#but yeah i am able to organize my thoughts and my brain feels calmer

[malikson]

.

[imagine-lcorp]

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too (One Shot)

Request

Can I request something with a Paramedic reader attending to Lena's wounds after a car crash. Reader was on her way home from work still in her uniform when she sees the crash at night. Lena gets hurt and the other driver vanishes from the scene. R tends to Lena's broken arm or something. Drives them to the hospital, stays by Lena's side the whole time in the ER and then drives lena home. Lena is smitten by the woman in the uniform and offers R morning coffee since it took all night in the ER

A/N: Hello, my dears, back again with this one shot, as always thank you to the anon that sent this one, I hope I’m not to late (I know I am but pls forgive) and I hope that you like it! Let me know what you think, guys. I love y’all c: 

Lena Luthor x Paramedic Fem!R//Word Count: 2,540  -------------------------------------------------------

When people asked you what was the best part of your job, you would always say it was being able to help people. Which came with its own reward as you could meet some amazing people along the way. The downside of it, however, was that your work was never done. Especially in a place like National City, between the usual medical emergencies, the occasional super-powered villain wreaking havoc and the rare alien invasion, you always had to be ready for anything. Including the car crash you had witnessed while heading home.

It had been a relatively quiet day at the station, your shift had ended at midnight and the only thing you wanted then was to go home, grab some dinner, strip yourself of your uniform, and go to bed early as your day off was waiting for you the next morning. The last thing you had expected once you got off work was to go right back at it.

You had been waiting for the light to turn green at an intersection when a blur to your left startled you, followed by the sound of tires squealing and the loud crash of metal against metal. A moment later, you saw two cars ahead on opposite sides of the road. The black one had a broken windshield, and the driver side doors were dented from where you guessed the red one, with the bent bumper and broken right headlight, had impacted.

When you finally caught up on what was happening, you didn't waste more time. All thoughts about rest and relaxation were forgotten as you started to assess the scene. You turned your blinkers on and moved your car, making sure there were no other cars about to crash on you and close enough to have a better view of the damage. Unfortunately, you didn't get the chance to examine both cars further as you watched the red one take the road again and flee the scene. You stopped your car and got out to check on the people inside the black car.

Approaching carefully, you went to check first on the driver's seat. Inside the black car was a single person. The woman, probably in her mid-twenties, wearing a sleeveless dress, with dark hair, pale skin, and who looked strangely familiar, was lying back on her seat with eyes closed. You took your phone from one of your pockets and called the emergency number.

As you described what had happened to the dispatcher, you examined the woman's condition as best as you could giving them a picture, as clear as possible, about it. She didn't seem to move but her breathing was steady. The crash might have not been as severe as there were no signs of cuts or wounds visible. However, with the airbag in front of her already losing it's shape, you noticed her left arm had a purple bruise. You moved the rest of the airbag with care and grimaced as you watched how big it was. It could be a sing of fracture.

The call was quick and after confirming your location the dispatcher told you there was an ambulance already on its way. In the meantime, you did what you knew best.

"Miss, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" You said before trying to move the woman. When you didn't get a response, you opened the door and tried shaking her gently in the shoulders. A pair of dazzling green eyes fluttered open, focusing with some difficulty on you. You put your hands on her neck and face for support. "Do you know what happened to you?"

The touch of your hands seemed to shake her a bit, her eyes closing and opening again as if thinking this was some kind of hallucination. Something you imagined was the effect of the shock.

"Oh, you're pretty." The woman said with a drowsy voice.

A little smile formed in the corner of your lips. It wasn't the first time you had received a compliment like that. She was also an undeniably beautiful woman and you would have responded accordingly, had it not been for the current circumstances. Now you feared she had suffered a concussion.

As she saw the little smile in your face, the woman's clouded mind cleared in an instant. Her eyes grew bigger with surprise. It wasn't a thought she was supposed to voice out loud. Her head had felt foggy, as if waking up after a long nap in a bed made of rocks and rusty nails and it didn't help that she had started to feel a little headache, making her almost incapable of forming orderly thoughts, until she realized what she had said.

"Thanks." You managed in the end. "What's your name?"

"Lena." She said with a grunt, like she was finally realizing where she was and what was happening. "Lena Luthor."

At the mention of her name something clicked inside your brain. Of course you recognized Lena Luthor. Besides being one of the richest people in the planet, she was a very active philanthropist. She had made great donations and participated countless times in the charities the hospital you worked in organized. You made a mental note to thank her after all of this but, in the meantime, you proceeded like any other case.

"Alright, Lena. My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I'm a paramedic. An ambulance is already on the way, so I need you to stay with me, okay?"

All my life if you want, Lena thought along with some other things she was aware enough to keep to herself, only giving a small nod in understanding.

You started placing your hands in her neck, her shoulders, her back, and so on, asking if she could feel anything or if she was feeling any pain or discomfort. Most of the time the answer was negative as she only seemed to have a mild headache and some pain on her neck but, as the adrenaline and shock were wearing off, she slowly came to notice the the actual amount of pain in her body, especially in her left arm.

"Any pain here?" You said once you reached her arm.

She winced with a little yelp and for a second tried to pull her arm away.

"Sorry, sorry." You took her arm again in a gentler way, trying to move the rest of the airbag out of the way, placing her arm to a better position and your other hand under hers. "Okay, we are not gonna move from there. Can you feel your fingers?"

Lena nodded, trying to close her fingers around your hand. "Yeah, I can feel them."

"Okay." You moved your other hand, feeling her arm with soft touches. You still weren't sure if her arm was broken but anyway you needed to cover it. "I need to go get some padding for-"

"No, please." Lena quickly said. "I-I don't want to be left alone."

There was fear clear in her eyes and you almost hit your own forehead. For what you had heard around, most of the visits Lena Luthor had ever made to a hospital had been after a direct attempt on her life. With a crazy family and half the city against her, of course, she was scared.

"Alright, don't worry. Once the ambulance is here, we are going to give you something for the pain, get your arm splinted up and take you to the hospital. I promise I'm not leaving, okay?" You said with another little smile, reassuring Lena as much as possible.

"Thank you." She stopped holding her breath.

You tried to make some small talk as you waited, making more questions about trivial things to make sure she was alert and hadn't suffered brain damage. While doing so, you learned that Lena Luthor, for all the things the media some times tried to feed you about her and her family, was a nice person. She was answering every question you threw at her as best as she could, even making some charming remarks from time to time that you found kind of cute. Mostly, you were relieved to confirm she was in good shape.

The ambulance and police sirens could be heard on the distance and a moment later you had to step away to let the team of paramedics work. You recognized your coworkers as they came to your aid. You had to step aside to talk to the police about the incident, giving them the best description you could about the hit and run before some details faded from your memory and were glad to leave them to their own thing as you watched the other paramedics finally pull Lena out of her car.

They were moving her to the stretcher and towards the ambulance when you went to do a final check on her. She seemed calmer, probably thanks to the painkillers they had provided her, and a bit paler, which made you a little worried, but you were relieved to see her arm was already being taken care of. You had thought that was the end of your night and were about to leave Lena's side when she called you.

"(Y/N)?" She said as she was about to be loaded into the ambulance.

"Yes?" You frowned for a moment in confusion but got a bit closer to hear her through the sound of people moving around.

"Could you stay with me?" She asked with pleading eyes.

Somewhere, on the back of her mind, Lena knew this was nothing more than the effect of the drugs in her system. There was no other reason to keep you there, you had helped her so much, calling for help, attending her injuries, and making sure the medical team could take another look at her. And maybe that was the exact same reason she wanted you around for a little longer.

You raised both eyebrows in surprise, and the couple of paramedics did the same as they looked at each other and then at you.

"Well, I-" You hesitated for a moment but considering who was asking, and that the cutest puppy eyes you had ever seen were looking at you, you gave in. Part of you wouldn't admit it yet, but you had somehow grown fond of Lena in such a little time and you still had to thank her for all she had done. "Sure."

Since you couldn't just leave your car behind, you decided to follow the ambulance to the hospital where Lena was brought into the ER. She was placed in a bed and you sat by her side, waiting for the nurses to do a check up.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this." Lena spoke after an awkward moment of silence, realizing she may have overstepped your boundaries.

Considering her state of mind, she hadn't really thought this through but your presence seemed to soothe her better than the painkillers and that was all she had known at the moment.

"Don't be. I figured it was the least I could do for our biggest sponsor." You said this time with a bit of a tired smile, feeling the exhaustion of the night.

Your weary expression didn't go unnoticed by Lena who also didn't have the chance to ask what you had meant as the nurse and doctor entered the room. They started by asking her more questions and checking her vitals. When they noticed you there, still in uniform, the doctor figured you were one of the paramedics that had brought Lena and told you they would take it from there.

"She can stay, doctor." Lena's tone made it seem almost like and order. "She's a friend."

You were a bit surprised by her answer but both nurse and doctor nodded their agreement and moved on, probably because they knew by now who they were treating.

They moved Lena's arm again to take some x-rays and, through all the wincing and grunting, you instinctively took her hand in yours and you had no idea how much she appreciated the gesture. It had been a long time since another person had offered her a hand in comfort and even a longer time since she had let someone take care of her like this.

It was early morning when after all the necessary medical checks were done, you left the ER pushing a very tired and very beaten up Lena, with a cast in her arm, in a wheelchair through the hospital doors and into the chill of the night. As you pushed the chair outside, you took a moment, taking of your jacket and putting it over her shoulders.

"Here." You said and started pushing the wheelchair into the parking lot. "Now, we better get you home before it gets colder."

"Wait, (Y/N)." Lena said as you were approaching your car. "You don't have to, you have already done so much."

"It's okay. Like I said, it's the least I could do."

"For your biggest sponsor?" Lena asked.

"Yeah, I guess." You said remembering you wanted to thank her for that. "You may not remember but, last year, you made some big donations to every hospital in National City, Miss Luthor. Including the one I work for. That helped a lot of people so, yeah, this is just me trying to repay for all those you have helped."

"Then, if that's what it takes for you to take me home, I'll make sure to make more of those donations." Lena said, forgetting to keep those bits of inner thoughts to herself.

You stopped then, like finally realizing how unusual the situation was. An off-shift paramedic taking care of a car accident patient, accompanying her all the way to the ER, waiting all night beside her as her medical test were done, and taking her home afterwards, like it was the most natural thing to do.

You rounded Lena's chair and crouched in front of her. "It's not just the donations, Lena."

She got worried she had overstepped again but seeing the way your eyes were looking into hers, and the way you had said her name, made Lena feel secure once more.

"I cannot tell you how or why but I have ever done this with anyone I have ever met." You said with a sheepishly smile.

"Maybe we could discover it together." She tried. "Around a cup of coffee, once we reach my home? I mean, since you already have been with me all night. How does that sound?"

You seemed to ponder it for a moment and then you offered your hand. "Sounds like a good deal."

Lena took your hand in hers once more, closing what felt like the best bargain she had ever done in her life and hoping it would last exactly that.

"And now that I'm sure you don't have a concussion I can also tell you. I think you're pretty too." You saw Lena's cheeks turn red and didn't give her time to respond as you returned to the back of the wheelchair, with a grin plastered in your face and excited to star the new day with her.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

The Last Slide (Disco, Disco)

This fic is part of the b99 fic exchange organized by @b99fandomevents and I wrote this for @feeisamarshmallow :)

I combined a few prompts and hope I did them justice.

Read on ao3

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Chapters: 1 2 3 4

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Of all the feelings the human body is able to experience, the first one greeting Jake when he comes to is pain. If he had a choice, he would choose something happier, more exciting and, well, less painful.

It rises on the back of his head, almost at the top, like the source of a river somewhere high in the mountains. High in the mountains – that’s what he feels like.

It then wraps around his skull, pulsating behind his forehead, and trickles down into his neck. Sleeping on the floor of his first apartment for two weeks because he had yet to buy a decent bed or mattress was nothing against this, at least that’s what his tense muscles are screaming at him right now.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, he turns his head and winces. His whole body feels sore. He wonders if last night ended in a few rounds too many but comes up short. What did he do last night? The mere attempt at remembering sends a sharp pain through his skull.

He’s on the floor. That’s the next thing he realizes. The surface is cold and hard, not concrete, not wood, not tiles, certainly not carpet. Where is he? How did he get here?

Hard as he tries, he just… He can’t remember. The pulsing in his head gets louder and he groans. Slowly, carefully, he blinks one eye open, bracing himself against any glaring light. Then opens the other one. It’s dark. Everywhere, all around, deep, dark blackness. Is he blind? He blinks a couple of times and sees shimmers. Can blind people see shimmers?

The hand raised to the back of his head comes away warm and moist. He immediately knows it’s blood but sniffs at it anyway. He was right. Because what else would it be? “Bring a fancy bottle of lavender shampoo,” he hears Charles in his head, “because shampooing a woman’s hair is the most erotic thing–” Jake groans again to drown out the voice. No, it’s definitely blood.

But seriously, where is he? His chest tightens as he feels the panic rising. He can’t see, he has no idea what’s going on, he has a bleeding wound on his head and he’s sure there are bruises all over his body. He could poke all the places he suspects, but a disapproving face appears in front of him before he can move a muscle. It’s Amy. Amy… Something tells him he’s supposed to call her. Did he forget to call her? Does she know where he is? Oh god, is Mac okay?!

An overwhelming sense of longing hits him and the panic returns not a moment later when he realizes he can’t call her because his phone is gone and so are his keys and his wallet is not in his pocket either and– His breathing becomes shallow, his chest feels tight, lungs filled with vacuum; he presses the balls of his hands against his eyes and the shimmers get worse.

“Breathe, Jake.” It’s her voice. “In… And out… In… Through the nose, Jake… And out…” Gradually, he regains his composure. His head still hurts and he still can’t see a thing, but he’s calm again. Well, calmer.

He tries to sit up but sees stars as soon as he raises his head too much. Okay, cool, cool, cool, the floor it is, then.

You’re a detective of the NYPD, he tells himself. You’ve been in situations worse than this. Remember, you survived several months in Florida. And prison.

His blood turns to ice. He isn’t back there, is he?! Back in solitary, alone, in the middle of the night, for two long weeks–

No, you idiot, the rational voice in his head immediately scolds him. It sounds a lot like Amy.

Once again, he tries to remember what happened, but... Nothing. Nada. Niente. Nichts. Only a worsening headache. So he goes back further, imagines he’s walking down a road inside his brain, passing blurry corners and intersections, until something appears before him, sharp and clear.

There. He can start there.

***

The sound of a file landing on his desk pulled Jake’s eyes from his paperwork. It was a case file, evident to him by one single glance. But what really piqued his interest was who had delivered it to him.

“Ah, look who’s spending one of her last days at the Nine-Nine in her favorite bullpen! To what do we owe this honor?”

Amy Santiago, about to kick-start her career in her very own precinct as the youngest female Captain of the NYPD, looked down at him proudly and nodded at the folder on his desk. “Check the file.”

Intrigued, Jake did so, scanning the forms inside. He gasped, eyes wide and twinkling. “A murder at the water park? Ames!”

“Did you read the details,” she asked, leaning down and eagerly pointing at the page, “about how the victim died?”

His eyes flew over the paper, soaking up every bit of important information in record time, the glee in his chest threatening to bubble over. “Oh, Amy, please tell me this case hasn’t been assigned yet.”

“It has.” The glee cooled down to a simmer at her words, but as he looked up, the little smirk on her face turned the heat up again to boil. (Maybe he was a bit hungry.) “I asked Holt if I could have it and he said yes. And he let me pick a secondary.”

Ants were crawling through his veins as he waited for her to confirm what he could already read on her face.

“Jake Peralta,” she said in a voice cornering on solemn, “pack your bag, because we’re going to the water park!”

“Yes!” He celebrated by taking the pile of paperwork he’d been working on all morning and throwing it in the air. It scattered all over his desk, on his lap, on the floor around his feet. A few sheets slid under his desk, Scully’s chair, Holt’s shoes – oh. Whoopsie.

“Peralta, please clean this up,” the Captain ordered in a stern voice. “You’re taking on the case with Santiago, but I still expect your paperwork to be done on time.”

Jake nodded as he stood. “Will do, Sir. Trust me, I won’t water anything down for you!” A single raised eyebrow was his answer before the Captain returned to his office. “Yeah, that was kind of lame, wasn’t it?”

Amy scrunched up her face in that adorable way of hers and nodded.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re going to the water park!”

“It’s for work, Jake,” she reminded him, “we’re not there to splash around. When I said to pack your bag, I meant your work bag.”

“Right.” He sobered a little, but then he remembered the details of the case. “Time to pack the real work bag that I definitely have and hit the road with the best former detective and soon-to-be Captain of the NYPD!” He grabbed his jacket and had taken three steps towards the elevator when he heard someone call his name in a reprimanding voice from the vicinity of Terry’s desk.

He turned to meet the expectant eyes of both his Lieutenant and wife. “Huh? Oh, right, my mess.”

Scrambling to pick up the scattered sheets of paper, one hand preventing the badge around his neck from hanging into his face bending forward, he could practically feel the combination of eye-roll and fond smile directed at him.

“We’re not going until this afternoon,” Amy explained, “we both still have paperwork to do and the movers are coming back around noon for the rest of the furniture, remember?”

Charles chose that moment to invite himself into the conversation, rolling over in his chair. “I can handle that for you two so you can go work the case together because you’re an absolute dream team!” He grabbed the file from Jake’s desk and scanned the information. “Oh daddy, this is a good one!”

“Oh daddy?” Jake repeated while Amy shook her head.

“This is our last day at the apartment and I already cleared everything with Holt. You’re welcome to help, Charles, but Jake and I are handling this.”

Charles shrugged apologetically at Jake and rolled back to his desk.

“Wow,” Jake said in a low voice, “he didn’t even protest this time. You really have him under control these days.”

Amy quickly raised a hand to shush him. “Psst, don’t jinx it.” She fished a sheet he’d overlooked from the hood of his jacket. “See you later, babe!”

***

The rest of the morning is all but a blur. He remembers Rosa showing up late for work, remembers Terry settling a lasagna-related feud between Hitchcock and Scully, but that’s it. Mama Maglione, his head still hurts…

There were movers. There were boxes, a few shelves, the fridge. And there was Amy, finding one of her favorite pens behind the wardrobe when they lifted it, beaming with joy.

He tries to roll over but the movement makes him dizzy again and his stomach queasy. His ears ring. He has a concussion, no doubt.

Did one of the movers drop a shelf on his head?

No, something at the edge of his memory tells him they’re long gone. Wherever Jake is, though, he’s not been here long enough for his blood to dry.

If only his ears stopped ringing, then he could listen for anyone, anything – “Hello?” he croaks out and clears his throat. “Hello!”

He listens, calls again, louder, the volume of his own voice hurting his head. There is no response.

Letting out a string of swears that would make Holt gasp out loud, he massages his temples in an attempt to relieve some of the pain.

It just so works enough that he can muster up the concentration needed to dive back into his memories.

***

Amy wiped a few beads of sweat from her brow and stepped back to examine her work. The parts of the walls still occupied by a last piece of furniture up until an hour ago now glistened in a crisp, pristine white, just like the rest of the apartment’s walls.

She dropped the paint-brush she’d just cleaned into the bucket with the paint roller and the other brushes, took off her gloves and went to wash her hands with the piece of soap she’d brought in forethought like the everyday-wizard that she was. She’d also brought a towel, a big bottle of water, snacks for lunch, a painter’s smock, old shoes, and everything else that Jake would never have thought to bring.

He was sitting in the middle of the living room, patting the space next to him when Amy returned from the bathroom. Her steps echoed in the empty space, loud and foreign on the laminate floor. She sat down next to him, a hand on his arm as she studied the bare place.

Moving a shoe across the floor, tapping a finger against a zipper, even exhaling, it all made so much noise in the silence. At the same time, the apartment couldn’t be louder. It was crawling with ghosts trying to make themselves heard.

There was the TV blaring the news or cartoons or Die Hard, there was the squad gathered around the table at Thanksgiving, there was Victor Santiago briefly interacting with Holt and creating an impact still reverberating in every corner, there was Pimento contemplating his professional future, Hitchcock justifying his choice to go shirtless during dinner, Charles getting mauled by a live turkey, his father cutting off his other thumb.

There was Mac taking his first steps, saying his first words, there was Jake realizing he never ever wanted his life to be anything but this. Realizing how much he’d grown in the past years. He had a wife, a child, a much stabler balance in his bank account. He was wearing a tie to work most of these days. This morning, he hadn’t even made a fuss about cleaning up the mess he’d made. Just a few years ago, he’d have simply left it for someone else to clean, maybe Terry, maybe Amy, probably Charles.

During all this time, this apartment had always been there, even before Holt had joined the precinct. Even before he’d figured out the reason behind his instant mood change whenever Santiago smiled or yelled at him or did or said something he immediately wanted to tease her about. Even before he knew what he really wanted from his life.

“This is it,” Amy whispered, but she could have screamed it, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

“Yep,” he said, popping the p. “Time to leave.”

Neither of them moved. It seemed almost rude to disrupt this rowdy silence, to pull the plug and close the door, forever sealing the many lives that met here, happened here, were quite literally created here, within these walls. Some time in the near future, a completely different life would fill up the space, change the personality of every nook and cranny, cover the walls and floor with new memories.

“Remember the time my dad and Holt met, right over there?” Her voice almost sounded hoarse and his hand instinctively covered hers.

He turned to her with excited eyes. “That’s what I just thought!” She grinned, interlaced their fingers and squeezed. “Hey, you know what they say: Great minds think alike.”

When her eyes met his this time, they conveyed a meaning much deeper than a simple saying. Theirs were great minds that thought alike, in so many ways. It was a connection, a meeting of souls, a clashing of personalities that mended and merged and completed the other on a level that just made sense. Maybe it was because they’d known each other, worked with each other, had been such an integral part of each other’s lives for so long. But he couldn’t deny that it felt like magic.

Magic. That was a good descriptor, he thought. He knew that a part of her would try to explain mating hormones and brain signals and psychological influences and genes and evolution. But the part of her that loved, the part that laughed at his jokes and fell asleep next to him every night, it knew he was right. Whatever they had, it was magical and it was real. Permanent.

She leaned over to kiss him, soft and slow. It was a moment he’d call perfect, if it weren’t for the lack of interruption by a hyperactive toddler demanding attention. Jake almost expected Mac’s small body to jump between them, crawl over their laps, and ask for his dad to play airplane with him again.

But today, in-between work at the precinct and the apartment where a three-year-old would just get in the way, Mac was spending the day with his grandparents while his parents took care of everything. Now that Amy was making more money and with their decision to have more kids, the old apartment just wasn’t enough anymore, a toddler with an abundance of energy not even factored in. It only made sense to move to a bigger place, and that meant saying goodbye to these familiar old walls.

With a sigh, Jake got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on.” In the end, they weren’t leaving the treasure chest behind, they were taking it with them, in their hearts, in all their stuff waiting to be unpacked in the new place, in their memories. In a way, they were leveling up. Bam, Mario reference.

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, taking one last deep breath before patting the pockets of her jeans. “Keys are all here. By the way, I promised Rosa I’d help her with something tonight, you’ll have to meet with the landlord alone. Is that okay?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” Normally, it would feel weird to him to finalize this whole thing without her, but they’d just said their goodbye together. Everything else was already part of the next level. (He started to get into that Mario analogy. Or was it a metaphor?)

Looking around one last time, hand in hand, they turned around and opened the door – to the next part of their lives.

***

There’s someone else nearby. Jake can hear steps through the ringing in his ears. He tries to speak, call for help – but decides against it at the last second. He’s not sure the heavy boots he can make out approaching him are housing particularly friendly feet.

“Where is he?” The voice is sharp, male, vaguely familiar. “Where is the son of a bitch?”

Jake has no idea. About anything. A bright light is shone in his face, a small flashlight maybe. He tries to turn his head to see the person the voice belongs to, but as soon as he moves, a dirty boot presses down on his face. He can feel the footprint marking his skin, hears his head throbbing.

“Where the fuck is he and how did he do it?!”

The boot presses down harder and Jake’s lips touch the floor. Something smells familiar as well, but he can’t concentrate on that. He tries to speak but his voice only comes out muffled. The other man realizes and the boot disappears.

“Answer me! How the fuck did that bastard pull it off?!” The man spits on the ground, only inches away from Jake’s face. The saliva is foaming in the middle. Jake registers the flooring but his brain can’t make sense of it.

“I don’t know,” he gets out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The boot connects with his shin, hard. He cries out in pain.

“WHERE!” The boot kicks him again, this time right in the old gunshot wound back from Florida. Jake clenches his teeth and hisses. “WHERE IS HE!”

“I don’t… Ugh…” He has to close his eyes against the light. Bright spots are dancing behind his lids. He can’t think. “Who even…”

This time, there are three consecutive kicks in his stomach. He coughs and splutters, curling his body protectively around himself. He feels like throwing up, breathless, dizzy. Another kick hits him in the ribs and for a moment, there’s only pain. He’s disoriented, searing hot fire spreads through his chest, he can taste blood on his tongue.

“I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what he did! NOW TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW OR I WILL–”

Jake prepares himself for another kick, but it doesn’t come.

“Shit…” the man hisses and the light goes out. Somewhere, faintly, Jake hears a door opening. But before he can even think about calling out, horrible pain explodes in his abdomen. This time, it’s too much. He can’t speak, he can’t think, he can’t breathe, and before he knows it, he’s out.

[jiwonsssi]

— worth it.

It's always difficult to stay sane in relationships. Especially if it's about Eun Jiwon.

warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (like a tiny attempt), swearing.

characters: Eun Jiwon, 'you'.

The thing is, Jiwon was never an easy task. To talk with, to work with, to live with, to date in general; he had always been able to find a topic to bicker about just as a part of his hobby. You were wondering everytime that happened; like, how one person can make so much noise? It's funny and cute most of the times; he didn't ever crossed a line. Never complaint about your cooking skills, or your clothes, style; appearance. Your way of life was also never a topic for his antics even when you were one hundred percent sure he had some troubles with accepting this or that.

He never meant to hurt you in any way; although he did. And it hurts like hell now. Because his 'I didn't say anything wrong' is the problem, not his words about something you don't even remember for now. Seeing you barely able to control tears and still continuing to step on what got you crying. He might be right a hundred times, but it didn't matter. It still doesn't and would never be. At least for you.

And when you leaved him, advising him to think about what he says, Jiwon was still sure that he did the right thing. He's really unpredictable sometimes, because heaven knows, it's the first time you realised just how stupid, stubborn and insensitive he could actually be.

So you didn't talk for, somehow, four days. And it broke your heart even more. He texted you once, but lowering your expectations and being okay with this treatment? Thank you, no. He's not busy now and you know it. And he knows where you are. It's not like he's not able to come to talk, to sort things out. At this point it's not about crying and complaining how he mistreated you and so on and so forth; it's about fighting him for greater good. Good old rage. At the first day, you cried like a bitch; fighting with him was never that harsh on you while you were never that sensitive. Just the whole situation, and stress, and him not paying attention to that. So if he would have been here then, it would be alright. You didn't even need his apologies, you just wanted to cry not in a pillow all alone, but in his shoulder. At the second day, you were a lot calmer. That's when the text happened and that 'you alright? im sorry' even made you uncertain in some way; but.. not so much. At the third day came alcohol and best friend, and they made everything so much easier. Maybe it helped because the whole evening you two were just playing games, without discussing anything. It surely cleared your head so now, at the forth day, you were certain in the fact that you want to show him just how angry you are.

- 'Im sorry', pff, you sure should be, - muttering it under your breath while trying to open the door in apartments when he lives, you tried to keep your mind clear. You really tried. But the thing is, you love him so much, that you totally not going to lose him over some fight when you two were just stressed out. And you love yourself enough to make him understand that that's not going to happen again.

- Why did you ignore me? - and here he stands, clearly just out of bed. It's not even a mid day, it's evening and he was sleeping. Not surprised. He looks like an angry bird with that messy hair and messed up shirt and pants. Yet you are here not to admire his sleepy cuteness.

- Hello, dear, - does your voice sound as pissed as you are? Kicking your shoes to the corner, you made your way past him. And he just continued staying in a doorway with his hands crossed on his chest and eyes scanning your every movement then following you into bedroom.

- Why? - he particulary screams this part, more like makes it long, loud and annoyed. He should be annoyed. Must be.

- That's all you have to say? - you continue almost throwing your papers in a document folder, trying your best to not to lose patience. And, somehow, cry. Out of anger and sadness, because now he's doing the same thing again and that shit hurts.

- Not really, - he comes closer, taking all of the documents from your hands and shaking it in front of your face, - But I don't think you are here to listen. Those fucking pieces of paper are the only things you care about!

- No, I-

- Shut up, please, I'm talking, - his tone is solid, serious and angry, and you barely saw him this worked up. But you still want to say what you have to say. Even tho he has rights to speak, - You know what I see most of the times when I come home? You, sleeping around the table or you, sleeping on a coach because you are so tired you barely able to walk to the bed. Am I right?

- Yeah, but..

- Still not finished, - he throws documents he holds to the floor, making it flowing in different directions and you want to kill him for that. You organized them for so long and he just threw it away like it was nothing. You don't realize how your face is changing because of it but he gets even more pissed, - See? You care more about work than about my speech. I told you one hundred, one million and billion times to stop overworking yourself. I believe in that you want to be the best, you want you career to be perfect, but I want you, only, fuck, only you, to be healthy.

You start to slowly realise what he is talking about. He's worrying about you. But yet still, there is a bubbling feeling in your chest you can't just forget about.

- And when you were hurt by my words, God, I wanted to comfort you more than anything, but you wouldn't understand any fucking thing because your brain only works when you are this angry, - he pokes your forehead with his finger and exhales slowly, closing his eyes, - I don't care about any of your achievements if you would continue killing yourself. I would never support that. And that's why I don't care about what you want to say, what excuse you want to make up. That's bullshit, I don't buy it, - Jiwon looks you directly in the eyes and the last time you saw him this serious.. you never had, to be honest, - And you can be angry with me for as long as you want to if that means you would understand what I mean.

Your anger has, well, just slightly calmed down. It's difficult to be angry when he is like that. You were lectured like a child and that's one of the very few times you felt his age authority. And he maybe even right. Pursuing your lips a little, you avoid his gaze for a few moments in order to put your thoughts together. You don't like being lectured and he's so calm now. And that is the most confusing about the whole fight. Does he really mean it? But!

- Aren't you trying to find more reasons to stay angry? It's all written on your face now, - Jiwon steps aside a little, stepping on one of the papers on the floor to test your limits. On his face. It's all written on his goddamned face.

- Stop it, - you move in his direction and he moves further back, making sure to stop on every fucking piece of every fucking document he finds on his way, - Stop!

- Then you stop taking extra work hours and bringing it home, - he puts special treatment to one of the contracts you were working on for the longest time and you know that you already ready to beg.

- But I can't! I need to, - you try to get on your knees to save maybe something, but give up on it when you see basically everything is damaged, - Oh fuck. I'm jobless now. God..

- I offered you a good deal without that shittyass boss who uses you like a conveyer, - paper cracks under him and you push oxygen out of your lungs with such a power that your head slightly spinning so you support your forehead with a palm. Jobless, for real.

Actually you don't know why are you not upset about it.

- I can't take it.

- Because it's a good deal? How thoughtful and logical, I love a smart girl!

- Shut up, you! - you throw a paper at him. Now he just annoys you. No anger. Pure hate.

- Get ready to a cheesy line, - he smirks and you roll your eyes fully aware of what he's going to say, - Make me.

And you do. You crash your lips on his, feeling his hands on your waist momentary. He pulls your incredibly close, enough for your sides to ache slightly in places he touches you.

- I missed you, - he murmurs into your lips, pushing you slightly to the bed until your legs touch it's border, without breaking constant contact between your bodiesand lips. You can tell that he smoked by the strong smell of cigarettes and bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. God, you love it.

- Me too, - biting his lower lip, you fully realise that is not going to be gentle. You can clearly see it in his eyes; he needs that stress to be gone. And you totally can relate.

You feel his lips moving down your neck, leaving small hickeys; the only thing he has patience to actually do. He's impatient and turned on; his hands are barely able to unzip your jeans but Jiwon does it with such a determination, you giggle.

And then he rips off the button, sucking on your skin so hard you jerk aside a little. No giggling. Understood.

- That was new and I'm jobless now. So, would you be my sugar daddy? That's what you wanted all along? - somehow you find a strenght to tease while feeling your head spinning when he pushes you to the bed. His face is priceless tho.

- You need to earn it, babygirl, - he smirks, looking at you from the top and slapping your tight roughly. You are not into that daddy thing and he never ever called you like that, but Jesus fucking Christ, that was hot as hell.

Jiwon takes off a shirt, when you particularly jump out of your pants and hoody. Now it's his time to smile because the determination on your face is precious.

Sex always starts with the hot, rough vibe and in the end you find him smiling like that and there is no way you can keep that mood.

- Jiwon, please, - you move closer to him, pushing your thighs into him, feeling his erection against your hip. Jiwon lets his hands roam your body, stopping near every damn piece of underwear you have on yourself and that's just rude.

- I thought it 'daddy' now, - he pushes his pelvis harder between your legs, making you squeak in front of him at the sudden friction. It's obvious that he's kidding, it's all in his shit-eating grin. Unbearable.

- You wish, old man, - you get on your elbows, before he's able to do anything, to grab him by the neck for a kiss. Sometimes he really needs to keep his mouth shut and that's the best way to do it. The kiss sends you on fire, he's crashing you against his body with full force, one of hands snake your waist firmly and other squeezes your ass to give it another light slap. You squirm, digging your nails into his shoulders and moan into the kiss, feeling him smirking.

- So you have a thing for old men then? - you basically roar with anger, tugging on his hair so hard, he hisses and slaps you harder this time. Almost a year of relationships with him taught you that it's better to just shup up now so you won't end up bickering for an hour.

He puts you on the bed again, after striping you out of your bra, howering on top and places short wet kisses everywhere he can manage to reach. You try your best to not to squirm like crazy, but fail obviously. With him grinding against you core, you're not sure how much longer you can wait. The feeling of him against your body is like addiction; addicting euphoria of which you would never be able to get rid of.

You've been angry with him for so long, yet now it's impossible to fight with him. You are gone for; surrendered without a battle. Cause you love him like that. Jiwon looks incredibly hot when he's serious and concentrated. You would never confess it to him; but his dominant side might have you on your knees, pleading for him, in seconds. He didn't even need to do anything.

He takes off your panties and you grasp on bed sheets with a loud moan when he's pushing one finger inside, adding the second right after, making you lose your breath for a while. He moves his hand fast, gently pinching one of your nipples with another, kissing that place right after. There is not a single thought in your head; just him. His lips, when he kisses you, swallowing small noises you make and the way he's circling your clit with his thumb. He builds sexual frustration in you methodical, knowing for sure what to do to make you cum. And he's extremely generous today.

Jiwon is quick to make his way down your body to settle between your legs. You don't fully realise what happened when you feel his tongue instead of his thumb, sucking you harshly, just the way you liked it. He brings you just what you need, just the way you like it. Tangling fingers in his hair, you push him closer, not caring to control your actions. As well as moans and everything else. Because, damn, he's tongue can send you on edge; in every way possible.

He curls his fingers, continuously pumping the same spot and you are done for in a moment. Feeling every nerve and muscle in your nody being tensed with anticipation, relief comes upon like a blessing and even tho Jiwon guiding you through your orgasm, you so fucking lost, you don't understand where you are for a second.

You feel him pulling away, mewling something at the loss of him and touches on extra sensitive skin. And he buries his head in a crook of your neck, placing small kisses over and over again while you try to calm your erratic breathing.

- Another one for me. Please, - his voice is so tensed, low, he particularly grunts it to your ear, kissing it gently, while lowering his pants and boxers, - Okay?

It's not like you are able to answer him when your head is still spinning anyway. He receives a shaky nod from you, kissing your lips shortly and furrows his brows, lining himself between your folds. You let a long, high-pitched sound escape on top of your lungs when you feel it; and you hear him sucking on his breath, pressing your foreheads together.

- Look at me, - you mess his hair even more and look him in the eyes; he is so beautiful. Just like that. Messy hair, sticking to his skin because of sweat and how he's worked up; how his lips parting slightly and brows furrows when he slides himself into you. And that pure bliss on his face when he starts moving inside. He feels amazing; God, the best you have ever felt.

And he thinks the absolute same about you.

Jiwon's heavy hot breathes stuck on your lips, you digging your nails in his shoulders lightly, when you feel the coiling in your stomach starts to boil exponentially all over again. Especially when he pulls you into erratic kiss, chasing your small moans with his lips. He's so hot, his skin radiates the warmth you are so used to, but now you feel like burning, when trapped beneath him. Jiwon still smells like cigarettes, slight aroma of his perfume that is imprinted on his skin now and something that you can't describe. Something, that makes him Jiwon you love; and being drowning in his scent, while he steadily pounds into you, murmuring something that you can't even understand - you wouldn't change it for anything.

You place a kiss under his jaw, right below his ear, fully aware of what it does to him. You feel chills running down your spine when he fastens the pace, squeezing your hip harder. You can't last forever, every brush against your extra sensitive now skin makes you squirm and he continues to brush that particular spot with his tip.

But never uncomfortable. He gave it to you nicely the first time, now he tortures you again. That's just how he likes you - when you are on the edge, but not able to do anything. He craves for your moans, for seeing you going crazy beneath him, for how you bite your lip or scratch his spine with your nails. He loves you like that. Like nothing in the world.

But he loves you better when you lose it. When your toes curl and you shut your eyes tightly, holding your breath for seconds while he thrusts into you harder, faster and you hold on him for dear life, releasing that one loud moan of relief in the end.

And he mixes it with his pleasure, when you kiss right below his lower lip; so gently, delicate while you pulse around him and squeeze him so tight it hurts and when releases deep inside, thrusting in you forcefully, losing his control.

That's how he likes it the best.

Hell, he could fuck you for hours. If he wasn't so exhausted after.

Because even containing himself and pushing himself off you, it's hella amount of work for which he has no strength.

- I love you, - you murmur it quietly in his temple, turning your head a little, because he just burrowed his face in your neck to calm down.

- Me too, - his voice sharp and raspy, he lifts his head up a little, kissing the tip of your nose and his smile is incredible. It's amazing how he changes after sex. Everytime. He just smiles fully yet so tender, looking at you with full adoration; you could forgive him everything. His kisses are so light you barely feel it, Jiwon leaves a kiss everywhere he sees a hickey and hugs you so delicate like you are made of glass.

- I missed you, - you giggle, when he blows on your neck and looks up at you, rolling to the side to pull himself out, - How are you able to be so sweet? That's impossible.

- You are always free to check that. Just saying, - he laughs, seeing your firstly confused than hella 'not disappointed and not surprised' face and pulls you into a bear hug, showering you with kisses so he could make you smile again.

Every nerve you lost on him is worth it.

[gabriellapatterson-blog]

Side fic: STRESS 

A/N: Thanks for the RP @benjaminschreave

I laid in bed agonizing. What was wrong with me lately? At breakfast small talk with Wyatt was making me more nervous. I had a feeling hazel thought something was up so I made a period joke to try and brush it off. Wyatt had overhead and made a face like in the dad disappointed vine.  That won’t work for too long but at least it gives me a week to figure things out.

After running into Wyatt this morning I was starting to feel calmer. I had total control of the situation. I was the only one who knew what had gone down so if I could just focus on Ben and forget about it I could smoothly move past this weird dream thing.

I sighed and stood up from my bed, deciding I should go see Ben to see if that helps. I made my way up to his room and stood in front of the door. I took a deep breath in before realizing I had no reason to come and see him. What am I supposed to say if he asks why I’m here? Would saying just to see him sound suspicious?

I looked down at my feet as I thought. Got it, I’m here to show off my walking. I knocked on the door before speaking up, “Hey Benny boy! it's gabby!” I announced.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” I heard him reply back from inside the room as he walked over to the door.

“Nope. I have /renewed skills/.”

Soon he opened the door with a raised eyebrow which caused my own to twitch as I thought about Wyatt, “Are you a superhero now or something?” Common Gabby just focus. Ben. Ben. Ben.

I grinned as I looked up at him, “I thought we long since covered that I already am a superhero because of my amazing guns.” I joked and leaned against the doorframe.

“But nope. I'm here because I have remastered walking.” I added to clarify the real reason.

“Annnnd you’ve come to show off your walking?” He asked as the corner of his mouth lifted a bit.

“Yup. I'm very proud. I was able to stay in bed the whole time, more or less. No rule breaking. But my ankle is now fully functioning- well fully functioning for walking still can't do sports- but still. Pretty averagely working and has made it so I can't wear heels.”

He looked down at me seeming amused at the recent height development, “Hm, I think I like the no heels look.” He said and took my hand closing the door behind him as we start walking somewhere.

“It's for sure more casual for me. Granted I do miss the feeling of superiority that having heels made me feel. Do you mind if we stop by my room I forgot to bring your birthday gift which I still haven't given you.” I hadn’t gotten around to the gift giving with all the attack and bed rest stuff.

“Not at all. Residual gifts are always a must.” He replied with a chuckle, “I don’t think those heels offered you much superiority though.” He added.

“Still they made me feel more superior to myself at my non enhanced height. You don't know the agonies of being a little bit below average.”

“When I was ten yes. That was the year Wyatt had a growth spurt and was taller than me for a while. Not a happy camper.”

I chuckled a bit and grinned at the idea of the unhappy camper Ben. “Is that why you like to loom over him now? Get revenge for your childhood trauma?” I joked.

“That and it boosts my horrible self esteem.” He replied with a smirk.

“What is wrong with you Schreave boys and your self esteem? I talk to Wyatt and hes like "I'm a horrible rude human" talk to you and its like "I bully my brother to make up for my lack of self esteem."

He burst out laughing at my question and talked through it, “I’m /kidding/.”

“Oh.” I chuckled a bit at myself for having taken it seriously, “Well, that's good at least. So I assume then that your self esteem is perfect. Though not as perfect as mine because no one else is.” I added.

He laughed a bit more, “Incomparable.” He then paused, “I honestly can’t speak for Wyatt though. He’s very contrasting.”

“I wouldn't expect you to. If I were asked about my sisters self esteem the only one I would know is Elli because she's 8 and an open book. Riley I'd just have to make a wild guess at.” I then gave a dramatic gasp, “Am I an open book?” I asked. Yeah right. You have to be at least somewhat closed or else everyone would know about the dream.

Should I tell Ben? Was I cheating by dreaming about kissing wyatt? I mean it’s not like I want to kiss him, ew. But still it was there? Is it unethical if I don’t tell him?

“I’d say so. Very very open.” He replied with a slight chuckle.

“Oh no. There's no mystery. I'm not a suspenseful character. Or maybe that's just a front? I could have some super secret wild side business that no one would suspect me of because they assume im an open book.” I joked rambling a bit with my side business comment to try and cover up any awkwardness from thinking about the dream.

“You’re starting to accumulate many side businesses.” He said and gave me a side glance.

“Oh right there's already the side business of managing your cheering up, plus i have my alter ego of a superhero, now I have a shady undercover business. No idea how I'll manage it all.”

He squeezed my hand, “I think you’ll be able to come up with something.” I felt bad but the hand squeeze just made me want to pull away. Was this what it was like to fall out of something? Mostly normally but just a small thing here and there that you want to run from.

“Need an agenda or something. Lists are always very helpful. They were probably the only way I made Bs in high school. Lists of what to study.” I replied actually pretty proud of my Bs.

“My methods probably wouldn’t help. Random sticky notes stuck everywhere instead of an actual organized list.”

We kept talking until we made it to my room. I walked over to my desk and opened a drawer on the bottom and pulled my gift for him and help it close behind my back. “So first for context, this is supposed to be a reference not a threat.” I warned.

He tried to look over my shoulder, “Okay sure.”

“Don't use your height to cheat.” I said and stepped back closer to my desk, “Close your eyes.” I added. Now he had to wait even longer to see it because of that cheating.

He grinned while closing his eyes and crossing his arms, “It’s not cheating. I’m using my skills to my advantage.”

”Uh huh, whatever you say. Cheater.” I said before stepping forward and uncrossing his arms to put a chamomile scented candle in his hands. Referencing him telling me he was allergic to chamomile but not the scent so I was free to get him all the candles I wanted. I had said that would be threatening but decided to anyways.  I then took a few steps back, “You can open now.”

He looked down at the candle and laughed, “I really do think this is threatening.”

I chuckled, “Well, you're the one who suggested it so I feel no remorse on the threatening. But you see now when I could not have given it to you at the ball though it also could have been useful during the attack since a candle is pretty hard.”

“I prefer it to relax than a weapon.” He said and leaned down to kiss me. That didn’t feel weird. What’s up brain. Squeezing hand it weird, cheek kiss isn’t? Do you want Ben to become my gay best friend or something? “Thank you.” He added.

“You're welcome. It should be useful for relaxing. Speaking of which how has your sleep been lately?” I asked.

He lifted a shoulder, “As good as it can be. I’m pretty busy.”

“Just try to get as much in as you can. More than 6 hours a night at the very minimum. Aim for 8.” I sighed. I sounded like my mom, ew.

“I’ll try.” He said with a small smile, “You’re right, your walking is much improved.”

We talked for a bit longer before I decided I should test the waters again. Flirt just a bit and see how that feels. I waited until an opportunity presented itself. We somehow ended up on the topic of if I had studied him which shockingly I had, though it wasn’t like I paid attention it was in like first grade.

“Maybe I should study you. I mean I've already got your weaknesses down. Strengths are looks, obviously.” I added after having just again called him out on his lack of self care.

“/Obviously./ But what about my charm? Intellect? Uncanny ability to lose my glasses every five seconds?” I laughed at him losing his glasses so frequently but suddenly got an idea for flirting.

“Charm? You have /that?/ I had no idea.” I replied stepping a bit closer to him and rising to my tiptoes so our faces were closer. I jokingly examined his face, “You do have a pretty cute nose. That's probably underrated.” See this doesn’t feel weird. It feels fine.

He wrinkled his nose, “It adds to my charm right?”

I chuckled, “Such a Prince Charming.” I replied before leaning in and going for a kiss.

On the impact of our lips it felt different. I liked it for a second, then it felt weird, almost forced, I was clearly too in my head. As we were about to pull away I panicked for a moment as the horrific thought came to my head that I almost wished I would pull away to see Wyatt.

I chuckled a bit to myself trying to act normal, “Prince charming.” I repeated the nickname trying to push back the thoughts in my head.

We talked for a bit longer but my head wasn’t in it at all. My chest was pounding and I just kept thinking about Wyatt. I don’t have a crush on Wyatt. He’s rude and does that stupid eyebrow thing and he’s a dork. I /do not/ date or even have crushes on dorks. I’m a super cool fly cheerleader, or I was one. I should be focusing on Ben. He’s much more my taste. He���s funny and nice and sweet. He’s a good boy and I should focus on him not be having dream affairs with his brother.

Once he left I flopped down onto my bed and took a nap. I hated all of this. The thinking and stress. The fading of my relationship with Ben which I was trying desperately to hold onto. I was here for Ben. I liked Ben. I don’t care what my stupid brain says. That’s just hormones. I need to think and follow my logic.

[hotsterfield]

Number 513 pt. 3 - Spider-Man

Word count: 2355

Summery:  You want to get away from your life, and joining the avengers might be the only way. You try to prove yourself to Tony Stark, before a young superhero starts to take up your attention.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: I’ve been so busy the past days, so I haven’t been able to get it written before now! This is also the first smut I ever write, so I’m a bit insecure about it, so please let me know what you think! It would really mean a lot! (The smut is at the end, so you can just skip the ending if you don’t want to read it). And there’s almost 100 notes on part 1, which is a LOT for me, so that’s pretty crazy! I really hope this part lives up to your expectations! 

"You're home late" Natasha stated, as you walked into the tower. She was casually sitting on the couch. "Am I? I didn't even notice" It wasn't a complete lie, you had no idea what time it was, but you knew you were back later than they expected you to.

"So what did you and Peter do?" She asked, looking up at you with a friendly smile. You stood frozen, not knowing what to do or say. You really wanted to talk to someone about how Peter made you feel, but you clearly remembered his words about Tony not knowing. But Natascha wasn't Tony, so maybe you could tell her?

"Well. We, ehm" You watched as her smile changed into a smirk. "I won't tell. Consider this girl talk. It stays between us girls" She padded the space next to her, and you sat down.

"He taught me a lot of new words. Like girlfriend. And-we-kissed-a-bit, and then I met his aunt, and she's really lovely!" You said, focusing more on playing with your fingers than her. "You kissed?" She asked surprised, and you looked up at her.

"Yeah. He's so sweet. He makes me forget all the bad things I've done. He makes me feel warm and fuzzy. When he's not here, I keep thinking about him. When he is, I keep wanting to feel his lips again" You confessed, as you could feel your cheeks heating up.

"Sweetheart, I think you're in love"

***

A couple of weeks passed with you going to school, and going home to Peter after. When you both worked out in the tower, you couldn't help but admire his body. You had gone on a few dates, but you were yet to take May's offer.

Tony was impressed by your progress as well. Just yesterday he had told you, how far you've come, and how you didn't remind him of a robot anymore. You could feel it too. It was easier to talk to other people now. You knew what to say and what to keep quiet. Most of the school knew about you and Peter, but Tony still didn't have a clue.

"y/n?" You heard Tony say, as you sat in front of the TV. You had started watching TV-shows, and the more seasons you watched, the more references you understood. "I ran a DNA-test, and I found something really interesting" You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. "I found a missing person's report. You have a family" It took you sometime to understand the words, and as you let them sink in, flashes started playing in your mind. Pictures of people you had never seen before.

You head was spinning, as more pictures came into you mind. You could remember everything, but these pictures were new to you, but they had the feeling of a memory. Could it really be? A family? Somebody waiting for you to come back to them? What would you do? Would they really love you again? If they knew all the things you had done? You regretted it deeply, but it was still your actions. Could they really love a murderer?

"What happened to me?" You asked overwhelmed. "You were at the park. They looked away for a minute, then they heard you scream, but you were gone. You were 5 at the time. They still come to the police station every year. They never gave up" He told you.

"D-did I have a name?" You asked with a shaking voice. It felt like your lungs had collapsed. It was getting harder to breathe, but you didn't know how to help it. "Iris. Your name is Iris” You hid your head in your hands, as new images started flashing before your eyes. You remembered the feeling of the large hands around you, as they forcefully took you off the swing, you remembered screaming at the top of your lungs, only to have a hand cover your mouth. You had heard your mother yell your name from a far, but it had been too long. You would never see them again. You let out a scream as all the memories came back to you.

“y/n?! What happened? Tony, what have you done?” You heard Natascha yell, but you couldn’t react. Your body wouldn’t listen to you, and you felt paralysed. “y/n?” You heard a familiar voice, and you let out another scream. Your brain was hurting, as you kept seeing new images in your head. You felt someone’s arms around, and you instantly pushed them away. You tried to convince yourself that you were still in the tower, but when you looked at the person you had just pushed, you only saw the awful face of the person who had taken you. He was the reason for all the regret you felt.

He walked closer to you, and your childhood fear overtook you will to fight, leaving you standing frozen, as he pulled you into a hug. “It’s me. Baby, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. It’s just me” Peter’s voice kept repeating, as he held you tight. You started crying uncontrollably, but he didn’t let go of you. He kept you in his arms, till you were calmer. He gently kissed your forehead, as he let you go.

“I remember them” You said, barely above a whisper. “I remember he took me away” They had put you through a living hell, but you had forgotten that as well. A rage overtook the sorrow you had felt before, and you wanted nothing more than to kill them. Put them through the torture you were.

“I wanna shut them down. It’s a organization, and I think we should stop them. I don’t want anyone else to lose their lives because of them” You said coldly.

“I don’t think you should get involved. We already tracked them down, thanks to you, but I want you to stay away from this one. And Peter, I want you to make sure she does so.” Tony said strictly. You wanted to tell him off, but you knew he was right. You shouldn’t be a part of this. You knew you would end up killing them, and you didn’t want to take another life, even if they had taken so many themselves.  

“Now, I’ll have Happy pick you up, and take you to a hotel. You will not leave the hotel room till we’re back” You had a feeling that Tony had been planning this for a while. He was more than prepared it seemed.

***

You threw the bag on the floor and fell down on the bed. You were mad. You wanted to help Tony take them down, but you knew he wouldn’t let you. In a way you were happy that you didn’t have to, but you still wanted revenge. You felt torn inside, and you didn’t know if you should be happy and just enjoy the time with Peter, or if you should just go after then anyway.

“Babe? You want to talk about it?” Peter said, as you felt him sit down on the bed. You looked up at him, and for a short moment you got lost in his deep brown eyes. You wanted nothing more than to just stay lost in them, and forget everything.

“I don’t want to kill anyone, but I want to kill them. They hurt me so bad, and I never had clue. They tortured me for 2 years, before they trained me” You could feel the tears start to form in your eyes, as you could almost feel the pain in your body again. “They broke all of my bones, several times. They beat me. They left me close to dying, just to see how long I could last” The hot tears were now streaming down your face, as the images flashed in your mind. How could you forget all of that?

“I was a kid. An innocent kid. If it wasn’t for them I would properly be normal teenager right now. I would have a family” You sat up, and once again looked in his eyes. He gave you a comfort, without even trying.

“When all of this is over, we’ll find you family. You’ve come so far, the last couple of weeks. You could be a normal teenager if you want. You could go back to your family” He sent you a smile, but you couldn’t return it. If you went back to your family, you wouldn’t be with him.

“But that would mean leaving you” You whispered. “No! You would still be in New York. I could by all the time. Spider-Man travel fast. Maybe you could even continue at Midtown” He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss.

“What if they don’t want me? What if they can’t love me again?” You felt so vulnerable. You didn’t have any control anymore, and you had no idea how your future would look.

“y/n. Of course, they’ll love you. If not they’re stupid. I love you, and I’ll be there for you, even if everyone else leaves” He had never said those words to you before. He had thought them so often, but he had never said it out loud. From you knowledge from TV shows, you knew those words were meaningful, and you knew you felt the exact same way about him.

You found yourself kissing Peter, completely forgetting the rest of the world. Nothing mattered in this moment, it was only you and Peter. You family had been waiting 12 years, they could wait another day. You knew the avengers took care of the other problems. All you had to do was to stay here, with Peter.

Peter gently pushed you down on the bed, and you couldn’t help but smile. He sat on his knees, one leg on either side of you. You gently tugged at his shirt, pulling his body closer to you. You had gotten so used to kissing Peter now, so it all came so natural for you. Your tongues played with each other’s.

You let out a small moan, as he deepened the kiss. As many times as you had kissed, this time was different, and you could both feel it. Peter broke the kiss, but his mouth travelled down, to your collarbones, leaving gentle kisses along the way. Your breathing was slowly increasing as he sucked on your collarbones.

He went back to your mouth, carefully tugging at your lips, as you started to pull his shirt up. You had been looking at his muscles every time he was working out, but touching them gave your so much more satisfaction.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, barely above a whisper, ad he looked at you with dark and loving eyes. You gave him a approving nod, as he took the shirt off. He was sitting up straight, and you got up on your elbow, so you could still keep eye contact. Your fingers carefully traced his toned chest, slowly moving down to his abs, leaving Goosebumps on his skin.

He leaned back down and kissed you again, as his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, You felt almost shy, as he exposed your skin, reviling a lot of scars. He broke away from you lips as he helped you get the shirt over your head. He looked down at your body, and he gently kissed every single scar, before he moved to your neck.

It felt like the time stood still. You had all the time you needed, so you took your time. The both of you enjoyed the contact of skin. Peter gently bit the skin on your neck, causing you moan. He laid you back down, his mouth never leaving you skin. You fumbled with his belt, and you could feel the smirk on his lips as you opened his jeans.

His mouth travelled down your stomach, stopping on your hips. He opened your pants, and helped you get them off, leaving you in just your underwear. It was nothing special, it didn’t even match. This morning, you didn’t think this would happen, so you hadn’t dressed for it. Peter quickly removed his own jeans, and you could clearly see the bulge in his boxers.

He left gentle kisses up your inner thighs, giving you, a tickling feeling in your stomach. With his teeth he pulled down your panties, and you could feel the wetness starting to form. You got completely lost in his eyes, and barely noticed when he took of his boxers. He let his body fall on top of yours. You pulled you both a bit off the mattress, and he quickly put his hands around you, fumbling with the bra claps.

As soon as the bra was gone, he pushed you back onto the bed, his hands traveling down, ang carefully touching you. He kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. As he put his fingers in you, you closed your eyes in pleasure and let out quite moans. As his fingers sped up, so did your breathing. You arched your back, getting lost in the feeling of his hands.

His fingers stopped, but it didn’t take long for him to be inside you again. You adjusted a bit, as he was bigger than his fingers. He took it slow, always watching you to make sure he didn’t hurt you. You could no longer tell the difference between your breathing and your moans.

In this moment, nothing else mattered to either of you. There was no past, no future. The only thing in the world was the two of you, in the hotel room. The pleasure taking up every inch of your body, as you felt yourself tense up. Your nails dug into his back, leaving marks as your fingers curled together.

When he pulled out of you, you were still breathing deeply. It didn’t take long before he was lying next to you, with his arms around you. This time you both got lost looking into each other’s eyes.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Uliuli Iwi (Part 8)

Kurlok grips Kho-Nhm’s hand with a purpose, it is as if he believed that if he held on tight enough, he could cling onto the boy’s lifeforce too.

 “I’ll fix him.” Azula says. She’s lying again, she knows. Lying and making promises she isn’t sure that she can keep are two sides of the same coin. She almost feels as if the latter of the two is worse—at least lying offers no sense of false hope.

 Deep down she feels like she can him though, save the whole town too. She only hopes that what she has learned in her travels will be enough. Combined with the spirit energy collected in her pendant, it has to be. If it doesn’t have the power, than the boy  and everyone else will be lost.

Just like her Tamzu.

 .oOo.

 Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance and they haven’t even left the mountain side yet. Azula has sent Katara and Ursa to collect a few herbs form her own garden. To Zuko’s dismay, she instructs him to follow her a little way up the mountain to retrieve some sort of cave flower and a moss that grows on the higher portions of the mountain. He doesn’t fancy following her, but knows that she will not make the journey up the mountainside without him, so he follows reluctantly. They make the accent entirely in silence and enter the cave with a quiet to match its own. Without so much as igniting a flicker, Azula goes deeper into the cave. He stands in the mouth and listens to her scuffle around and before he can light up a fire of his own, she emerges with a flower in hand. He wonders just how many times she had navigated this cave. Offering him no cues, she brushes passed and heads upwards, leaving him to assume that he is supposed to follow. Once again he is taken aback by just how verdant and striking the mountainside is, even in the foreboding of a gathering storm. Distant lightning licks the sky and helps wash the mountain in new hazy hues. A few insects still chirp and buzz, filling the landscape with a calmer aura.  As they climb ascend further, Zuko’s steps become more cautious as the stairs grow more unruly and overrun by the jungle. Azula doesn’t even offer him a ‘watch your step’ as he comes to a particularly wide crack.

Finally they come to a place where the slop juts out into a fair sized tier. Hanging from it is a variety of vines, fungi, and mosses. Instead of climbing over this path obstruction, they come to a halt. This is where Azula begins her search. She picks her way through the moss silently, trying to find the healthiest looking patch. That’s when it comes out.

 “You seem to know a lot about me don’t you, Zu-Zu? So why don’t you tell me exactly why I became a mystic. Who am I controlling from up here and why am I doing it? Also, while you’re at it, you can tell me who the Tribesman and his son are, since you know so well.” Her delivery is calm but with a dangerous edge as she trails a finger over the mosses. He is afraid to speak, lest he get himself cut.

 “Well?” She draws her finger away with a semi-dramatic flair.

 “I—”

 “You don’t know.” She fills in. “Exactly. So let me tell you.” Once again she bares her back so that he can clearly make out the figures inked delicately on it. Indeed, the mother figure holds a baby, but the baby is still and he can see a wispy entity hovering above it. “I had a child of my own once, Zu-Zu. She is dead.”

 His heart tugs at how bluntly she put it out there.

 “Do you know why she is dead?”

 He doesn’t quite want to.

 “She’s dead because she was ill and I couldn’t do anything about it. That’s how her father died. That’s how I should have died too. But for some reason I didn’t. Every single person in that village was killed by a plague that I spread because I didn’t detect it. Every single person but me.” She stopped poking at the grass, her voice hitching on that last statement. “So I decided to save this village to make up for killing the last one. But it doesn’t matter how many people wander into my little cottage…it doesn’t matter how many people I save, nothing can atone killing your own child.”

 Her back is to him but he knows that she is crying. She won’t turn around and parade her tears to him, of course, but she can’t subdue or hide them either. Zuko wants to reach out to her, but he doesn’t know how she’ll react, so he remains where he stands, mentally kicking himself for cutting much deeper than he ever thought he could. “You couldn’t have known that you were sick.” He says finally.

 “I should have.” Azula replies, but he doesn’t hear her over the sound of thunder echoing over the mountaintop. She finally finds a clump of moss that is to her satisfaction and stashes it away with the flower. Zuko watches her head back in the direction that they had come from.

 “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have said anything if—”

 “Of course you wouldn’t have. You’d never do anything to make yourself look bad. Especially not in front of mother.”

 Zuko cringes. “I wouldn’t have said any of that regardless, if I knew exactly what it meant to you.”

 “Whatever makes you feel better, Zu-Zu.” She shrugs. This time he knows the conversation is over, she probably didn’t want to bring up her lost baby in the first place.  

 Even so, he knows that there’s more to it than just that.

 .oOo.

 Night in and night out, Azula stirs and crushes different spices and herbs. Each person in her makeshift tent receives a different treatment. On a piece of parchment, she pens in who had received which remedy and which ones seemed to have an effect. All in all the task had taken some time and required the townsfolk to stop wallowing in their misery and do their part—helping her set up an adequate tent and actually making the commute to see her. So far her success rate has gone as far as either slowing the disease or simply reliving the pain or the symptoms.

She runs a hand through her hair, wracking her brain for another mixture. But for the life of her she can’t come up with one. She is nearly certain she has tried everything this jungle and sea had to offer her. She stands up, thinking that there must be something she hasn’t tried.

Azula looks around the small tent, peering into jars and vials of dried botanicals and natural liquids, rummaging through her belongings for older concoctions, and rifling through old scrolls of notes she had taken. Perhaps she is missing something. Something critical at that. Her hand absently strokes the charm around her neck, feeling the roughness of the glittering green crystals that rimmed an other-worldly glass-like material. Set within the glass lies crushed up springs of lavender and sage and a few sand-sized chunks of mineral.

Mineral…

She has an idea. This whole time she has been working with plants. Perhaps adding mineral compounds would do the trick.

 .oOo.

 “I assume you two were able to find everything.” Azula remarks.

 “Yeah, it was no big deal.” Katara replies.

 “Your garden was very organized. Lovely as well, I enjoyed the lantanas.” Ursa added. “I remember when you used to help me in the garden…”

 Azula nods. “That was a long time ago.” A long time ago before Ozai had decided that she was too good to dirty herself with such things. She wonders how different things would have been if she had stayed with her mother and tended to the royal garden instead. But it was a fleeting wonder, they have more pressing matters.  “The rest of the ingredients will be in the jungle.”

 She hustles inside and arranges what they’ve already collected, neatly on the table. Ursa steals a peek at her younger daughter. “I’ll stay with her. Someone needs to look after her. And the boy.” She looks at Azula’s son.

 “He’s perfectly capable of watching both himself and Kiyi, mother.”

 “I don’t doubt that. But I’d like to get to know him and I know Kiyi would like me or Zuko to be here for her.” Ursa answers.

 “If that’s what you want to do.” Azula shrugs.

 However, this minor debate has given Azula’s son enough time to gather a pack and his nerves and declare that he is coming with them.

 Azula looks skyward and sees a thick haze of bloated dark gray clouds. She can tell that they are ready to burst and spray their fury down at any moment. “You are going to stay right in here.” As if to emphasize her point, the sky erupts into a low groaning rumble.

 “But I’m ‘perfectly capable’.” He declares.

 Azula sighs, she hates when he uses her own words against her. He has already picked up on way too many of her habits. “Capable of watching yourself and babysitting Kiyi—inside the house—while I’m gone.”

 He tugs his knapsack further up his shoulder. “I’ve studied your scrolls, I know what to look for.”

 “I already have your father out in this storm, I don’t need you—”

 Unlike most others he has the guts to interrupt. “I have my father out on the sea and my mother going into the jungle in this storm. I want to do something important during a storm too!” He gives a little stomp.

 Azula leans down and places firm hands on his shoulders, “you have no idea how bad this one is going to get.” Her stare is locked in his, her voices as firm as her hold. “You will stay where I tell you to stay.”

 His lip quivers and she knows that her tone was too harsh. She hasn’t made him cry in months and she planned on keeping it that way. But she also planned on keeping him out of harm’s reach. All the same, he tears up. “Fine, you can come with us.” Before he can rejoice and revel in his small victory she adds, “but you are staying as close to me as you can until we are standing back in this spot.”

 He nods and dashes across the lawn over to where Zuko stands.

 “All we have left to find is a shadow lily, a handful of tadpole eggs, and the crabspider.” Azula lists.

 “I’m gonna find the spider!” Her son offers enthusiastically.

 “I happen to know a pond where the tadpole eggs are plentiful this time of year.” And after, she murmurs to her son, “you can find it. But I’ll catch it.”

He crosses his arms. The first fat droplet of rain splatters on his elbow, he looks up and half-frowns. The expression his not lost on Azula who takes it as an opportunity to say, “you can always go back inside if you don’t like the rain.”

 “No way, I can handle a little water! My dad is from the Northern Water Tribe.” He declares for Zuko and Katara to hear.

 The next droplet falls and then another.

 “We better speed this up.” Azula frowns. She looks towards the coast, hopping that her husband has the same idea. The waters are rough as it is. “We’ll collect the tadpole eggs first, since I know exactly where they are.” She quickens her pace, hoping that Katara and Zuko can keep up. Her son is already paces ahead. “I told you to stay close to me.”

 He groans—low enough so that Azula can’t hear him—and comes to a halt. “I’ll meet you by the pond.” He calls and darts away again.

 “Should we—” Katara starts.

 “Just let him go, it isn’t too far.” Azula gives in.

By the time they reach the pond it is raining in sheets. She can scarcely see her son through the wall of wet. She can see Zuko shivering behind her and must admit that this rain is an unpleasant kind of chilly. It is however, ideal for hunting down this breed of frog, the only problem will be actually catching the eggs before the current rushes them down stream. “You two look upstream,” she takes her son’s hand, “we’ll look down stream.”  Azula steps closer to the churning water, squinting to see passed the ripples. She pinches the bridge of her nose, the turbulent conditions very clearly complicated things. At last she sees a cluster, but as she reaches out for them she feels her hair lift and thunder quakes the ground. She fast retracts her hand and fends off a zigzagging bolt. When she looks back into the water, her find has disappears. Her curses are dulled by another burst of thunder, leaving her boy to ask what she had said. “Nothing.” She replies, tugging him away from the unsteady rock he had perched himself on. She sees Katara waving at her from a distance and sees her mouth moving, but cannot make out anything through the wind’s fierce battlecries. She squints as she through the rain as she heaves forward, the wind working completely against her. She grasps her son’s hand tighter. Before she comes within earshot—earshot being relative of course—of Katara, she can see a clump of eggs in her palms. For the first time since they arrived, Azula is thankful that Zuko had brought the waterbender along.

 “Do red-backed crabspiders even come out in this weather?” Zuko shouts his question over the weeping of the sky.

 “Seldom.” Azula replies. “They usually burrow themselves in fallen coconuts.”

 “In other words, we’re going to make a trip to the beach?” He asks.

 Azula nods and, in no mood to strain her voice, shouts only one word. “Likely.” She fancies the idea no more pleasant than he.

 They troop deeper into the jungle where flora and fauna bloom more densely. Even with the jungle dulled to grey and significantly thick mist furling around their stems, the jungle blooms are vibrant. They display a flashy array of deep blues, passionate purples, and flame-like golds and oranges. Some having petals that fanned out and others that tier upwards and spoon-like. Those are Zuko’s favorites. But right now their goal is to find a sapphire blue flower sprayed with tiny white speckles and a large white disk in the center, where the pollen collects. Unfortunately, the blossom’s telltale white powder is erased by the rainfall.

 Zuko reaches for a plum colored blossom with delicate green swirls coiling about the petals. Ursa would like it.

 “No!” Azula swats his hand away. “That one is poisonous.” It isn’t deadly, but she doesn’t wish to add rashes and blisters to their list of hindrances.

 Naturally, the shadow lily has chosen to root itself right next to the hazard. With careful concentration and a steady, precise hand, Azula uproots the plant, it would have been a flawless execution had the wind not blown the neighboring blossom in the direction of her hand. The plum petal tickles her hand. She frowns and tucks the shadow lily safely away. She looks at her hand for a moment and hopes that she has some leftover ointment to make the itch more bearable as the rash heals itself. She dares to hope even further, that the rain had diluted the poisonous oils that the plant secrets.

 “Why did you get to touch it?” Her son asks.

 To his amusement she mumbles, “because only I’m allowed to suffer.”

 She hears Zuko snort and try to stifle a laugh.

 This time she doesn’t take her son’s hand, lest she spread the rash to him. It takes some time but they make it passed the whipping, thrashing branches and through a particularly muddy spot where the pond’s overflow rushes across. Azula can see the beach in full; waves thrice her height slam forcefully against the sand. She can see exactly where the raindrops beat the ground, decently sized pock marks act as battle scars all across the width of the beach.

 She cringes.

Her husband is out there.

Or perhaps not, she hopes that he ended his trip early and is safe in their bungalow, or in Hoto’s dwelling. Whatever the case is, she best not dwell on it—from such a distance she is powerless to do anything about it and opts to focus on that which she can control. She sees her boy teetering too close to the battering waves. “You’re tempting the tides.” She says sharply.

 “The tides can’t tell me what to do.” He proclaims over their watery roar.

 She can’t help but chuckle before saying, “these tides can.” She watches him back away.

 Zuko and Katara have already busied themselves with peering into coconuts and flipping them over. From the looks of it, they are making little progress. She starts in the other direction and happens upon a crabspider surprisingly fast. She removes her jar and makes her way behind the coconut, out of the spider’s line of sight. Carefully and swiftly, she covers the coconut’s hole with the jar.

She is preoccupied with the task and isn’t watching her boy. She looks up just in time to see the wave retract and his absence on the shore.

 She is bounding down the sand before she even processes what she is doing. She sees the spider escape and lets it go, assuming that Katara or Zuko will retrieve it. Her body meets the water and instantly feels the bite of the frigid current as it mercilessly pulls her under. Her mind is whirring even faster than the ocean itself; she can’t assist her husband, but she’d be dammed if she let the ocean take their son too. The water burns her eyes and the salt burns her throat. Most pressingly, her lungs are on fire too. How can she save her son if she can’t even keep herself alive. She fights against the water with everything she has until her hand locks around his. But she is only strong enough to hold him tight to her. And she holds him as close as she can.

Before she has time to contemplate her fate, Azula finds herself being thrown against the land with a shocking force and winces as the sand scrapes her arm. Through her daze she can see Katara panting, nearly ready to collapse. She briefly wonders just how much effort it took to fight waves of that size. The thought is gone as soon as she feels how heavy her son lies atop her.

 She pulls herself up and lays him down face up. She looks for the rise and fall of his chest, she sees it but it is accompanied by a wet gurgle. “No.” She mutters. “No, no.” She cups his head. “I don’t want to lose you like Tamzu.” Despite living so close to it, she knows next to nothing about the sea and how to remove it from a person’s body.

 She looks up at Katara with an uncharacteristic helpless and vulnerable demeanor. “Please don’t let my son die.”

 .oOo.

 The mineral mixture has saved some, but only those whom the illness had only been newly festering in. The ones who it has clung to for a long time are still on nature’s death row and it is making quick executions. Azula grows frustrated. Maybe she needs to call it quits, it is becoming a very real possibility that no herbs nor minerals of this world can cure what the town’s people have come to call, ‘the convulsion cold’.

 What she has discovered however, is that the sickness must have come from the sea, for the corpses that the town’s folk neglected to cremate had begun sprouting hideous growths that resembled that of coral. She quickly rid of the body and advised the family not to mention it. She jots this information down on a scroll as well and morbidly ponders what could happen if the disease stopped waiting until the postmortem stage to reveal these growths. She shudders, determined to stop it before it can mutate to that level.

 It’s like the sea is punishing these people. She always did loath the sea and its foreboding vast emptiness. The thought looped back in her mind—what if the sea is punishing these people, she thinks. If such is the case maybe the answer is spiritual. Real spiritual, not ridiculous chanting and dancing around a fire. She removes the charm from around her neck and places it before her on the table, peering into its other-worldly glass.  She takes in a deep breath only to have it interrupted by an abrupt presence.

 Kurlok enters her tent with Kho-Nhm limp in his arms. She didn’t strike the man as one to cry, all the same, he is weeping. “You promised to save him but…I think…” He takes in a shuddering breath.

 Azula realizes that she is holding her own, and that her chest is constricting. She knows what he is going to say.

  “I think he is dead. My son is dead.”

[peacefulrevivalteen]

Round 3 Bonus: Confrontation

Part 1 [Here] @taiyuu-high-oct  also @luna-moon9696 for mentions of Lyrimon and sisters WC: 4900

         It’s often passed around that one of the most effective hunting strategies our human ancestors had, was not the spears, clubs, fires that while helpful couldn’t bring down a mammoth alone. No what the most effective strategy those cavemen could employ was tenacity, to chase those animals until they exhausted themselves, that’s when they would strike.          

         Just like those cavemen of old, the principal of U.A, Aizawa Shouta, the hero known as Eraserhead has tracked their own exhausted prey to the edge of campus.

Aizawa strolls ever closer towards the figure bent over and leaning on an old tree. The panting of his prey grows ever louder the closer the he gets.

         He just about reaches the exhausted figure greedily gulping down air, reaching an arm out toward its shoulder, a cracking noise gives away his presence, the figure whipping around to confront them in response.

         The teal haired applicant that he recalls saved a student’s life from a collapsing zero pointer, stares the man down questioningly, her breathing much calmer and deeper than when she departed.

          The girl known as Ozen Fujinuma stands before Aizawa, this version of her, starkly contrasts the one from his entrance exam.

         “What do you want” the girl gruffly asks, arm rubbing across her mouth in an attempt to rid herself of any spittle.

         Aizawa only raises an eyebrow at the display “You left class quite abruptly back there, I’m just here to check in on you” he nonchalantly shrugs.

         “I’m. Fine” the girl asserts, as if she didn’t just finish running cross campus hyperventilating.

         “Yeah cut the bullshit kid, I know that’s not true, you know that’s not true, anyone with a working set of eyes knows that not true.” Aizawa retorts. “Mind telling me what happened back there? No bullshiting either.”

         Taken back by the abrupt demeanor of her, could have been principal, she turns away nervous.

         “I happened to have been set up against that Spellman girl, who I found out earlier in the year I’m allergic to.”

         “What did I say about bullshit, kid?” Aizawa huffs out in response.

         “It’s true! Whenever I am around her, my quirk starts to act up!” Ozen explains.

         Aizawa raises a brow at the explanation. “You were doing fine till the end, explain that.”

         “Well, I found if I channeled my negative feelings onto her, my quirk would work as normal, it stopped at the end because well…” Ozen rubs the back of her head as she tries to conjure the words.

          “Her scream reminded me of when I saw her melt, back when we were evacuating. The worry washed away all those negative feelings and the allergy started messing with my quirk again.” She explains.

         Aizawa’s hand combs through his hair in thought. “You know that’s not actually an allergy right?” the hero sighs out.

          “You’re feelings for this Spellman girl are interfering with your quirk” he states without a beat.

         “I d-d-don’t have any feelings for Spellman!” the tall girl denies, the --allergens must have stuck to my outfit if they are reaching this far out— Ozen concludes delusionally.

         “Again with the bullshit, how about with others, do they all interact with your quirk the same?” Aizawa questions.

         “Well, no.” Ozen states, attempting to recall other situations. “Popi can move and braid my hair, my sister was able to kick me off the couch that one time, and last big one was back when my quirk first appeared, my mom couldn’t pick me up anymore which to a kid, really hurts—“

         Aizawa nods along, the thought of never being able to pick up Eri again, attaches a string if sympathy to the student’s story.

         “But after I cried and begged her to pick me up again, my mom was able to.” The teen girl finishes, unabashed.

         “Apart from whatever that couch situation was—“

         “Miku was hosting a live show!”

         “Don’t interrupt kid, anyways it seems like all those situations all have a strong emotional response in common, you’re telling me your family never realized the connection?” The hero asks, crossing his arms.

         “Well, to be fair, none of us knew my quirk was an emitter till the last couple months of middle school.” Ozen answers, scratching her cheek nervously.

         “So you’re just behind in training your quirk?”

         “You.. could say that…” The teenager responds, avoiding the adult’s eyes in shame.

         “Well what does that mean?” Aizawa continues to dig.

          The teenager lets out a huff of frustration at the barrage of questions proceeding to meet the hero’s gaze with her trademark scowl.

          “It, means, I haven’t worked on it at all!” Ozen nearly shouts.

          “So you’re holding yourself ba—“

          “NO IM NOT HOLDING MY SELF BACK!” The teenager seethes. “I don’t need that part of my quirk! I don’t need it to hold up buildings, or punch through walls, to jump off of buildings, or any other hero stuff!”

          If the hero is perturbed by the girls shouting, he doesn’t show it as he narrows his gaze and leans in, starting the –dissection--

          “Look, I saw your entrance exam, I know exactly what you are capable of. You didn’t let people get needlessly hurt just for points, you saved that kid from the zero pointer and you even chastised the person afterwards who didn’t check his surroundings before destroying the robot. You’re capable Ozen, but you’re complacent.”

          “E-excuse me?!” The teenager exclaims with a recoil. “You don’t know me at all!” she responds through gritted teeth.

          “Maybe I don’t, not entirely. What I do know however, is that you made the right choice when you rejected U.A’s offer.” The principal responds, hands returning to his pockets.

         The comment catches Ozen off guard. “Why’s that?” Ozen probes.

         “Rejecting an offer looks a lot better than expulsion, see, if that’s the attitude you have with your quirk, you wouldn’t last one. day. here. Our motto is after all, plus ultra.” Aizawa states.

         Ozen just stands there shocked, watching the principal head back to the gym.

         “I’ll let Laccadaisy know you are alright, don’t leave campus and you’re free to roam around.” The hero informs without turning around.

         Ozen just stands rooted in her spot for a good ten minutes as her head continues to go over principal’s parting remarks. Eventually Ozen pushes it to the back of her mind, and start back across the field.

         A reflection of light bounces off something in the grass, the brief glimmer is enough to catch Ozen’s attention. A quick search has the girl inspecting a lightly cracked cellphone, Vai’s cellphone to be exact if the recent message asking how “bondage-san” was doing, is any inclination.

         “Must have been what snapped earlier” she says to herself, pocketing the phone, hoping to return it. ----------

         Having returned to the temporary dorms way before anyone else, Ozen leaves the phone on the central table, a note attached indicating the owner.

          True purpose of her return was for a change of clothes, half an hour later Ozen emerges from the dorm in a spare U.A uniform, fighting the skirt that was shorter than she was used to.

          “Well, at least these uniforms have leggings…” the girl grumbles to herself. Not wanting to see her classmates after the debacle in gym gamma, Ozen makes her way across campus.

          Far away from gym gamma Ozen finds herself in front gym beta, the intense sounds of fighting emanate from within, drawing the tall girl’s attention.

          Ozen opens the door and walks in wide eyed at the chaos occurring in front of her. After a couple of steps, a large bony hand finds itself planted on the girl’s shoulder.

          “Miss, you appear to be lost, this is 3a heroics” the voice attached to the arm informs.

          Ozen turns towards the voice, her eyes widening as she looks up at the not totally emaciated form of the former number one hero All Might. Her brain having a nerd melt down only second to meeting the real Hatsune Miku.

          “Miss? Are you okay” the former number one hero inquires.

          “A-A-A-All Might!” the gawking girl squeaks out

          It’s been a while since I got this kind of reaction, All Might chuckles, a first year maybe? If so.. I can’t let her ditch class just for me

          “Miss shouldn’t you be returning to class, it’s unbecoming of a rising hero ditch.” The former hero lectures.

          Ditching class? What? Ozen thinks in response to the accusation. Looking down at her outfit she yelps and fumbles for her skirt’s pockets. Finally finding her missing accessory Ozen quickly pins the Taiyuu logo on her tie.

          Another chuckle from the former hero recapture’s her attention. “Oh I see, you’re from that school we are sheltering.”  Ozen only nods, albeit quite furiously.

          Motioning for her to follow, All Might leads them to a pair of chairs situated by the door. “You’re welcome to stay and watch, these 3a students tend to be quite proficient on their own.” The hero sits down and offers Ozen the other spot, one she quickly accepts.

          The two lithe giants watch the chaos constantly unfolding in front of them, All Might only speaking up on rare occasions.

          “It’s a little chaotic, but it’s organized chaos” the former hero hums, providing an answer to her unvoiced question.

          “Say, I don’t think I caught your name, miss.” The gentle giant asks with a smile.

          “F-Fujinuma, O-Ozen!” She nearly shouts out before continuing, “But please call me Ozen, n-not in the I like you Japenese way, I’m not saying you are unlikeable I bet you’re quite likeable I mean I got off track, please call me by my first name Ozen, I prefer the Americanized naming convention.” She blurts out.

          The man’s chuckle is contagious as he takes in the flustered Taiyuu student. “Well, nice to meet you Ozen” he responds smiling

          Having said the name however, the former hero begins to rub his chin in thought. “Fujinuma Ozen.. Why does that name sound familiar?” he postulates.

          Scratching her head with an inclination of why, she attempts to answer the man. “Well, I rejected my U.A offer, if that sounds familiar.”

          Ozen watches the cogs turn in All Might’s head, processing the new information.

          “That’s right!” All Might snaps his fingers in realization. “I remember I had to make two discs for you! It’s not often we have students placing first, rejecting their enrollment offer. Good job in there by the way, I meant it when I said there’s always be a spot open here.”

          Hearing all of this brings her mind back to earlier, the principal’s words echoing in her head. Ozen brings her knees in and begins to hug her legs, thankful for the leggings. The girl rests her head on her knee’s as she watches the former hero, and current Idol, talk.

          All Might catches sight of the morose shift in body position out from the corner of their eye. Realizing what he just said might have hit a nerve, especially with recent events, the former hero begins to backpedal.

          “Not saying Taiyuu is bad at all! They have great teachers, evident with how they got you all out safely! We had villains invade us too you know!” He forcefully chuckles before coughing into his hand.

          “Eraserhead told me it was good I rejected the offer.. that I wouldn’t have lasted a day here.” The girl says all of a sudden.

          Having known his fellow teacher for years now at this point, knowing he wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t have a reason, All Might wonders if he may be of some help to the girl.

          “Oh, and why is that?” All Might asks.

          “Say’s I’m complacent” she mumbles in response.

          “Complacent?” All Might repeats, confused.

          “Yeah, about half a year ago my family and I, thanks to the expertise of a quirk specialist found out my quirk was actually an emitter, and that I could begin building my muscle again if I got it under control, or used the brace that turned off my quirk. I’m “Complacent” because I haven’t trained my quirk, or used the brace for any significant amount of time. He talked about how I should be going plus ultra but he’s not the one that has to deal with the overstimulation that turning off my quirk provides. I’m only half assing if I don’t put myself through that hell everyday. Yeah okay I get it, my quirk being compromised because of teenage ‘crushes’ is a liability, it’s not like every villain is going to be fucking Lyrimon!” Ozen rants to her idol, only stopping to breathe once finished.

          “That does sound like Aizawa” All Might responds after taking in the dizzying amount of information.

          “I understand why you wouldn’t want to put the brace on, but why can’t you train your quirk?” All Might follows up, sparing a glance around in case anyone died, nope, good.

          “I only learned I could a couple months ago, I have no idea where to start, I’m basically four years old again in respects to that side of my quirk. My mom’s quirk is only kinda similar, so no luck there. The doctor did say I could use the brace to train it but that just leads back to the horrors of over stimulation hellscape.” Ozen responds in frustration.

          “Hmm” All Might verbally ponders. “Tell me about your quirk, how the doctor described it in particular.” He follows up.

          “I can transfer forces between different things as long as I am in contact with the force, what caused the confusion this whole time was the fact that, I’m always in contact with the gravitational force of the earth, so ever since I was little I’ve just been transferring all the forces acting on me to the earth which has become so ingrained within me that I don’t know how to turn it off” Ozen recounts.

          With a hand on his chin All Might starts to sort through the information in his head, prompting relative silence between the two. The silence between them doesn’t last long as former hero abruptly stands up.

          “I got it!” He announces triumphantly  

          “You do?!” Ozen responds “Wait, got what?”

          “I might have someone that could help you with your quirk” All Might answers.

          “Hoseki! Mind coming over here for a moment?” All Might calls out across the chaotic gym, the fights begin to part like the red sea as student with blue skin, maroon hair and a unique set of ears reminiscent of butterfly wings emerges from the chaos.

          “Hey! What can I do for you All Might!” the faerie like girl greets cheerfully.

          Directing the third year towards Ozen has All Might begin to introduce the two.

          “Hoseki, this is Fujinuma Ozen, she’s a first year hero student from Taiyuu, and she’s having trouble with a certain aspect of her quirk. Her quirk in some regards is similar to yours, both deal with forces.” All Might introduces.

          “Ozen, this is Hoseki Fei, a third year hero student and one of U.A’s top three!” The former hero introduces with a little added fan fair of his own.

          “Aww shucks All Might, I can toot my own horn fine enough” she chuckles, free hand scratching the back of her head.

          “Nice to meetcha Fujinuma-San!” the boisterous thirds year says going in for an introductory handshake.

          “Ah, please I prefer my first name, my mom’s American side kind of rubbed off on me.” Ozen replies, accepting the handshake

          “Oh neat! My mom’s American too, I’m fine with Fei as well if you are, Ozen-San.”

          “That’s fine with me Fei-San, say what was your quirk?” Ozen asks.

          “Oh yeah! My quirk is called kinetic impact, I can store any force applied to my body and later redirect outwards!” the third year demonstrates with a “pew!” from a finger gun, rustling Ozen’s hair.

          “Amazing” Ozen nods “it is quite similar” she continues, hands patting down the disturbed hair.

          “We could meet up for some, one on one sessions while you guys are still here! It won’t be as good as my grandma’s training sessions though” the third year shivers, rubbing at phantom bruises. “Which is probably a good thing” she continues.

          All Might can’t help but smile as he watches the duo work out timing. Aizawa might have been right about the complacency but he forgot to mention how they would have broken through that. Was this his intention all along? To push the girl out of her comfort zone? Guess you don’t stop being a teacher when you’re the principal he muses. ----------

          The week following the attack on Taiyuu brought stress not just to the students and faculty but to their families as well. A certain mother of two with her sits on the side of the road, anyone looking in could see the concern etched on their face. There parked on the side of the road she just let time tick forward, a lit cigarette to calm her nerves before the meeting. It’s not about her, she has to be strong for the daughter who is strong for everyone else. Resting her head on the steering wheel the smoke wafts idly by, there in the distance was where her daughter and her class was taking asylum. U.A’s main building, a marker off in the distance, to think her daughter would end up here anyways.           “All roads lead to Rome..” the women mumbles to an empty car. Sparing the clock a glance the women sighs, mentally she gives herself a minute before getting ready. Last of the cigarette inhaled and discarded away from view, she tidies her hair in the mirror. Satisfied, the car starts with little fanfare, windows now fully down, vents the smoke as the women easily integrates with the morning traffic.

           The Fujinuma family moved to reside in the city connected to Taiyuu High, the proximity allowed their daughter to make weekly trips back home, their family big on dinners with everyone. A part of her old life Ozen's mom couldn't imagine getting rid of. At this point it was their ritual, the Fujinuma’s, not the family she separated from.  

          This week however, the family ritual was disrupted with the appearance of villains on the island, an island run by heroes no less. Thankfully her daughter is safe, the school having evacuated to the sanctuary of U.A. While yes U.A was attacked by villains before as well, really the worried mother just wants to be mad at someone.

          U.A… While it was always her daughter’s choice in hero schools, Ozen's mom wonders if she should have been more vocal about supporting U.A. and while it showed up that middle school of leeches, was it worth it? Her daughter always felt like she had control over her emotions, her lack of emotions to be clear, that her thoughts and actions were more logical than they were emotional. Her parents knew better.

          Parked down the street the women walks comfortably down the sidewalk, keys twirling on her finger the entrance to the prestigious school not far now. The area, thankfully, is mostly devoid of people and students, the weekend morning provides little reason to be at the school, providing a perfect opportunity for a breakfast daughter date. The mom was glad she didn’t have to head in on weekends, while yes, some nights might be filled grading papers, it provided opportunities like family dinner times, and of course this.

          As she nears closer and closer to the entrance she begins to hear her daughter, a friend maybe? Doesn’t sound like the delightful young lady she brought over that one weekend, despite the… colorful character, she calls a best friend, at least she has someone. A wicked smile crosses the older women’s face, maybe it’s that Lyrimon girl she told Kasumi about and while she wants to tease, she thinks back on meeting her own wife, and the slow burn that was; maybe useless lesbian runs in the family she ponders.

          Rounding the corner, thankful her visit was approved, she spots her daughter talking to a girl in a track suit with blue skin. That dutiful daughter of hers waves, and her mother waves back, they decide to meet in the middle.

          “Hey oh daughter of mine, is this the infamous Lyrimon I’ve heard so much about” she greets, “..from Kasumi.” She adds with a cough.

          “Hey! Leave our sis-yowch!” a pew of pressurized air silences the ne'er do wells situated at the two girl’s feet

          “N-no” her daughter blushes out, “This is Fei, she’s a third year here, and has been helping me with my quirk” she introduces. “Fei, this is my mom.”

          “Nice to meetcha ma’am!” the girl grins out, shaking the mother’s hand animatedly.

          Ozen’s working on her quirk? the older women queries in her head as the two shake, sparing a glance at the two girls sitting on the ground looking worse for wear.

          Following the adult’s gaze the third year decides to answer the unasked question.

          “Shaving cream bandits, pay them no heed ma’am.” The blue girl informs, as if that didn’t create more questions.

          Ozen’s mom doesn’t have a chance to respond as the girl is called out by a voice behind her.

          “Fei! I got your new gloves!” comes the voice, the girl running past the Ozen’s mom to the entrance.

          Why does that voice sound so familiar.. the women asks herself, the reason why painfully clear to her when she finally sees who it is.

          Oh fuck it’s Victoria the realization yells in her mind at the recognition of her sister. She’s so much older wincing at the thought I’ve been gone that long?

          Taking the package from the women, the third year decides to introduce them in a fashion similar to the Will Smiths of olde.

          “This, is my mom!” she introduces as the lady’s hair flows around like it would be in the wind.

          “Dear, do you have to use your quirk for my entrance every time?” the women sighs, as if used to it.

          Ignoring the grumbles of how “it wouldn’t be as cool” her sister greets the two with a handshake, oblivious to the relation.

          “Wait, do I know you?” the inquisitive gaze of her sister has Ozen’s mom choking on air scrambling for an excuse.

          “N-n-no I don’t think we have!” she coughs, looking for an exit.

          “O-oh! Look at the time, Ozen we better hurry if we don’t want to be late for breakfast!” the women grabs onto her daughter’s hand, dragging the surprised girl along. “It was nice meeting you!!” she adds before rounding the corner, hand waving violently.

          “Huh, that was weird” Victoria lets out in response to the abrupt exit. “Anyways, don’t forget to call and thank grandma for the gloves, you always forget.”

          “Yes I’ll call grandma” the third year groans picking the two students up by the collar. “After I get these two trouble makers to the office!”

          “We’re sorry senpaii! We were just protecting our sister’s honor!” One shouts.

          “Shaving cream assault is a funny way of doing it, now get going.” Fei responds, herding the two back inside. ----------

          “I want to start training my quirk” are the first words breaking the mother daughter silence. In a booth sat across from each other, in a quaint café that sat on a corner the two ate in silence till now. Mother with a colorful breakfast crepe, and daughter with a.. grey protein shake.

          The mother setting down her utensils finds her daughter aloof, chin in hand staring out the window slurping on tasteless goop. Her daughter was never much of a talker, but ever since they left school her motherly instincts have been going off, is this it?

          “Oh? Was training with Fei”  Her niece, Ozen’s cousin “helpful?” the mother inquires.

          “A little, our quirks are similar enough but..”

          “But?” her mother adds, trying to get her daughter to continue.

          ���I’m behind…” the daughter sighs, taking her head in both hands.

          “I’m so behind! And Fei’s a third year, at a different school. She can’t help me forever.” Hands dig into her scalp.

          “W-well, we could try the brace again honey” her mother adds, reaching over a sympathetic hand.

          “I. hate. That. Brace…” The daughter responds, “Almost as much as I hate myself.” The fingers tighten.

          Her mother gasps, this is the first time she’s ever seen this from her stoic daughter. “What?? Honey, what are you saying? When did this start?”

          The mother manages to get her daughter to release her scalp, hands laid out on the table as her mother hold them both; the teal hair cascading down to block Ozen’s face.

          “The first time..” her daughter whispers

          “Say that again?” her mother responds leaning in.

          “The first time I put on that thing!” Ozen almost shouts, face puffy with tears as she looks up at her mom.

          “It made me realize how, how horrible I am, how horrible I treated others.. treated my sister.” She says with tears.

          “I-I don’t want to hurt anybody, I just want to everyone, but I keep doing it, I keep hurting people, even when I put on that damn brace to remind me of the pain I cause others.” The words are rushed, as if to make it before the breakdown.

          The older women gasps at the information. She’s.. Self-harming with the brace?

          This will not do, her mother concludes, getting up from the booth, much to the surprise of the daughter, face alive with abandonment worry, a worry quickly dashed when her mother scooches in next to her.

          “Come here honey, it’s okay I got you.” The mother comforts as she brings her in for a hug. Her daughter is quite tall, but right now as her mother rubs soothing circles on the girl’s back, she looks so small.

          “Shh shh, it’s okay I have you.” Her mother coos.

          “I-I’ll never catch up, I’ll be like this forever” the girl sobs, recalling her stunted muscle growth.

          “We’ll find a way honey, don’t worry, we’ll find something.” Her mother says in an attempt to calm.

          “No we won’t” her daughter denies with a dejected sob.

          She would give anything/DO anything if it would help her daughter her—that’s not true she cuts off. Her mind first goes to Victoria, before it goes to the others and she sighs which catches her daughter’s attention.

          “I think.. I know some people that can help.” She smiles to her daughter, petting her hair. ----------

         Ozen’s mom drops her off at the front this time, her daughter looking much like her usual self waves goodbye as the two give simultaneous “I love you”’s.

         Driving off she checks the time, watching the red analog numbers flip to eleven. The further you go in the math world, the more you forget at the bottom, so after an embarrassing amount of time, and eventual phone calculator the mother finds herself in an empty parking lot. The women steels herself, chants of “do it for your family” are repeated as she psyches herself up to just press the damn button.

         “Here, we, go.” She says pushing the call button.

         Ring… Ring… This number has been disconnect--Click

         “Ah fuck, it has been a while” she sighs dejectedly. Not one to give up, it’s time to bring out her secret weapon, Google Fu ----------

         The sunset is framed spectacularly by the arches of the golden gates but the Hero known simply as “Shield” finds the view second to the one behind him. For when he turns away from the view the lofty penthouse atop his agency provides, his heart if filled with immeasurable warmth.

         The hustle and bustle of dining room is chaotic but it’s something their family has done for decades now, the generations of family coming together for a weekly meal; and what a large family it was, his wife and the sword at his side made sure that.

         The meal is ready and the large family lively chats as they wait for everyone to find a seat. Here he is just known as Fredrick, Freddybear to the youngins.. and his wife, who is as lively as the day they met as he watches her recount their patrol to one of their grown children. His seat next to hers is the only one unoccupied but he is interrupted by a ring of the phone.

         “It’s from Japan” he reads aloud, wondering who could be calling at this hour.

         “It’s probably Fei, dear. Looks like they finally remembered” His wife chuckles in the distance.

         “Tell her to call back after dinner” the women adds over the loud table, before returning to her previous conversation.

         Knowing it is family, the mountain of a man answers the call accordingly.

         “Papa Shield here!” his self-proclaimed title earns chuckles from the packed table.

         The older man just waits as the line is silent, slowly becoming uncomfortable.

         “Hello? Anyone—“

         “P-papa?” a familiar voice replies. While familiar, it’s a voice he hasn’t heard in so long, it has him sucking in a breath.

         “L-Little Bear?” he responds in a whisper, as if speaking it any louder would spook the caller on the other line.

         It’s at that title that the normally rambunctious table goes silent.

         “It’s.. Diana… I think we should talk.”