever suffered? At least you got fucking parents.” Her voice was nearly a snarl as she looked up at him. Would he hit her? She would let him, maybe it would prove something to him, or to her, or to someone. But he didn’t. He kicked the door instead. Torpedo. Marley lifted herself from her chair and went over to the console. She pushed the button for the Torpedo and behind them, a keypad dropped down, labeled only with maritime flags. Groaning, Marley went over to the panel. “You ever consider the idea that this shit isn’t black and white, Langely?” she grumbled, too tired to yell anymore. Her head was pounding and she couldn’t quite see straight anymore. “That maybe not all supernaturals deserve to die?”

Kaden kept his back turned as he took in what she’d said. He really wanted to ignore it. Let it go in one ear and out the other but it settled in his mind in a way that made his skin crawl. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a werewolf in the room with him and not a mara. A mara. Still a monster. Even she said as much. Was it fucked up to wish he could go back to who he used to be? The person who would have just turned around and killed her long ago? Probably. He hated that it even occurred to him that it was fucked up at all. It made things hard. And complicated. This shouldn’t be complicated. “Why do you care what I think or don’t think?” he grumbled back. A stupid question. He knew it the second it left his lips. She cared because it was her life. The same reason he cared who was a monster. It was his life. Maybe others’ lives, too. But he didn’t give a shit about their morals before. It didn’t matter. A monster was a monster. He figured that was how they saw hunters, too. As wrong as that was. As much as he didn’t want to be wrong. It meant too much to be wrong. Hell, it cost too much. And this stupid fucking escape room that he was stuck in with Stryder of all people was not the place where he was about to admit he was wrong. “Well, detective,” he said, the word laced with bitterness, “if you come up with a better solution to deal with the supernatural have the fuck at it. Can’t wait. Because all of you like to preach just kill the ‘bad ones’ or some shit but what the fuck does that even mean? You want to draw that line in the fucking sand, be my goddamn guest.” He ground his teeth together a moment before looking at the flags closer. He squinted and tried to figure out what they were, what they were supposed to do with them. “These are letters or some shit, right? That’s what they represent? I think.”

“The line, Paw patrol,” Marley snarled back, “is maybe ask questions first, stab later. It’s really not that hard. Humans get a chance to defend their innocence, why the fuck don’t we? Do you know how many times hunters looked me in the eyes and decided I should be dead without so much as a word edgewise? Did you know I was twelve the first time I met a hunter and he looked at me and saw I was a child and still tried to kill me? Do you know how fucked up that is? Do you know what that does to a fucking child? The difference here is that I didn’t seek out that danger. You people purposefully hunt us down and kill us and then point and say we’re the monsters. Well, pot meet kettle-- maybe we’re all just fucking monsters. Maybe we all just deserve to die.” This really was a two-sided battle that had no answer. She understood that somewhere, but her disdain for what hunters had done to her left her sour. She looked at the flags-- maritime code was not something she knew off the top of her head, but her phone had no service in this dingey building. She went back over to find the manual and picked it back up, flipping to the code sheet in the back. Dropped it in front of him at the code console. “Plug in the fucking letters so we can get the fuck out of here finally.” And she really did hope with all hope that when the door opened, there wouldn’t be another room behind it. She was sure that if there was, the two would simply kill each other.

“Oh right, I’ll keep that in mind next time a werewolf is trying to tear my head off. Plenty of time for an investigation then, of course. I’ll just sit idly by, make sure he does in fact plan to kill the closest humans and then act.” Kaden knew damn well it wasn’t what she was arguing. He also knew damn well that had he been in Celeste’s position with Ariana all those years ago, he could never bring himself to kill a child. That was one line, at least. “Sorry,” he mumbled, still not meeting her eyes. “Not that I-- I just mean-- when you were a kid…” This was stupid. He didn’t give a shit about Stryder the same way she didn’t give a shit about him. And the sooner this conversation was over, the better. The sooner they fucking got out of here, the better. He nodded and looked at the page and typed in the code scribbled in the bottom of the page, matching the letters to the corresponding flags. “A B O R T.” Of fucking course it was that simple when it was laid out like that. He sighed and hit the “T” flag and heard a click behind them. He spun to face the door and saw it subtly swing open. “Thank god,” he said as he practically threw himself out of the room.

“You ever think about how maybe you wouldn’t be in that situation if you just fucking didn’t go looking for it!?” Marley snapped back. “Weird how that works!” Threw her arms up. “Oh, you’re sorry. Well I’m glad one fucking hunter is.” But honestly, she was. No one had ever apologized for that to her. She could still remember the look in the hunter’s eyes and she didn’t even know why. She hadn't known what she was back then. She turned away from him and waited for the door to open with bated breath. And when it did, it led out into a hallway. Freedom. She stepped out behind him and slammed the door shut, stomping to the front. But there was no one to yell at and she didn’t exactly feel like waiting around this place, lest they get trapped again. But as she went to head for the door, something gave her pause. She stopped just shy of it and turned to look back at Kaden. “You could be a good person, you know,” she said, “It’s obvious you care about some supernaturals. And maybe I don’t know hunter law or whatever, but I think having a fucking heart ought to be an okay thing to do.” Before she pushed her way out into the fresh air and left all of that-- well, most of it-- behind.

#chatzy #chatzy: kaden #wickedswriting #this is our get along shirt #kaden #tw head trauma mention

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iguessishouldbethankful · 5 years ago

Text

one word prompt:

.break

“-and at eleven, we are scheduled for a photo shoot with Crinkles for their newest cereal brand. I believe it’s Wild Berry flavor. After that, we will need shoot a commercial with Zorgs and Briggs oil company. That’s around two in the afternoon and-”

“Lucy?”

“Hm?” The soft colored rabbit looked up from her paperwork. She seemed as tired as he felt.

“Shut up.” Falco still couldn’t give a shit though.

She sighs, putting her pen down on top of her tablet before giving her full attention. “Lombardi-”

“Falco. Just use my name, we’re at that stage.”

“...Falco.” She clears her throat as thought she was still getting used to addressing him. "I need you to be aware of your schedule. We have two weeks to fulfill some of the sponsorship contracts, and some have already stated that they would like to continue providing funds if Fox wins the Grand Prix.”

“He’s going to win, there’s no damn if in this.” Falco corrected her, his mood already sour because he was sitting down with black coffee at her apartment when he could easily be working in the shop with Fox and Yaru instead. Instead he needed to hear blabbers about contracts. If we had done shit illegally it would have been so much better. Hot rodding isn’t that hard...

“There is when it’s on paper.” Her nose wiggled. “And the faster we get this out of the way, the better it’ll be for everyone. You and Fox have been doing a poor job at keeping up with everything. Expenses, schedules, commercials, even keeping appointments with your lawyer-”

“He can also go fuck himself.”

“Language.”

“Bite me, Lu! You’re not a kid.”

Now that earned him a set of ruby colored eyes as cold as ice staring right back at him with the patience of a stern mother. His crest lifted slightly, alert, despite his anger. “Fox hired me to keep track of everything the two of you couldn’t. It still surprises me that any of you were able to get things done after my father left the team. Now I’m here, I’m trying to help, but I also need your complete cooperation and understanding. Not tantrums worthy of a toddler, Falco.”

I can’t believe I’m being manhandled by a pink rabbit. His arms were still crossed, the smell of black caffeine was hardly a comfort now.

With that, she picked up her pen and tablet once more, marking off some digital notes she took and looking through other points she’s been meaning to get to.

It was like he could see the gears turning in her head. For someone that was as cold as her, she sometimes wore intent on her face.

“I also have something more serious I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh geez. I can hardly wait for this shit.” He knew it. Had no idea what was coming but he knew something was coming. He could smell it. Fresh bullshit.

“Falco, please!” She let out an exasperated sigh, now tapping the pen on her desk like a ticking time bomb.

“I’m the one begging here, please just get to what you need from me!”

“I’ll make you wait here longer if you keep acting like this.” Tap tap tap tap tap-

“Please. Let’s... get this over with.” Falco forced his tone to be much softer. He just wanted to leave.

“That’s better.” Lucy nodded, turning off her tablet. Strange thing to do as she was not finished reading the schedule out to him. “It’s about the Final Round.”

“He’s going to win.”

“I know, that’s not what’s worrying me.”

“What’s worrying you? You said you got security for us. We’re more than capable of defending ourselves. Plus, I’m the best bodyguard Fox will ever have.”

“It’s not the venue, nor the possible attempts that could occur on you and Fox. It’s who will be present there after the conclusion.” Voice remained level, calm, but there was a serious emphasis to what she was saying.

It was something Falco had to think about more than before... And due to the haze in his mind, his talk with his leader, something seemed to have been forgotten. It made his plumes fluff up a little when they were clicking back into place. Sat up slowly, uncrossing his arms. “...They were never there when we started. Why would they show up now?”

“Because in times of peace, entertainment and sports are the new spotlights. And guess who has a bright one on him now.” Lucy seemed relieved that she didn’t have to spell it out to the avian. “My father said that there’s a huge possibility only because he wishes to attend. For our sake.” A silent pause as her eyes lowered to the corner of her desk where a pot of spearmint flowers healthily grew. A green silky ribbon tied around the pot. “He misses us, dearly.”

“...” A long deep intake of air as he felt his muscles slowly relax a little. A possibility. It was not a confirmation. “Yeah. Bet Fox misses him a lot too.” He knew he did, in his own ways.

“He does. I know he does. But military life keeps him occupied. So does my job keeping you two in line.”

“We’re not that difficult, geez.”

“Oh you’re plenty difficult. You alone is like managing an entire class of toddlers.” Before he could insert a word in protest, she swiftly lifted a hand for his silence. “I also need to continue informing you of what the plan is for today. After the commercial, we need to do some charity work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Papetoon is your home base. You need to participate in either community work or charity. I selected charity as it has less dealings with civilians, but it’s more propaganda. Such as donating money or making an event to raise money. Firefighters do it all the time with semi naked calendars but I’m not giving you that much credit physically-”

Falco leaned back in his chair, chugging the entire mug of black coffee and already knowing he might as well take the entire fucking pot.

---

p1 | p2 | p3 | p4 | p5 | ?

#star fox #Falco Lombardi #lucy hare #falox #my drabbles #long post #oh dear...

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makerof150papermasks · 4 years ago

Photo

Disclaimer: This elaborate description of a nonexistent game expansion was merely written out of sheer boredom. Getting attached to this so-called project and thinking it will actually get made will only lead to disappointment. Please read at your own discretion. Thank you.

Kirby’s Adventure: Reverie Edition

Relive the Kirby’s Adventure experience with an extra dose of enemy-gulping fun. Explore new levels, challenge new bosses, choose between Easy and Classic mode, and don’t forget to try the Mini Ability (Only available in the post-endgame content)

Changes:

Easy Mode added. Differences from Classic Mode include:

Fireball becomes integrated into the moveset of the Fire ability

Freeze has its moveset incorporated into Ice

Backdrop is assimilated into Throw’s moveset

Hi-Jump can be initiated in mid-air

UFO Kirby can drop through platforms and be permanently held onto after clearing a stage

Enemies and related obstacles will not regenerate if you walk far away enough, only reappearing if you go through a doorway and come back in

Mid-bosses will not jump repeatedly in between attacks

Bosses attack more slowly, are easier to dodge, have less health, and give more opportunities for Kirby to fight back

The secret route in 7-2 is blocked off

Mini ability added, able to slide like it did in the Beta version

Four new levels to explore after beating Nightmare (Classic Mode only)

Adds mini games from Nightmare in Dream Land (Bomb Rally, Kirby’s Air Grind)

The remaining mini game is split into two difficulties: The easier, traditional Quick Draw and the harder Samurai Kirby (Also carried over from Nightmare in Dream Land)

Guardian Trial Levels

Travel to brand-new levels to grab the fragments of the legendary Lullaby Scroll. Let’s see if you’re up to the task.

*Note: No. of stages also includes a level’s respective boss area.

Following the defeat of the Nightmare Wizard, Kirby restored peace to Dream Land and repaired the Fountain of Dreams. Such an act did not go unnoticed, for Kirby had received a plea to continue. “I have seen your act of vigilance and bravery, Guardian of Pop Star. Travel to the lands beyond the Fountain of Dreams and collect the Lullaby Scrolls.” Who was this figure and how did they know of Kirby’s existence? Time to embark!

Level 9: Brownie Basin (Volcanic, mountainous)

Geysers abound in this treacherous landscape. Be determined and soldier on!

No. of stages: 5

Big Switches: 2

Bronze Warp Star Station

Boss: Floundoom (An underwater fight against a giant barracuda-like fish wearing goggles, Kirby will have to defeat him by obtaining the Sword ability from the on-field Sword Knights, then wait for the enemy to become stuck in the wall. Oh, and his Water Gun won’t do him any good)

You’ll be fish food if you don’t suit up for the challenge ahead. People say this little guppy gets quite reckless, too reckless if you ask me.

Level 10: Sugary Sands (Barren wasteland, rainforest)

One half desert, another half jungle, and 100% hazardous, it’s a wonder anyone would travel this far.

No. of stages: 7

Big Switches: 3

Silver Warp Star Station

Boss: Chomp Dragon (This is a variant of Ice Dragon without any elemental powers. He does, however, love to gobble up anything smaller than him. If you attack him while his mouth is open and move out of the way once he gets moving, you’ll be in the home stretch)

A dragon, you say? Where there are dragons, there’s bound to be danger. There’s something about his maw…

Level 11: Gem Gateway (Cave, crystal)

Looks are deceiving, especially when there’s so much shiny stuff that catches your eye at every turn. Keep going, Kirby!

No. of stages: 7

Big Switches: 4

Gold Warp Star Station

Boss: Glittery Woods (A sparkly tree that can summon Gordos and utilizes moving bottomless pits to keep the puffball at bay. He also can’t be damaged while it is dark, which means you’ll have to let Kirby obtain the light ability so he can have an opportunity to land a hit)

Kirby must deal with Whispy’s souped-up cousin. Lights out; you’re gonna need a flashlight.

Level 12: Praline Paradise (Palace, hypnotic)

This pristine landscape is the final trial in the journey of a lifetime. Will Kirby meet the mysterious messenger?

No. of stages: 9

Big Switches: 5

Platinum Warp Star Station

Boss: Flutter Knight (Not only does he fly and assault you with triple sword beams, but he also has two Meta Knights (The mid-bosses, not the actual Meta Knight) populate the battlefield while he’s in midair. He’ll only come down if you defeat them)

You have found Meta Knight’s lost comrade, and he won’t hold back, but neither should you. I wonder if he’s the mysterious messenger...

Once Kirby takes care of Flutter Knight:

Flutter Knight fell and admitted defeat. It seemed as though Kirby had completed his trials when suddenly…

“Good job, Guardian. You have fought well against my protégé. I also see that you have pieced together the scroll. Now, if you want to truly finish your quest, you must activate every Big Switch in Dream Land. Only then will I face you myself, good luck.”

After activating all of the Big Switches: A secret doorway revealed itself. Time for the final trial!

(Doorway to Final Level located in the unlockable region directly above the door leading to Flutter Knight)

Level 13: Reverie Citadel (Boss endurance)

The very last challenge! Kirby, we know you can do it!

Kirby must fight every boss (Sans Whispy Woods, Meta Knight, King Dedede, Nightmare, and Flutter Knight) in a tower setup similar to Rainbow Resort level 2. There are also several rotating tower portions sandwiched in between the boss sections.

In order from bottom to top:

Floundoom

Heavy Mole (Gordos are scattered across the battlefield, which will force Kirby to have even less safe footing in the already-narrow and rapidly-scrolling tunnels that are being dug by the boss)

Paint Roller (Can create new paintings such as a laser blaster and a giant gordo. He also now causes fire to rise from the ground whenever he travels from one canvas to another)

Glittery Woods

Chomp Dragon

Kracko (Rising pool of acid added to the hi-jump section. The main fight adds a feature that allows his lightning attack to electrocute the whole floor for a short time)

Mr. Shine & Mr. Bright (Mr. Bright can now attack with long-lasting fireballs that move slowly across the stage, while Mr. Shine can create a force field that momentarily prevents Kirby from damaging him and greatly increases his hitbox)

After defeating Mr. Shine & Mr. Bright:

(Kirby is shown lifting the now-completed Lullaby Scroll to the sky, then proceeds to vanish before the ethereal voice beckons again)

“Kirby, you have proven yourself to be a great fighter. Without any further fanfare, I shall confront you!”

(It is here that the mysterious being teleports the Star Rod to the top of the tower, giving Kirby an opportunity to reclaim it. This time though, Kirby will have to constantly recharge the Star Rod in order to consistently damage the final boss)

Final Boss: Lullaby Sorcerer (Confronts Kirby first on top of the citadel, then later fights him in a shoot-em up above the sun. He has an attack in which he creates vortexes to insta-kill Kirby, and another in which he lobs glowing stars that explode on contact. Like Nightmare, Lullaby can only be damaged when his weak spot is exposed, in this case his scalp. To recharge the Star Rod, Kirby needs to make contact with the Lullaby Scroll for a second before focusing his attention on the boss)

If ever Kirby defeats the manifestation of good dreams, he will truly become a guardian.

Upon defeating Lullaby:

Kirby had accomplished the unimaginable… he won against the ultimate dream. Returning to Dream Land, Kirby was imbued with the power to guard all dreams. All of the citizens of Dream Land will be thankful for their guardian. Way to go, Kirby!

#kirby #kirby's adventure #fan works #kinda like a director's cut

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tellywoodtrash · 5 years ago

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What is HAPPENING on Sanjeevani, girl?! I saw some clips on my Insta and it had a wild!Gaurav Chopra?! A nervous wreck masquerading as Dr Ishani?? And she's MARRIED to GChops?! Ded!Dr Shashank?? Mysterious son and Dr Anjali in Germany??? What.

Hiiiiiiiiii friend! 😘😘😘

Loooooooong time! How have you beeeeeeeen?! 🤗🤗🤗

Lmao I can’t even beginnnnnnn to describe the clusterfuck that has been Sanjivani since like…. October, but lemme try and break it down in bullet points (if you know all of this already, just skip down to the “three years later” bit!):

Sid who was flirting it up and sexy dancing at a wedding with Ishani till 8 pm, suddenly at 8:01 pm remembers that he has a dead fiancee in his past (plus najaayaz issues) and suddenly starts calling himself a panauti, properly balls-to-the-wall believing in the phenomenon (y’know, as educated, scientifically-minded surgical residents/general medical wunderkinds tend to do! blaming things like their mother’s premarital pregnancy and an older family members’ developmental disorder on themselves!) and being passive-aggressive in trying to ward off Ishani to “protect her” from him.

Passive-aggressive has to be notched up to AGGRESSIVE-AGGRESSIVE coz Ishani’s a dheent who won’t take no for an answer; so he GOES AND MARRIES ISHANI’S BEST FRIEND ASHA, who has gotten knocked up by Aman (who tata-bye-byed outta the whole sitch. Props to him for being the smartest person in this show. He’s probably living an unfulfilled life somewhere, but seemed to come from wealth, so how sad can you really be when you have so much money????)

This whole SidAsha marriage was engineered behind the scenes by Vardhan - who found out that Asha was pregnant and threatened to set her Khap Panchayat from Haryana on her or some shit. He coerced Asha to take advantage of Sid’s “achchaai” by playing on his najaayaz kid feels and take responsibility for her.

Lots of angst and drama as Ishani and Sid struggle with their feels about each other while he’s married to a pregnant Asha, whom he’s pledged his support and name to.

Asha’s pregnancy hormones seem to make her batshit crazy and unable to make any reasonable decisions, and she keeps messing with Sid’s career; drugging him and making him fuck up important surgeries and what not.

All this, again, coz Vardhan. Vardhan wants revenge from Sid. Why? Because dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn, Sid is Shashank’s son! Vardhan wants to ruin Shashank’s life and thinks the best way to do it is by torturing his kids, and thus is fucking with Sid’s career, and is fucking with Anjali (like, literally. 👉🏽👌🏽👉🏽👌🏽👉🏽👌🏽 Coz sis has daddy issues and reallllllll bad judgement when it comes to men.)

But why does Vardhan want revenge from Shashank???? Damned if we (including the writers) know. Something to do with Vardhan’s Dearly Departed Didi, whose photo he keeps staring at while gritting his teeth. I’m guessing Shashank’s stuck his pen in that inkwell too?

Oh btw, Shashank also confessed his feelings for Juhi, who seemed HORRIFIED at the prospect, but like 5 minutes later is cool with it and reciprocates with her own crushy-wushy feelings? Idk man, idk. It’s all very unclear what that whole plot point was exactly, beyond some vague conversations and ambiguous coy smiles.

Daddy Shashank is disappointed in his known/unknown kid(s) for their various missteps in personal/professional lives. Saare milke inhe paagal banaa rahein hai, yeh chutiya bachchein.

Lots of other miscellaneous fuckery is going on between Sid/Ishani which……. honestly, is exhausting and not worth getting into. Anyway, it’s finally found out that Asha is the culprit behind this dhai mahine ka dukh-dard-chutiyaapa.

Ishani takes a bullet for pregnant Asha, and goes into a coma. Guilt-ridden Asha tells Vardhan to fuck off, signs annulment papers, and finally gtfo, but not before giving Sid a clue about who’s really behind all this kaand.

Vardhan is like lmao, I didn’t need her anyway and goes about paying randomass people to frame Sid for medical malpractice. Ishani literally comes out of the coma and hightails it straight to the police station to save her man. (For the record: I wouldn’t even let a man interrupt an afternoon nap of mine.)

Oh btw, by this point Anjali was like bohut ho gaya and fucked off to go play a Naagin on Colors. Good for her. 🐍🐍🐍

Sid and Ishani start working on exposing Vardhan. Coz appropriate R&R after getting up from a goddamn coma, what’s that!?!??!? JUST SHAKE IT OFF!!!!!!!!! PFFFFFFFT, TAKE A CROCIN OR TWO!!!!

Lo and behold, Dr. Shashank is killed in an accident. (We haven’t really seen him for the last………………………………… like 20 episodes or so? So…. do we really care at this point? Not really. Mohnish didn’t even show up to shoot the dead body waale shots. For the longest time I was like PAKKA SHASHANK NAHI HOGA, FACE NAHI DIKHA RAHEIN, KOI AUR HAI YAAR!!!!!!!!!!! But nope, all the characters identify him by face……… So yeah, egg on MY face.)

Sid’s mummy drops the bomb at the cremation that Sid is Shashank’s son and should light the funeral pyre. A very cool fun appropriate time for Anjali AND SID to find that out!!!!!

Sid and Ishani channel their sads into exposing Vardhan. Hallelujah, finally a win for the unluckiest people in this show. FFS even the little child who got impaled on a rod and Nurse Philo’s daughter with terminal brain cancer have had better lives.

Sid proposes to Ishani. He says he’s been accepted into some program in America and wants her to come with to start a new life there. Ishani is like nope, YEH MERA INDIA SANJIVANI, I LOVE MY INDIA SANJIVANI.

Ishani’s Mama/Mami come for rishta talks and catch the two almost making out in an on-call room and are all hawwwwwwwwww cheeeeeeee sanskaaaaaaar, etc. They turn out to dislike Sid coz najaayaz. And are rudeass snobby assholes to him and his family. Sid is understandably quite mad.

INSTEAD OF TALKING THAT SHIT THROUGH WITH HER, HE DITCHES ISHANI AT THE FUCKING MANDAP VIA TEXT AND FLIES OFF TO AMERICA. VIA TEXT. VIA TEXTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. We are all reminded once again, that Tellywood Men Ain’t Shit.

Except for Drs. Rahil and Neil who have categorically maintained their Very Good Boy crowns 👑👑👑👑 throughout the run of this show. Gold stars to them for achieving the impossible. 🌟🌟🌟

Sanjivani is on fire. Like, metaphorically it was always on fire, but this time literally. Unhinged Ishani runs riiiiiiight into the burning building.

3 years later………..

Sanjivani has been rebuilt. By Gaurav Chopra whose name is Navratna Singh, lololololol. An appropriate name because he does seem to be quite thanda thanda cool cool. He reopens and invites all the old staff back to pitch in and restore the place back to its old glory.

Anjali is a guest lecturer in Germany and may or may not come back to Sanjivani soon, depending on her Naagin transformation schedule.

Rishabh now seems to be a semi-decent human being????? Still a bit of a self-obsessed idiot, but definitely seems to be not as much of an asshole.

Rahil is super-serious and also bitter that his best friend just fucked off to America and hasn’t bothered keeping in touch. No one knows where Ishani is.

Ishani is now some kinda nervous wreck who spends her time doing pottery, but not the sexy Ghost kind. Just very sad and jittery and constantly popping anxiety pills (which looked like green Cadbury Gems to me???????) She can’t seem to help a person who sustains a semi-serious injury near her, completely freezing up in the moment.

Mr. Thanda Thanda Cool Cool finds her at the pottery studio, seems quite familiar with her, and tries to gently persuade her to come back to her first love: medicine.

But ofc heterosexuality rears its ugly head and sis can only think of the trash boy that ditched her.

Mr. TTCC brings her to Sanjivani but she behaves exactly like a toddler on the first day of school. There’s having to be coaxed out of the vehicle, reluctant dragging of feet, weeping, the works.

Precap shows her yelling at TTCC and saying he’s the boss of Sanjivani, not her, and kis haq se pakda hai, chodo mera haath!!!!!!!!!! And he gently reminds her of the wedding vows he took, to never let go of her.

Looks like the poor dude may have invested and rebuilt all this just for her and……………… in the end he’s gonna have to let her go to Dr. FuckBoi, mirroring the end of DMG, which……………… *prolonged, defeated sigh*

AND THAT’S WHAT YOU MISSED ON GLEE SANJIVANI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#sanjivani #bullet point recaps #tt answers #theincorrigiblemagpie

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superwholock-marvel-images · 4 years ago

Text

Through time and space 14

You scroll through your messages, it turns out your family went back to Bobby’s and that Dean finished up fixing the Impala. You smile when you see the picture Katie sent, the picture is of Dean leaning against the hood of the car smiling like an idiot. You dial Katie’s number and press call.

“Hey (Nickname).” Katie says answering the phone.

“Hi, so Dean actually got on a plane?” You say in response walking away from the control room.

“Yeah, about a day after you left with the Doctor. Thanks for that by the way.”

“How long did it take you to notice I was gone?”

“Not that long.” You then notice that you’re farther than you wanted to be… you somehow ended up by the swimming pool.

“Well shit.” You say, confusing Katie.

“What?” She asks.

“I went the wrong way… instead of going to my room, I ended up at the swimming pool with no idea how to get back to the control room.” Katie snickers. “Not funny Katie.”

“It kind of is.” You groan, before losing your footing for a moment. You tell your sister you’ll call her back later. You manage to find the control room again.

“What just happened?” You ask.

“She’s dead. The TARDIS is dead.” The Doctor mournfully says. You notice that Rose is gone, and you notice the green light coming from underneath the control.

“I don’t think the TARDIS is all dead just mostly dead.” You say you smile a little bit when you realize you made a Princess Bride reference. “I say that because of that blinking green light.”

“Green light?” The Doctor asks. He follows where you’re looking and starts rummaging around. “That’s all we need. We’ve got power! Y/N, Mickey, we’ve got power! Ha!” The Doctor looks like a kid at Christmas. The madman that owns the magic blue box says it lives, confusing Mickey.

“What?” Mickey asks.

“The TARDIS isn’t a machine Mickey, it’s alive.” You explain.

“It’s tiny. One of those insignificant little power cells that no one ever bothers about, and it’s clinging to life, with one little ounce of reality tucked away inside.” The Doctor says.

“Enough to get us home?” Mickey asks.

“Not yet. I need to charge it up.”

“We could go outside and lash it up to the National Grid.”

“Wrong sort of energy. It’s got to come from our universe.”

“But we don’t have anything.”

“There’s me.” The Doctor cradles the green light in his hands and blows on it. The light gets brighter. “I just gave away ten years of my life. Worth every second.”

“So the TARDIS is recharging how long does that give us?” You ask.

“24 hours give or take.”

“In that case let’s take a look around.” When the group splits up you go with Mickey instead of Rose or the Doctor.

“Why’d you come with me?” Mickey asks.

“Because I have no interest in meeting Rose’s dad or staying in the TARDIS, besides you’re always ending up forgotten, somehow.” You reply. Mickey chuckles.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He says.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

Unsurprisingly you and Mickey get into a bit of a situation. The two of you get mistaken for someone you’re not.

“What the hell are you doing with Y/N Holmes, Ricky?” The person who snagged you and Mickey asks.

“I think you’ve gotten us confused with someone else.” You say. “I’m Y/N Winchester and this is Mickey.”

“I know the wife of Mycroft Holmes when I see her.” You wrinkle your nose slightly- why the hell would you marry Mycroft? Mickey rolls with it.

You pull your gun out of the waistband of your jeans and fire a few shots into the ceiling causing everyone to freeze. “I will put away the gun when you untie my friend and stop calling me by someone else’s name.” You say in a calm tone of voice. “Yes, my name is Y/N, however, I am not a Holmes.”

“Y/N Holmes can’t shoot worth crap boss.” One of the men says. “I reckon that we should do what she says.” The man called Ricky reluctantly agrees. They free Mickey he looks a bit scared of you.

“Do you always keep that thing on you?” He asks.

“Pretty much. Now, let’s figure out what in hell’s name is happening.”

After awhile everyone is reunited and the Doctor explains Cybermen. “This day keeps getting better and better.” You sarcastically state.

“Y/N.” Rose says. “Not the time.” You roll your eyes as your phone goes off. You dig it out of your pocket and look at the contact and just simply turn off your phone.

“They don’t need to know about this.” You mutter as you put your phone away.

“Your family?”

“Yeah.” You then notice all the people lined up outside on the street. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Take a look.” Everyone does so and the look the Doctor has on his face is ‘oh shit’ once out of the van you go with Rose, the Doctor, and Pete (Rose’s dad). The four of you duck in an alleyway behind trash cans. The Doctor uses his sonic to confuse the Cybermen walking past.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

Mickey says he doesn’t want to be the tin dog anymore. “What do you mean by a tin dog?” You ask. Mickey shakes his head not answering the question.

“If we survive this, I’ll see you back at the TARDIS.” The Doctor says, grabbing your arm and running off with you and Mrs. Moore. The three of you head to the cooling tunnels. You button up the flannel you’re wearing, glad that you decided to wear one of your brothers’.

“It’s freezing.” Mrs. Moore says.

“Any sign of a light switch?” The Doctor asks.

“No, nothing.” You reply.

“I’ve got these. A device for every occasion.” Mrs. Moore hands both you and the Doctor a flashlight on a headband. Both of you put them on.

“Haven’t got a hotdog in there, have you? I’m starving.” The Doctor says causing you to roll your eyes.

“Of all the things to wish for. That’s mechanically recovered meat.”

“I know. It’s the Cyberman of food, but it’s tasty.”

“Doctor focus.” You say.

“Right, of course, sorry Y/N.” The Doctor replies. “Let’s see where we are.” Cybermen line the walls. You let out a small gasp. “Already converted, just put on ice. Come on.”

“Are you sure those things aren’t activated?” You ask. The man from the planet Gallifrey taps on a face of a Cyberman. No reaction.

“Let’s go slowly. Keep an eye out for trip systems.” The Doctor advises. He then makes small talk with Mrs. Moore. “How did you get into this, then, rattling along with the Preachers?”

“Oh, I used to be ordinary. Worked at Cybus Industries, nine to five, until one day, I find something I’m not supposed to. A file on the mainframe. All I did was read it. Then suddenly I’ve got men with guns knocking in the middle of the night. Life on the run. Then I found the Preachers. They needed a techie, so I just sat down and taught myself everything.” Mrs. Moore replies.

“What about Mr. Moore?”

“Well, he’s not called Moore. I got that from a book, Mrs. Moore. It’s safer not to use real names. But he thinks I’m dead. It was the only way to keep him safe. Him and the kids. What about you two? Got any family, or…?”

“I’ve got three older siblings. Mom died when I was little and my dad died fairly recently.” You reply.

“Oh, who needs a family? I’ve got the whole world on my shoulders. Go on, then. What’s your real name?” The Doctor adds in.

“Angela Price. Don’t tell a soul.” Mrs. Moore, well Angela replies.

“Your secret is safe with us.” You say.

“Doctor, did that one just move?” Angela asks shining her flashlight at one of the Cybermen.

“It’s just the torchlight. Keep going, come on.” The Doctor replies as another Cyberman comes towards you three. “They’re waking up. Run!”

The three of you climb up a latter to somewhere safer at least for the moment. The Doctor seals the trapdoor with his screwdriver. You guys walk along a corridor where there’s a lone Cyberman. “You are not upgraded.” It says.

“Yeah? Well, upgrade this.” Angela retorts. She throws a small rod with copper wire wrapped around it at the Cyberman. It sticks to the metal and the Cyberman jerks, then sparks and collapses.

“What the hell was that thing?” You ask.

“Electromagnetic bomb. Takes out computers, I figured it might stop the cyber-suit.”

“You figured right. Now, let’s have a look. Know your enemy. A logo on the front. Lumic’s turned them into a brand. Heart of steel, but look.” The Doctor replies as he removes the logo boss on the chest. Inside is not just electronics.

“Is that flesh?!” You ask, your voice an octave higher than normal.

“Hmmm. Central nervous system. Artificially grown then threaded throughout the suit so it responds like a living thing. Well, it is a living thing. Oh, but look. Emotional inhibitor. Stops them feeling anything.”

“Why?” Angela asks.

“It’s still got a human brain. Imagine its reaction if it could see itself, realize itself inside this thing. They’d go insane.”

“So they cut out the one thing that makes them human.”

“Because they have to.”

“I’m going to be sick.” You declare. Seems like nobody hears you because the Cyberman starts to speak.

“Why am I cold?” You almost start to cry- there is still a human somewhere in that Cyberman suit.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The Doctor mutters.

“Why so cold?”

“Can you remember your name?”

“Sally. Sally Phelan.”

“You were a woman…” You say in a soft yet broken voice.

“Where’s Gareth?” The Cyberman, well Sally asks.

“Who’s Gareth?” The Doctor asks.

“He can’t see me. It’s unlucky the night before.” You’re heart literally shatters. This woman was going to be married before she the Cybermen ‘upgraded’ her. “I’m cold. I’m so cold.”

“It’s all right. You sleep now, Sally. Just go to sleep.” The Doctor says, as he puts the sonic screwdriver inside the chest cavity and switches her off. “Sally Phelan didn’t die for nothing because that’s the key. The emotional inhibitor. If we could find the code behind it, the cancellation code, then feed it throughout the system into every Cyberman’s head, they’d realize what they are.”

When Angela stands up, a Cyberman grabs her shoulders and electrocutes her. “Sensors detect a binary vascular system. You are an unknown upgrade. You will be taken for analysis.” The Cyberman says to the both of you. You share a look with the Doctor, you’re glad that you’re not dead (yet) but you’re also confused about why you’re not dead. You should’ve read as a human on the Cyberman’s sensors.

“We’ve been captured, but don’t worry, Rose and Pete are still out there. They can rescue us.” The Doctor tells you as the two of you are lead to a control room. Unfortunately Rose and Pete are already there. “Oh well, never mind. You okay?”

“Yeah. But they got Jackie.” Rose answers.

“Where’s Mickey then?” You ask. Rose shrugs. Pete says that his boss upgraded her. The Doctor then asks where is the man in charge of all of this. He comes out as a Cyberman in an upgraded wheelchair.

The Doctor talks for awhile before saying: “Oh, Lumic, you’re a clever man. I’d call you a genius, except I’m in the room. But everything you’ve invented, you did to fight your sickness. And that’s brilliant. That is so human. But once you get rid of sickness and mortality, then what’s there to strive for, eh? The Cybermen won’t advance. You’ll just stop. You’ll stay like this forever. A metal Earth with metal men and metal thoughts, lacking the one thing that makes this planet so alive. People. Ordinary, stupid, brilliant people.”

“You are proud of your emotions.” The Cyberman in the wheelchair points out.

“Oh, yes.”

“Then tell me, Doctor. Have you known grief, and rage, and pain?”

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

“And they hurt?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I could set you free. Would you not want that? A life without pain?”

“You might as well kill me.”

“Then I take that option.”

“Doctor?” You ask. The time lord throws you a look, shutting you up.

“It’s not yours to take. You’re a Cyber Controller. You don’t control me or anything with blood in its heart.” The Doctor says to the Cyberman.

“You have no means of stopping me. I have an army. A species of my own.” The Cyberman explains.

“You just don’t get it, do you? An army’s nothing. Because those ordinary people, they’re the key. The most ordinary person could change the world.” You manage a scared smile. “Some ordinary man or woman, some idiot. All it takes is for him to find, say- the right numbers. The right codes. For example, the code behind the emotional inhibitor. The code right in front of him.”

“What’s he doing?” You whisper to Rose. Your best friend shrugs in response.

“Even an idiot knows how to use computers these days.” The Doctor states, you then realize he’s referring to Mickey. “Knows how to get past firewalls and passwords. Knows how to find something encrypted in the Lumic Family Database, under er… what was it, Pete? Binary what?”

“Binary Nine.” Pete replies.

“An idiot could find that code. Cancellation code and he’d keep on typing. Keep on fighting. Anything to save his friends.”

“Your words are irrelevant.” The head Cyberman says. The Doctor shrugs.

“Yeah, talk too much, that’s my problem. Lucky I got you that cheap tariff, Rose, for all our long chats.”

“You will be deleted.”

“Yes. Delete, control, hash. All those lovely buttons. Then, of course, my particular favorite, send. And let’s not forget how you seduced all those ordinary people in the first place.” Rose’s phone goes off, she pulls it out of her pocket and looks at it. “By making every bit of technology compatible with everything else.”

“It’s for you.” Rose says handing the Doctor her phone.

“Like this.” The Doctor puts the phone into a docking station, which it miraculously fits. The code is transmitted and the Cybermen cry out in pain. The code appears on every computer screen. Cybermen everywhere look like they are in pain. The Doctor gave the converted Cybermen back their humanity.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

“I have never been more happy to see that big blue box.” You say. Your moment of happiness is gone when you hear Mickey say that he would like to stay behind in this parallel world to look after his gran. The Doctor hands Mickey, Rose’s phone so he can continue destroying the Cybermen in this world.

“I guess if we ever get stuck here again we have some allies on our side.” You say with a watery smile. “Guess we’ll see you around Mick.”

“Look after those siblings of yours Y/N.” Mickey replies pulling you into a brief hug. With that, you walk into the TARDIS.

The TARDIS lands in the Tyler’s flat and Rose pulls her mother into a hug, relieved that she’s okay.

“Where’s Mickey?” Jackie asks.

“He went home.” You answer. “Thinking of home, I should get back to my family.”

“Need a lift?” The Doctor asks.

“Yeah. That would be great.”

______

@haletotheking22

@the-third-winchester-warrior

@flannels-and-rocksalt

@always-keep-writing-spn

@winchesters-favorite-girl

@caroldanversinatardis

@spnnolifegirl

@thewinsisterchronicles

@simply-wins-little-sis

@moose-and-sqruille-lover

@platonic-plots

#superwholock #supernatural #winchester sister #sam and dean #supernatural brother sister moment #through time and space #cybermen #dr who #bbc sherlock #part 14

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iacon-city · 5 years ago

Text

roses on fire

✷ driftrod; tw for suicidal thoughts, depression, dark feelings, slightly ooc characters.

Summary: “The matrix. Oh primus, it hurts so damn bad.”

There were nights where Drift just couldn't force himself into recharge.

There were cycles when his memories, Deadlock's memories, came to life inside his chamber and blocked out whatever slim shimmer of light made its way into his quarters, when the only solutions that remained were knocking down cube after cube of alcohol or simply wandering the halls into morning 'light'; clearly, he reasoned, the latter was far more healthy.

Yet never before had he experienced this.

The warrior was making his rounds along the outskirts of the ship, footsteps tracing patterns on the floors of the more neglected areas of the Lost Light when his optics caught sight of a form hidden away in the shadows that were cast along the cold metal walls. "Hello?" Drift's voice echoed as he slipped further down the hallway, and there wasn't a response as the figure shifted slightly. Now, Drift did not come to this area of the ship very often- no one did, in fact. This specific wing had been out of use for months, and the warrior couldn't fathom why anyone would be in this corridor at the present late time, let alone who. He narrowed his optics as his servos subconsciously settled on the hilts of his swords; "I-" he froze as he came to a halt in front of the mech, digits falling to his sides as he stared, surprised.

It was Rodimus.

"Rodimus? What the primus are you doing out here?" Drift shifted on his pedes as his captain merely dragged an arm across his face, a shaky vent escaping the prime that was pressed along the wall in solitary motion. "Roddy?" Drift's confusion quickly morphed into concern as he dropped to his knees beside the leader, a silver hand reaching towards orange.

The prime's face plate was stained with tear tracks.

"Drift," Rodimus' voice was surprisingly even, "what the hell are you doing up so late?" The swordsman faltered at the sudden question but responded nontheless. "I was just clearing my processor-" he hummed, spark hammering in dull panic, "but I think I'll stay for a bit, with you." The prime cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his optics, turning his gaze away from his crewmember; "Nah, there's no need. It's late, and you should get some recharge- it's gonna be a hectic day tomorrow." Drift grimaced at his captain's words, not moving from his kneeled position. "Rodimus." The warrior's voice was soft, "Are you-" he was interrupted with an abrupt "I'm fine." Spouting from Rodimus, and Drift scoffed in mock disbelief.

"Like primus you are."

There was a pause as silence filled the gap between communication; "I can't do this right now, Drift." Rodimus finally spoke with tired words, "Go back to sleep. We'll deal with this tomorrow, or, I dunno, never." The swordsman shifted to sit closer to his prime, his captain, his leader; he had never seen Rodimus like this, before, and the fact was scaring him. "I don't particularly find those odds comforting," he mused, "so I think it would be best to get it out of the way, now, when it's just the two of us and the cold air draft from down the hall." A small smile slipped across Rodimus' face at his friend's words, and he took a shuddering breath at the thought of maybe, perhaps, letting someone know, letting someone in.

"Just hurts, is all."

The captain gave Drift a weak laugh, "'M getting real tired of it." Drift tensed at his words, offering a gentle push to keep him talking. "What does, Rodimus?" The warmly colored mech beside him pressed a palm to his chassis, optics flickering closed as the prime's voice descended into a hoarse whisper.

"The matrix."

He dug his digits into the metal encasing his spark, "Oh primus, it hurts so damn bad." Rodimus' optics rose open, "It burns, all the time. It's growing and transferring and molding, molding me into the perfect little leader everyone needs me to be." Drift's optics were wild at the amount of pure pain that intertwined itself through Rodimus' words.

"Optimus talked about it once, y'know."

Drift's gaze was locked onto Rodimus as his grip tightened on the handles of his swords. "He told me, way back, that a prime wasn't allowed the luxury of having anything for himself; I didn't understand him, then, but it all makes sense now." The captain looked down at servos, optics staring at his hands as if they were foreign to his body; "A prime exists soley for the people, nothing more than a puppet controlled by the masses- everything he did, everything I do, is for the benefit of someone else. The greater good." Drift broke into Rodimus' train of conversation. "That doesn't mean that you have to throw away your personal ideas, Roddy. You can still have dreams, you can still-"

"No, no I can't."

Rodimus laughed, "I can't have a normal life, can't have friends, can't have lovers- in the end, the matrix won't even let me have myself." The prime's vents stuttered as his emotions overwhelmed him, "I don't know who I am, anymore. Hot Rod died the day the matrix touched my spark; when I am no longer prime, who will I be? What will be left besides a primus-saked husk and a disappointment?" There was a tinge of desperate panic in the underlying question, and Drift's own vents clicked on softly as he inhaled sharply; this version- no, this side of Rodimus was not one he ever foresaw existing.

It hurt him, seeing his close friend in such misunderstood agony.

"The matrix is a curse, a damn prop to support the ideals and tradition of a long dead society- all it does, in reality, is destroy to rewrite something 'better'. Make me into something- make me into something I never wanted to be." Rodimus' voice wavered,

"Sometimes I'd do anything to make it stop, even if it meant shooting out my own spark to make the burning cease."

His words made Drift's energon run cold, "I wouldn't wish the burden of being prime upon even the worst of my enemies." The warrior raising a servo cover his intake as a wave of pure panic washed over him. The prime noticed his action and let out a loose laugh accompanied by a tired grin. "Oh, come on, Drift; it wouldn't matter anyway, if I were dead. I'm already a ticking time bomb, so what would be the harm in offing myself sooner than later?" Drift recoiled at the utter nonchalance Rodimus spoke with. "You-" the swordsman's voice box gave out, "you want to kill yourself?" His captain waved a servo flippantly through the air as lubricant welled in the usually cocky mech's optics-

"It's not my first choice, but yeah. Yeah, it's on the playing field."

Rodimus' shoulders began to shake as the tears fell from his eyes, his little smile of melancholy dissolving into a quiet sob as he buried his helm in his knees, arms wrapping around his body as if he could just pull into himself and disappear.

"I just want it to stop, Drift. I just want peace and quiet, for once, instead of this static inside my helm."

Drift didn't hesitate to pull his friend into a close hug, burying his chin in the crook of Rodimus' neck as he held him close with shaking hands; "Don't ever take your own life, Rodimus." The warrior's voice wavered dangerously, "We need you. I need you." Drift held Rodimus tighter when he didn't respond, afraid that he'd disappear if he were to let go. "You should- you should talk to Ratchet tomorrow about the matrix and see if there's anything he can do for you. I'll even go with you, if you want. Just don't-" his optics fluttered closed as his vents clicked into high-gear,

"Just don't give up on me, okay?"

Rodimus let out a soft laugh as he once more dragged an arm across his face plate, erasing the tears that still danced down his cheeks. "Okay." He responded with a small smile, "Okay, I'll try." He leaned into Drift's frame as they stared into the dark, bodies held close as they kept each other from falling apart;

They stayed there until first morning light, a shimmer of silver and red.

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years ago

Text

Eight Days a Week, Eight Seconds a Kiss (Part 3) (Colt x MC)

A/N: Sorry, y’all. I was writing other things and having a rough week and I definitely didn’t forget about the series, but it was on the back burner (thanks for those who asked about it, it makes me feel so touched!). But now we back! With wingman Colt, oblivious Ellie, and day three of JUST KISS DAMMIT!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 2320 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie wants to live her life to the fullest, starting with her first kiss. She just needs a little encouragement.

Monday: I Was Young and I was Selfish

Ellie pulled into the shop, driving her very own freaking car, through the bay doors, carrying her very own license, smiling ear-to-ear. This was amazing! Her time on the bus was over!

She jumped out, spring in her step, and made it five steps before almost walking straight into Logan. “Oof.”

He caught her, strong hands wrapped around her forearms. “Hi, troublemaker.”

She looked up and flushed. He really was impossibly handsome; she definitely wouldn’t mind if he was her first kiss. Maybe Colt was right and she was really getting in her own way. She had just started daydreaming about how soft his lips would be and what it would actually be like to kiss someone when he interrupted her.

“Uhhh...Ellie?”

She snapped to attention. “Yeah?”

“Your car is rolling away.”

She turned and froze. Her car was, indeed, moving, rolling down the slight incline of the shop, headed towards a giant toolbox and the lanky figure digging through shelves in. She started to sprint but knew she wasn’t going to make it in time.

“Toby, MOVE!”

Toby looked up just in time to dive out of the way and her car rolled right into a toolbox. Luckily, it wasn’t going fast, but still; the boom of the collision made her wince, as did the three wrenches that rained down onto her hood.

“Oops....”

Toby stood up, brushing himself off dramatically. “I’m ok! I’m ok!” His grin turned to a frown as he looked at her car. “It’s ok! I can fix that! Just the bumper. And a few dents here. And here.” He caressed the paint with a frown.

“I am so sorry! I could have hurt you.”

“No worries!” He squatted to look over her bumper. “It actually doesn’t look bad at all.”

Logan walked up behind her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Did you put the e-brake on?”

“Apparently not.” She put her head in her hands.

Logan laughed. “Hey, troublemaker, don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul.” Ellie could feel the eyes of the entire crew on her and her face burned. He pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight before letting go. It made her feel marginally better, though her cheeks were still hot. “Give me your keys. I’ll move it and start fixing it up with Toby.”

“You’re the best.” With a wan smile, she turned to head into the shop.

I am such an idiot.

Head down, she didn’t notice where she was going until she felt someone grab her wrist. She looked up and groaned, holding up a hand. “Stop. Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear whatever insult you have up your sleeve.” Colt studied her silently, so she continued. “I know, I obviously don’t belong here, I am shooting myself in the foot, blah blah, I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Yes, you were.” She rubbed her temple, headache already starting to form. I can’t believe I crashed my car already.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Ellie sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “What, I can’t stay here and embarrass myself anymore?”

“As great as that is for my personal amusement, no.” Colt stood, clutching a spare helmet, unsnapping it and handing it over. “Come on.”

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if that look is because you don’t think I can refrain from kicking you when you’re down or because you don’t trust me to get you there safely, but I don’t care. Come on.”

She sighed and took the helmet, looking up at him as he tightened the strap and then brushed her hair away from her neck. “If you kill me....”

“You can haunt the garage all you want. Let’s go.”

~~~~~

Once they stopped, she realized that she could definitely see the appeal. On a motorcycle, everything was more real, the pavement racing by, the air whipping around, the roar of the engine underneath her. She didn’t think she could be converted away from her car, but she could see why Colt liked it as much as he did.

They were outside some bar and Ellie looked around, anxiously, trying to smooth down her hair as much as she could. “Where are we?”

Colt took her helmet from her and put it under his arm. “Just a dive. I was going to head up to the cliff but then I realized that the cliff was not conducive to meeting our two objectives.”

“What do you mean, two objectives?”

“Stop your moping and get you your kiss. Duh.” He held the door open for her and followed her into the dark. The dingy hallway opened up into a bar, exactly as dark and forbidding as it looked from the outside.

There were only a few other patrons here; Ellie would have guessed it was a quiet night but, judging by the exterior of the building and the dinginess of the room, all nights were quiet nights here. At least they could spread out. “Colt, why are we at a bar?”

He shrugged, sitting at a bar stool, putting their helmets on the bar next to him. “I figured a drink would loosen you up.” He laughed when he caught the look on her face. “Relax, relax. It has really good fries and no ones asks any questions.”

“Apparently....” She couldn’t help but look around again. Was it still legal to smoke in bars? She didn’t think so. “How do you know about this place?”

He laughed, bitterly. “What, did you think my parents would ever step foot in a Chuck E. Cheese’s?”

She watched him as he turned to order to a soda and loaded fries from the bartender; what must it have been like, growing up with Kaneko as a father? And Colt never mentioned his mother.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Huh?” Ellie looked up to see both Colt and the bartender staring at her. “Sorry, a soda, please.”

She flushed as Colt raised an eyebrow at her. “You still thinking about your car? Toby will make it just like new, you know.”

“I just feel stupid.”

“You think that’s the worst thing to happen in that shop? Ha.” He tilted his head, thinking. “Once, we were doing electrical work on the lifts and something shorted, dropping two cars straight down, 8 feet to the pavement. I was sweeping glass out of the corners for weeks!”

Ellie chuckled despite herself.

“This other time, Toby had it in his head that he could rig up a NOS system to work both in drive and reverse. If you look closely at my dad’s office, there are still burn marks from when that exploded.”

“Oh crap.”

“But the worst. The WORST.” Colt leaned over the bar, edging closer, eyes sparkling. “Mona was hooking up with this psycho, this absolute nutcase, and, when she finally smartened up and called it off, this girl spray painted the entire exterior of the garage, all f-bomb this and c-word that, with the evil eye thrown in for good measure, all hot pink like your car. My dad flipped his shit.”

Ellie started giggling and could only laugh harder when Colt threw a napkin at her.

“Not funny! Who do you think had to clean it all up?”

She laughed, playing with her straw; when she looked up again, he was watching her. “Colt? Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever, don’t-”

“Seriously. Thank you.” She caught his eye, holding it, as the bartender worked behind the bar and as the crappy music filled the room and as she wondered why on earth he was actually being so nice to her.

He coughed, breaking the spell, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me yet. Still working on that kiss. Hmmm....slim pickings.” He looked around the bar until his eyes lit up. “How about six o’clock, by the jukebox?”

She groaned. “Are you seriously picking the worst people in the world?” She watched the man stuff another dip of tobacco into this mouth.

“I got the demographic right this time, at least.” He looked around halfheartedly, sipping his soda before focusing on her again. “You know, why are you so hung up on this? It’s like eight seconds out of your life! Why are you so desperate for it to happen?”

Ellie rested her chin on a hand. She never should have said anything to Colt, of all people. “I guess it’s what it represents. I never did anything except what my dad wanted me to do and I think I missed out, on a lot, you know?”

“Your dad sounds like he’s trying to protect you. I mean, you’re sitting at a dive bar, on a school night, trying to kiss someone you don’t even know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Out of all the trouble you and the crew get into, this is what you’re worried about?”

Colt’s eyes flashed, trailing down her face. “If I were your old man, I would be very worried about it.”

Ellie swallowed, grateful for the fries that arrived between them. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she didn’t think she was brave enough to ask. “I don’t know...Maybe he’s going about it the wrong way.”

“He’s doing it out of love, you know.” Colt caught her eye meaningfully. “It sounds like he thinks you’re God’s gift to earth. But it also sounds like he needs to respect who you really are.”

“Yeah.” She studied his face, thinking. “Colt, you know your dad-”

“Stop.” He rubbed his temples. “You don’t even know him.”

“He seems protective of you too.”

Colt looked at her, hands gripping the bar, teeth gnawing his lower lip. “My pop’s never been protective of anyone or anything. Ever.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, watching him eat. “You know, I didn’t think you would care so much about what someone thought of you.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why do you let your dad’s opinion of you rule your life?”

He stopped chewing, mid bite, to gape at her. “Are you seriously giving me family advice? You?!?”

“You know I’m right. You may hate the source, but you know I’m right.”

“Easier said than done.” He looked down at the bar.

“What isn’t?”

He looked over at her, considering her for so long she started to feel uneasy, fidgeting in her seat. He shook his head as the bartender walked over to take their plates, glancing between the two of them. “You know, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard you were looking for someone willing to kiss you.” He looked meaningfully at Ellie. “I’m single.”

Ellie froze, caught in his gaze. He was cute, surprisingly, for the bar, a little more clean-cut than she was typically attracted to but definitely handsome, especially with the smile he was throwing her way.

Next to her, Colt choked on his drink, sputtering as both she and the bartender gawked. Once he could breathe again, before she could even think of a response, Colt jumped in, voice rough, bar stool dragging across the floor as he stood. “No. We’re actually leaving.”

Ellie stared at him in surprise, watching as he threw some money on the bar, grabbed the helmets, and turned on his heel. Ellie smiled apologetically at the bartender, shrugging, before following, heading out into the warm night.

“The hell, Colt?”

He shrugged. “I thought you wanted them to think you were tolerable.”

“Yeah?”

“Pretty boy didn’t even know you.”

“He would tolerate me enough to kiss me! And neither did chewing tobacco guy!”

Colt stopped next to the bike, leaning over it with a dramatic sigh. “Fine! Just go back in there!”

Ellie stared at him, the crease between his eyebrows, his eyes fixed past her, staring into the distance, avoiding her eyes. She sighed. “You know, you’re right.”

“No shit.”

She rolled her eyes but continued. “You are. I want it to be real, not just some rando you find for me.” She took a deep breath. “So I have a request, an addition to the deal. I want them to think I’m attractive.”

“Wait, what?” Colt did a double take. “What?”

Ellie stared him down, hands on her hips. “I want them to think I’m attractive. Do you think that will be a problem?”

Colt wisely paused before saying anything. Ellie waited, eyes sharp, waiting for the insult. However, she was surprised when he opened his mouth to speak. “I am just commenting, with no ulterior motive, not insinuating anything so stop looking so exasperated, Christ...it seems like you are adding caveats after the fact. I thought they only had to think you were tolerable?”

“Someone said it was a low bar. Maybe I am trying to raise my standards a little.”

He looked at her and she was taken aback; instead of the usual insolent smirk or fixed glare, he was considering her, eyes almost soft, voice even softer. “Maybe you should.” He looked like he wanted to say more, to continue, but he paused, just looking at her. “Fine. Fine. They will think you are tolerable and attractive. Anything else?”

“Nope. That’s it.” She smiled. She didn’t know why he agreed to help her but at least he wasn’t being a total ass about it. “Thanks for taking me out tonight. I needed it.”

Colt looked away. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, that was really-”

“Stop.” He put up his hand. “Seriously. I told you. I don’t want you to mention it. To anyone. Including me.”

She blinked, watching him turn and put his helmet on, bathed in the streetlight, before he turned and handed her the spare helmet. Their fingers brushed as she took it, yet another thing from tonight that she resolutely was not going to think about.

Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit @desiree-0816

#playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt rod #choices rod #amy writes

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