#and then when i forced it back on track it fought me really badly

[bi-disastersoup]

March of the Tropes: Day 27 - Sparring/"Oh..."

R'alma and G'raha have an impromptu sparring session after returning to the Source, during which R'alma has a rather startling realization. Oneshot.

[whump-card]

This Death That I Chose: Chapter 1

2507 words

CW: implied past noncon, derogatory language

Masterlist, Next

~~~

“My name is Lark.”

Joshua Tao studied their new captive carefully. The two of them sat opposite each other in the makeshift interrogation room – a back room in the abandoned house the Watch had set up in, the windows boarded closed. The prisoner had shackles on his ankles and wrists, and with his left arm in a cast from elbow to palm and resting in a sling he was forced to hold his right hand up awkwardly to avoid jostling it. Tao was deeply puzzled by him. The Watch had captured him purely by chance: they strayed too far into the ruins during a night patrol due to an over-enthusiastic new member, and spotted a Military transport van moving along an abandoned track. A split-second decision led to the van being stopped, boarded, and overpowered. When the fighting was over, the Watch headed home to their little rebel settlement with four prisoners – until the three captured soldiers cracked open their cyanide teeth and had to be left to rot in the ruins. That left them with one: silent, wide-eyed, with a broken arm, and clearly the transport’s primary passenger. The soldiers had fought wildly to protect him.

The prisoner was no soldier himself, of that Tao was certain. He had a slim build, hardly any muscle at all, clearly revealed by the sleeveless turtleneck he wore. He had pale skin and silky black hair that was too long and well cared for. Neither did he have the age or aura of an officer; the young man had put up no fight, and now stared down at the table between them, refusing to risk antagonizing his captors with eye contact. His face – which looked small penned in by the dark of mop of his hair and the high turtleneck – was ashen and slick with sweat, the result of the hours-long slog through the ruins on a hot summer night. He didn’t seem scared, though. Instead he seemed cold. Detached.

“Your name is Lark.” Tao echoed, drumming his fingers on the holster of his gun. Like the bird? “Okay, ‘Lark.’ What were you doing in a Military transport going through the ruins in the middle of the night?”

“We were returning from the Conservatorium to the Capital.”

Tao wasn’t expecting such a straightforward answer. The young man’s voice was quiet, with a smooth, controlled cadence.

“What were you doing at the Conservatorium?” Tao asked.

“I needed to see a doctor there.”

“For your arm? It doesn’t look bad enough to warrant a trip to the Con.”

“It was… Badly infected.”

Lark’s first hesitation. Tao made a mental note of that, and moved on.

“So you live in the Capital?”

“Yes, sir.”

‘Sir’? He really doesn’t want any trouble.

“What do you do there?”

Another pause. Lark’s eyes darted back and forth, searching the table for the best answer. Tao suppressed a smile.

“I don’t know anything useful to you,” Lark said carefully.

“That’s not what I asked.” Tao leaned forward. “You’re a scientist, aren’t you? Pumping out murder machines, getting top-notch medical treatment when an experiment goes wrong?”

Lark was shaking his head before Tao even finished talking.

“No, sir. I’m not a scientist. I don’t know anything.”

“Sounds like something a scientist would say.”

“I’m not. You shouldn’t keep me here.”

“Woah!” Tao laughed, “Giving orders already? And here I was, thinking you were a pushover.”

“No, sir, what I mean is, people will miss me, in the Capital. They will come looking.”

Emotion was starting to color Lark’s voice for the first time: a hint of desperation.

“They won’t find us,” Tao said.

“You think he doesn’t know you’re out here?” Defiance. And he.

“So you do know things.”

Lark finally looked up from the table, his eyes meeting Tao’s for the first time. They were dark bronze, like late-season honey.

“No, not anything useful, I swear.” Gone was his carefully measured tone and pace. His words flowed quickly and betrayed a slowly rising panic. “If you keep me here you’ll learn nothing from me and the Commander will destroy this place to get me back. You should trade or ransom me for something that’s actually valuable as soon as you can.”

“Aww,” Tao’s voice dripped with fake sympathy, “It almost sounds like you care about us.” He laughed, then grew serious again. “And it sounds like you’re pretty important to the big guy.”

Lark hesitated again before admitting it.

“Yes, sir. I am. In fact -” He gained a second wind of boldness, leaning forward slightly. “In fact, the Commander took a great risk in resources and political standing by sending me through the ruins to the Conservatory for emergency medical care. He has gone through great lengths to ensure my health and safety, and I know he’d be willing to offer you anything you wanted in exchange for my safe return. But… he’s not a patient man. You’d need to act quickly.”

“Well, what I want is my home, my country, and my brother back.” Tao stared Lark down. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, do you?”

Lark was left speechless, his open mouth trembling slightly. Tao stood.

“I’m going to give you some time to think. I’m sure you can come up with something interesting to tell me. If not… We’ll help you out.”

Tao started to leave, but heard chains rattling behind him.

“Um, please, wait!”

Lark’s tone was much different now. He was scared – clearly he hadn’t thought Tao would cut off their conversation so soon. Tao turned back.

“What is it, thought of something already?”

“No, sir, sorry, I – my arm,” Lark gestured weakly to his sling, “It’s not fully healed. I had antibiotics with me on the transport, I need them so that the infection doesn’t… come back. Please.”

Tao nodded slowly.

“We’ll see,” was all he said.

Tao left the room and found himself toe-to-toe with Becca and Vic, who had been listening just outside the door. They said nothing but made expressive faces as Tao mockingly waved them away and bolted the door – the lack of soundproofing went both ways. How Tao wished they had a real interrogation room, with an intercom and a slick one-way window. But buildings like that hardly existed anymore outside of the Commander's hold.

The three of them moved from the small hallway to what had once been someone’s living room, but was now the Watch’s meeting and strategy room. Vic, the Watch’s other leader along with Tao, practically exploded.

“This is crazy. Do you really think he’s a scientist?”

Tao let out a long breath, cracking his knuckles one by one. The whole thing had him more tense than he realized.

“He’s gotta be. I don’t know what else. If he was some kind of laborer or domestic servant, he could’ve just said.”

Becca, the rebel community’s de-facto “mayor,” snapped her fingers to get the two men’s attention.

“Hey. Did I mishear, or did you vaguely threaten him with torture? Because we’re not doing that. Ever.”

“Oh, jeez, no,” Tao put up his hands, “I was just trying to scare him.”

“Aww,” Vic complained, “Can’t we rough him up just a little? He’s part of a fascist regime!”

“No,” Becca insisted, “And Tao, you better track down that medicine he needs. We respect the Geneva Convention in this house.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Vic, how goes the data retrieval from the Military van?” Becca asked.

“It’s going,” Vic nodded, “We should know a lot more about who this guy is very soon.”

“Good. We’ll talk to ‘Lark’ again when we do. Until then,” she pointed to Tao, “Medicine, and,” she turned her finger toward Vic, “Guard him. No funny business.”

Vic gave a lazy salute. “Got it.”

~~~

Tao was going to get the medicine, he really was. But after being out all night and the skirmish over the transport van, he was exhausted, starving, and had a few bumps and scrapes that were begging for attention. Sustenance came first: he left the house that served as the Watch’s headquarters and walked down the cracked and weathered road to the cookhouse.

The little rebel “town” was modest. It was a ragtag collection of survivors that had set up in an abandoned semi-rural neighborhood, guarded and provided for by volunteer Watchmen who scavenged the nearby city ruins. The houses were spaced apart, and there was thick tree coverage that kept them visually shielded from any aerial eyes that didn’t know what they were looking for.

The cookhouse was a home that had been remodeled shortly before the war to sport a modern open floor plan. This made it the largest indoor space, and combined with its state-of-the-art kitchen it was the best mess hall they could manage.

Tao knocked back two cups of instant coffee and some watery eggs, fending off questions from other breakfast-goers about the Watch’s new prisoner. He only just got here. Yeah, yeah, we’ll make an announcement if he spills something juicy. Only the cook on duty cared to ask him how his food was, chuckling out a good-humored “Today is a disaster!” when he couldn’t fake a good enough smile.

Once he had some peace, he rolled the prisoner’s words around in his head. “Lark.” Yeah, right. But…

“You should trade me for something that’s actually valuable.”

The young man hadn’t sounded like he was lying.

~~~

Tao went to the infirmary next. Their doctor, Faye, was a bony old woman with an ornery personality, but she got the job done.

Once Tao had been patched up and downed some ibuprofen he asked her if his crew had dropped anything off for her. She unceremoniously shoved a shoe box of various supplies into his hands.

“I haven’t gone through it yet,” Faye said, “Looks like quality stuff.”

“Yeah, well…” Tao shuffled through the spare sling and packets of bandages to pull out a pill bottle – the antibiotics. “These were for the prisoner we took, and I think he still needs some of it.”

Faye scoffed.

“That’s good medicine, and we’re wasting it on some fash bastard? Tell me you’re not serious.”

Tao shrugged weakly in the face of her ire.

“Geneva convention?”

~~~

Tao escaped the infirmary without any new injuries and made his way back to the HQ with the shoebox tucked under his arm. Inside he found Vic, bouncing on his heels and practically glowing as he scrolled on a tablet.

“You’re never going to believe this!” Vic crowed.

“What is it? You retrieve the van data?” Tao grinned, certain his scientist theory would pay off.

“Yeah we did! And guess who our little friend in there is.”

“Just spit it out, Vic!”

“He’s the Commander’s whore. Listen to this.”

Tao found himself spinning between Vic’s infectious delight and a horrible sinking feeling. He opened his mouth but was cut off by a compressed, crackly recording emitting from Vic’s tablet.

“Home base, this is transport 562, we have departed Conservatory with the fucktoy, en route to home, ETA 07:00, over.

“Transport 562, this is home base, we read you, please be advised to keep your language clean on the coms, over.”

“Yes sir, revise to: we have departed with the… boytoy. Over.”

“…”

“The Commander’s main squeeze? Over.”

“Jeremy I swear to God-”

Vic stopped the recording with a cackle.

“Can you believe it? No wonder he didn’t want to tell us what his job was!”

Vic continued to laugh, slapping his knee, and Tao felt a hollow, automatic chuckle escape his own mouth. Because… it was funny… right?

“Can you imagine what kind of… literal ass-kisser this dude must be?” Vic wheezed, nearly tearing up, “Who in their right mind would fuck that Palpatine-lookin’ motherfucker-”

“Hey, let me see that.” Tao dropped the shoebox of medical supplies on the table and grabbed at the tablet. Vic handed it over, sinking into a chair.

“Oh shit, who fucks who? D’you think -” Vic’s words were consumed by his own laughter as Tao scrolled frantically through the info scraped from the van. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but he found the Conservatory’s visit summary.

“Lark.” No surname.

Based on his birthdate, he’s… 22. Shit.

“Arrived with compound fractures of both the radius and ulna, and severe infection. Patient reports arm was broken twice and set improperly the first time. Patient is unclear when the infection set in.” …Twice?

“Pain management disregarded upon request of the payee.”

Tao dropped the tablet to the table with a clatter and scrabbled at the shoe box, upturning the contents and spreading them out with shaking hands. Vic stared at him, finally coming down from his hysterics.

“What’re you doing?”

“There’s no pain meds!”

“What?”

Tao grabbed the antibiotics and rushed past Vic towards the back room.

“Woah!” Vic jumped up to follow him, “Shouldn’t we wait for Becca?”

Tao ignored him, unbolting the door and flinging it open.

“Lark-”

Tao choked.

In stark contrast to his stiff, prim, upright posture earlier, Lark now sat slumped over, head on the table.

“Hey!” Tao shouted at him. Vic came in to stand beside him, cursing.

Lark didn’t move.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tao darted around the table, stuffing the antibiotics into his pocket. He put one hand under Lark’s head and one on his shoulder and tried to lift him up without upsetting the broken arm, only to find it already pulled awkwardly out of the sling by the shackled weight of the boy’s other arm. Luckily the cast was holding strong. Lark’s head lolled back, and his eyelids fluttered. His color was even worse than it was earlier and his forehead was hot and slippery with sweat under Tao’s hand.

“Help me!” Tao waved Vic over, “Undo the shackles!”

“Are you sure-”

“Does he look like he’s going to escape, Vic?! Get your head out of your ass!”

Vic hustled over and Tao eased Lark’s broken arm back into the sling and held it steady as Vic sorted through his key ring and unlocked the shackles. Lark let out a tiny, pained whimper that made Tao want to throw up.

“Shit, okay, we gotta – we gotta get him to Faye!”

Vic kicked the shackles out of the way.

“Are you sure-?”

“Vic, I swear I will explain what I think is happening here, but he needs help first.”

Vic hesitated, but understood that stopping to argue would get them nowhere. He nodded.

“Thank you. Okay, Lark?” Tao placed a hand on Lark’s burning cheek to gently tilt his face towards his own. “We’re gonna help you walk a little ways, can you do that for me?”

Lark’s eyes fluttered open, and his unfocused gaze wandered over Tao’s face. His eyes abruptly filled with tears, and he took in a sharp breath.

“Please,” he whispered, “Please don’t break my arm again.”

Tao looked up and met Vic’s solemn stare. The other man had finally grasped that something was wrong.

This was going to be a lot more complicated than they thought.

~~~

Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy

[benefits1986]

Moon Child, Moon River

The moon seems to call me more and more the past months. Looking back, the moon has been my refuge in my darkest nights, too.  A few months ago, as I was taking a break from my ina’s wake, I was greeted by the crescent moon with the unapologetic Venus. While I am a fan of full moon and try to track them and align them with my trips outside Manila, that night was magical and mundane. I remember huffing and puffing while a tiny stream of tears fell down my cheek. I remember whispering a prayer to mother dragon which is all about making sense of this loss which I didn’t expect to hit me hard.  That night, as the moon smiled at my side of the universe, I tried smiling back. I tried to make amends to it. While Venus showed off her majesty, I somehow fought back even when deep down, I am totally wrecked. That night is a reminder that even the darkest nights can be beautiful, even when the world is weeping and the grounds are shaking. That night is a reminder that while my version of love and beauty may be rarities, they can actually come to life. That night is a reminder that when things are toughest, looking up and allowing the light and shadows to embrace me would make me feel more human.  I guess, after 37 years of arguing that mother dragon has been making grand alibi as she points the moon as my nemesis and my confidant, she might be right all along. I guess that the moon is my Polaris as I have phases, too. One too many but always in a cycle. I may not have my own light but this gift, this curse, is where I draw inspiration to intention to make the most out of the light and shadow that is bestowed upon me.  I guess that this Taurus szn is actually what I needed and wished for, too. It may be one for the books of really thick plot twists. I’ve cursed it one too many times; but during those really crazy times, I was able to earn life and love lessons that will matter not only a year from now; but maybe, just maybe, even a decade or so from now, too.  Battling a good number of trauma is definitely a highlight and a low light, too. Forcing myself to trust people amidst my trusted trust issues is another hallmark. Doubling down on facing my vulnerabilities and those I come across a la serendipity is just above and beyond me. Perhaps, one of my wins this 2023 Taurus szn is finally being able to tell stories about the my fallen Taurus Twin Towers. The shaky hands, the ego, the pride --all worth it. I owe my audience of one the hardest crashes and the major burns; because, just in case someone needs to here my shittiest and realest thought farts, here they are. As I bleed so badly in my scarlet sins, may each letter, each pause, each typo, be of help to those who maybe looking for a safe space in one way or another.  Let Moon River be the song that reminds me not only of my ina’s burial day. May it also be my guiding light as I choose to allow myself to feel instead of numbing the pain. May I choose to conquer fear instead of falsifying its existence. May I choose to be human as it is more than divine. May I continue breaking the silos within me. May I be more intentional with how I curate my life stories that are about being kindest to myself and others, too. May I choose to let the tears of sadness, of joy, of disgust, and of anger flow as I go for slow growth. May I continue choosing the path less taken and while at it, may I be with people who matter most.  Thank you, universe for sending me angels who I’ve been pushing away many, many, many times. Thank you for making me see that to heal means to help others heal in the name of healing together. Thank you, universe for allowing me to make it just in time for recalibrating my current color grade along with all shades of blacks and whites. Thank you, universe for my people. I don’t know how, but I dearly hope that these people would also allow me to be with them in their battles, especially the silent ones, too.  PS 1:  Gah. Huy. Ang seryoso masyado netong thought fart na ‘to. Dapat yata ‘yun na lang “Love... Not Like The 90s” na lang ako because sabi ng tatay ko bago ako pumasok sa opisina kanina, para daw akong clipart ng 6-year old self ko na first day sa Prep school. :D To which I replied na, tumabi siya. ‘Wag siyang tumingin kung naabala siya kasi wala na akong maisip isuot kasi ang init ng kalakhang Manynila today.  PS 2:  Baka eto lang excuse ko na next tat ko apart from biking scene namin ng tatay ko e, phases of the moon naman kasi ‘di masyadong kita mga moon elements ng existing tats ko. LOL. Saan kaya maganda ilagay saka kelan kaya papaggawa? Sa Siargao na ‘PAG mas lumabas na clavicle ko. Shemay. Kaya ba yesterday ‘yung pag-labas ng clavicle?  HAHAHAHAHAHA.  PS 3:  Bukas talaga, Pluto Retrograde na topic ko. Try natin English pero graphic version. :D 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Hurt

(Vee asked for a continuation of this piece I had requested of Taron helping homeless AU! Jameson after he was badly injured)

-

CW: Description of wounds, runaway whumpee, reluctant caretaker, defiant/angry whumpee, some pet whump references

He'd made it to the alley near the guy's restaurant, figuring he could ask for some bandages or something - there's a good first aid kit, there. The guy's helped patch him up before.

But sometime before he could knock on the back door, he'd stopped being able to get back up when he fell down. The cold of the gravel and broken pavement in the alley had felt good against overheated skin, and he'd stopped trying to stand.

Then there had been a touch, and some sound, but Jameson hadn't been able to track it. He slipped in and out, bright flashes of pain, the sting of something over his stomach that made him flinch, murmured curses or apologies. In and out, dark and light. At some point he coughed and the pain was so bad he stopped remembering how to breathe.

There'd been some water sipped through a straw, he thinks now. There's a light somewhere above him, shining through his closed eyelids. A warm blanket.

And voices.

"Well, he's stitched up," He hears one voice say. A woman. He can't find the energy to open his eyes to see who it is. "I'll give Dr. Masood a ride back home. He'll live, Taron, but I can't take him."

"You can't?"

"No, and I'm so sorry. I know you're attached to this one, but I'm just not able to right now."

"Nat, I really need-... you're sure you can't, at least for a while? I don't know what to do. I can't keep him."

Jameson doesn't dare move even enough that they might realize he's awake. The disappointment in the man's voice, how he sounds genuinely depressed that whoever this woman is won't just take the inconveniently hurt little runaway off his hands... that... that hurts. Jameson didn't realize he could still be hurt that way, by someone not wanting him.

Huh.

That's... that fucking sucks. That hurts in a way he doesn't have a ready defense for. He'd thought the guy maybe kind of got along with him, a little.

"Nat, please. Please."

Jesus, he's begging someone to take Jameson off his hands? Tough strong scarred motherfucker so tired of dealing with Jameson's shit that he'll beg someone just to cart him away?

Jameson's teeth grind together. His side aches, where the knife had slid in when they took his warm coat, when he fought them trying to keep it.

His eyes burn.

Don't cry, he thinks. You don't cry anymore. You won't cry ever again. This is what people are like. Shouldn't have ever kept coming here. What, you think a runaway pet gets to make a fucking friend? Stupid piece of shit cotton-brained motherfucker, dry the fucking waterworks and get up off the fucking cot.

But his body won't move.

"I... Look. I just. I'll ask around and see who can maybe take him on. Do you have any idea who he was before? Designation?"

There's a pause. "Does that matter? For what you-... what you do?"

"Not for me, but... some of the others only take certain types. It's... it's a fight I'll never stop having. But if you have any idea, that might help?"

"No, I don't-... that's. No, I don't know. He just needs somewhere to go... and it just. It can't keep being here."

Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry-

They walk away, out of earshot. Jameson lays there, breathing as carefully and evenly as he can. Eventually, he finds his legs answer him when he wants them to move. He can still hear their voices, but farther away. They're not between him and that back door back into the alley.

Clinking of ceramic tells him someone's drinking coffee. It gives him cover to swing his legs over to the side and slowly force himself to sit up. Fuck, it hurts like hell. His side is a line of bright fire burning over the stitched-up wound. There's a shirt, one of the guy's. It's way too big but Jameson pulls it on anyway, drowning in the fabric. LIke wearing Nanda's old shirts sometimes, just so he could smell him when his master was away.

No.

He won't go down that road. Not now.

Getting pants on is harder, but he manages it. His own pants, stiff with dried blood, but fuck it. Fuck it all the fuck to hell. If Taron wants to get rid of him so badly, he'll make it easy for everyone involved and fuck right off on his own two feet.

Granted, his feet don't want to hold him. He has to balance against the wall, while his knees buckle and the world swims and the pains takes his breath so far away his lungs are screaming before he can inhale again.

But it's just one step after another. One hand on the wall, one foot maybe dragging a little, but he's been in pain since Brute, and he can keep being in pain forever if he has to. He was made to take the pain, after all, right from the start. Not pain like this, but... but he can handle it. He can take it.

And maybe this time he'll fucking learn his lesson. No one wants a scarred-up piece of shit runaway slut around. He's been bumming shit off this guy for too long already. This is just his sign that he's worn out his welcome.

He has to learn to stop wanting to be... wanted.

It's the hardest bit of his training to lose.

Everyone's just a different kind of shit, in the end. Everyone will hurt you, unless you learn how to stop being hurt. Stop being anything but a wall so thick that nothing can break through it, no one can break it down.

Pain rolling up his side, nauseating and throbbing, he turns the doorknob as quietly as he can. And still he hears the guy's voice say, "Wait a second-"

He tells himself not to pause.

But he does.

"If you don't want me around," He says without looking at him, voice rougher than usual and thready-thin from the pain, "Just fucking tell me, man. No hard feelings, yeah? See you around."

"What-"

Jameson nearly falls right down the steps, but somehow keeps himself balanced until he's walking as fast as he can with a limp down the alley, wondering how far he can get before his legs give out beneath him.

He grinds his teeth so hard his jaw aches.

“Wait!”

Just keep walking.

Don't look back.

Don't let it hurt.

Don't you dare fucking cry.

Not this time.

Not again.

[annaraejackson]

You Have Something In Your Teeth

Pairing: Connor Stoll x gn!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of battle, injury, blood, embarrassment

Words: 2,400

Summery: Connor is crushing on Y/N and saved them during the Battle of Manhattan, and Y/N goes to find Connor when they get back to camp to say thank you but it goes wrong for Connor

It was the Battle of Manhattan, and all of Camp Half-Blood was fighting to the best of their abilities. You stood alongside your peers, the friends you have come to know over the past few years, fighting bravely against the hordes of monsters that stood in front of you. Sleeping mortals littered the area around you, even though you and your friends had done your best to move most of them to safety. There had just been too many mortals in the city of Manhattan for that to be done.

You fought, holding your weapon tightly in your hands, stopping for a moment to catch your breath. Your hair stuck to your forehead underneath your helmet, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down your face, your back soaked. You desperately wanted to sit down, just to breathe for a moment until you gathered even a third of your strength back to rejoin the fight. You noticed a group of telekhines making their way down a side alley that nobody had been covering, a large oversight in your opinion, and you took off running for them. You knew that if they made it through the alley they would be able to make their way to the Empire State Building, and even more importantly, Olympus.

“Hey! Flipper! Over here!” You shout, grabbing a stray shoe that was in the alleyway and throwing it, managing to hit one of the telekhines in the back of the head with and holding your sword in hand, glaring down at the seal-like monsters. “And where do you think you’re going?!” You sneer, standing tall through your exhaustion.

The monsters turned and glared at you, all of them baring their ugly teeth as growls sounded from their chests. “We are going to take over Olympus-” the middle telekhine said, “-and we are going to pave the way for Kronos to destroy the Olympians and take his rightful spot on the throne!”

The telekhines charged at you, and you instinctively raised your shield and charged back at them, holding your shield out to block their initial attack before swinging your sword around, lunging at the telekhine on the right, but making sure to keep an eye on the other two seal monsters. You had faced much worse than them during your time at camp, but you knew these particular monsters could be slippery.

If you somehow managed to let even one of them get away and to Olympus, that could potentially spell disaster for your injured friends that were being kept at the home of the gods.

You focused intently on your mission, your body begging for rest but your mind fighting through it. There was no way in Hades you were going to just give in now—not when your camp needed you most. Soon, the three telekhines that had been in front of you were just a gold dust on the ground of the alleyway, your breath heavy as you gripped your sword and shield in hand.

The battle behind you continued to wage on, and as you began to turn around you felt an intense dull pain in your side, and for a moment you thought you had gotten punched. You looked down, seeing a gaping wound in your side which spilled out blood, your nerves finally catching up to you as you felt the sharp pain. Within seconds, you let out a scream as you looked up with wide eyes, seeing a fourth telekhine that had come up behind you, one that you hadn’t even known had been following.

“Nothing can stop us.” The telekhine sneered at you, it’s teeth bared as it watched your every move. You placed one of your hands up against the nearby dumpster in an attempt to steady your already weak body while the other gripped your side, a sad attempt to hold back the blood loss, your knees giving out and causing you to collapse. You looked up at the nearly 7-foot-tall creature, which held it’s sword—glistening red with your blood—high above you, ready to strike down its final blow.

“Wanna bet?” A voice behind the telekhine said, and then suddenly a point showed through the creature's neck, it’s ugly eyes wide in surprise before it burst into dust, revealing Connor Stoll behind it, his chest heaving as he gulped in large breaths of air.

He wasn’t wearing a helmet, so his curly hair hung in his eyes and was sticking to his face and neck due to how much he was sweating, his arms glistening as he gripped his sword double-handed and his feet spread apart ever so slightly to help aid him in his balance. Normally, you never saw Connor without a grin on his face, laughing at some joke or pulling some prank, but today he looked almost terrifying. His lips pressed into a hard line, his face showing no emotion, and his eyes showing nothing but a sheer determination.

In a sick way, he reminded you of his brother, Luke. And you were suddenly very thankful that he was on your side.

As Connor studied you, his expression softened and he placed his sword back in the sheath, taking a few large steps over to you before he knelt down. “How badly are you hurt?” You didn’t say a word, knowing that if you did, you likely wouldn’t even make sense, moving your hand so he could see the wound. The edges of your vision began to blur, and you fell forward.

Connor managed to catch you, holding you in his arms. “Hey- Hey it’s okay! Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.” Connor looked up and around, trying to think of what to do before he suddenly got an idea. “I’ll be right back- please don’t die while I’m gone.” He said, gently laying you down before he disappeared.

Wow, you thought, he truly has a way with people.

You managed to follow his request and not die, but you did lose consciousness.

You woke up some time later on Olympus, and spoke with Will Solace about what had happened. He explained to you that Connor Stoll had brought you to Olympus himself, but how he hadn’t been able to stay for very long since his troops needed his help. You had wanted to go find him and help in the battle more, but Will wasn’t sure you were healed up enough to rejoin the fight.

However, luckily it seemed like you weren’t needed in the fight after all. The war was won, and soon all the demigods were taken home, the most injured first, and then as many as possible. The rest of the day went by in a blur, although you scanned all the demigods you saw to see if you could track down Connor, however it seems like you just didn’t have the luck.

Once you were allowed to get up and leave the infirmary, you decided to start on your mission to find Connor to talk to him, going up to anyone you could find to ask if they knew where he was. One person said they had seen him at the Big House, but you didn’t see him there. Another said the camp store- again, out of luck. Finally, you just decided to check out his cabin to see if he was there.

You went up to the large building and knocked on the door, and you heard Connor inside talking with someone, likely Travis. “Connor?” You called, and suddenly the room went quiet. You heard what sounded like muffled arguing, and then the door swung open.

“Hey, Y/N! What do I owe the pleasure?” Connor asked, leaning against the doorframe as he looked at you, his hair disheveled so you figured he hadn’t been in the cabin for too long before you showed up.

“Hey, Connor. I just wanted to stop by and tell you thanks for saving me back there… if it wasn’t for you I don’t think I would have made it.” You said sincerely, kicking your foot back and forth as you looked at him, about to continue when you noticed his mouth was turning… black? You glanced behind Connor’s shoulder and saw Travis who looked to be biting back a laugh, rubbing his face.

“Oh you don’t have to thank me- if it wasn’t for Cecil then Will wouldn’t have been able to meet us halfway to give you ambrosia and nectar, which was what saved you for us to get you to Olympus and really patched up.” Connor said, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted side to side awkwardly, but you still couldn’t help but glance down at his mouth which was, gradually, turning a darker shade of black.

“But I do have to thank you, that telekhine would have killed me if it wasn’t for you and your quick action… I really owe you one.” You said, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Dear gods, you had wanted to give this guy a heartfelt thank you but now you were having to force yourself not to laugh. Be serious, Y/N.

Connor’s face turned a shade of pink and he looked down at the ground between his feet, in embarrassment. “Well, I’m just glad I could help you in time. I had seen you head towards the alley and thought you could use some backup, especially when I saw the telekhine stab you…” Connor’s voice trailed off as he thought back to that day, and you bit your lip.

Neither of you spoke for a brief moment, and you figured you should get out of there before you burst out laughing from seeing how black his mouth was again. “I should go, I gotta help with some after war stuff… I’ll see you around.” You said, giving Connor a smile before you began to turn around, but then you thought that maybe you should tell him about what was going on, so you turned again to face him. “Hey, Connor?”

Connor perked up a bit, looking hopeful. “Yeah?”

You paused, then chuckled. “You have something in your teeth.” His face fell, and Travis started laughing as you smiled at him, waving before turning to head off and do what you needed to do.

CONNOR’S POV

~~A Few Minutes Earlier~~

Travis and I had just gotten back from going to the Big House to check out the attic, examining our loot before we went to put it away. “So, what are we going to do now?” I asked him, laying back on my bunk and closing my eyes, wanting to rest after the past few days stress, making a face when I felt something hit my face so I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“We are going to try to raid some of the other cabins. Right now would be the best time to-”

At the front of the cabin, there was a knock on the door, so we both immediately stopped talking, hoping that whoever was at the door hadn’t heard what we were talking about. “Connor?” It was Y/N, and immediately I sat up and began to panic.

What did they want? They don’t sound upset. Then suddenly I realized something: my breath probably stank. I had been so busy these past few days rushing around trying to make sure everyone around me was safe and taken care of that I hadn’t had the time to brush my teeth since at least a couple days before. Yeah yeah, gross, but when you’re in a war you kind of just do what you have to do. “Dude, give me some gum.”

“What?”

“I know you keep gum on you, give me some gum.” I said, reaching over and patting his pockets, trying to find which pocket he kept his gum in. Travis had a weird fixation on gum, so he almost always had some on him and when I needed some I usually just took from him.

“Get your own!” Travis said, trying to shove my hands away, although it was too late, I had already grabbed the box and pulled out a piece. “Connor seriously I don’t think-” I popped the stick of gum in my mouth, and Travis let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, okay.”

I took a moment to chew the gum, then I went over to the door and opened it. The interaction was pretty short, and honestly it touched me. I had been worried about them ever since I found them in that alleyway, and I was glad that they came over to find me. I was actually thinking of calling out to them to ask if they wanted to see a movie with me sometime or something when…

“You have something in your teeth.” My heart absolutely dropped. Did I have some food or something in my teeth? Travis started laughing from behind me, and Y/N turned around and headed off, so I immediately turned and bolted over to one of my sister's bunks, digging around in it to find her mirror that she used for when she did make up. Once I found the mirror and held it up, I screamed.

My entire mouth was black. Oh. My. Holy. Hermes’. Headphones. My lips were stained a dark grey, not quite black but almost there, and my teeth were black as was the entire inside of my mouth.

I spun around, glaring at Travis who was holding his stomach, doubled over from laughter. “I told-” He wheezed, “I told you to stop taking-” he wheezed again, nearly falling over this time.

“It’s. Not. Funny.” I huffed, going to spit the chewed up gum in the trash can, the wad of gum pitch black as well as the spit that came with it. “That is so embarrassing, oh my gods. I was gonna ask them out, Travis!” I said, grabbing one of the pillows off the ground and throwing it at him, but he caught it easily.

That only seemed to renew the sense of hilarity my brother was feeling, because he started laughing all over again. “Maybe this will teach you to stop taking my gum!” He laughed, throwing the pillow back at me before he left, and I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, following him out and going to the bathhouses to brush my teeth.

[hailing-stars]

no place like home (ao3 link)

“For fuck’s sake,” said Fake Mr. Stark. His arm turned glowy, only for a second, and then it was covered in blue and silver armor.

One fast movement and he seized Peter’s arm.

“Stop,” he ordered, with a dangerous chill lacing his voice.

Peter stilled, though his breaths still came fast and heavy, and Fake Mr. Stark released him, with a soft shove. He tried to reel it in. His breathing. His panic. The tears he fought back, and the fatigue that threatened to overtake him. He felt like… someone else. Younger. He felt stupid.

He lost the battle to remain sitting up, and let his head slump against the window, where he idly watched as they passed building after building, speeding off somewhere unknown, somewhere away from May and Ned and MJ and the real Mr. Stark.

OR

Peter Parker is kidnapped and forced to survive in a darker universe, one that is ruled by a darker Tony Stark. The people he leaves behind struggle with not knowing what happened to him, eventually prompting Tony (our Tony) to reunite the Avengers to bolster the search efforts.

read after undercut 

A man stepped out of a car, and a ring slipped off his finger.

It hit the concrete with a bounce, with a quiet noise nobody except Peter could hear. He stopped, in his tracks, with both his hands clasped around the straps of his backpack. He wasn’t in a hurry to reach Midtown High, where an exam waited for him in his first period English Lit class, but maybe he should have been.

He’d replay that day, over and over, many times in the future, and imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t stopped. If he’d kept walking. If he’d made it, somehow, safely to school. But those were just fantasies. Future Peter knew there wasn’t anything, really, that could have stopped something as inevitable as Tony Stark getting his own way.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Stark,” said Peter, tearing his attention away from the ring sitting in the ditch, and forcing his eyes to meet Mr. Stark’s sunglasses. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

Peter’s ears began to ring. The little hairs on his arm stood straight up. His spidey senses scratched and clawed at him, begging him to listen.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he told him. “Thought my favorite spider-ling might need a ride to school.”

“Oh,” said Peter. He scanned the street, looking for the threat, but there was nothing. No aliens falling from the sky, not even a petty criminal searching for a purse to snatch. There was nothing, no one, except for Peter and Mr. Stark.

“You feelin’ alright there, Pete?”

“Yeah,” he said. He shook his head, trying to shake the dread away. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Good,” said Mr. Stark, hitting him with a smile that looked a bit out of place. He put his hand on the open car door. “Come on, I have a suit upgrade I wanna show you on the way.”

“Awesome.”

A warm breeze combed through his hair as he climbed into Mr. Stark’s car, out of the sunny day and into the dim lighting and air conditioning of the sleek, black Audi.

It’d been a beautiful day for a kidnapping.

Too gorgeous, actually.  

Peter never imagined horrible things could happen on a day like that one. Not before, at least, when his world had been colored in brights that had nothing to do with what the weather was up to outside.

After he saw the world in drab, dull greys, and occasionally but still too often, splashes of dark red.

Peter clicked his seatbelt into place just as Mr. Stark shut the door behind him. The Audi rejoined traffic automatically, without a driver, and before Peter could ask why Happy wasn’t driving them, Mr. Stark handed him a metal bracelet. It glowed with the same shade of blue as an arc reactor. He accepted it, and handled it with care, as if it were very fragile and it might break if he breathed on it the wrong way.

“Do me a favor and put that on,” said Mr. Stark.

He slid it on his wrist without hesitation and admired the way it looked on his arm. “Oh, cool. Is this the upgrade? Is it nanotech?”

“Something like that.” Mr. Stark tapped his phone a couple of times, and the bracelet shrank until it secured, tight, around Peter’s wrist.

An eerie calm pulsed through Peter’s body, numbing his distressed spidey sense, but somehow, kindling a deep sentiment of unease. He didn’t like feeling trapped. Something that Mr. Stark knew, and this bracelet, whatever it was, felt suffocating.

“Hey,” said Peter, his head snapped up as the Audi turned. “I think there’s something wrong with your nav system. Midtown is the other way.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my tech, Petey,” said Mr. Stark. “You’re not going to school today.”

Peter blinked. “But I have a Lit test.”

Mr. Stark let out a booming laugh, a sound so uncharacteristic and dark that it sent chills down Peter’s spine.

He frowned, confused, and let his back hit the car’s seat, unable to resist a wave of drowsiness that attacked him out of nowhere. Peter watched Mr. Stark, his heart thumping away, as the man took off his sunglasses and met his stare. It was an instant revelation. The truth sat there in the cold and empty eyes of this man somehow wearing Mr. Stark’s face.

A rush of adrenaline shook the tiredness away. He tugged at the bracelet locked around his wrist, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled at the car door handle in vain, and when that didn’t work, resorted to using his fists, attempting to smash the windows open. His fist blared with pain, but the window remained intact.

“So dramatic, aren’t you?” said Fake Mr. Stark, in a bored tone. “Just relax, kid, we’ll be home in a jiffy.”

“Home?” asked Peter, unable to keep the tired, whiny panic from dripping into his voice.

“Yep, your real home.” He quipped.

Peter took a deep breath in. He needed to think, but his thoughts swirled around in a misty haze as the tiredness crept back in.

Think, he urged himself, come on Spider-Man.

He was stuck in a car with a maniac who looked like Mr. Stark. They were driving further and further away from the streets Peter was familiar with, and he’d willingly imprisoned himself with some kind of bracelet that was zapping his powers, turning him into an exhausted and powerless shell of himself.

That last word, powerless, floated around in his foggy mind, drifted in and out of his consciousness until a cord snapped deep inside him and he was desperately scratching and clawing at his own skin, until his wrist started to peel and bleed.

“For fuck’s sake,” said Fake Mr. Stark. His arm turned glowy, only for a second, and then it was covered in blue and silver armor.

One fast movement and he seized Peter’s arm.

“Stop,” he ordered, with a dangerous chill lacing his voice.

Peter stilled, though his breaths still came fast and heavy, and Fake Mr. Stark released him, with a soft shove. He tried to reel it in. His breathing. His panic. The tears he fought back, and the fatigue that threatened to overtake him. He felt like… someone else. Younger. He felt stupid.

He lost the battle to remain sitting up, and let his head slump against the window, where he idly watched as they passed building after building, speeding off somewhere unknown, somewhere away from May and Ned and MJ and the real Mr. Stark.

Peter’s eyes fluttered, but he fought to keep them from closing.

“Please just let me go,” said Peter, forcing the words out, thinking about May coming home from work, thinking about her watching the sky grow darker and darker, waiting for him to return.

“Don’t beg, Pete,” he told him. “It’s beneath you.”

“Who are you, even?”

Mr. Stark turned and looked at him. “Oh, that’s right. How rude of me. I guess we haven’t officially met. I’m Tony Stark.”

“No you’re –“

“-not your Tony Stark. Can you imagine? What a miserable man that guy turned out to be,” he said. “No, not him. I’m Tony Stark, but better. Some might say superior, even.”

“Not me,” said Peter, with a raspy voice, a definite sign his body was giving up, no matter how badly he fought to stay awake. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh really? You wouldn’t?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, and with a hint of shock “Well, you will.”  

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Fake Mr. Stark smirked. “Why don’t you take a nap? You seem a little grumpy.”

Peter channeled his remaining energy into shooting Fake Mr. Stark a glare. He took a slow, steadying breath, then frowned again.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense,” said Peter. “There can’t be two –“

“Stop fighting it,” he cut him off. “Just make it easy on yourself and go to sleep. First trip through the multiverse is hell, even for someone like me.”

“…Multiverse?”

His head swam and remembered, or tried to, the conversation he and his Mr. Stark had had about the possibility of a multiverse. Not something we’ll ever have to worry about. That’s what Real Mr. Stark had said. Peter heard it, heard the memory, and saw the man with kinder eyes and a warmer voice, reassuring him. As his eyes slipped shut, he managed to convince himself that this was all just a nightmare.

Until the cold voice came back.

“That’s a good man,” said the imposter, as if Peter were choosing to fall asleep all on his own. “It’ll all make sense when you wake up.”

But Fake Mr. Stark was a liar.

[magic-missle-blog]

Ghost division 2 – The belly of the beast

2nd story in what will hopefully be a series. Roughly 6k words. Hope you enjoy

:readmore:

Four missiles streaked through the darkness of space from the canadation destroyer as it smashed through the human battle group.

The warship TDF Glasgow rocked as a missile impacted the hull. Point defence had taken out three others but the fourth slammed into the starboard side.

“Damage report!” the captain shouted as he swivelled his command chair to face the tactical officer.

“The hull plating is scorched and buckled, but no internal damage. We were lucky.” The tactical officer replied, shouting to be heard over the various alarms and beeps in the small bridge.

“We cant rely on luck. If we get hit again its your head!” The captain growled. His hair was cut close to his scalp and a sheen of sweat reflected in the bright yellow light on his dark skin.

Tactical officer Rotchford nodded. Her brow furrowed as she quickly typed into her console. “don’t worry I’m on it, I’ve analysed the firing pattern and I can probably take out most of the missiles, its those fucking fighters and energy weapons I cant do a thing about.”

Just as she finished speaking a swarm of small locust shaped fighters buzzed passed the ship, pelting the armour with energy weapons.

Turrets tracked the fighters, spitting hypersonic tungsten shells. One of the Canidation fighters exploded, the rest of the group took evasive action and continued on the attack run through the human fleet.

The ship rocked again and various alarms clamoured for attention. Lights on the bridge flickered.

Captain Conroy nodded and straightened his uniform. He brought up a tactical display on the console built into his chair.

Five Canidation warships had engaged the fleet of seven Terran defence force destroyers and the humans were loosing badly. The Canidations had the firepower and faster ships. Fighters swarmed over the fleet firing kinetic weapons and lasers, some with great effect.

He watched as another of the fleet exploded. That was the second ship they had lost. The battle had been raging for what felt like hours but in reality it was only 30 minutes. The Canidations had dropped out of hyperspace in this remote system to ambush a Human supply run. The freighters had escaped unharmed but the escort fleet couldn’t leave, not without leaving this Canidation battle group free reign to attack other convoys.

“Shit. That was the Newcastle!” the first officer said “Fleet captain Broadie…he was a good man”

The computer screamed out a proximity warning as another salvo of missiles streaked towards them, but true to her word the tactical officers new point defence programme took them all out. She returned fire with the main cannon as the destroyer elegantly swung around, scoring a direct hit to the Canidations engines. The insectoid ship vented atmosphere and appeared to lose power as running lights flickered out and the ship drifted

The other enemy ships moved towards the remaining fleet.

“Scan that ship, is it dead?” Conroy commanded the science officer as the warship rocked under more impacts

“yeah it appears… Fuck” the science officer said as his console went dark and the lights cut out.

A few moments later the ships emergency power kicked in and the lights came back on, but dull red colour. His console lit up. “ yeah its dead. I think. Scans are all over the place.”

Conroy nodded, as the most senior officer left in the tattered fleet he assumed command.. “signal the fleet. Lets get the fuck out of here...but slowly, I want to draw them away from that damaged ship.” He plotted a course that would take them deep into the Oort cloud of this system.

The remaining ships of the Terran defence force broke off the engagement and retreated. Caught by surprise at the sudden change in tactics, The Canidations stopped dead, recalled the fighters then followed, slowly gaining ground on the slower terran warships.

Glancing at his command console captain Conroy opened fleet wide comms. Signalling the other commanders he said “Listen up people. Once we are in that cloud drop sensor decoys try to buy me some time . I’m going to double back and capture that ship.”

The crew looked at him in astonishment

“Damn” said the first officer. “And I thought today was going to be a quiet day.”

************************************

The war against the Canidations had been raging for 3 months, and the Terran empire was losing.

The Canidations ships were more advanced, and they had the numbers. The only saving grace is that the Canidations were fighting two other larger empires. Humanity, as a relatively new race to the galactic stage, hadn’t been seen as a concern. Almost an afterthought.

No one knew why the war started. Canidations were a reclusive species. They had no trade with the wider galactic community, no embassies, no contact at all. No one really even knew if “Canidation” was their species name. They stayed in their home systems, A group of a dozen or so stars a few light years around the Canadathon, their home world.

A decade ago the Canidations has blasted out of their home system with an over powering military force and attacked a neighbouring world without warning. Everything was a viable target to them and they didn’t take prisoners…or at least they didn’t keep them alive for long.

For ten long years they attacked and destroyed any neighbouring species, expanding their empire. The first races, unused to galactic warfare on such a scale had fallen quickly. Other species had tried to build up their own military force but simply didn’t have the infrastructure in place and couldn’t come close to the Canidations speed of production. It seemed like for every Canidation ship that fell two more would take its place.

The Canidations were an insectoid race, they looked like an unholy amalgamation of a spiders body with a praying mantis torso, like an insect centaur. They didn’t seem to capture any world they won, they destroyed it. Left it a lifeless husk, took any easily accessible resources then moved on like locusts. Maybe they would be back to terraform it later, maybe not. No one knew.

The destruction on such a scale seemed senseless, and completely alien. Not even the best human generals, phycologists or philosophers could come up with a reason for this carnage.

What was known was they had a lot of ships. More than every other military in this region of space combined. They had been building up for decades and it seemed like now was the time to unleash their might.

******************************

The Glasgow had ducked behind a dwarf planet in the Oort cloud and waiting while the remaining fleet had drawn the Canidations away, then used a risky in system jump to get back quickly to the battlefield. They had scanned for survivors of the destroyed Terran ships but unfortunately found plenty of debris but no life signs.

TDF Glasgow slowly drew up alongside the crippled Canidation vessel, comms jammers at full power blocking any communication from the hulk. It had been few hours since the shot had crippled the Bug ship, but it was still drifting without any main power, its engines dark and cooling.

It looked like reserve power had kicked in and there was several Canidations on the main hull close to the breach in what looked like dark space suits, although it could have been their flesh. Conroy didn’t know enough about the species to tell. It was obvious the Canidations were trying to repair the damage.

The insectoid ship was large, at least half again as big as the Glasgow and followed an unorthodox design. It was nothing like the sleek Terran ships, whose lines were reminiscent of the war planes that fought in earth’s skies in the 20th century. Human ships were long and sleek, with swept back retractable wings protruding from the mid section to allow atmosphere flight when fully extended. Canidation was bulky, and looked like a flattened pinecone and close range scans showed it be highly modular.

The bridge appeared to be at on top of the bulky front section. Conroy guessed below this would be weapons, crew quarters and the like. Engineering and the ships drive core, and sub light engines must be located in the tapering end. Cannons clustered around the front with turrets in two rows along the top and bottom of the ship.

Conroy assumed there would be about 60 or so crew on board. Terran destroyers had a crew of 30 plus 10 marines. Not good odds Conroy thought.

“Easy to build, quick to swap different sections out if needed” Science officer McCallum said as he looked over the data.

Conroy nodded to Commander Paulson, the first office. “Pauly, get a boarding party ready. Find any intel you can get your hands on but don’t take any stupid risks. Focus on engineering, medical, ship deployments, shit we can find to kill these things.” Looking at McCallum “what do they need?”

McCallum brought up all the information he had on Canidations, which wasn’t a lot.

“Scans show gravity and life support is still active and the ship has atmosphere, although I use the term loosely. Their air is made up of 30% oxygen, 15% Co2, 10% Hydrogen sulphide, the rest is nitrogen, water vapour and trace gasses. Average temperature is roughly 30 degrees Celsius and humidity is close to 70%. Gravity is low, roughly 0.6G. So basically your walking into a hot sweaty hellhole that’ll smell like Satan’s ass. Enjoy” he finished with a laugh.

Paulson looked at the captain “Gee thanks Boss, you give me all the best jobs. Breathing units all round then.” He saluted as he left the bridge.

“Mac…what killed this ship? Did we get a lucky shot?”

McCallum looked over his reading for a few moments. “Yeah, very lucky. Looks like there is a weakness around the main engine core on this ship. Plasma exhaust has weakened the hull armour in a small area right above the main power linkage, its little better than paper. Must be a design flaw…if that shot had hit even a few meters on either side it wouldn’t have made a dent.”

Rotchford laughed. “luck had nothing to do with it. It’s pure skill.”

She grinned

Conroy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah if you say so” he said grinning. Conroy didn’t mind a bit of banter with the bridge crew. He felt it build camaraderie and they all worked better as a result.

Turning to Macallum he said

“Deep scan this bitch, I see what else you can find, anything that’ll give us an edge.”

From over the other side of the bridge the tactical offer said “Captain, I think I’ve found something too. The missiles on the ship are armed.”

Conroy looked over “So?”

Rotchford brushing her brown bangs that had escaped from the severe bun on her head said “Our missiles auto arm a second after launch to prevent any accidents, these appear to pre arm before launch, Probably as soon as they find a hostile ship. Once direct hit could detonate the entire missile battery. The armour is thick but the launch tubes are vulnerable . “

“Comms” Conroy said excitedly “Tight beam the rest of the fleet and let them know what we’ve found…might give them an edge.”

Turning back to tactical

“Why would they do that?”

Rotchford shrugged. “not sure. It does mean the missiles can be fired much closer then we can shoot. Out missiles travel so fast that by the time they arm they’re a couple of hundred kilometres away, makes them useless for close engagements. By pre-arming them they get around that problem. Makes it almost impossible to shoot them down when the bugs get in close.”

Minutes passed slowly. Soon the boarding party was on board a small ship to ship shuttle and on route to dock with the crippled ship.

The shuttle did a quick fly over the damaged section and fired small arms at the Canidations working on the damaged hull, Killing the repair team. The aliens magnetic grips kept the bodies stuck to the hull like bugs splattered by a windscreen.

McCallum looked up “I’ve found something else captain, it wont help us now but I think we can take advantage of it.”

He put his display on the main screen, All eyes turned to it.

“I thought about using some kind of plasma weapon to weaken the armour of the whole ship, and that’ll probably work, we don’t use plasma tech, but I’m sure the weapons experts back home can build something.” He took a breath “Anyway, that got me thinking, Plasma is basically really hot ionized gas. Its expelled as exhausts right away as too much heat inside the ship it bad. As you know its almost impossible to loose heat in space, so we use active cooling systems to…”

Conroy interrupted before McCallum could go into a lecture on the finer points of starship heat management. “Get to the point”

Mccallum looked sheepish “Sorry sir, anyway, the Canidations seem to use radiator panels, they’re well armoured but vulnerable to excessive heat. A focussed laser beam could overload them. If they cant loose heat they’ll cook inside the ships.”

“Well done Mac, get everything we’ve found so far and bundle the data ready for transmission back to HQ”

Minutes dragged as Mccallum compiled the data.

Everyone was on eggshells, watching the boarding shuttle latch on to the Canidation hull and begin cutting through. Tactical constantly scanning for any Canidation ships that might be inbound. Conroy wondered how the rest of the fleet was fairing. The TDF ships were more manoeuvrable than the larger Canidation warships, so as long as they kept in a dense part of the Oort cloud, dodging comets and dwarf planets then the TDF ships should have an advantage.

*****************************

Inside the shuttle the atmosphere was tense. Paulson looked over the assembled combat team. All had breathing units over their lower faces. The units would filter out the harmful gasses and reduce the oxygen pressure to something breathable, but as they weren’t full space suits or fully sealed Paulson knew the stench would get through, he grinned inwardly he hadn’t told the team what the Canidation air was like, he wanted to see the reactions.

The ten member boarding team all had dark grey combat armour, and each carried a small side arm and a combat knife. Eight also carried an assault rifle with enough ammo to take on a small army, the other two combat engineers carried various tools and computer equipment. Their mission was to hack into any systems they could find and mine it for data.

The shuttle bumped into the hull and latched on. A magnetic tube made an air tight seal around the hatch. It opened to show a sold hull. The engineers immediately started cutting to gain access. It was slow going. Armour that can withstand heavy ship weapons wont easily fail to small plasma torches.

Sargent Waltham stepped up next to Paulson. “We’re ready to go” She said coolly.

Paulson nodded. “Get in and secure the area. Set up fire lines kill anything that’s got more than two legs.” He said to Waltham.

She was tall, blonde, very pretty in hard way. People, especially men, tended to underestimate her due to her looks, thinking she was just a made up barbie doll. Paulson had thought the same thing once, until she kicked his ass in hand to hand training. The first round he went easy on her and he was flat on his back in 5 seconds. The second round he went all out, and to his credit, he managed to last a full 7 seconds before she had him pined, face pressed against the floor and his left arm twisted up his back. Waltham, like all the other,s had earned her place in the combat team, but unlike the men she had to continually prove she deserved to be there. This constant striving for perfection had made her one of the best solders Paulson had ever worked with.

The thick hull armour fell inwards with a heavy thunk. The sound echoed around the shuttle. The stench of rotten eggs filler the small enclosed space and everyone wrinkled their noses.

“For fucks sake… is this ship full of farts?” Jones, the lead combat engineer said.

Paulson grinned. “Ok move out. Slow and steady, I don’t want any fuck ups.”

The team moved slowly into the alien vessel. The interior was dark, smelly and hot, lighting was a deep red that cast odd shadows. Paulson didn’t know if this was normal or if it was due to low power.

Waltham took her place first in line as the engineers cleared the hull and opened a portal to the interior of the ship. She directed one of her team , Ramerez, a young marine on his first away mission , hang back and guard the shuttle just encase they needed to make a quick exit.

Ramerez took position just inside the the shuttle door, he pulled a couple of boxes containing emergency supplies across the entrance and dug in.

The rest of the team followed her lead, with Paulson acting as rear guard, scanning the corridor behind him with a quick practiced eye.

One of the marines whispered in a low voice “damn, this is weird.”

“what is? Looks like a normal ship corridor to me” Paulson said

“sir...that’s what I mean. I expected...well dirt..or tunnels like that old movie ‘Aliens’. You know, the one where the dildo bursts out of some guys chest and all these Marines hunt it down? I mean they’re bugs for Christ’s sake..but this just looks normal.”

Paulson shook his head.“Lay off the old horror flicks. Keep it together”.

Looking at a handheld scanner Jones said “looks like there might be a room down the corridor to the right, I’m reading power spikes, it could be a place I can hack into there systems.”

The team crept inward, the low gravity giving them a bounce to their steps. They were searching for a room with a computer access, but all the could see were long featureless corridors. The came to a junction and as they passed a blast of plasma energy almost took Walthams head off. She Pulled back just in time, lightning quick reflexes saving her life. As it was the plasma shot singed her combat helmet.

Risking another blast, Waltham popped her head around then quickly pulled it back. Three Canidations waited around the corner, plasma rifles at the ready for another shot.

Pulling a flashbang from her belt she leaned out and expertly tossed he weapon into the centre of the group, a second later a loud BANG and a FLASH of bright light lit up the corridor. She could hear a smattering of legs as the Canidations fell back. Her and two of her team ran around keeping low and opened fire. The sound of the assault rifles sounded odd in the dense air. the Canidations tried to return fire but there shots went wide, scorching the metal bulkheads, obviously still blinded by the light. The skirmish was over quickly.

The team crept up slowly to the dead aliens. One in the was headless. Its body twitched, a dark yellow fluid pumping from its neck. The other two were still. Red faceted eyes that took up most of the head were dull and lifeless. Mandibles closed tighter than a vice.

Bullets had ripped the skinny top part of one in half, and the others larger thorax between the spiders-like legs was riddled and leaking the same yellow fluid.

The team looked at the corpses, they were…creepy. They unnerved the humans just looking at them. Jones knelt down and pointed something out. “Look, this one has a couple of cybernetic legs. That one has a cybernetic head…That’s so weird. Gives me the creeps.”

Paulson looked. “Why weird?”

“Think of what this means. They use medical tech to repair wounds. Replace missing limbs like we do. You don’t think of bugs caring for individuals I guess. I assumed they would be like a hive, like ants or termites just mindless soldier’s, disposable and replaceable. Maybe they’re more than that.“

One of the other marines, Patel a tall solid build man with a cold gaze said in a whisper “They’re like spiders, I fucking hate spiders. Normal spiders are bad enough but these are super sized fuckers with guns. “

He shivered as a cold chill ran down his spine. Taking one last place at the dead Canadation he walked slowly past, rifle ready for another attack.

As the team moved on one of the corpses stood up with a clatter. It swiped at a passing trooper with its upper limbs, razor sharp claws sliced across his face and chest, cutting flesh and the scoring deep cuts on his combat armour. He fell back shocked. The headless alien thrashed about, seemingly attracted to the noise the shocked humans made. It tried to reach for another one but a burst of fire from Waltham’s rifle tore through its thorax . the alien twitched again then fell back. She crept up, gun ready and kicked the corpse. No reaction. It was truly dead.

Patel looked a mess, his face had been cut to the bone, but he’d live. Two others helped bandage him up.

“fucking fuckitty fucking spiders! “ he shouted and kicked the corpse, holding his wounded face and blood soaked bandages.

“get back to the shuttle” Waltham commanded him.

He nodded, his face screwed up in pain, The bandages soaking with blood. He got to his feet and headed back the way he came.

Paulson looked at jones “What the fuck?”

Jones shrugged “I’m no medical expert, but I guess a head shot wont kill them. Maybe they keep their brains in there ass or something, I guess the head is just for eating and seeing.” Pointing to the Canidation with the cybernetic head “Maybe loosing the head for them is just like loosing an eye for us? Or maybe they’re like cockroaches. We should drag these things back to the shuttle. Medical back at HQ would have a field day.”

Paulson nodded “team, forget headshots, aim for the centre mass.” He directed a couple of team member to take the most intact body back to the shuttle “Keep it under guard…just in case”

The diminished team made there way deeper into the ship. Paulson was aware of the time he was taking, he knew The Glasgow couldn’t wait forever, but he wanted more than a few dead bugs. Soon they came across an empty room. The door was closed but a kick and a shove and it slid back into the wall. The team entered. Looking around, there was a lot of electronics that Paulson couldn’t guess the function off. Jones quickly set up his scanner. Pulling open a panel he found circuit boards. After quick scan he attached a lead from his scanner to one of the chips.

“If i can hack this, this should give me access” he worked quickly The rest of the team took up positions around the door. Paulson moved to the back of the room and signalled Waltham.

“thoughts? He said after she walked over

Waltham shrugged “they don’t seem too tough. Decent weapons though.“ she pointed to the plasma rifle she’d captured.

“hows things between you two?” he nodded to Jones

Relationships were against regulations but as long as it was discreet no one really minded. It could be lonely in deep space.

Waltham smiled. “he’s sweet, like a puppy. Always eager to please. But utterly fearless too. He could be a great soilder, but likes his gizmos too much.”

“Yeah jones is a good one.” Paulson agreed. He’s been friends with jones for years. They grew up in the same town went to the same high school, and went through training together.

Minutes ticked by. Jones had attached a large data cube to his scanner. He came over to the pair while the data downloaded “. I can copy the full ships hard drive. Shouldn’t take long. There’s not a lot of data, mainly seems to be the ships opperating system. Seems pretty basic. I did find something interesting though, I found ship schematic. We’re not far from a path to fire control. Its down the end of that corridor out there. “

Paulson thought for a second. “no, we have enough we need to get back”

Just as he said that his communicator beeped. It was the shuttle “Sir, get back here we need to go! A Canidation warship is on approach, ETA 7 minutes!”

“Ok people pack your shit up, we need to get out of here! Double time!”

The team grabbed there gear and quickly made there way back into the corridor. Several canidations ran down the steel hallway, the hack had triggered some kind of security protocol. These Canidations didn t have weapons but they moved so fast in the lower gravity that the quickly closed the distance, soon it was a melee, claw against fist.

****************

Alarms cried out for attention on the bridge of the Glasgow. A Canidation warship was closing in.

“eta?” asked Conroy. His calm voice a counterpoint to the frantic activity on the bridge.

“roughly 7 minutes until weapons range. I’ve contacted the shuttle”. maccalum replied.

Conroy nodded. Looking at the helmsman her said “keep that bug ship in between us. We’re smaller and so keep us in its shadow and hopefully they won’t get a weapons lock.”

Nodding, through helmsman fired up the thrusters.

“’ll try time get a target lock on the missile batteries.” Rotchford reported as she programmed the ships turrets.

Captain Conroy starred at the main screen, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of his command seat.

Paulson tried to get a clear shot as a canidaton reared up on its four rear legs. It brought its full weight down on Waltham. Its mandibles opened and snapped closed right over her head. Only her quick thinking and combat helmet saved her from decapitation. She ducked her head and trusting the hardened carbon nanotube and ceramic construction she head-butted the bug right in its open mouth. Mandibles crunched against the helm. The force of through blow and the weight of the bug staggered her for a second, but years of hand to hand training came to her and with a twist and a flick she grabbed the alien and slammed it against the bulkhead. The lower gravity and adrenaline giving her almost superhuman strength.

Her combat knife flashed on the low light as she stabbed the mantis like torso. There was resistance then with a crunch she forced the blade through the carapace. The bug shuddered and wrenched. Flailing its limbs then it was still.

The skirmish was over as quickly as it started. Looking around Paulson shouted “sound off”

A chorus of voices said “here” or “i’m good”

A few troopers took minor injuries but no fatalities.

They sprinted down the corridor. The sound of gunfire brought them up short. The bugs were trying to capture the shuttle. Paulson knew if they lost that they were dead.

A scream echoed down the steel corridor. One of his men had fallen. Canidations pressed on.

“We need a distraction” Paulson shouted to Waltham over the blaring alarms.

“i have an idea. Hold here for a few seconds”

With that she sprinted back the way she came. Moments later an explosion rocked the ship. The lights and gravity cut out, then seconds later they came back on. The unprepared soilders hit the ground but were quickly back on there feet, the Canidations were not as lucky, they were a tangle of legs and claws further down the corridor.

Seizing his chance, Paulson shouting a battle cry and his boarding party fell in the bugs from behind. The battle was short and brutal but they pushed through just as Waltham returned. Her hair was burned and armour scorched.

“What the fuck did you do?” shouted Paulson

“I overloaded that plasma rifle and tossed it in the fire control room. I think we need to get out of here, that room is burning and it’s right next to the missiles”

Once everyone was on board the hatch slammed shut and the shuttle detached then raced back to the Glasgow, just as another explosion ripped through the Canidation warship. A series of smaller explosion’s rocked the ship them with a blast like a supernova the power core blew up. The shuttle was caught in the fireball but escaped with minor damage.

Paulson looked at his and bruised team as the shuttle pilot plotted a course back to the Glasgow.

Paulson pushed one of the Canidation corpses to the side, making down room in the small shuttle. He sat next to the body of a young man, almost a boy. Ramerez. It was his first tour, he was 18 and fresh out of boot camp. Ramerez had taken a plasma blast to the chest. His armour was burned through. Mercifully he had been killed instantly.

************

Conroy watched as the Canidation ship exploded. The shuttle streaked towards the hanger.

“well... shit” he said “get the shuttle on board and get ready to bug out”

calls of “aye” and “yessir” Echoed around the bridge..

The Canidation warship closed in, spitting fire and death at the Glasgow. Point defence destroyed the incoming missiles but the ship rocked from impacts

The Glasgow returned fire, turrets pounded the underside of the Canidation ship as it passed overhead passing through the expanding could of gas and debris.

The helmsman kept a steady course until the shuttle was back in then started evasive manoeuvres, he would have to hold the ship steady for a few moments to allow the hyperdrive to spin up, but the Canidation ship was not making it easy.

“Shuttle is on board. Prepare for Jump in 3...2...1...”

The ship lurched to the side and spun almost 90 degrees, crew members were thrown around the bridge like sticks caught in a hurricane. Alarms blared.

The main lights were down, red emergency lamps cast an eerie glow. Groans came from the crew

Rochford pulled herself back into her seat. Blood running from a head wound. She checked her console “sir..the hyperdrive core has been hit. We’re venting plasma and atmosphere...main power is down. Weapons down....the Canidations are coming around for another pass...”

Before Conroy could respond an explosion tore through the bridge as a missile impacted the armour surrounding the command center.

A ceiling panel that had been knocked loose earlier in the fight fell with a resounding crash pinning Conroy to his command chair and knocking him unconscious. Bones snapped under the force of the impact.

Rochford as the most senior officer left standing opened ship wide Comms “all hands. This is commander rochford. The captain is incapacitated abandon ship. I repeat abandon ship”

She moved as quickly as she could to try to help Conroy, Macallum was at his side trying to move the panel. “mac..leave him. We need to go...” she grabbed his arm “come on...move it soldier” macallum looked at the damaged viewscreen. The Canidation ship was baring down. Any second now it’s main cannons would finish the job. They were out of time.

White hot plasma blasts leaped from the Canidation vessel tearing across the cold black darkness. Promising death to the Glasgow.

A flash and a massive lurch pulled maccalum and Rotchford off their feet, but it wasn’t a weapon impact. It was the lurch of a gravity field forming a few miles away as a ship dropped out of hyperdrive.

A dangerous and potentially fatal move – a single miscalculation could have dropped the new ship right on top of them - but it saved the Glasgow. The rest of the fleet, the few ships that remained had jumped back to help. The TDF New York had jumped In front of the plasma blasts. Taking the hit that would have finished the Glasgow off. It opened up with its main cannons, rail guns blasting the armour above the Canidations missile batteries. Another Terran defence force ship TDF Cardiff jumped in behind and opened up on the bugs with everything it had. The Canidation vessel was powerful, but it couldn’t withstand the combined firepower of the vengeful human warships.

Explosion and explosion, hit after hit. The Canidations withered under the combined firepower and with a final flash it vanished as it’s fusion plant exploded.

The TDF Glasgows communication system beeped for attention. Maccalum moved slowly across

“This is captain Yoshimoyo on the New York. Prepare to receive medic and engineering teams. Your information won us the day Glasgow. All Canidation vessels have been destroyed. This is the first human victory in this war...”

“This is science officer McCallum. “thanks for the help. That was a risky move I owe your helmsman a beer. Captain Conroy has been injured. We don’t know how bad, the ship has taken heavy damage.

*****************

Weeks later Captain Conroy stood in front of admiral Wong.

Conroy had spent most of the time unconscious. His injuries sever, but with advanced medical skill, talented doctors and a dash of luck he had made a full recovery.

“Captain” the admiral began “I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet. I’ve out an official commendation for yourself and your entire crew. The information you fought so hard for will prove invaluable in this conflict”

Wong continued “The data contained ship specifications, technical manuals, training documents and recent fleet movements. With that information we’ve managed to push the Canidations back in a number of theatres , you and your crew have saved thousands of human lives. We all owe you a debt captain.”

“Thank you sir...i'm eager to get back to the Glasgow sir, to get back in the fight.”

The admiral shook his head

“I’m afraid not Conroy. The Glasgow was heavily damaged and will require months of repairs and refit. We can’t have a seasoned crew out of action for so long. You and your crew are being reassigned.”

Wong passed a pad to the captain

“Our newest, most powerful warship. The TDF Lucifer. You’ll be part of a task force – the ghost division. The Canidations are throwing more and more ships against us, and while we’ve slowed the advance to a crawl we are still loosing. You’ll go behind enemy lines and fight a guerrilla war. Do everything you can to bring the bugs down. Everything is a viable target, including the Canidation homeworld. Teach them to fear the wraith of Earth.”

End

[fanfiction-inc]

“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-”

“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​

[randomfandomimagine]

I Love You Too (Barry Allen x Reader)

Characters: Barry Allen, Bruce Wayne, Arthur Curry, Clark Kent, Diana Prince, Victor Stone

Fandom: Justice League (Snyder) / DC

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, fluff, hurt / comfort, no spoilers

Warnings: Slight angst

Word Count: 2,1k words

Summary: Barry must make a great sacrifice, but Y/N wants to tell him something before he does. Unable to tell him, Y/N deals with the result of Barry’s sacrifice and wonders whether or not he reciprocated those feelings.

A/N: To no one’s surprise, I fell in love with Ezra’s Barry when I watched the Snyder Cut (he’s just so cute!), so here’s a ficlet based on an idea I had when watching the movie. Enjoy, and give this some love, please!!

Link: AO3

GIF CREDIT

Barry Allen x Gender Neutral Reader

Your world had turned upside down in just a second. Not too long ago, you were joking and laughing with Barry, playfully pushing each other. You had been having fun together like you had known each other all your lives despite having met for the first time a few days ago. You had been there to comfort each other during that insane and frightening mission, like you could read each other’s minds and recognized how scary it was for the other and how much you needed that comfort.

And now…

The others��� voices became but a muffled mumble to your whistling ears. The sudden weight that had settled in your stomach made you nauseous as you turned to them.

“What…?” You asked Bruce in a daze, even if you had heard him loud and clear.

“Are you serious?” Arthur muttered, staring at him as well.

“That would kill him!” You reply in outrage, turning to Barry. The speedster didn’t say anything, only reciprocating your gaze with a neutral expression that you knew hid his fear.

“It’s the only way...” Bruce looked down, clenching his jaw.

A loud silence hung over the group. None of you broke it until Barry himself spoke up. Much to your horror, it was to agree with Bruce’s plan.

“I’ll do it” He replied, bearing a grin on his lips but heaviness in his dark eyes.

“Barry...” You began, knowing him well enough to realize he would not hesitate to do the right thing. He would not hesitate to sacrifice himself to save the world.

“It’ll be okay” Barry smiled at you, even if you could tell it was a fake one.

“Wait, no! I have to...” You reached out to hold on to him, but he was already gone. “Tell you how I feel...”

You closed your hands into fists so tight that your nails painfully digged in your palms. A hand gently squeezed your arm, so you looked up to Diana. She showed you a friendly yet sad smile.

“He knows, Y/N” Were her only words, which didn’t bring you as much comfort as any of you’d hoped.

Contradictory feelings created a lump in your throat. You knew he had to do it, and you knew Victor needed his help. It was selfish of you to not want Barry to do it. You wanted him to, to fix everything, but… you didn’t want to lose him. Tears reached your eyes, so you averted your gaze from your friends. Arthur sighed in resignation next to you. Bruce swore under his breath. You knew Victor would try to come up with a different plan if he wasn’t inside. If Clark wasn’t so focused on keeping Steppenwolf busy, you know he would have some objections himself.

Just when you felt the tears started rolling down your cheeks, a sudden presence made you jump up in startle. Before you could even turn around, you felt something against your cheek. By the time you met face to face with Barry, you had realized what graced your cheek were his lips.

“Be right back” He muttered, even though his voice cracked.

“No, you won’t” You saddly replied, staring into his eyes. “Barry, I...”

He lingered for just a moment before running off. A sob escaped your throat. None of you spoke, and that awful silence was making your heart race. A blue streak illuminated the surroundings as Barry caught speed.

Diana suddenly held your hand, so tightly that you could almost read her thoughts as she made them so palpable. You squeezed back, joining her in what you assumed were mental prayers for Barry to make it back alive.

“C’mon, kid...” Arthur whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

The atmosphere became strange around you as Barry reached maximum speed. You grimaced, waiting for the inevitable. Chaos ensued for a moment when Barry managed to achieve his mission, creating a loud commotion that created enough energy to save the day. A pause lasting only a second followed. It was the longest second of your entire life.

The breath hitched in your throat when the electric blue streak passed before your eyes and stopped just a few meters away from the group. You gulped when it dissipated and a reddish blur became a familiar figure. The silence had returned, albeit awed this once.

“I made it” Barry gulped, heaving something between a chuckle and an exhalation. A second after, his eyes rolled into his head and he was limply falling to the ground.

“Barry!” You let go of Diana’s hand and ran to help him, faster than any of them. “Barry, no!!“

You threw yourself to the ground with such force that you scraped your knees. That pain was nothing compared to the one that held your heart ransom. You repeatedly called his name, desperately shaking him. No response. Trembling from head to toe, you then went to hurriedly take his helmet off. The sweaty dark hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes were closed. He looked terribly pale. When you held his face in your hands, he still didn’t move.

“Y/N...” Arthur miserably said as he approached the two of you. The pained word brought a sob to your throat. You knew what he meant when he called your name like that. Barry was gone.

Bruce kneeled by your side. Diana stood on her foot, hovering behind you.

“He’s alive” Bruce suddenly uttered, causing your heart to race. For the first time since you joined the team, it was a good sign.

“He’s alive?!”

“He’s alive...”

_

Your eyes closed, but you didn’t give in to sleep. He needed you.

Thoughts plagued your mind, so many and so varied that your head hurt. You were mad at him for being so reckless. But proud that he didn’t hesitate to save everyone. At the same time, you were sad that he had exerted himself like that, if only because of how dangerous it was. And you were worried about his health. Your temples throbbed.

“You haven’t moved in two days” Clark’s sudden voice scared you. Nonetheless, you didn’t have the strength to flinch. “Get some rest, Y/N”

“No, I have to stay here with him” You watched Barry as he slept peacefully in his bed, hooked to the machine that tracked his vitals. Fortunately, it kept beeping with his heartbeat.

“We’ll tell you if he wakes up”

“I’ll be here when he does”

Returning to focus on Barry, you squeezed his hand. You had been holding on to it for so long that your hands had seemed to fuse together. It had been your only comfort these days. You had to keep reminding yourself that he was still alive.

“You’ll get sick too” Clark lingered on his gentle tone, empathizing with you and being worried himself despite not really knowing Barry like you did.

But he could tell. Anyone could tell Barry had a heart of gold. That he was kind and warm. Still, Clark didn’t know. He didn’t know how much Barry made you laugh. Not him not anyone knew how much you treasured his reassuring presence next to you as you fought to save the world. How much you appreciated his light-hearted jokes and efforts to relief the tension. No one knew how especial Barry was to you.

No, you refused to get up from that chair. You only stared at Barry still, mentally begging for him to wake up like you could will that thought into existence. Your throat began to hurt from how fiercely you fought the tears. Seeing your resolve, your friend shook you a little.

“Y/N, you...” Judging by Clark’s tone, you saw a soft reprimand coming. You were too tired to put up with one, no matter how well-intentioned it was.

“No, Clark!” You stood up, something you didn’t do in days. “I... I…”

You had moved so quickly that you got a headrush. Clark held you by the arm when you wobbled, but you angrily swatted him away.

“I’m not leaving him! I need to be with him, because...” Your confident and loud voice grew lower and sadder. “If I’m not…”

Clark’s own eyes looked watery. He frowned and nodded his head, silently providing you with the understanding you so badly needed. It didn’t help with the burden of guilt and remorse that filled your chest, though.

The beeping of the machine filled the stillness, followed by a different sound.

“Can you... keep it down?” A groggy voice muttered. “I’m trying to sleep”

You and Clark gasped at thet same time, quickly turning to your friend lying on the bed. Barry’s eyes were open, even if heavy with weakness, as he slowly turned his head in your direction.

“You slept for two days, buddy” Clark grinned, fondly looking at him.

“That’s a long nap” Barry smiled, tiredly closing his eyes.

“You’re so stupid!” You softly punched him in the arm, forcing him to look back at you.

“Ow” He barely had the strength to reach out to hold the spot. “Easy, I’m convalescent”

“You scared me half to death!”

Barry’s prior small smile vanished in favor of a concerned frown when he got a good look at you.

“You look exhausted…”

“We kept telling Y/N to get some rest” Clark piped up, looking from one to the other.

“And I kept telling you I wasn’t going to leave him!” In response to your reply, Clark only smiled fondly. Shaking his head a little, he scooped you into his arms and carefully laid you down on Barry’s bed next to him.

“There, you can look after each other now” He carefully patted Barry’s arm. “Everyone’s happy”

You barely paid any attention to Clark anymore as he muttered he was going to tell the others that Barry was awake. Instead, you were far too busy tightly hugging Barry and hoping you weren’t hurting him. When the door closed, signaling Clark’s departure, you were nuzzling Barry’s shoulder.

“Wow, hey” He chuckled, playfully patting your back. “Missed me, I see”

“Shut up”

“Were you worried?”

“Was I worried”

“Yeah”

“If you pull something like that ever again, you better believe I won’t need your speed to catch up to you and kill you myself, Barry Allen!”

Barry weakly laughed at the stupid line you had just said. Realizing the silliness of it yourself, you joined him in his chuckles.

“I love you too” Barry playfully replied, bearing a joking grin.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise, and then he gawked at you.

“N-No... I didn’t mean...” Barry corrected himself. “I didn’t mean I love you as a... It was a joke! I-I mean, it’s not that I don’t love you, but... but... uh..."

When everything stilled, however, you realized how truly close you two were lying down together. There was barely enough room in that small bed to fit the two of you even as you were on your sides. Being so close to him, you wonderred how you hadn't realized how beautiful his eyes were before. You took his face in your hands, chuckling again. His lips suffocated your laughter as well as his babbling when they connected with yours. It was a slow and delicate kiss, nearly a peck. You both were still very tired, and that wonderful exchange made you so calm that you felt your eyes close both in exhaustion and happiness.

When the kiss ended, you both lingered in that closeness. Barry tenderly pressed his forehead against yours, leaning into your touch. Your hands were still on his face while his had clumsily found their way to the small of your back.

“Thanks for looking after me” He whispered, dedicating you a tired smile.

“Thanks for coming back to me” As you said it, you wondered if the smitten way he was looking at you was the same way you were looking at him without realizing.

“I told you I would” Barry reached out to press his hand against yours, caressing your skin with his thumb.

You melted in a loving embrace, and everything was alright with the world again. As you rested against his chest, Barry’s heartbeat under your ear brought you peace. Linger in the hug, that you wished you could stretch out forever, you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“How about we actually listen to our friends and get some rest?” You mumbled, slowly reaching out to hold his hand.

“That sounds great” Barry intertwined his fingers with you, smiling wide.

Finally feeling like you could relax after days of being on edge, you fully lied down with him. Barry was beaming, his smile never faltering as you got comfortable beside him. Your hands were linked together like they had been for days now. This time he squeezed yours back. You felt the slumber take you as you groggily repeated the words he had said to you first. I love you too.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @locke-writes / @emmacata / @galactic-magick​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! 

[tetsurobunni]

The Final Battle

☞ harry potter x jjk crossover au // 3.9k words

☽ the battle of hogwarts: jjk style, remnants of satosugu friendship, pain, hurt, more pain…sigh… pure angst with a magical twist for flavor

☽ warnings : major character death

☽ pairing : satoru gojo x suguru getou

☞ my inner harry potter geek really came out full force with this one…so did my sad writer juices i apologize beforehand :)

“satoru….hey, professor nanami cast the spell to defend the school. it won’t be long…”

“i know. i’ll join you when it’s time.”

the illuminating sheen of the dome rose high over the towers of hogwarts. gojo could hear the hum radiating from it, the power from the spell glowing against the overcast sky.

this is it.

should he count his blessings? pray? to what deity, or god, or higher being should he speak to before his world comes crushing down?

gojo’s wand feels heavy in the palm of his hand, thumb gently grazing over the smooth spruce. he imagines the dragon heartstring at its core, the beast he knew lived inside.

he had seen it himself, his peers had too. how even before traveling to hogwarts in his first year just how powerful a wizard he was-and would grow up to be.

if only he knew where he would be in his seventh year. standing in front of the large oak doors leading to the great hall, his fellow students young and old rushing into place all around him, wiping their brows and preparing for a war.

a war that would cost gojo everything.

he knew who he would see on the other side of the battle. the image of his face made gojo’s stomach churn and his chest ache.

his best friend.

his only friend.

he felt a hand rest atop his left shoulder, the scuffed toes of professor nanami’s boots coming into view beside him. he met his professor’s eyes, receiving a small nod of acknowledgment. gojo had grown quite close to his professor throughout his years at hogwarts. he was one of the only people that had garnered gojo’s appreciation and trust.

nanami knew. he had watched all of them grow up, after all. he was the one who informed gojo of the news that sent him spiraling.

that was two years ago.

now, as voldemort rallied his followers and dark creatures of the forest, gojo knew he would face him again.

“the spell is weakening.”

“it was only a matter of time.”

“are you prepared?”

“no.”

“neither am i. but we must.”

with a pat on his shoulder the professor left his side, sheathing the oak wand in his sleeve.

“strength. endurance. tolerance. balance. practicality. that is what my wand stands for. each of you have your own unique wand that chose you; yes, the core of your wand does hold great power and meaning, but so does the wood that keeps it intact. it is a vessel. and it is strong.”

gojo remembers listening to his professor and thinking he was absurd. but his friend had watched on with glimmering eyes, thirsty for new knowledge, and he had decided that maybe the idea wasn’t all that abhorring.

“hawthorn. somewhat arrogant, reflection, intelligence, vigor, new beginnings or endings. feels most at home with a wizard of natural talent. wicked, eh satoru? what about yours?”

“ah, mines spruce. quick-witted, adaptable, flamboyant, strength, resistance, is known for its unusually fast reactions and somewhat stubborn nature in the hands of a nervous or untrained wizard or witch. good thing i’m not that, eh?”

“your wand is supposed to be stubborn? you’ve had no problems!”

“well of course i haven’t! i don’t remember a moment in my life where i’ve ever been nervous. no wonder…”

the conversation had drifted away in a few minutes, the flickering of the lantern lulling gojo to sleep. when he came to, the weight of a second robe rested on his shoulders. he had ignored the blush that rose on his cheeks and wiped drool from the corner of his mouth

gojo had looked down at the book that ended up as his makeshift pillow and found himself mindlessly reading more information. gojo had failed to mention the extra research he had done; it was innocent, just an extra flip of a page. what he read he never told.

‘although hawthorn is a very powerful wood, it is adept to curses. many of those who practise dark magic have been affiliated with wands made from hawthorn. they are not to be taken lightly in the wrong hands.’

he didn’t regret it then, but after he had gotten the news from nanami about what his friend did, the guilt ate him alive.

now as he looks out the castle doors to the cracks spindling in luminescence revealing the murky darkness of the stormy sky, gojo realizes that this might be his last day at hogwarts.

the realization is fleeting. he can’t afford to be thinking that way. not now. he feels the eyes of his classmates pouring into his being. they’re looking to him to save them.

you should just try to save yourselves.

itadori comes to stand to his right, fushiguro to his left. maki and nobara flank behind him.

this is is family. they all know their tie to one another. they’ve been training together for almost a year on their combat skills. itadori had been experiencing some difficulties, but nonetheless proved to be the closest match to gojo himself.

“holly. with a phoenix feather core. why?”

“just curious. look up what your wood means sometime, will ya?”

“yea…sure. not sure what that has to do with anything…”

gojo and professor nanami both had thought his wand would be made of dogwood- it matched itadori’s personality-the holly was a surprise. paired along with a phoenix feather core was practically unheard of.

but as the dark magic started to rise, itadori started to blossom. he was an amazing wizard.

gojo had his own hypotheses, but as always kept them to himself. no need to cause any further turmoil in his life.

“gojo?”

“you can call me satoru, y’know.”

“sure…gojo?”

“…yes itadori”

“i’m scared.”

gojo felt his heart clench. the boy beside him might be powerful, but still just that- a boy. he didn’t deserve this. none of them did.

“you can always back away. you know that, right?”

he watched as itadori looked across the bridge towards the darkness, then to his friends and classmates surrounding them.

“gojo?”

“hm?”

“are you scared?”

“no.” yes.

despite what lay ahead of them, itadori cracked a smile. “same as ever, eh?”

gojo forced the corners of his lips into a smirk. “you know it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

as soon as the remaining bits of professor nanami’s spell wore off, the fighting commenced. the huge stone knights began at the putrid giants that shook the ground as they walked, but, as expected, they didn’t hold for long.

there were hundreds of death eaters that immediately swarmed the entrance to the castle. gojo and the others had already gotten separated. he found himself looking for glimpses of them as he fought, power rushing through his veins as flashes of light shot through his vision.

one death eater after another fell to his wand. a goblin here. an enormous arachnid there. a shield spell shot itself from his wand to catch a pillar that threatened to fall on a young girl. gojo didn’t spare a second to marvel at how his wand seemed to act on its own.

itadori was nowhere to be found. nobara was matched against a witch he swore he had seen on the cover of a newspaper. she had been locked up in Azkaban for upwards of ten years.

a patronus he knew belonged to megumi weaved itself through the dust and dirt of the fight, closely followed by its darker counterpart. he made the mistake of watching the white wolf too closely in its decent over one of the towers and felt the breath get knocked from his chest as he flew backwards into a wall.

he coughed weakly into his hand, rubbing the blood that surfaced there onto his pants. the wall he flew into crumbled around him. he wasn’t sure who had landed a blow on him, but whoever it was had to be powerful.

only three people had ever managed to conquer such a thing, and two of them were currently fighting for hogwarts.

gojo petrified a lone death eater that had tried to sneak up on his left. he quickly ran over to the frozen body to lift the mask, though he knew it wasn’t who he was searching for.

“gojo, on the bridge!”

the yell had come from megumi, whom he saw battling three death eaters at once. after quickly disarming one them, gojo turned towards the bridge.

a flash of pink hair caught his attention. he watched as itadori seemingly chased after someone and raised his wand to cast his patronus to follow him. he stopped in his tracks when he saw a figure across the ravine.

it was him.

gojo’s hands shook with a ferocity no one had seen before. his wand illuminated the battlefield so bright many had to shield their eyes. the fighting ceased for only a moment as everyone turned to look at the being that stood in place of gojo satoru.

the short silence was broken when a death eater sent a curse flying towards nobara. a flick of gojo’s wrist was all it took for the death eater to fall in a heap on the ground, dead.

gojo’s entire being felt laced with ice. he knew he would see him. he knew. so why…

why did it hurt so badly?

screams and cries fell on deaf ears as gojo made his way across the crumbling bridge towards the forest. his hands trembled at his sides, legs weak as they carried the weight of this moment.

the figure had seen him and immediately dissipated into thick black smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~

the forbidden forest had never scared gojo. he actually found comfort in the deep hollows and twisted roots that overcame the dense woods. he spent a lot of time here throughout the years even though students weren’t allowed.

his feet led him along the familiar pathway he had taken numerous times before. a lone centaur raced towards the castle, not sparing gojo a second glance. he had long since become acquaintances with the creatures of the forest.

“gojo!”

“itadori? what in the- what are you doing out here? you’re going to get yourself killed!”

“i saw voldemort go into the forest so i-“

“well, what a sight.”

gojo’s eyes widened as he registered the voice that came from behind him. itadori looked over his shoulder in confusion; when he saw who the voice belonged to, his face morphed into a look of pure rage.

“itadori. this is my battle.”

“but-“

“you need to leave.”

“no, no i’m not just going to leave you here-“

“yuuji? wow, it’s been a while… you’ve grown.”

gojo turned to face the voice, visibly wincing as his eyes landed on his old best friend.

“satoru”

“suguru.”

getou had gotten taller since he last saw him. a scar ran across the length of his forehead and his hair had grown longer.

i always said his hair would look good long.

“i can feel the power radiating from you, satoru…it’s delicious. my lord will be quite pleased to meet you”

“your ‘lord’ can kiss my ass.”

getou chuckled, “no need to be vulgar”

gojo’s hand clenched around his wand. one spell and this could be over, but it would be irreversible. even though gojo knew getou wasn’t the same person he was a year ago, he still trembled at the thought of his old friend not being alive.

“gojo-“

“no, let him stay awhile satoru! it’ll be so much more fun”

itadori sneered at getou before pointing his wand towards him. gojo could see the slight shaking of his hand. he was terrified.

getou laughed, his arms opening wide as if welcoming the two into his home.

“so much more bite than when i last saw you, hm? the dark lord spoke highly of you…”

“stupefy!”

gojo’s head whipped around in a flash just in time to see itadori’s body fall to the forest floor. a man with long gray hair skipped towards them, giggling maniacally.

“ah mahito, just in time!” the man bowed in getou’s direction, inching closer to itadori’s paralyzed body. “master informed me that yuuji itadori had followed him here and sent me to fetch him…who is this handsome fellow, hm?”

gojo stood tall, senses on high alert. he was almost okay dealing with getou alone- but now there was an unknown wizard present. if voldemort sent him to do his biddings, then he must be strong…

“this is my old friend from hogwarts…satoru, meet mahito.”

“i’d rather not.”

mahito licked his lips in response to gojo’s remark, sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine. every aspect of this man screamed lunatic…and he was here for itadori.

a grunt escaped itadori from his position on the ground. gojo could see him trying to regulate his breathing, but it was obvious the younger boy was panicking.

“oh satoru, don’t be crass. the dark lord has been yearning to meet the young boy for a long while.”

“a long while? what the hell are you talking about?”

getou chuckled, brandishing his wand from the dark cloak that hung around his shoulders. gojo’s hand instinctively tightened around his wand as he watched his old friend walk towards itadori.

mahito tapped his fingers rhythmically against the handle of his own wand, seemingly awaiting orders. getou kneeled down closer to itadori’s face.

“yes, a long while.”

gojo still didn’t understand what that meant. itadori hadn’t met getou when he was at hogwarts, so how did his presence suddenly become voldemort’s pentacle of fascination?

“take him.”

“WAI-“

before gojo could even move to cast a spell, itadori’s scream was cut off as mahito apparated them both away.

“he’s just a boy!”

“maybe so…but a very powerful boy indeed.”

“his power doesn’t justify voldemort’s infatuation with him! i don’t understand why his involvement is needed-“

“they are tethered, satoru. remember?”

gojo’s body turned ice cold.

“…no, you…you…it was just-“

“just a suspicion, yes, that is what you told me, wasn’t it?”

no. no. it couldn’t be.

“the dark lord was very delighted with the information, so, i have you to thank, satoru. whatever may happen to the boy will be because of you.”

gojo’s mind went stark. he didn’t think, just moved with no purpose; he just let his rage pull his limbs into action like a puppet.

unspoken spells flew from both wands, the two wizards trapped in their last battle. the two were evenly matched. this didn’t surprise him.

after all, getou was one of the three people who had been able to land a jinx on him.

it was nonstop. gojo couldn’t stop himself if he tried. he was seething with anger not just towards getou, but towards himself. there was such a sinking feeling in the air, like they were dancing on cracking ice.

for an instant the two locked eyes. gojo felt his footing slightly tip, and that was all it took for getou to find an opening and send him flying backwards through the air. he landed hard on his back, wincing as a jolt of pain went through his head.

he knew he should get up. continue the fight. run and find itadori.

but he didn’t.

“you didn’t kill me.”

he didn’t see getou’s reaction to his comment. a patch of night sky that had broken through the clouds caught his attention.

for a moment he wished getou had killed him.

“get up.”

“i don’t want to.”

“satoru, get up and fight me.”

getou snarled and grabbed gojo by the collar of his jacket, pulling him up to meet his face.

“don’t you hate me?”

“…no.”

“why not! you…you should despise me! i betrayed everyone-including you!”

“i don’t.”

and it was the truth. gojo had spent hours in his dormitory stuffing his leaking eyes into his pillow, trying to be revolted by his best friend. he still had scars on his hands from punching the stone walls of the dungeons, trying to force his own physical pain into hatred.

it never worked.

“…i still don’t understand why you did it.”

that seemed to catch getou off guard. he slackened the grip he had on gojo’s collar, backing away with his head hung low.

“…he found my father.”

gojo’s eyes widened at the statement.

“i…i thought your father was-“

“dead? me too…” he paused for a moment, scoffing before continuing, “but he wasn’t. all that time we spent searching for letters, newspaper articles, headlines on the news- hell even muggle police reports- was for nothing.”

“so you went with him.”

“what other choice did i have, satoru?”

the atmosphere that had engulfed the two snapped.

what did he mean? ‘what other choice did he have’? gojo felt the anger from before start to trickle back into his veins.

“you could have stayed.”

getou met his eyes. they stood in unison, gaze never faltering.

“i had no reason to stay.”

“that’s bullshit and you know it, suguru.”

“what reason then? i was a horrid student, i didn’t care about grades, our so-called friends loathed me satoru! i had no family, no home to call my own i-“

“you had me, suguru!”

getou went silent. the only noises that could be heard were their heavy breaths and muffled yells from the castle. the wind sent a chill straight to gojo’s bones and he shivered, suddenly realizing there were tears trailing down his cheeks.

“i betrayed you satoru. without a second thought.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“i pushed you to investigate itadori’s powers. voldemort told me he would reveal my father’s whereabouts if i gave him information on the boy,”

“but-“

“i broke your trust! i didn’t even try to warn you of what i was planning, or that my father was alive-“

“suguru-“

“don’t you see!”

gojo stared at the look of pure exasperation and pain on getou’s face. he had a feeling it mirrored his own.

he watched as getou pulled the sleeve of his cloak above his forearm, placing the mark of the death eaters etched into his skin on display.

“this is what i am now, satoru.”

“and i’m just supposed to…what? hate you? was i supposed to hate you then? because i didn’t, and don’t.”

“that’s- that’s exactly what you should do! i would hate me-“

“well guess what suguru!” gojo was yelling by now, the words clawing their way from within his chest, “you don’t get to decide how your decisions make others feel!”

he ignored the fact he was moving steadily towards getou as he yelled. when he got close enough, gojo realized they both were shedding tears.

“i don’t understand why you care so much about me-“ gojo let out an unhumourous laugh, “what’s that supposed to mean, huh? you think i stayed up all those hours searching for your father out of what- obligation? pity?”

getou searched for an answer, stammering over the thoughts running through his head.

“i don’t understand why-“

“because i loved you!”

no more skirting around thin fractures, or waiting with baited breath to discover to truth. it was done.

and it broke him.

gojo had done well hiding his pain the past two years. the signature smirk was automatic-it appeared on his face without effort. conversation passed through his mouth without falter. he had trained himself to be the perfect student.

but this…this he couldn’t pretend to recover from.

“you…”

“it doesn’t matter now. what’s done is done.”

“were you ever going to tell me?”

“…i don’t know.”

when did his wand become so heavy? was his chest supposed to hurt this bad?

“oh god…satoru…”

he didn’t want to feel this way anymore. the sorrow was eating him alive, peeling back layers and layers of his soul.

he repressed the urge to comfort getou as he watched his past love fall to his knees.

“i’m so sorry, satoru.”

“sorry can’t fix everything, suguru,”

if only you had said it then…

“not now. not ever.”

please make this pain stop.

“…i know.”

“so let’s finish this.”

every fiber of his being was screaming at him to stop. a tiny voice yelled ‘you can help him!’. he forced the thoughts from his mind, they would only get in the way.

he had made his decision.

getou didn’t falter from his position on the ground. his wand stayed by his side. the only movement he made was to lift his head towards the night sky as gojo himself had done before.

i love you, suguru. forgive me.

“avadakdavra!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the walk back to the castle was torture. the weight of getou’s body was heavy in his arms. it was worse than he ever could have imagined.

the silence that had encompassed him the forest was shattered the moment he stepped foot onto school grounds. the battle was over, it seemed.

the carnage left behind was gut-wrenching.

gojo ignored the gazes of his peers as he wandered into the great hall. he knew this was where they had planned to house all of the wounded, and despite the hollow feeling in his gut, he needed to find his family.

“gojo!”

he turned to see who had called his name and felt relieved when he saw it was itadori. the relief was short-lived, however, when he noticed the sobs wracking the young boys’ body.

gojo retrieved a lone bedsheet and carefully placed getou’s body down, taking one last look at his past love’s face before he covered it. he left getou there and made his way over to where itadori was crouched over a figure lying on the floor. megumi and maki were both there too.

where was nobara?

“it happened right before you went after itadori…”

gojo’s gut wrenched when he saw who the figure was.

“i assume you saw getou…you didn’t even realize what had happened…” the memory of the battle flashed before his eyes.

“i killed that death eater. the woman. i- i could have sworn…no i know i killed her-“

“it was too late.”

“…gojo?”

he kneeled down and took one of nobara’s bloody hands in his own.

“yes, it’s me, i’m here now nobara.”

“you found getou…didn’t you?”

“…yes. i did.”

this wasn’t supposed to happen. gojo swore he had done everything to prepare them… butit wasn’t enough.

nobara wheezed as a chuckle tried to escape her body, the action causing her to cough uncontrollably as air tried to seep into her lungs.

“i can’t believe…out of all of us…that i’m the one dying…could have sworn it…would have been yuuji…ha!” itadori offered a small laugh, more tears escaping his eyes.

“wow, even on your deathbed you’re still fighting with me…”

gojo met the eyes of maki, who he could tell was choosing not to say anything. megumi refused to look at nobara’s face. instead he stared at the floor, silently crying, not bothering to wipe the tears away.

they’re so young.

gojo felt a sob lurch in his throat but he refused to let it free. he had to be strong. or, at least, act strong. it wasn’t time for his facade to break.

for their sake.

“you ok, nobara?”

“yea…i’m ok.”

gojo watched as she took her final breath.

“gojo…gojo she’s… she’s dead, gojo…”

he pulled itadori’s smaller body into his own, holding him there as the boy sobbed openly. megumi took ahold of maki’s hand, the latter turning her head into the boys’ shoulder as she let her own cries break free.

i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…

[thefirstcourtesan]

Best Laid Plans (TRR a fic)

Best Laid Plans

By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.

Author’s Notes- I don’t really write TRR fic anymore but this one is a quick little birthday fic for my friend @lizzybeth1986. This is set in my Drake/Amelia universe, which ignore TRR. It is a Hana and Amelia friendship fic.

Rating- PG-13

Pairing- Drake/MC, slight Hana/Kiara

Summary- When Drake has to go away on Cordonian business, Amelia assures him she will be fine, but their daughter has other plans.

“I can send someone else.”

I didn’t even bother looking up from where I was folding clothes. “Drake, we have been waiting for over ten years to track down the last of the Sons of the Earth, you need to do this.”

My husband groaned and run his fingers through his hair. “Grant…”

This time I did look up. “Drake, I am not due for three more weeks and both the boys were ten days late. You will be Drakovia for two days at most and you will have access to a private plane, flown by the Cordonian Air Force.” I grinned. “I am just sad I can’t go with you.”

I had tried to argue my case, but I had been shot down by Drake, Liam and Olivia. Who in addition to being my husband and two of my best friends were also the head of Corodian security and the King and Queen. So, no out-of-country trips hunting down extremists for me. The downsides of being almost 37 weeks pregnant.

“Hana and Kiara are coming to help with the boys,” I continued, “and you know Hana, she won’t let me tire myself out, packing this suitcase is likely the last lifting I will do for the next three days.”

“You promise to call me if you need me?” Drake asked, stepping closer to the bed.

I moved away from the suitcase into his arms. “I promise. Now, help me close this suitcase so you can get on a plane and end a terrible chapter of our life once and for all and then you can come back and our baby girl can be born into a world where no one shoots at us or tries to kill us.”

**

“You know I promised to make you take it easy,” Hana teased the next day as she brought me a glass of lemonade.

I looked up from where I was kneeling in the garden. “I am gardening, not chasing down armed assassins, Hana.”

“Which is a good thing,” she reminded me, then she smiled knowingly, “how badly do you you wish you were in Drakovia right now?”

“So badly,” I sighed, leaning back and taking a sip of the lemonade, “I tried to plead my case, but no one was having it.”

“Shocking,” Hana said and I could hear the laughter in her voice, “you just have to accept that you can’t always be the Hero of Corodnia.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hate that nickname.” I stood up, something that took more effor than I wanted to admit, and then promptly doubled over.

“Amelia!” Hana rushed to my side and wrapped her arm around me, “are you ok?”

Before I could answer, I felt wetness on my legs, and I knew Hana felt it too.

I looked up at her, panic in my eyes, “Hana, my water just broke.”

She took a deep breath. “I am going to help you to the chair and then I am going to go get Kiara and we’ll call for help. You’ve got this.”

I nodded, though inwardly I did not feel even remotely calm. I was having a baby while my husband was in a foreign country on a very sensitive diplomatic mission.

“You really have been causing chaos from day one,” I murmured rubbing my stomach as Hana helped me into a lawn chair.

“Like mother, like daughter,” she said, squeezing my hand, “you got this, Amelia, and I’m here.”

I smiled up at her. “I know.”

**

“I tried calling Drake, but he is not answering,” Kiara told me once I was settled in my bed, “neither are Liam or Olivia.”

I fought back a curse. Why had I initiated Drake go? Oh yeah, because it was the right thing to do and if I couldn’t be the one to bring in those bastards, I’d wanted Drake to do it.

“We’ll keep calling,” Hana assured me, fluffing my pillow, “your midwife will be here in 5 minutes. I also was able to get a hold of your parents and they are taking the next flight out of New York.”

“Did my mother yell a lot?”

“A bit,” Hana confirmed with a smile, “and she said a few very rude things in Italian and then apologized once she remembered I could understand what she was saying.”

I laughed. “Sounds like my mother.” I took a deep breath. “The boys?”

“The nanny is watching them,” Kiara answered, “but I am going to go relieve her soon. Bertrand and Savannah are on on their way here to take the kids. They are also going to take the twins and Rose.”

“They are going to watch 7 kids, did someone slip Bertrand something?”

“Maxwell is going to help,” Hana aid and then grinned, “although, that just means they will have 8 children to look after.”

I giggled. “I think I’d rather be in labor.” Just then I got hit by another contraction and winced. “Or maybe not.”

“You got this,” Hana assured me, “you’ve done this twice before.”

“And never planned on doing it again,” I reminded her and then regretted it. This baby might not have been planned but she was a miracle. “I wish Drake was here, he is easier to yell at.”

“Yelling at Hana is like yelling at a kitten isn’t it?” Kiara asked, giving her wife a quick kiss on the cheek, “I am going to go help with the children and I will keep trying to call Drake.”

“Tell him I am ripping his balls off myself,” I called out.

“I will not,” Kiara replied, but I could hear the smile in her voice as she left the room.

**

“Good news or bad news?” My midwife asked me after she finished checking me.

I glared at her, “not a question you ask a woman in labor!”

It had been maybe 40 minutes since my water had broken and the contractions had gone from ‘ouch’ to ‘oh god, kill me now’ very quickly.

“Everything looks good, you and baby are both doing great,” Ana assured me, “but your husband will not make it in time because you are fully dilated.”

“What??? It took me 17 hours to have Jax and 13 with Will,” I reminded her, “how can I be ready to have this baby now?!” I practically shouted that last word as another contraction hit me.

“Every baby is different,” Ana reminded me, “I know you didn’t plan to hav ea. baby today, but your daughter had different plans. I am going to need you to get ready to push.”

“I am here,” Hana assured me, grabbing my hand.

I smiled weakly. “I know, you always are, I love you, Hana.”

“I love too,” she told me, “my first friend, my best friend, my sister. You’ve got this, Amelia, and I’ve got you.”

Just then the door of my bedroom flew open and Kiara ran in, holding her phone. “Grant! Grant, what is happening?” I could hear my husband’s voice on the other end.

“We’re having a baby,” I told him as I took the phone from Kiara, looking into Drake’s worried face, “like right now.”

Drake cursed. “Shit. I can head back, I should be there—“

“She means right now, Drake,” Hana interrupted, taking the phone, “Amelia is getting ready to push. Just stick with us,”

She handed the phone back to Kiara and took my hand again as Ana instructed me to push. I could hear Drake offering encouragement and I focused on that and Hana’s hand and after a few minutes, I heard the beautiful sound.

“A healthy girl,” Ana announced, placing her on my stomach,

I smiled down at my daughter. “She’s here, Drake, our daughter.”

“I love you both so much,” he told me, “I will be there as soon as I can.”

“I know.” After the call finished and Kiara had excused herself again to go make more calls, I looked up at Hana, “thank you for being here for me.”

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she assured me, smiling at both me and the baby.

“Antonella, meet your Aunt Hana,” I said softly, “the best and most loyal friend anyone can ever have. I know that you are going to be so lucky to have her in your life, just like I have been.”

End

[scribbles97]

Figure It Out - Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He had woken with a start, determined that he had experienced a nightmare in his sleep. It surely couldn’t be possible that he could forget her, his darling angel, the light of his life?

Penelope would totally have rolled her eyes at that.

But still, her. Everything about the relationship they had both fought through hell for, had slipped away, the victim of a head injury he couldn’t remember.

Except that morning, he did remember.

It was Virgil he had met at his bedside though, his pregnant wife nowhere to be seen.

It was Virgil that had confirmed what Gordon had hoped he had dreamed.

It was Virgil he had begged to take him to her.

It had taken Gordon pushing himself to his feet and storming towards the door of his private room for Virgil to let up. Scott and Dad were going to give them hell later he had told his younger brother.

Gordon had said it would be worth it.

He had needed to see her, tell her that he remembered, that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to break her heart.

He didn’t need his big brother to warn him on their drive to the house in the city just how hurt Penny had been. Gordon knew, he could remember the hurt and the fear in her eyes as he had offered to call whoever was the father for her. He had watched her cry and been able to do nothing to soothe her.

He hadn’t understood.

But now he did, and he was going to make it right. He couldn’t wait, he needed to tell her that he remembered, needed to take away the hurt he was causing every moment she thought he didn’t remember.

Except, when they had gotten to the house, she hadn’t been there.

She always answered when he called for her, the house wasn’t that big, she would have heard him had she had been there.

Gordon had been ready to panic as he found their bedroom empty, had been ready to call Eos and get her to find her.

His wife was almost nine months pregnant and not where she was meant to be. Not that he had ever doubted Penelope’s ability, but stress and worry was never good so late on in pregnancy and he had been the one to inflict both on her.

He had seen the look in her eye, the memory chilling him to his core as he flew through the rest of the house hoping she just hadn’t heard him calling.

“Dad’s with her.” Virgil caught him by the shoulders as he flew back into the lounge, “Now will you please sit down, you have a head injury forchristsake.”

“Where are they?” He asked, blinking hard as his head protested at all the sudden action.

Virgil guided him down to the sofa, forcing him to lie back against the cushions, “Walking back from the beach. She’s fine, you don’t need to panic.”

He couldn’t help but glare at his brother, but didn’t quite manage to shoot back upright, “How can she be fine? She thinks I don’t know her Virgil!”

“She isn’t hurt or in labour.” Virgil shook his head, “Look Gords, you need to calm down.”

He knew his brother was right, the laws of head injuries still applied, pregnant wife or not. He could feel the heaviness at the back of his eyes as he let himself sink into the cushions. If Penny was with Dad then she’d be okay, Dad knew what he was doing, Dad had survived space.

“Go to sleep, I’ll wake you when she’s back.”

“I love her.” He mumbled, blinking hard against the weight of his eyelids.

***

He woke up stiff and sore, bruises he had previously ignored complaining from being asleep on the sofa. Through the windows of the lounge he could see the sun was high in the sky, and knew he’d been asleep for longer than he had wanted.

“He’s awake.” His father’s call was soft but clearly meant for someone not in the room as Gordon ran a hand through his hair and shifted upright.

“Dad,” He swallowed, glancing around, “Where’s--”

“In your room,” Dad smiled at him from the armchair across from the sofa, “as asleep as you just were.”

He was half up before the sentence was finished, catching himself for a moment as vertigo took over.

“Steady now, kid.” Dad caught him by the shoulder, eyeing him carefully, “You okay?”

Swallowing, Gordon looked towards the rooms of the sprawling bungalow reserved strictly for convalescing, “I will be once I’ve talked to her.”

He paused, looking to his father properly as he recalled Virgil’s assurances earlier, “Thanks for looking after her Dad.”

Dad’s smile was soft as he shook his head, squeezing Gordon’s shoulder with a sigh, “She’s family, there’s no thanks needed.”

Needing no more assurance, Gordon pulled away, only one target in mind as he made his way down the hall.

The door was ajar, so unlike Penny he knew she wouldn’t have left it that way. It wasn’t secure, she had always told him, to sleep with a door open.

It sent his heart racing that he remembered the conversation, that the swell of her belly was of no surprise as he stepped into the room to find her sleeping on top of the covers. It was so unlike her, such a clear sign of how badly he had hurt her.

Perching on the edge of the bed, it was automatic to reach for the strands of hair that had fallen across her face and draw them back behind her ear. She always looked so much younger when she was asleep, so much more at ease with the world than when she was awake. He hated to wake her, to take away those moments of peace.

He didn’t doubt that there would be a minute where she didn’t know that he remembered, that for all of a few seconds she would have to experience once more the heartbreak that he had no idea of their relationship.

If he could, he would have done anything to spare her those few seconds.

“Pen?” He whispered, fingers stroking lightly down the side of her face, “Penny, you gotta wake up.”

She frowned first, as she always did, but the way it deepened as her eyes opened told him exactly what was in her mind.

“Hey,” He grinned as she shifted to sit up.

“Gordon?” She frowned as she faced him, “What are you--”

“I remember.” He cut her off, reaching out to take her hand and her cheek, “Pen I am so sorry, I couldn’t-- I mean, how could I forget? You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I-- geeze I can’t believe--”

He cut himself off as her finger rested over his lips.

“You remember everything?”

Nodding quickly, he kissed her finger, “Everything Pen. I dunno what happened yesterday, but I still loved you then you know? It didn’t matter that I didn’t know, I still… what I felt was still there.”

Tears were tracking down her cheeks as she bit her lip, her hand shifting around to cup his face as she watched him.

“Aww geeze,” he whispered, reaching out to pull her into his arms, “Pen I’m sorry, I mean it I really--”

“Stop it.” She whispered, tilting her head back to look at him, “That wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head as he ran his fingers through her hair, “Maybe not, but I hurt you, and even if I didn’t get it yesterday, I still knew that I had. And I swore Pen, that I'd never do that, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sobbed and pressed her face into his shoulder. He held on just as tight, rubbing lightly up and down her back as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Tears ran down tracks down his own cheeks as he rocked them both gently back and forth, ignoring the nagging ache in his head.

“I’ve got you Pen.” He whispered, resting his head against hers, “And I ain’t ever letting go.”

[jayeray-hq]

Sakusa : You Know We’re Meant to Be

JayeRay’s fluff prompts

Post Time Skip/Manga Spoilers!

Warnings: A little but of Hurt/Comfort and bullying but lots of Fluff after

If you like this, please check out the Character Masterlist!

This is part of a collaboration I’m doing with @lilolpotato​ some fluff to counter some of the hate from the Sakusa Hate Night thing that was going around 😊💖 Also a huge huge thank you to the amazingly talented @yuujiscurse​ for the banner! Their work is amazing! 😊💖

You weren’t sure if they simply didn’t know you could hear them whispering or if they simply didn’t care, as you stood waiting for your boyfriend to emerge from the locker rooms. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to wait long, Sakusa was usually the first out due to insisting on showering before the others of the team could infect the space with their germs. Still today you hoped he would hurry, even faster than usual, so you could leave the receptionist and the woman she was talking to, likely someone who worked in the building, far behind you.

“What does he even see in her?” the woman who’d greeted you almost every time you’d entered the building with a saccharine smile that was apparently hiding a mouthful of venom whispered to her blond coworker.

             “I certainly don’t see anything special,” the other woman, a pretty brunette agreed giving you a clear once over a blatantly dismissive look on her face, “She’s probably absolutely hideous behind that mask she wears all the time.”

             Your hands balled into fists in your jacket, as you tried to ignore them, reminding yourself that you wore the mask for a reason. It was for both your comfort, and your boyfriends. Sakusa’s germaphobia was a very real fear, and frankly you didn’t mind doing a few things to accommodate his fear, or make him feel more comfortable where you could, especially since you knew he would and had done the same for you before.

 Wearing a mask out in public was a simple thing, and frankly considering the pollution in Japan, not all that uncommon. The women were clearly being deliberately petty and you sank deeper into the jacket burrowing into it, and taking comfort in the familiar smell and feel of it. It was one of Sakusa’s old Itachiyama jackets, one he’d gifted to you when the two of you had first started dating.

 It was warm and comfortable, and a blatant reminder of how very much your boyfriend cared about you. After all very few people were allowed to touch his things, and even fewer were given gifts, especially sentimental gifts. Komori had teased the two of you for days when Sakusa had first given it to you, exclaiming every time he saw you wearing it that even he had never been allowed to touch Sakusa’s Itachiyama jackets and he was his cousin.

 It smelled like him, clean and crisp from the detergent he preferred to use for all of your clothing, one you’d become quite fond of yourself, and that you associated solely with him. It took your mind off the cruel women in front of you, at least for a little while.

 “Can you believe just the other day he dropped his towel on accident, I tried to hand it to him, and he gave me the most disgusted look and just walked away,” the brunette told the receptionist clearly deeply offended by the incident, “As if I were something dirty he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.”

 “I’ve tried to give him pens to use before,” the receptionist admitted equally huffy as she explained, “He won’t touch them, not until he disinfects them with a wipe first, and even then he’ll only hold them if he’s wearing gloves.”

 You sighed quietly to yourself, a part of you wanting to storm over there and defend your boyfriend and an equal part understanding, just a bit where they were coming from. Sakusa had a fear, one that was very real to him, even if it seemed silly to others, and he had extreme ways of reacting when forced to face that fear. Still even you could admit sometimes his inability to properly interpret social cues could leave him coming off cold, or even cruel even if he didn’t mean to be that way.

 “I bet she’s not even his girlfriend,” the spiteful brunette hissed, “Just an obsessed groupie who follows him around.”

 “He probably treats her like trash,” the receptionist added in a cruel enjoyment to her unkind speculations, “Which is really no less than she deserves honestly.”

 The women were clearly lashing out, and on the only target the had readily available, but that didn’t stop you from feeling hurt or furious on behalf of your boyfriend. How dare they insinuate he treated you badly? The idea was infuriating especially when you knew how very hard he tried for you.

 Sure, your relationship wasn’t all smooth sailing, but then what relationship was? Yes, you’d had to exercise a lot of patience as Sakusa slowly worked himself up to touching you, but it had been completely and utterly worth it. The feeling of being held in his arms, knowing he desperately wanted you to be there, so much so that he fought off his worst fears in order to do so was indescribable. You’d honestly never felt as loved as you did when your germophobic boyfriend reached his hand out to you, assuring you that he wanted to be able to touch you.

 Even several years in you still couldn’t cuddle without a thorough shower beforehand, and some aspects of physical intimacy, including public displays of affection were especially hard, but it was worth it. You were so proud, both of your boyfriend and how very far the two of you had come as a couple, and it infuriated you that these two women, who knew absolutely nothing of his struggles would dare to insinuate such awful things about him.

 Oh, you knew they probably didn’t actually believe them. You’d dealt with jealousy from other women before. Your boyfriend was undeniably incredibly good looking, stunning even, and for some reason a lot of people found his supposedly aloof and cold demeanor cool and enticing. He’d had fans for as long as you’d known him.

 Still it didn’t stop you from wanting to march right up to the women and force them to take it back. They could say what they wanted about you, but in no way shape or form would you allow them to badmouth your secretly dorky and completely socially inept boyfriend. Honestly one more word from them and you might’ve done just that, fortunately or unfortunately your furious thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of your boyfriend.

 “Hey,” the sound of his voice pulled you from your murderous thoughts and turned your attention to Sakusa who had emerged from the locker rooms at last. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, the dark curls not quite as springy as they usually were as they fell across his forehead, and he was fully zipped into his Black Jackals jacket, hands in his pockets the traditional mask covering half his face, “let’s get going before the others come out.”

  “Sure,” you agreed trying to keep your tone as upbeat and normal as possible ready to fall into step with him and head to the store, which was the whole reason you’d agreed to meet him at the Black Jackals usual practice gym in the first place.

 However it seemed you hadn’t done a very good job of concealing the lingering upset from overhearing the women’s gossip session. That or your boyfriend was getting better at reading you, though both honestly were possibilities. He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to come to a halt as well, his brows sitting heavily over his dark eyes as he peered at you intently, clear concern visible in them.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice taking on the clipped edge that let you know he was deeply concerned. Apparently, you’d been more obvious than you’d thought.

 “Nothing,” you tried to assure him, forcing your tone to be upbeat, not wanting to drag him down, “Why would something be wrong?”

 “Don’t lie to me,” he ordered, the words blunt, but the clear care in his tone taking any sting out of them. Honestly he had very little in the way of tact at times like these, something you should probably be annoyed by, but could only find strangely endearing.

 “It really is nothing,” you assured him, your own tone softening at his clear concern for you, “Just overheard people gossiping about us again.”

 “Were you upset by them?” he asked hesitantly, clearly peering into your eyes, his whole body fidgeting with restless energy, a tension to him that reminded you of a rubber band stretched and ready to snap. For all that many read him as uncaring you knew that Sakusa was extremely protective of the few people he allowed close to him, and that you were one of the privileged few. He was clearly ready and willing to tear verbal strips off anyone who’d dared upset you.

 “Yes,” you told him, figuring honesty was probably the best policy at this point, “But only because they were saying untrue things about you, about how you treat me.”

 Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed at that, and his eyes softened. You couldn’t see his mouth because of the mask, but long familiarity let you know the corners would be curling up in relief,. He clearly didn’t care a bit what people said about him, an attitude you wished rather desperately that you could emulate.

 “Let them say what they want,” he told you firmly, “It’s not something that bothers me, so don’t let it bother you.”

 “If only it were that easy,” you told him your own lips curling into a wry smile.

 Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled one of his hands from his jacket pockets and gently took hold of your face, the warmth of his shockingly bare fingers on your skin making your heart flip over in your chest  his thumb gently swiping across your cheekbone rendering you completely and utterly speechless.

 “The only opinions about my person that I care about are opinions from people who matter to me,” he told you sincerity dripping from very word, “And the only opinion I care about when it comes to our relationship is yours.”

 Your heart was beating a rapid tattoo against your ribs at his fervent declaration, especially since you knew he meant every word. Your boyfriend was nothing if not completely and utterly honest when it came to you, even brutal at times. He was never one who’d spare your feelings, which was how you knew moments like these were as raw and honest as it was possible to be.

 “I love you Kiyoomi,” you told him a little helplessly, the words falling out of your mouth before you’d had a chance to really think about them.

 “I love you too,” he responded without missing a beat, even if you could see the faintest of pink blushes decorating the tops of his cheekbones over the mask, “And I don’t like seeing you upset. What people say about me doesn’t bother me, so please don’t let it bother you.”

 “But wouldn’t you be upset if people were saying things about me?” you pointed out reasonably, well aware he would be, as he’d proven many times over in the past.

 He clearly couldn’t think of an argument to that and so instead remained silent, so you continued, “You mean so much to me Kiyoomi and it hurts to hear anyone might think poorly of you or insinuate cruel things about you and how you treat me that are blatantly untrue.”

 He watched you with soft eyes, his thumb still gently tracing your cheek as he explained, “So long as those things don’t cause you to doubt me I could care less.”

 “Never,” you assured him fervently, “I like to think that by now I know you pretty well Kiyoomi and I don’t think there’s anything ridiculous petty gossipers could to make me doubt you, to doubt us. Despite the fact that we’ve had our challenges I always felt like we fit well together. Like two pieces of a puzzle.”

 “I’m glad,” he admitted freely, “I’ve always hoped that you’d felt the way I do.”

 “The way you do?” you repeated curiously.

 “Like you know you’re meant to be,” he told you the words stealing the breath from your lungs and you were fairly sure you forgot how to breathe entirely as he leaned forward to press a gentle masked kiss to your forehead.

 Fortunately, or unfortunately you were pulled from your thoughts by raucous sounds from behind the two of you. It turned out you’d been so wrapped up in your conversation with your boyfriend you hadn’t noticed you were blocking the hallway and keeping the rest of the team as a captive audience of sorts. Apparently the private, intimate moment wasn’t nearly as private as you’d thought, and you were suddenly incredibly grateful the mask helped cover your cherry red cheeks.

 Apparently Bokuto was the one who’d interrupted your moment, too moved by it to stay quiet any longer, and now the former Fukurodani Ace was fervently congratulating your poor boyfriend about how smooth he was. Sakusa looked incredibly put upon as the team swept you up with them as they left the building in a small herd, all of them gently teasing or congratulating the two of you on how very cute your relationship was.

 In the midst of all the chaos your boyfriend managed to sneak his hand into yours, his fingers twining together to keep you close and connected to him. You accepted the gesture, feeling warm, and secure and completely and utterly loved, enough to shoot the poisonous receptionist and her bitter friend a blinding smile on your way out the door.

 Sakusa was right. Their opinions, especially on your relationship, shouldn’t matter to you, at the end of the day you knew he loved you and that was more than enough.

[kataang-dungeon]

First Feelings

(Just some tender Kataang first-time drabble smut)

-----

They had planned every move of this day, and still, it felt like it couldn’t possibly be happening. It couldn’t possibly be real. The feel of him pressing against her and the hungry whimpers he drew out of her were heavenly. A roll of her hips upwards was more than enough to ensnare his full attention. She smiled into his lips as he jumped, bucking and pressing her into the bed.

This part was a bit nerve-racking for her, and Aang knew it, too. She didn’t care about any kind of pain. It was the vulnerability that put her on edge. On her back and spread bare was bad enough, let alone to surrender control of her body’s every reaction.

But she trusted him. More than anything in this world, she trusted him. Aang kissed her so deeply that it left her a bit dizzy, and her disorientation was just what he needed to position himself. Hard flesh probed her inner thigh, dragging wetly towards her aching sex. Katara shook, and pushed herself away from him while also trying to pull him closer. 

His kisses were distracting, but not distracting enough. She pulled back with a gentle gasp when he pushed the beginnings of himself into her. His whole body tensed and flexed in a way that foretold just how badly he wanted to shove himself inside her, desperate to join them, but he waited, kissing her face, for her to give the unspoken okay. When she was relaxed enough to kiss him again, he made his next move. He split her open with languid slowness, savoring the sensation. Katara squirmed from his intrusion. Her inner muscles struggled to push him out and pull him in at the same time, creating a push and pull that made it increasingly difficult to not thrust into her without abandon.

The moment he hilted into her, so deep into heaven that he nearly forgot how to breathe, Katara froze, but only for a moment. A shiver ran through her from head to toe that made her arch and bow in a roll of her body that Aang matched with his own. She scrambled, clawing and clenching with her arms and legs, aimlessly trying to get something. She settled with a swift bite to his shoulder and a rake of her nails down his left side while her legs—spread open and flat for him—hooked her ankles around his thighs.

“M...Move.” Katara pawed his back some more. It was Aang’s turn to groan, the sound a long and low roar, as her squirming did delicious things to the part of him buried in her. “Aang...Aang, move.”

Aang lifted himself on his forearms and descended on her without needing to be asked twice. He controlled himself to long, slow thrusts that had her gasping at every apex so he could burn the memory of this moment into their minds.

His own urges were running away from him. He shifted, spreading her wider for him. He hid his face in her pool of hair and hissed into it as he found a rhythm.

Katara sighed, nearly purring, and put her arms above her head. Any semblance of vulnerability was gone. He had her, now, wholly and completely. The sensation wasn’t just hers, though. Aang felt completed with the same feeling. The realization made him curse and struggle not to show her just how much the gesture meant to him.

“How are you feeling?” he mumbled against her throat. They were wet with sweat and slick and pressed tight against each other, and he was sure to angle himself to give his attention to the bead of her sex. “Is this too much?”

“Don’t you dare pull out,” Katara quickly said. Aang laughed. He pushed himself up some more so he could look at her. Katara was flushed, panting, and beautiful right beneath him. Something like pride blossomed in his chest at the realization that he was able to make her feel so good.

Aang’s thrusts were slow and measured but gradually inching up speed. He peeled away just enough to look down between them. The sight of him disappearing within her drew a groan out of the deepest parts of him. This was happening. And it was happening with Katara. Instinct took over as he lowered himself and bit along her throat. She easily opened for him, and he threw his weight into his movements until every plunge into her left her breathless.

Katara lost track of time and space after the second time Aang did whatever he did to make pleasure fill her from head to toe. She was struggling to stop her tender shivering when he groaned, holding her tighter, and bearing down with all that he was. Sudden anticipation flipped her stomach and had her doing everything to bring him closer. His thrusts were erratic, and Aang was on the brink, and Katara never wanted to leave this dream world made of pleasure, especially when warmth pooled into where he was moving within her and that wound her lower belly closer and closer to the edge for a third time.

He was kissing her when it happened. His frantic thrusts suddenly stuttered, the whole of him shuddering and desperately crawling closer like he couldn't get deep enough inside her. He was suddenly flexed and pressing down, breathing hotly against her neck as he rolled in short, jerking thrusts that sheathed him completely within her. "Oh...Oh fuck...!" His gasps led into a large inhale as he pressed, tensed all over.

His small curse was more than enough to undo her. Katara dug her nails into the hard muscles of his back and writhed breathlessly beneath him. She didn’t expect to feel the heavy jerks of him deep inside her or the dull pulses of his hard flesh splitting her open. Aang allowed himself a gasp amidst it all, his hands thankfully pulling up the sheets and not her hair. Ohhhhhh... Katara froze from the intimate moment, too overcome with the myriad of sensations. Aang—her boyfriend of six years, her best friend, and the Avatar—was cumming inside her and shivering with the pleasure that she brought him. She gasped twice and held her breath, too, just as stunned by the moment as he was. She melted and made a humming sound, nearly purring with the sensation.

The seconds stretched on, and his rigidity bled into slow grinding that eventually unraveled into weak thrusts. The gentle rocking cradled their friction and was just barely light enough to keep Katara from biting through her lip entirely. When he finally collapsed, Aang’s weight was warm and comforting and forced her breathing to sync with his. 

She scratched his back—she had to do something—and enjoyed the soft touches he gave to every mark he had left behind. She guided his head to the soft spots where he did whatever the hell he did that made them feel so good. "That...was…,” she paused to swallow through her panting, “...amazing."

He was kissing her before she could say more. "You're amazing," he said between tastes of her. Katara smiled and welcomed the smile he answered her with. She was exhausted like she had just fought the entirety of the 100-year war in just the span of a few minutes, but she had never felt more alive.

She felt one of his hands slide over her chest, his other curling around her head and lazily playing with her hair. "How do you feel?" he asked, tempered with concern.

"Perfect," she said.

Aang laughed, his thrusts simmering in the background such that he remained sheathed inside her. She envied his energy. "You feel so good, Katara."

She blushed terribly. "What does it feel like?"

His next thrust was slow, the exhale that followed drawing out a shiver with it. "Warm. And tight. Really tight." Katara didn’t know if he was saying it into her ear on purpose, his words thick and heavy with something that dripped into her. She stretched her arms behind her head again and arched, completely content.

They must have been laying there for longer than she thought. Or she had severely underestimated him. His little thrusts grew faster, and Katara didn't mean to make the sound that she did when she felt him harden inside her. She nearly whined when he pulled back, but she blushed hotly when she saw him watching himself slide in and out of her. Their movement made a wet squelch that had them both blushing.

“How does that feel?” he asked, looking directly at her and curling over to bring their faces closer. “Can you feel me inside you?”

Yes. Spirits, yes, yes, yes, yes—

Katara struggled to make an affirmative noise. “Feels...full,” Katara struggled even harder to remember her words. “I can feel you move. And the stretch is nice. Really nice.”

Aang had mercy and slowed so she could work through the pleasure and think clearly. “Could you feel me cum inside you?”

Katara groaned and didn’t bother stopping it. He spoke like he was stating the obvious and impatient for her to admit it. “Yes.” She said it like he had asked her for permission to do it again. She watched him tense and felt him buck into his next thrust. “I could feel it. I could feel everything.”

He looked between them again and stifled a curse, controlling his breathing with hissing breaths. Katara's breathing ran away from her without him over her to control it. He watched her lose it as he moved, shifting angle just a bit and marveling at how she reacted. Katara sunk into the sheets and tried to forget about how very much she wasn't in complete control of herself. The vulnerability was as exhilarating as it was intimate, but his look of hunger and humor had her scowling at him. "Aang." She hooked her ankles around his waist so he couldn't move that far out of her. "C-Come on."

He smiled. "You want to go again?" He was solid within her, now, and throbbing heavily, and Katara squirmed when he slowed down to a snail’s pace.

"Yes! Please!" She was hypersensitive from just orgasming, and he seemed to be no better off. The plea in her voice made his face turn to something that made him shudder. She clenched spitefully around him, and he sucked in his next breath. He bit his lip beautifully and cursed like a sailor that even her father would have scolded.

She was forcing herself to get up and push him back so she could move for him, but luckily, he surrendered to instinct. He pressed her flush to the ground and picked up like they had never stopped.

"Aang!" She cried his name and almost wished she hadn't. He set off on a brutal pace, fueled by her cry of his name, alone.

She pulled him into a kiss, even though neither of them could properly catch the other. She needed more of him. She needed all of him. She was starved for him, and when he scooted closer, threatening to roll her backwards, she thanked every spirit that there was.

They were both too sensitive for it to last long. Their groins were so slick that his speed could be merciless, and Katara writhed when she came. Aang grabbed her wrists and held them down to keep her from clawing the still fresh welts on his back. She pulled back and gasped into his mouth, swallowing on her breaths like she was chugging gallons of pleasure.

Aang pressed his slack-jawed groan into her cheek as he stilled and shuddered again. The ecstasy was tamer than before, from muscles too exhausted to express the euphoria they found in each other. They marveled at the fullness and the feeling until they, at some point, lost all strength and melted into a pile of sweaty limbs and heaving chests.

“Katara?”

“Mhm?”

“I don’t wanna pull out, yet.”

“Then don’t,” she said with a slur, happy and lazy and content, “You feel good.”

“Good doesn’t begin to describe it.” He tried to kiss her but couldn’t find the energy to move farther than her jaw, so she met him half-way with a smile. “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

Katara blushed when she felt how wet everything was down there because of them. She was thinking about how to clean up when Aang made the decision for her. He pulled her close like he wasn’t going to let go until the morning, his arms strong and reassuring around her.

"Goodnight," he slurred.

Katara rolled her eyes. They could clean up later, she supposed. Besides, she was too sore to move. And she felt so blissful that she didn't want to disturb the fuzzy feeling that they had wrapped themselves in just yet.

He tugged on the blanket, not that she needed it with him to warm her. Katara eventually allowed her eyes to close, noticing just before she passed out that Aang was already out like a light.

When she woke up in the morning, he was just as happy as her to realize that it hadn’t been a wonderful dream.

They took their time celebrating their new reality. Most of the morning, in fact.

-----

Much love and horny,

Mod Sifu Grapefruit

[shaolin-spin-doctor]

Midnight Terrors

Kung Jin is awoken by someone sneaking past his bedroom. Fearing an enemy attack, he gives chase, but finds out the intruder's identity and motives are completely unexpected.

Kung Jin jolted awake upon hearing the sounds of hurried footsteps outside his room.

They weren't loud at all - in fact, if the Shaolin monk wasn't so well-seasoned by the numerous sneak attacks he and his fellow Special Forces teammates had been subjected to in their visits to Outworld, he might've just missed them entirely. Whoever was out there knew how to move quietly, regardless of the evident panic in their uneven stride.

Someone with such skill sneaking around the temple in the middle of the night couldn't possibly mean anything good.

Kung Jin sprung out of bed, snatching his staff and wasting no time in darting out of the room. He was relatively unprotected, sporting only the plain tank top and shorts he usually slept in, but he couldn't afford to slow down and let the intruder escape; whoever was out there was fast, and there was no telling of what they might do if left unchecked... That is, if they hadn't already finished whatever job they were sent to do.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear the dark thoughts forming in his mind, the Shaolin warrior continued to run through the moonlit corridor, the feeling of the cold marble tiles beneath his feet dispelling whatever traces of sleepiness still lingered within him. He could hear muted noises right ahead - they resembled voices, but they sounded distorted and out of sync; they had an almost sinister, yet desperate feel to them, and Jin had the disturbing feeling they were somehow familiar.

Slowing down as to avoid detection, the monk tracked the strange sounds to a huge, slightly open wooden door on one side of the hallway. He recognized it as one of the many meditation rooms in the temple - he himself visited it quite often, being the one closest to his own room and in relative isolation from everyone else in the temple. It was the perfect place to lock yourself in if you didn't want to be seen... or caught. Tightening his hold on his staff and channeling his energy until he felt the familiar heat of fire forming inside the metal dragon's maw, Kung Jin drew a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside, ready to confront whoever - or whatever - was on the other side.

What he saw caught him completely off guard, and whatever hostility he had felt died down in a split second.

A man was down on his knees in the middle of the room, pose askew as if he had carelessly - or perhaps, despairingly - thrown himself into the floor; his long, graying hair was a mess, free from the braid it was usually styled in, and his frame shook everytime he attempted to breathe, making it apparent he was struggling to do so. His warped, echoing voice recited a choked prayer, the ominous sound doing little to mask the sheer fright dripping from every word, and the faint glow cast by the pulsating yellow veins stretching throughout his ashen skin revealed trails of blood leaking from nail-shaped wounds in his arms. Kung Jin let out a light, anxious gasp, lowering his staff and staring at the figure in front of him.

"Lao?" He asked softly, failing to stop his voice from trembling at the end. The revenant flinched at the mention of his name and curled further into himself, his voice growing more desperate and desynchronized as he struggled to continue his plea - a chant used to purify one's spirit, Jin noted. The young Shaolin moved to his uncle's side, kneeling next to him to try and get his attention. "Easy there, old man," he murmured, moving his hands in a placating gesture, "It's me, Jin. It's okay."

Kung Lao turned to face the other warrior, blazing eyes wild with dread despite his nephew's reassurance. Whatever words he was trying to say died in his cracked lips as he frantically gasped for air, and Jin, recognizing the older man's struggle, placed a firm hand in his back in an attempt to ground him.

"Breathe with me," Kung Jin instructed, inhaling slowly and exaggerating his motions so they'd be easier to follow. It took a few attempts, but Lao understood soon enough and began following his rhythm, eventually managing to calm down enough to shoot him a grateful look. Jin nodded.

"You did great," he said with a soft smile.

Kung Lao shook his head, looking away. "I'm sorry. I... lost it," he whispered, bitterness lacing his words. The younger Shaolin frowned.

"What are you talking about?" He inquired. Lao drew in a sharp breath, refusing to look back at his nephew.

"I had a nightmare." The revenant stopped for a moment, running a hand down his face. Jin noticed traces of dry blood trickling down his blackened nails and into his palm. "I was beating your team up, really badly. I tried to stop myself, but the more I struggled, the worse it got, and then I..." he shut his eyes tightly. "I killed you, one by one. Cassandra, Jacqueline, Takeda... And you. I ended your lives with my bare hands, and I was laughing, and it felt so real, and I... I panicked. By the elder gods, I was terrified. I thought... I thought I had actually hurt someone."

For a moment, Lao looked down at his hands, studying the dried trails of crimson running down his fingers. He then huffed, his face twisting into a disgusted snarl.

"That doesn't change anything, though. I did hurt people - committed unthinkable atrocities. It doesn't matter how hard I try to hide it..." He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his fists tightly, long nails digging into his skin with enough force to draw fresh blood. "I'm still a monster. Am, and always will be."

The sinister, out of sync echo of the revenant's voice only amplified the vitriolic self-loathing present in his words, and Kung Jin's chest ached at how familiar the whole situation was.

"Is that all you think you are?" he asked quietly, tawny eyes locking with his uncle's fiery ones. Kung Lao was taken aback by the sheer hurt written all over his nephew's face. "You do realize it wasn't your fault... right? You were under Quan Chi's control. You couldn't-"

"I enjoyed it!" Kung Lao growled, interrupting the other warrior. "I tried to stop it, but it felt good. No matter how hard I fought, how much I tried to resist, it felt good, and I couldn't control it. I-"

"It wasn't you," Jin cut him off, a solemn edge to his voice. "It was never you."

The revenant let out a trembling exhale, a pained expression taking ahold of his face. He closed his eyes and curled into himself. "I should've tried harder. I... should've been stronger."

Kung Jin didn't think twice before wrapping his arms around Kung Lao's frame, pulling him into a hug. The older Shaolin was unsure of how to react at first, stunned by the sudden contact - he couldn't remember the last time he had been embraced like this, and the unexpected display of affection seemed almost alien to him. It took a while, but he eventually returned the gesture, allowing himself to give into it completely. Jin sniffled.

Despite Lao's unnaturally cold form, it almost reminded him of the last time they bid each other farewell all those years ago. Before the world came crashing down for both of them.

"No, Lao." The younger warrior said, finally breaking the silence. He felt like a child, clinging desperately to his uncle as if the older man would somehow disappear if he let go. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was." He broke away from the embrace to look at the other warrior in the eye. "Anyone else would've succumbed to the darkness, but you? You made a conscious effort to come back once you broke free. You fought to get your life back, and you did, and you're so, so strong for it."

Kung Lao opened his mouth to protest, but Jin shot him a warning look and raised a finger to silence him before he could say anything. "Don't blame yourself for things you had no control over. What matters is that you're here, now, and you're being true to yourself despite everything. You're not a monster. You..." The young Shaolin looked away for a moment, carefully considering his next words, and when he looked back at his uncle, it was with a fond smile on his face. "You're a hero."

Lao stared at his nephew as he processed his words. The other man's genuine expression filled his chest with an overwhelming feeling of warmth, and he forced himself to rub his eyes with the back of his hand in an attempt to hide the moisture building in them. "Just a hero?" he asked, shooting Jin a knowing look. The archer rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

"Fine," he huffed dramatically. "My hero."

Kung Lao chuckled. "I thought I was just another thing in your way."

Jin snorted and shoved him jokingly. "The only thing you're in the way of is my sleep schedule. C'mon, I need rest, and so do you." He punched his uncle's shoulder softly and gestured for him to stand up. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Wait," Lao said , stopping Jin dead in his tracks. "I can't go out like this."

"Didn't stop you from waking me up," the younger warrior shot back, causing his uncle to pout. "Plus, I doubt your spirit can settle down when you're hurt and covered in blood." He shot the other man a devious look when he groaned. "Tough luck, gramps."

Kung Lao sighed dramatically before standing up. "You sure have a way with words."

Kung Jin shrugged as he picked up his staff and followed suit. "It's a Kung thing."

The two men approached the wooden door, and Jin was about to hold it open when Lao spoke up out of the blue. "Jin?"

"Hm?"

"... Thank you."

The archer looked back at his uncle, and they locked eyes. Gratitude was written all over the revenant's expression, and, despite his inhuman features, Kung Jin could see the soft smile on his face was genuine. He grinned back.

"You're such a softie. C'mon, old men first."

[lanland04moure]

미안해 •| ᶜʰᵒᶤ ʸᵉᵒⁿʲᵘⁿ |• [ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ ]

It's been hours since you left home. It's been hours since that stupid argument. But not being here is part of your job, I know.

You were right, it's your room and only you know how you keep it tidy.  Even though I was right too, it's a mess. You should take the time to tidy up a little better. 

It's been a while since I last called you. I asked you to have dinner together, a truce to fix this stupid situation.  You refused my request. 

You're still upset, I could feel it in your voice.

The door to the apartment burst open, giving way to the thunderous voices of the boys coming in, playing and shouting. But you weren't there.

Why did you have to, why if everyone else was leaving did you have to stay? Why did you?

Heuning and Beomgyu went straight into the kitchen, looking for something to eat while it was time for dinner. Soobin took a seat next to me on the spacious sofa. Taehyun walked slowly in our direction after locking the door informing me that Soobin and Heuning had planned to go to the movies before dinner, mentioning that they had only stopped by the apartment to change. But he didn't mention you.

I struck up a conversation with the guys, trying to forget the fact that I felt rejected by you.  

Beomgyu zapped at the TV, while Taehyun fought with him for not allowing him to see what was on some channel. Soobin and Heuning had long since left, excited because the movie they would be attending looked very promising.

The next moment Beomgyu and Taehyun's voices stopped as did the constant switching on the TV. They had finally left a channel. But it felt strange the abrupt change of mood.

I turned in their direction and they looked like they had seen a ghost, frozen with their eyes glued to the TV.  As I prepared to take a look at what had caused their reaction, Taehyun obstructed my point of view and started talking very fast while trying to pull me along with him.

What was wrong with him? I was about to protest when the words of the person behind the TV set froze me in my tracks.

"A second explosion is reported at HYBE entertainment agency. The trapped people could not be rescued yet. Rescue bodies report that they expect 3 to 6 more explosions to happen due to the rupture of several gas lines. So far at least 10 people are reported trapped." 

The three of us kept silent.

Beomgyu changed the channel again, his hands were shaking, we all knew you were there.   

"It is reported that 2 or 4 people could be found lifeless. This is due to the difficult situation and that the location does not lend itself to a safe rescue. Viewers are asked not to be present at the site, as this could cause even more chaos than what is already there. This is primarily directed at all the young women who are crowding around the company in search of information about members of various groups in the company."

Why if I asked you to have dinner together did you have to turn me down? Why do you have to allow your pride to go so far?

One more change.

"The area affected by the explosions is reported to be on the central floors of the building, the area where the agency's practice rooms and locker rooms are stipulated to be located. So far, no injuries or people trapped in the few debris generated on the lower floors have been reported. It is reported that at least 7 people were on that floor at the time of the incident. All the victims have been identified, 4 or more of them could be company personnel and we have the report that 2 of them could be idols. We are not allowed to inform who they are or what group they belong to, to avoid increasing hysteria among fans."

I know it's you, I know because you haven't called yet. If we hadn't argued you'd be with me now. But you're not.

Another change.

"A successful rescue of 3 people has just been carried out, they were found trapped inside one of the elevators of the place, none of them has any serious injuries or damage."

The transmission was cut for several seconds after a loud noise was recorded by the microphones that were in place. When the signal came back on, the reporter was a little further away from the scene and had a frightened look on his face.

"We have just witnessed a new explosion, the rescue corps reports that this explosion can generate a collapse in the construction. Because of the previous explosions the foundations of the site were damaged. So far a large amount of debris has fallen, which will further delay the rescue of the victims of this disastrous accident."

Another one.

Everyone's nerves are on edge, Taehyun still hasn't let go of me, and I really appreciate it because his touch is the only thing that keeps me still standing and not on the verge of collapse.

The door to the apartment opens again, our eyes traveled to that point and for a moment no one came in and it kindles in me the hope that it is you, that you had reached to leave the Company before all this happened. Then Heuning enters, letting out little sighs, a sign that he was crying, followed by Soobin. Again, not you.

—Take your things, we'll go to the company.—

Soobin's request was in a calm voice, but no one moved, we just exchanged glances.

—¡MOVE!—

Beomgyu's shout brought us out of our state. Tae let go of me, from then on it was all a race, the boys looking to change clothes and everyone fighting for the toilet.

I went to your room, I felt calm, I wasn't scared, I wasn't afraid, and the thought of panicking had left me. 

I guess I hadn't quite assimilated the fact that you are trapped in a building at risk of collapse. Because there can be no other explanation for the fact that I was so calm.

I went to the closet and grabbed two sweatshirts. One was obviously for me, it was cool at this time of night. The other is for you, because when you left the house this morning you didn't have one with you and you're probably a little chilly. 

When I returned to the living room, the TV was already off and the boys were standing near the door.

They were waiting for me.

•

On the walk to the company many doubts assaulted me. Will you be okay? Did you suffer any damage? Did something even worse happen in there? Will you still be alive?

With all these thoughts in mind, I began to experience a strong pressure in my chest, everything around me spun and the boys' conversation began to be heard in the distance. I had to call you, I had to know you were okay.

You couldn't leave me now, you couldn't go away upset because of that stupid argument, I started a desperate search for my cell phone, but that was the moment when I started to feel short of breath.

Was this a panic attack?

I could see the worried faces of the guys who were almost on top of me. They all spoke at once and it was impossible for me to understand what they were trying to say.

Taehyun pushed them all away and helped me into a better position so that it was possible for me to breathe.

—You need to calm down, breathe...—

There were no words of encouragement, it wasn't an "Everything will be okay" and it certainly wasn't a "He's safe". Why we didn't know, we didn't know how you were doing and we had no idea what we would find when we got there.

When we finally arrived the boys came down immediately, but I didn't know what to do, would I be able to keep calm now that I had the real version of the event in front of my eyes?

I need you by my side, now I realize how much I really love you.

This morning that you left we didn't say goodbye... we didn't say goodbye, we didn't give each other a kiss. We didn't say "I love you".

While I was in that internal debate of how to take the situation a loud noise like a big thunder flooded the atmosphere. The hustle and bustle of the moment stopped, everyone was looking at that big damaged structure. And without being able to avoid it, I turned my gaze behind the glass to the same place.

A large part of the building had collapsed. The area around the site had been reduced to rubble.

Not far from us stood one of the reporters we had seen on television. He immediately settled down in front of the frame to report on the latest development.

A little further back was a group of firemen, one of whom was carrying a megaphone through which he began to instruct people to move away from the structure for safety.

I turned my attention to the reporter to hear his last words.

"After minutes of waiting, the collapse the authorities were talking about has happened. The rescue forces communicate that they expect to find the 7 people who were trapped lifeless. The weight of the debris is too much for anyone to have survived."

The Lieutenant in charge took the megaphone and made the announcement that woke me up from my state of shock.

—The explosions were on the central floors of the building, the columns of the site are already too badly damaged and the upper floors are beginning to collapse. There is no hope for a successful rescue.—

I immediately got out of the car, it couldn't be true, what we had just witnessed had to have been an illusion, this couldn't end like this.

I need to see you, I need to hold you. I need to tell you how much I love you, one more time.

I ran towards the building dodging all the agents that tried to stop me, if they didn't come in to get you I would, because I need to have you by my side.

Strong arms wrapped around me preventing me from continuing to run into the building. They held me close to his chest, which was rising and falling in agitation, he had run after me. And there, in the warmth of that embrace a new hope grew within me. But I didn't want to turn around and find out again that it wasn't you.

— You need to stop, you can't do something like this, what do you think you can do for him once you're in there? You couldn't do anything.—

Soobin's voice came directly from the one who was holding me, so.... Again it wasn't you.

I felt my heart sink in a sea of anguish. Why aren't you here with me yet? What are you waiting for? Come on, get out of there.

•

"All night has passed and rescue teams have still not found any people trapped under the wreckage."

"After what seems to be 12 hours of the tragedy, the rescue teams have managed to stop the explosions and have also controlled the fires caused by these."

•

It's been more than 24 hours since I last saw you.

The guys dragged me back home, that I needed to sleep was their argument. But still, in the silence of the night, without you by my side, it was impossible for me to fall asleep.

I miss you.

Look at your room again. It is still the same as you left it yesterday morning. Your desk is full of notebooks and notes. On a chair and isolated in a corner is a pile of clothes, clean or dirty, I'm sure you don't even know. Sweatshirts and pants everywhere. And even as I'm admiring this mess again I think; are we really fighting over something so futile?

I need to hear from you.

I stood up slowly, I had to go there again. I needed news, and I didn't want to watch it through the TV, I had to be present on the spot.

I left your room ready to go back to the company. I left without making any noise, but when I got to the living room my plan went down the drain. Everyone was there, and judging by their expressions there was still no good news. I turned around and resignedly went back to the room.

I threw myself on your bed and without being able to help it I burst into tears. Why did this have to happen to us?

The sound of the door was like a whisper next to my uncontrollable sobs, this time that illusion that it was you didn't appear. I knew who it was.

Feeling the warmth of his embrace only made my crying increase. He didn't try to make me stop, he didn't comfort me, he didn't do anything like that. He did nothing but join me in my crying.

I knew that for the boys this was also a difficult situation. But of all of them, he was surely the one who was coping the worst, he also needed a support, but at this moment I couldn't be one, we were both equally broken.

I'm sorry Soobin, I'm sorry for not being able to comfort you.

part 2.   part 3