#give him a break!! someone give this poor man a break!!! and a medal actually

[gilgamushroom]

For a moment I wished that I were armed. Sterndale's fierce face turned to a dusky red, his eyes glared, and the knotted, passionate veins started out in his forehead, while he sprang forward with clenched hands towards my companion.

Watson like "I LITERALLY JUST SAVED HIS LIFE CAN YOU NOT????"

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch29. The Sokovia Accords Part 2: No, You Move.

Summary: Whilst discussing the proposed accords, Steve gets some bad news which makes everything pale into insignificance. And then, another ghost from his past comes back to haunt them.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Elements of this have been reworked/rewritten…for reasons which will become apparent at some point! And I’ve also added in the scene with Natasha at the church. I love the banner and edit too from @angrybirdcr​.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 29 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 Steve had hoped that the more casual setting would defuse the seriousness of the situation. But that went out of the window an hour or so later when Rhodey and Sam started going at it. Steve was sat in the arm chair carefully reading through the accords packet with a deep frown, Katie perched on the arm of the chair reading over his shoulder. Tony was reclined on the chaise to their right with his hand covering his face as Sam and Rhodey argued, Natasha sitting patiently down by Tony’s legs waiting for them to be done. Vision and Wanda were on the sofa to their other side, neither having said much.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional medal of Honour,” argued Rhodey from behind the chair. Katie turned to look at them both. “Which is one more than you have.” He mocked Sam.

“So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they Low-Jack us like a bunch of common criminals?” Sam shot back.

“A hundred an seventeen countries want to sign this. A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you’re just like, no, that’s cool. We got it.”

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam snapped.

“I have an equation.” Vision spoke loudly before Rhodey could reply, causing both men to quiet down and everyone to look at him. Steve lifted his head from the packet bringing his arm up to rest on Katie’s thigh.

“Oh, now this will clear it up,” said Sam sarcastically.

“In the eight years since Mr Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision steeped his fingers together as he looked around a everyone.

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve asked tensely, his hand on Katie’s leg became heavier.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight isn’t an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey exclaimed, believing that Vision had solidified his point.

Katie shook her head sighing,

“Sorry Vision, I disagree.” Everyone’s attention now turned to her. “Being supervised is one thing. But from what I’ve read these Accords want us to give up total control of what we do and when we do it.” She paused as Steve’s arm slid from her leg to wrap around her back. She then turned her attention to Tony and looked at him as he remained still, hand over his face. "Clearly this has been in the pipeline for some time now, so why are we only just hearing about it?”

Tony glanced at her from underneath his hand, not offering an answer, as she continued.

“And less than a week to come to a decision on something like this? They’re trying to back us into a corner without giving us any proper time to discuss or negotiate the terms and its wrong.” She finished simply, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

“Boom.” Sam repeated from behind her.

“Tony.” Natasha addressed him as he removed his hand from his face. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal,”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Katie raised her eyebrow.

“Kiddo, you know me so well.” Tony scoffed then groaned, standing up and moving over to the kitchen area with a sigh "Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Another frustrated sigh escaped him as he faffed with something in the sink. “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony moved to the other countertop slapping down the coffee mug and coffee pot before pulling his phone from his pocket and dropping it onto the fruit basket, then turning it on revealing the hologram of a young man.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way,” said Tony with fake carelessness. “He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk; see the world, maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun.” He spat sarcastically, “He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor guess where: Sokovia.”

He slammed his mug down as he stared round the room in anger, whilst Katie looked over at Wanda who bowed her head the moment her home was mentioned.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were 'kicking ass’.” Tony ran a hand down his face before taking a drink of his coffee. “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.” He concluded, walking around the counter to lean back against it holding his arms over his chest.

“Tony,” Steve began gently. “If someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony questioned.

“We are for not taking responsibility for our actions.” Continued Steve. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey interrupted “This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but its run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” Steve shot back, earnestly.

“That’s good.” Tony answered, re-joining the group. “That’s why I’m here. Look, Cap, me and Kiddo, when we realized what Stark weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, we shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Yeah, but Tony, we chose to do that.” Katie jabbed at her chest as she blazed at her brother, her voice gathering momentum and volume. “If we sign these then the next time something like that happens we won’t have the right to choose!“

"What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go?” Steve continued his hand gently rubbing at Katie’s back. He was glad they were on the same page, but he didn’t want her getting upset and falling out with Tony. “What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us?” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

Tony looked down at the couple who both stared back at him. He rolled his eyes again. Of course they would be united on this, they were united on everything. But there were bigger things at stake here. If they didn’t agree, they’d be forced to retire, and the team would be split up. And he couldn’t let that happen.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty,” Tony explained, his tone almost pleading.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me?” Asked Wanda quietly.

“We would protect you,” Vision added placing a gentle hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“Maybe Tony’s right.” Natasha spoke, turning her eyes to both Katie and Steve, trying to get them to see her point. Katie looked at her incredulously, and Steve’s mouth fell open a little in surprise. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam frowned, interrupting her in disbelief.

“I’m just…reading the terrain.” She sighed. “We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up – I’m sorry, did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?” Tony looked at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I want to take it back now.” She groaned but Tony was quick to cut in.

“No, you can’t retract it.” He said, waving a finger at her. “Thank you. Unprecedented. Case closed I win.”

As Katie shot some annoyed response back to Tony, something along the lines of him being ‘an egotistical, arrogant prick’, Steve felt his phone going in his pocket. He shifted slightly to pull it out and glanced down. It was a message from Peggy’s son, Michael.

‘She’s gone, in her sleep.’

As the meaning behind the words sunk in, his throat tightened, and suddenly the damned accords didn’t matter anymore. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, he felt the familiar sting of tears in his in his eyes but he didn’t want to break down, not here, not in front of the team.

“I have to go.” He breathed out, handing the Accords to Katie before standing and leaving the room quickly without meeting anyone’s eye.

He made it to the stairwell, leaning against the railings, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down but he couldn’t. The tears began to fall and he slumped down onto one of the steps. Which was where Katie found him a few minutes later, shocked to see his shoulders were shaking. She said nothing until she had made her way down to him, wedging herself on the step beside him between him and the wall.

“Stevie?” She asked quietly inspecting his face, seeing the tears across his cheeks. “Sweetheart, what is it.”

“It’s err..” He sniffed and wiped at his nose with a finger, not looking at her “It’s Peg. She’s gone.”

“Oh, no.” Katie muttered, dropping her head. Poor Peggy. She had been quite ill over the last few weeks and the Doctors had said it was unlikely she would recover, but the both of them had been hoping to get to see her to say their goodbyes. Katie felt the tears sting her eyes as she opened up her arms and Steve immediately fell into them. Sometimes it was much too easy to forget how young and inexperienced life wise he actually was at heart and Katie simply held him, as she felt his tears hit her neck. Gently she ran her fingers through his hair as they sat still, not saying a word.

"Will you come with me to the funeral?” His voice was hoarse and muffled but she heard him anyway

“Of course I will.” she said looking at him as he pulled away, his eyes red. She reached up to wipe his face with the back of her hand as he rest his forehead against hers. “Of course I will.”

***** London was caught in the middle of a summer storm when they arrived, four days later. The wind and rain whipped Katie’s hair about her face as they stepped from the StarkJet onto the tarmac of Gatwick Airport. They made their way towards the waiting car, Steve’s large hand taking her smaller, and somewhat colder, one in his as they walked, Sam pacing at his other side. The drive to the hotel was filled mainly with Sam and Katie chatting as she pointed out various landmarks to the man, Steve remaining silent on the whole apart from chipping in when he was spoken to.

His sombre mood continued through to the evening, and when Katie told him that Sam was meeting up with some of his old Air Force buddies and suggested that the two of them head out for something to eat, he was torn between wanting to go out and try to enjoy some time with her, and this strange urge he felt to simply curl up in the relative safety of the hotel room with her, alone. And then there was the war which was raging inside him, an internal battle in the depth of his conscious and mind. He was married to Katie, he loved her, more than he’d ever loved anyone. And yet, here he was grieving so much for a woman who, when all was said and done, he hadn’t actually known for that long. Peggy was his past, Katie was his here and now, his future, his forever. So why did he feel this way?

“Stevie.” Katie’s voice gently shook him from his thoughts and he turned away from the view of the Thames he’d been observing through the floor to ceiling window of their suite and faced her. “We don’t have to go anywhere to eat if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just, I feel…”

“Upset? Tired of pretending you’re okay?” She supplied and he gave a little huff of laugher, shaking his head as he looked at the soft, deep blue carpet of the room.

“You know, are you sure you don’t have some kind of secret mind reading power?” He looked at her once more and she smiled softly.

“No, I just know you.” She stepped forward and held out her arms and Steve moved to fall into them, his cheek resting on her head as he let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to hide it in front of me, you know.” She pulled back to look at him, her hands cupping his face.

“I love you.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” She frowned before her head tilted to the side as she considered what he had just said, suddenly understanding. “Wait, is that what’s bothering you? How I feel?”

His lack of response spoke volumes as he looked down once more, his large hands gently wrapping around her wrists, moving her hands to her side so he could lace his fingers between hers.

“Oh, Steve!” Katie shook her head and her fingers tightened around his. “You’ve every right to feel how you do, Peggy meant a lot to you.”

“She did, yeah, but so do you.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes shining with tears. “In fact, you mean more to me than anything else ever has. I just wanna be sure you know that.”

“If I didn’t know it, I wouldn’t have married you.” Katie shrugged simply. “But, Soldier, just because you love me the way you do, doesn’t mean that you never loved Peggy, or that you still can’t in some ways.” When he didn’t reply, Katie studied him for a moment, before she took a deep breath. “Steve, look at me, please.” He did as she asked and she gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I promise you I understand.”

He gave her another little smile as she stood on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Now, I’m gonna draw you a bath. You’re gonna get in, and you’re gonna relax.”

“Is that an order, Ma’am?” He smiled and Katie chuckled.

“Yeah, it is. And you know what else I’m gonna order? A fuck tonne of room service.”

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle as she smiled. “Then we can raid the mini-bar and bunker down for the evening. How’s that sound?”

Steve smiled, his hand reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind her ears. “It sounds okay, but would be a whole lot better if you said you were gonna join me in the bath.”

Katie smiled, her eyes flashing a little as he leaned down and captured her lips with his, the kiss slow and deep. Her arms slid up round his neck, fingers softly skating along his hairline and he let out a contented sigh as she broke away, his forehead pressing to hers, hands softly flexing on her hips. Without another word she pulled away before taking his hand, and gently leading him through the suite to the bathroom.

***** Steve didn’t sleep well that night. His mind was in overdrive, his subconscious showing him people he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. He dreamt about Peggy, Bucky, Howard, the Howlies…and Katie. Even in dreams about his past she was there, ever present, just like she was in his life. When he woke up from a particularly vivid flashback about crashing back into the ice, he jerked bolt upright with a yell, his breathing desperate and ragged. Katie sat up beside him, her hand on his clammy back as she gently soothed him, her calm and quiet. Steve swallowed, turning to face her as she sat looking at him, concern etched on her face. She made to get out of bed to fetch him a glass of water but he stopped her, his large hand curling gently around her arm. He needed her, and he wasted no time at all in making sure she understood that. As she lay underneath him, her hands wrapped around his back, nails biting his skin, he fucked her, hard and fast, into the mattress, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. When he evened out, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, his hand carding through her hair as hers traced random shapes over his chest. The pair of them lay still, gentle and loving touches and kisses being shared as they simply talking until the sun rose. And then Steve found himself back over his wife once more as he stuffed himself insider her again, only this time he made love to her, as softly and as gently as he could, needing to feel every single inch of her against him as he surrendered to that bliss that only she could ever make him feel.

They took a room service breakfast and at just before Eleven they met Sam in the Reception of the hotel and made their way to the church. Steve, who had been asked by Peggy’s family to be a pall bearer, hung back outside as Katie and Sam took their seats along the front pew of the Church. It wasn’t long before the choir began to sing and Katie turned as the procession walked down the aisle. Steve held the front right-hand corner of the coffin, carrying it with stiff steps, his cheeks wet, eyes red rimmed and full of tears. Katie felt Sam squeeze her shoulder, and she turned to face him briefly.

“My heart is breaking for him, Sam.” She whispered through her own tears as Sam dropped his hand to take hers, as they both watched the six men place the coffin at the front of the church. Sam released Katie’s hand with another gentle squeeze and they shuffled down to make room for Steve who took her left hand, seeking out her comfort and contact as he stared at the picture to the side of the coffin. It showed the Peggy he had known, back in the Forties, standing tall and proud in her uniform.

When the choir song ended they all sat, Steve staring down at his wife’s hand wrapped in his, and he began to play with her wedding and engagement rings, twirling them round her finger, his mind straying to his wedding and how he had told Katie at the toasts he was only strong because she made him that way. He was so glad she was with him now. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt her hand contract around his, quite hard, and he looked up at her. When he did she nodded her head in the direction of the podium. Steve’s eyes followed then did a slight double take at who was stood there.

Agent Thirteen of Shield special service and his ex-neighbour.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of Shield.” The woman who’s name Steve recalled being told by Natasha was Sharon, began, sounding nervous. “But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy.”

Peggy’s Niece? Steve couldn’t believe his ears. All that time she had been living across the hall, spying on him…and she was Peggy’s niece?

“She had a photograph in her office, Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But, it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I barely told anyone we were related.” Sharon glanced down at Steve, like she was offering him some form of explanation.

“I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage at a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either.” Sharon swallowed before she continued, her voice becoming stronger. “And she said, 'Compromise when you can. But when you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty, to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, 'No, you move.”

Katie glanced at Steve then to Sam, the three of them sharing a knowing glance. Those words were powerful, especially given the situation with the Accords. And for Steve, it was almost like Peggy was speaking to him, still giving him advice even in her death.

Despite the utter sorrow he was feeling, Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment.

Thanks Peg…

*****

Katie watched as Steve leaned against the end of one of the pews, lost in his thought. He’d by passed the part where they were actually putting Peggy into the ground, saying he didn’t want to see it so instead, Katie had given him a moment to pay his respects along, waiting for him to give her some direction as to what he wanted to next.

As always, he seemed to know she was there before she even made a sound and he looked up, giving her a small smile as she walked down the middle of the church aisle towards him.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He smiled as she stopped in front of him, opening her arms to give him a hug.

“How you doing?” She asked softly, her lips brushing his temple as he pressed his face into her neck.

“I’m okay.” He assured her, pulling back. “Just, suppose it’s sunk in that she’s actually gone, you know.” Katie gave him a sad smile. “When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.”

“She had you back, too.” Katie looked at him.

“Yeah, and at least I knew where she was, unlike Bucky.”

“Don’t give up on him just yet, love.” Katie rubbed his arm as he placed a kiss to her forehead. Steve glanced once more to the front of the church and Katie followed his glance to look at the flowers placed on the alter.

“It was a nice service.” She said, her arm looping round his waist.

“Yeah, it was.” A familiar voice spoke and both of them whipped round to see Natasha strolling towards them. Steve let out a little scoff and looked down, shaking his head.

“You know, I thought I saw you before but convinced myself I was seeing things.”

“Well, I was sorta in the area.” She shrugged. There was a pause before Steve voiced what was on his mind since he’d left the compound a few days ago.

“Who else signed?” Steve asked.

“Tony. Rhodey. Vision.”

“Clint?” Katie asked.

Nat smiled slightly. “Says he's retired.”

“Wanda?” Steve looked at her.

“TBD” Nat answered. Katie looked at Steve before Nat took a deep breath. “I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet.”

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

“Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path.” Nat continued. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

“Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” Katie asked and Natasha merely held her gaze.

“What are we giving up to do it?” Steve shook his head as Natasha turned to him. “I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it.”

“Me neither.” Katie added. “Not as they stand.”

“I know.” Nat smiled.

“Then what are you doing here?” Steve looked at her.

“Well, like I said, I was in the area.” Nat’s eyes flicked to the alter. “Plus, knowing who she is and what she did. I might never have met her but, well, it felt right to pay my respects.” She then looked back at them both. “Plus, I wanted to see you, check you were okay.” She said the last part to Steve more than Katie and he gave her a little smile as she moved to give him a hug.

****

They decided to go to the wake, and Katie took the chance to seek out Sharon where she was standing among a group of people, making polite conversation but clearly looking for a way out, which Katie was happy to provide, squeezing her elbow gently, and gesturing with her head for the blonde woman to follow her.

“I really am sorry about Peggy,” Katie began as they settled at an empty table. “She was a phenomenal woman.”

"Thank you,” Sharon said softly. “That means a lot. You know she liked you?”

Katie chuckled “She told me once or twice.” “I think she was happy that Steve found someone.” Sharon smiled. “Someone that makes him happy.”

Katie glanced at where Steve and Sam were waiting at the bar. Steve shot her a glance over his shoulder and smiled softly, before Katie returned her attention to the woman opposite her.  

“So this accords thing?” Sharon changed the subject “It’s really happening?”

“Looks that way, yeah.”

“And where do you stand on it?”

“I’m not signing” Katie shook her head. “Not the way they stand, that’s for sure. And seeing as they don’t seem to want to negotiate terms, it’s a non-starter.”

“Does Steve feel the same?”

Katie nodded. “And Sam.”

Before Sharon could question her further, Katie’s eyes flicked to a point over her shoulder and she gave a side smile as the boys approached.

“Ladies,” Sam baritone smoothly, sitting in the seat next to Sharon and setting down a drink in front of her. From the look on the blonde’s face, this surprised her, but she accepted nonetheless with a thanks. Steve sat next to Katie handing over another glass of wine, whilst pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“You okay?” She whispered before he pulled away completely. He nodded and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I saw just telling Sam about what Nat said.”

“And I was cheering to an honourable discharge.” Sam snorted sarcastically as he raised his glass. “Again.”

“Sorry, for jumping in but, if you’re not signing the Accords then what does that mean for you all?” Sharon looked round the table

“I dunno.” Steve smiled softly, shaking his head.

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam cut in, and Steve snorted as Katie laughed. “I told you, you’d be great at it.”

"More like an early retirement.” Steve stated, a small smile playing on his face.

“Not really that early though is it, Cap?” Sam continued his ribbing “I mean like you are hundred or whatever…”

As was natural with these type of functions, a few hours later people started to leave and eventually Peggy’s children headed over to the table to say their goodbyes. As they all stood to offer their condolences once more, something Michael said about Peggy being a woman of many surprises, brought back something which had been weighing heavily on Steve’s mind since he had left the church.

When Sharon stated that she was heading back to her hotel, Steve suggested that she walked with them, but for the most of the short walk, he remained silent, brooding over his thoughts. And it was only when they reached the door to Sharon’s hotel that he spoke, telling Katie that he’d meet her and Sam in their hotel bar in a couple of minutes.

She shot him a puzzled look but he had simply shook his head in a silent instruction not to argue. So, she merely shrugged, linked her arm through Sam’s and they crossed the road and headed straight inside, crossing the lobby.

“What’s all that about?” Sam asked as he held the heavy wooden door open for her. Katie shrugged and stepped into the room.

“Beats me, he obviously has something on his mind.” She said, walking into the large wooden bar which curved along the back of the circular room. “Can I have…” she trailed off as she spotted the TV on the wall behind the bar tender, which was programmed to the BBC news.

Her eyes widened and she felt Sam stiffen besides her.

“Is this…is this live?” She asked the guy who was waiting to serve them. He nodded. “Can you turn the volume up?”

He nodded again and obliged.

“…at the moment we know that over 70 people have been injured and that number is rising. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Katie swallowed as the picture of the suspect flashed across the screen. It looked like Bucky alright.

“Shit.” Sam said, from behind her.

“Go, get Steve.” She urged, “I need to call Tony.”

*****

“My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting, but, um, not Aunt Peggy. She bought me my first thigh holster.” Sharon smiled as they walked through the lobby.

“Very practical.” Steve nodded.

“And stylish.” Sharon smiled as she stopped by the elevator, pressing the call button before she turned to look at Steve.

“CIA has you stationed over here now?”

“In Berlin, Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

“Right. Right.” Steve nodded. “Sounds fun.”

“I know, right?” Sharon chuckled.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Steve took a deep breath, finally voicing what was on his mind. “When you were spying on me from across the hall…”

“You mean when I was doing my job?” Sharon interrupted but Steve ignored her.

“Did Peggy know?”

Sharon considered him for a moment, before she let out a gentle sigh.

“She kept so many secrets. I didn’t want her to have one from you.” Sharon lay her hand on his arm, and Steve felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He had been so scared that Peggy had been lying to him for the past few years, to hear that she hadn’t was a relief.

“Thanks for walking me back.” Sharon nodded to the elevator “Tell Katie and Sam I’m grateful.”

She moved to give Steve a hug, and he obliged, but the broke apart when they both heard footsteps running towards them.  

“Steve…you gotta see this.” Sam urged and Steve frowned, looking at him, before he spotted Katie running into the lobby, and looking round.

He moved instantly towards her, and she spotted him, hurrying straight towards him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, his hands gently curling round her upper arms.

“There’s been a bomb in Vienna.” She explained, taking a deep breath. “A deliberate attack on the signing ceremony.”

Steve felt himself grow cold. “Is everyone okay?”

“I got through to Tony and they’re all safe but the King of Wakanda. He’s dead, Steve” Katie took a deep breath. “And…” She trailed off licking her lips as she took a deep breath.

“Katie, what is it?” Steve’s voice wasn’t unkind but it was firm as he looked at her, and she threw her head back, looking at the ceiling for a moment before, with a monumental effort, she looked back at him, swallowing deeply.

“It’s Bucky, Steve.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “It looks like he’s responsible.”

**** Chapter 30

**Original Posting**

[themuzzleofnemesis]

1-Memory of Settling the Score; Scene 2

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 18-39

--Men in military uniform stood around me in a line in the meeting room.

One of them was pointing to a spot on the map that was spread out on top of the table, and explaining something to me.

“—The southern front has already been broken by USE forces. Rolled has been taken from us, and they are currently marching for Lucifenian. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before they retake the Republic of Lucifenia. We’ve managed to hold back the Marlon cruisers to the west with our naval unit, but the situation hasn’t been favorable--”

Why was he saying such things to me?

What—was this man’s name?

…Areus...Yes, he is…General Areus Hymn.

My blurred consciousness gradually began to clear.

And that’s…Gigaty...Polrio...And that man with the glasses is Grand...

I confirmed the names of each of the officers lined up before me inside my head.

Mima...Encheri...Yes, they’re all—my subordinates. My colleagues in the great Tasan Party.

General Areus didn’t look so good as he gave his report.

His expression, more than his words, told of our poor military situation.

“—Our allies have been slow to act. Beelzenia has their hands full with defending themselves, and Jakoku…They’re still suffering from the ‘unfortunate accident’ the other day. We have reports that they’re already preparing a complete surrender to the USE army.”

And there, General Areus stopped moving his mouth.

He seemed to be waiting for me to give some sort of response to his report.

It was the same with the others. There was sweat on his brow, and he remained standing at attention.

Would we surrender?

Or would we continue the war?

They were waiting for my words.

--The words of Elphegort’s führer, Nemesis Sudou.

.

I had been sitting in a chair, and it was there that I stood.

I could tell clearly that everyone was breathless with anticipation.

“…There’s no problem.”

I’m positive that I was smiling.

How could I be smiling in the midst of such a crisis?—That bewilderment showed quite obviously on the officers�� faces.

It wasn’t that I was bluffing.

It was as I had just said—there was no problem.

“Everyone, come with me.”

I approached a bookcase that was deeper in the conference room, and pushed a key that I had on my person into a keyhole on the underside of the shelf.

The bookcase slid to the side, and opened up a doorway to a hidden room.

.

There were various kinds of devices in this room.

There weren’t many who knew what they were for even among the top officers of the Tasan Party.

The first one to speak up was General Areus.

“So you’ve…already made preparations.”

“Correct. We need only activate it now, and everything will be over.” I put my hand on the firing mechanism, and once more flashed a smile. “This bastard child of the gods who will lead us to victory—‘Punishment’.”

It was a new weapon developed by Elphegort’s proud researchers. Its aim was already on the entirety of Evillious.

The two firing tests we had done for it had produced results beyond expectation. The first “Punishment” had completely burned down the Millennium Tree Forest to Elphegort’s south, and the second firing had transformed Jakoku’s Onigashima to a land of ash—To tell the truth, that one had been a miscalculation; by all rights it was supposed to land on an open field on the western edge of the United States of Maistia—we had finished correcting for that configuration error.

“But…Führer.” General Areus’s expression was still stiff, even as he looked upon the firing mechanism. “Do you really intend to use this?”

“Do you have some objection?”

“I have two worries. First—‘Punishment’’s destructive power vastly outstrips any weapon that already exists. No matter where it lands, we won’t be able to avoid having many civilian casualties. The other concern is that there are instabilities in its accuracy from rushing its development. There’s a chance that it may go off course and cause damage to our own country—”

“Our scientists are working to ensure that doesn’t happen. We won’t have another failure like with Jakoku.”

“But—”

General Areus didn’t withdraw. Apparently there were others who shared his thinking among the other officers.

It seemed I would have to first correct their misconception.

“General. I have no actual intention of firing ‘Punishment’ right away. This is—a deterrent.”

“…”

“Word has already spread to other countries of the situation in Onigashima. But the USE forces don’t yet know that we still have several ‘Punishments’ available. It is for that reason they are making such a cocksure advance. They believe that we have no more options available to us. …Once our enemy learns we have yet more ‘Punishments’, and that they are aimed at every country—there will be room for negotiation.”

“…I see.”

“Gentlemen, this next part is your job. Armed with the authority of ‘Punishment’, make the USE army withdraw from our nations!”

“Yes!”

Starting with General Areus, all the officers present saluted me.

“Now go! For Tasan Elphegort!”

“Long live Führer Sudou!”

.

--After the meeting had ended, I took a brief rest in my quarters.

Generally it wasn’t a good idea to stand by the window. There was always the chance of being targeted by an enemy sniper.

Go ahead and kill me, if you can.

I began to gaze at the scenery outside without much hesitation. The windows on the opposite building, its roof, among the branches of the roadside trees—there was no silhouette of an assassin anywhere.

Despite the whole world being at war, it was quiet around Tasan headquarters. I could see an aging woman walking the path, pulling along a cart with a large barrel inside.

I returned my gaze to the inside of my room. I didn’t much care for excessive decoration. As long as I had the bare minimum of what I needed, that was enough for me.

Here there was only a desk, a chair, a bed for napping, several medals and photos pinned up on the wall, and—one large water tank.

At the bottom of the water tank a Ziz Tiama—a blue octopus—was sleeping soundly. Most of the time when visitors first came here, they would seem put off by the octopus. Frankly speaking, perhaps they were more put off by me, for keeping such a thing in my room.

This octopus was one that my mother had given me soon after I was born. I had given him the nickname of “Mr. Ziz”, and doted upon him. We had been together for over thirty years now. He was my oldest friend, and you could say we shared a common destiny.

As long as Mr. Ziz was alive, I would not die—Whenever I told anyone that, they would laugh, thinking I was joking.

There was only one person who took me seriously, without laughing.

--I’m sure that if he were still alive, my life would have taken a very different turn. I wouldn’t be in the position to rule a country like this—I would be living as one woman, as a wife…

What a foolish fantasy.

There’s nothing gained by looking back to the past, and I had no regrets about who I was now.    

I had to save the world.

This world filled with this “anger”.

…Even if I wasn’t the right person to do that.

I couldn’t go back now.

.

I realized there was some commotion going on outside, and once more returned to the window.

The guards were quarreling with someone out by the main gate.

When I looked closer, I saw that it was the same woman who had been pulling the cart before.

“—I’m telling you, I was told to bring this food in here!”

“We haven’t heard anything about that. And this place is closed to the public to begin with.”

“That’s none of my concern! If I don’t finish my work, I won’t get paid! Just let me through!”

It seemed the soldiers weren’t able to run the woman off very well, stupefied at her threatening attitude.

There was a knock on the door, and Colonel Polrio immediately entered. He had several documents in hand.

Before he could speak, I cut in with, “There’s a ruckus going on outside.”

“…I beg your pardon. It looks like some peasant woman trying to push her wares. –Would you like me to give the order to have her shot?”

“She may be a peasant, but we can’t afford to have you harming a citizen of Elphegort without cause. Have her leave politely…If they can’t even do that, then Tasan Elphegort’s soldiers must not be worth much.”

“—Of course. I will do as you ask.”

Colonel Polrio hurriedly left the room, leaving the documents on my desk.

--The populace was suffering from this prolonged war. We had a serious shortage of goods. And we couldn’t rely on aid from our allies.

And here to break this stalemate—

…Is, I suppose, ‘Punishment’.

I had told everyone earlier that I had no intention of using it right away.

Of course, there’s nothing I would prefer more than for all of this to be resolved without anyone being sacrificed.

But…the other me whispered in my heart.

.

“Everything must be purified.”

.

This brutal personality that slept within me. It had tormented me since I was a child.

I’d become mostly able to shut her out since becoming an adult, but--

It felt as though her voice was growing stronger lately.

.

The ruckus was still ongoing outside.

“That’s enough of your nonsense!”

I could hear the soldiers shouting. When I looked out the window they were aiming the machine guns that they carried at the woman.

And in no time at all, several gunshots rang out.

The woman didn’t seem to have been shot. Rather, I could see some faint sand clouds from the ground near her, apparently from warning shots.

“If you don’t want to get shot, leave now!”

Perhaps frightened by the soldiers’ threat, she turned around and then slowly started walking towards her cart.

What a waste of bullets.

I would have to punish them for that later with a pay cut.

Once the woman reached the cart, she didn’t immediately set out.

She put her hand on a cord tying down a sheet on top of the barrel there.

--I suddenly got a bad feeling.

Despite having just been threatened with a gun, the woman’s face bore a calm smile.

She unfastened the cord, and swiftly yanked off the sheet.

What immediately broke through the lid of the barrel and leaped out was—

…A—tiger!?

The guardsmen looked even more surprised than I was. Taking advantage of their immediate inaction, the tiger quickly pounced upon one of the soldiers.

“Aaaaugh!”

By the time the reserve guards had rushed out of the main building, hearing the screams, the tiger had already ripped the man’s throat out.

--At some point the woman had vanished from her place by the cart.

Everyone started to fire at the tiger all at once.

But the tiger ran to escape the rain of bullets, disappearing behind the building on the other side of the road.

“Catch it!”

Complying with their commanders’ order, all the guards headed in the direction the tiger had fled.

They went behind the building, and just as they were out of sight—

Again, the sound of gunshots rang out.

Just now…That didn’t sound like our military guns.

Immediately, a fewer number of soldiers came running back. They then hid behind the perimeter wall of the headquarters, and took up firing stances.

The troop leader blew the whistle to call in reinforcements.

“We’re under attack!”

At the same time, I could hear more firing from the enemy soldiers on the other side.

I immediately pulled away from the window and hid myself in a spot that couldn’t be seen from the outside.

And then I recalled a certain name to mind.

That tiger…I wonder if it’s Feng Li. A ghost of PN.

Then that woman was probably—a disguised Hel Jaakko.

Colonel Polrio sprinted into the room, accompanied by two subordinates.

“We’re under attack!”

“I know that! By who and how many?”

“Judging by their uniforms they’re likely from the United States of Maistia! As for how many…As far as we can tell at present, maybe ten-odd soldiers.”

“Maistia…Quite a feat, coming all the way here from across the ocean.”

It must have been an infiltration unit that came to Elphegort masquerading as peasants.

Still…How reckless. There’s no way these headquarters will fall to such a small number of people.

I heard the sound of my room’s windows violently shattering from enemy fire. Colonel Polrio let out a small wail and hid under my desk.

“Führer, this is too dangerous! We must move to the war council room!”

“That would be wise.”

I started to head for the doorway, crouching down.

“…Colonel Polrio.”

“Yes?”

“Take my water tank to the war council room.”

“Huh? But I can’t do that by myse—”

“What are those men cowering at your side here for?”

Even amid all this chaos, Mr. Ziz was peacefully drifting around in his tank, showing no sign of waking up.

What a carefree creature.

.

While we waited for the battle to end inside the war council room, I pondered on the true identity of our foes.

Why are former PN members with Maistia troops?

There was a justice organization known as the Dark Star Bureau in northern Levianta. This bureau had once created its own personal peace-keeping force separate from the police.

That was “Police Neutrality”—nicknamed “PN”.

After Levianta had broken out into civil war on account of Dark Star Bureau Director Gallerian Marlon’s excesses, PN was disbanded.

The whereabouts of its former members varied. Some were imprisoned, some were recruited into the World Police, some went to spend the rest of their years in their homelands—

I had once worked in PN myself.

…Though I was never an official member. On the surface, PN had the purpose of performing peacekeeping activities in each country as an alternative to the corrupt police, but behind the scenes it also carried out secret assassination jobs against any who would threaten the Dark Star Bureau—or rather, anyone who got in Gallerian’s way.

I had been entrusted with carrying out such “behind the scenes” tasks.

Feng Li, Hel Jaakko…They had been part of PN’s “public” face. For that reason, while I had heard of them, today was my first time ever laying eyes on them.

Perhaps I didn’t need to think too deeply about it. A great deal of time had passed since PN was disbanded. There was nothing particularly odd about anywhere its members ended up working.

--I was more proof of that than anyone.

Who could have imagined that little old Nemesis would be standing at the top of Elphegort? Me, who had once done nothing but make trouble with my friends in the slums of Aceid?

“…It’s quiet.”

At some point the sound of gunshots had faded away.

“Perhaps they’ve finished suppressing our foes,” Colonel Polrio suggested.

About ten party officers including myself were assembled in the council room, the safest place in headquarters.

“…Where is Major Encheri?”

It was then that I finally realized one of the officers was absent.

“Gone, now that you mention it. …Maybe he grabbed a gun and went out to join the fight. He’s quite the daring man, ha ha ha.”

I would have really preferred if General Areus had been joking. “I told him to think of his age and position. It’s not a commander’s job to be standing on the front lines.”

“True, he’ll be in for a scolding when he gets back.”

Suddenly, the door opened.

The man standing there was the very subject of discussion, Major Encheri. Everyone in the room turned their gaze to him at once.

I noticed immediately that he had sweat pouring from his temples. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with having been so late…That’s what I thought for a moment.

No…it’s not that.

General Areus seemed to notice something off about Major Encheri as well when he tried to approach him.

“You—”

But before General Areus could speak to him, Major Encheri pitched forward.

Thrust deep into his back—was a wide knife.

“--!?”

Everyone grasped the situation, and moved to hide behind the desk, drawing their guns.

However…our foe’s movements were just a little bit quicker.

The muzzle of a gun flashed from the other side of the doorway—several people were shot by the bullets flying from it.

“Gah!”

I peered at the fallen from the shadow of the desk.

They got…Gigaty and Grand. General Areus is…just barely alive.

He was lying on the spot, moaning in pain from a shot to his left leg.

Someone then stomped on his wounded leg.

“Haugh!”

Ignoring General Areus’ pitiable cries, the intruders drew closer to me and the others.

“Drop your guns and stand up with your hands in the air!” the man who appeared to be the leader shouted at where we were hidden.

Naturally, we had no intention of obeying his words.

I stood, and showed myself to our enemy—my gun at the ready.

At that signal, the others also stood and pointed their guns at the intruders.

There were less of them than I’d thought.

Only three.

They all hid their faces with cloth and goggles.

We’ve got seven people left. We’ve got superior numbers, but…

There was a clear difference in equipment between us and our foes.

All of the Tasan officers were wielding pistols for personal protection. By contrast, they were equipped with fully automatic rifles. And the vests they were wearing were, without a doubt, bulletproof.

Even if we exchange fire…they’d be the ones left in the end.

Their leader likely realized that.

He aimed the gun at me and declared, showing no sign of fear, “I’ll say it again. Drop your guns. If not, I’ll shoot Führer Sudou first.”

The officers all looked conflicted, but when Colonel Polrio threw down his gun in defeat, the others followed suit one by one.

And so—I was the only one among my allies who was still wielding a gun.

“You don’t know when to give up, do you Führer? Even you must see you have no hope of winning.”

The leader continued to aim his gun at me, the other two watching the captured officers menacingly.

“No.”

And yet, I had no intention of obeying him.

“I see, then you leave me no choice—you will die here, Nemesis.”

The man pulled the trigger without hesitation.

.

--But the bullet never actually left his machine gun.

What happened instead was an “unfortunate accident”

“Guuh…”

The man fell into a crouch, clutching his now blood-covered hand.

He couldn’t have imagined it.

--That his gun would explode the moment he pulled the trigger.

“Guess you weren’t so lucky, heh heh…” I smiled sardonically, but of course this…was not simple “bad luck”.

“Sir!”

One of his allies raced to him, and then pointed their machine gun at me.

“Oh, are you going to shoot next? Go ahead, try it. However…you’d better hope there’s not another ‘accident’.”

He moved to shoot me, angered by my provocation, but the leader stopped him.

“Don’t do it! This woman…did something to the gun.”

The leader took the gun from his comrade and carefully checked it with shaking hands.

“…As I thought. Something’s clinging to the inside of the bolt…Is this…ice?” Finally the man tossed the gun aside, and then glared at me through his goggles. “—You damned witch.”

“My my, don’t use such an anachronistic word. ‘Witches’—their existence was thoroughly debunked by the Dark Star Bureau long ago, you know.”

“…I know. I too was once a member of ‘PN’, after all.”

My heart faintly stirred at hearing that.

I once more looked at his wound.

That bloodied hand…the color of his skin…He was black.

This man…he can’t be…

While holding my gun in one hand, I walked closer to him.

His other comrade kept their machine gun trained on me, but there was no need to fear. Even if they fired, they would meet the same outcome as their leader.

I put my hand on his goggles and ripped them off.

Then I tore away the cloth covering him, and there—

Was a face I knew.

“—So, Bruno Zero…It is you.”

The unsavory organization, PN.

He had been its leader.

“It’s been a while, Nemesis.”

“…You’ve gotten old, Bruno.”

This was a reunion decades apart, but neither of us were smiling.

“Why are you with the Maistian army—Or rather, why are you attacking this place?”

“Do you really need to ask me that? I would think it’s obvious I came to kill you, the enemy of the United States of Maistia…the führer of Tasan Elphegort.”

“If that’s the case why didn’t you shoot me right away? You tried to get me to surrender at first.”

Bruno didn’t reply.

He simply continued to glare at me, silently.

Getting a hold on the situation, Colonel Polrio scooped up his gun and approached my side.

“Is this an acquaintance of yours, Führer?”

“Acquaintance…Yeah. You could say this man—Bruno, is the one to whom I owe my life.”

“My word, then—”

“Search him. You might find something.”

Colonel Polrio quickly seized Bruno, and then began to search his pockets.

As he did, the other officers grabbed Bruno’s comrades and called for reinforcements.

--It was apparent that the combatants who had attacked the main gate at the start were merely a diversion. Then a different unit comprised of Bruno and his allies snuck in while the guards were distracted and reach the council room…That was the gist of it.

“Führer. I found this—” Colonel Polrio handed me a sheet of paper once he had finished searching Bruno. “It looks like orders. It’s been written in code so I don’t know what it says…Shall I have it deciphered?”

“No need.”

I recognized that code.

“Using the same code that you did back in PN—You’ve gone senile, Bruno.”

Its contents…were details on the new weapon that we possessed, “Punishment”.

And also the order to destroy it.

So the information’s been leaked. But I only revealed the existence of the completed “Punishment” to the officers for the first time in the meeting earlier. So then—there’s a chance we have a spy amidst our military scientists.

I would have to look into that later.

First—I needed to decide on what to do with Bruno.

I drew closer to him, and put the muzzle of the pistol in my hand in the middle of his brow.

“Do you remember this gun, Bruno?”

“…Your ‘Naga Custom 44”.

“Yes…The revolver that ‘Postman’ gave me that day. The name of the sender was…’MASTER’.”

“…”

“If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be here now. The person who saved me when I was charged for the crime of sinking the S.S. Titanis and sentenced to be executed—was you.”

“…I regret doing it. You should have died back then.”

Even so, he had saved my life.

Because I—was the daughter of someone he loved.

I lowered the gun, and brought my face closer to look him right in the eyes.

“I will say it once more. I owe you my life. You saved me. And—you are the one who made me into what I am now.”

“So…You’re going to save me now? Is that what you’re about to say?”

I smiled at him.

“Oh no. It’s for that very reason—I’m going to kill you.”

I once more put the muzzle against his brow, and quickly pulled the trigger.

And as the blood splash washed over my face, I felt satisfied down to my very core.

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[ancano]

YoI Fanfic Recs

Okay so I just wanna share some love and show y’all some amazing fanfics that I have personally read and absolutely adored!! You’ll likely see repeated authors, either cuz I follow them on tumblr or cuz I’ll raid their uploads once I find one I really like. Also apparently I read a lot of A/B/O so if that isn’t your thing sorry hhhhhh

No particular order for these, just going down my bookmarks and history lists on ao3

Glitter & Gold by plisetskytrash and victurius (I just caught up with this one and oh my god I love it.) Summary - In a world where drugs, sex, and violence rule, Viktor Nikiforov is the king. As the Pakhan of the Russian Mafia (the Bratva) he is responsible for murder and mayhem across multiple continents and that’s just the way he likes it. The only problem is that a new leader has risen to power in America – known only as ‘JJ’ – and he starts to intrude on Viktor’s territory.Not only is that rude, it’s damn right unacceptable.So, Viktor sets out to find out as much about JJ as he can, including infiltrating the businesses he owns, such as The Kiss and Cry, a sleazy club that works as a front for an exclusive exotic omega strip club that only the richest and most powerful men can access. Naturally, Viktor has no trouble getting inside. Once he’s there, however, his plans are thrown out of the window when he spots a beautiful, young Japanese omega with chocolate-brown eyes and an ass to die for. There’s only one problem: Viktor swore he’d never mate an omega.Will Viktor manage to stay focused on his mission? Or will this omega break Viktor’s most important rule?

Eros and Agape by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl and Spunky0ne (you’ll see a couple works from these guys in this list because they are *chef’s kiss* amazing) Summary - For as long as Victor can remember, Yakov and Lilia have protected him from being discovered to be an Omega by helping him to project as an Alpha. But at the Grand Prix Final banquet, he comes face to face with the man destined to be his husband.

NEXT LEVEL: Nights After Dreams by RipVanGabriel (this is a LONG one, I haven’t even gotten very far in it, but trust me it’s worth it) Summary -  The silver medal was hard fought and won, but now the stakes are higher than ever. Five gold medals loom on the horizon, but more importantly, the "life and love" within the gold rings. Yuri and Viktor's relationship grows as they get back on the competition road, and new complications rise with them. (Proper follow-up to the TV series; not AU, no crack ships, no weird shit.)

Wait! But, I’m not Yakuza! by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl, SesshomaruFreak, and Spunky0ne (like I said, these guys, *chef’s kiss* I refuse to admit how many times I’ve reread the 2 chapters that are currently posted. I’m also the only person commenting on it last i checked which is a fucking shame, so y’all go comment on this amazing fic pls) Summary - The Katsuki family, except for the Hasetsu Katsukis, are the largest and most powerful Yakuza family in Japan, so it’s not surprising that poor Yuuri keeps getting mistaken for one of his distant relatives. On a trip to Russia with his father, Yuuri stumbles into a bar to avoid a group of rough looking punks, and he comes face to face with a beautiful, silver-haired exotic dancer. Things get crazy when Yuuri sees the lovely dancer being abused and steps in, only to get himself beaten into unconsciousness. He wakes in his hotel room and finds a note next to his bed…”Thank you for your kindness. I’m sorry those ruffians hurt you. It’s better you stay away. I don’t want anything else bad to happen to you. Vitya” He should go home. He should just forget the man, but Yuuri can’t help himself…Victuuri, intersex Victor, intersex pregnancy, lots of flustered Yuuri!

Love’s Requiem by Kashoku (gonna be honest, I don’t even ship Yuuri/Yuri, but I enjoy this fic) Summary -  If you had asked Yuuri in Barcelona if there was anything that could ever bring him down from the high of being with Viktor Nikiforov, he would have laughed. But when the living legend suffers a career ending injury, it brings new struggles to their relationship. Viktor begins to drown his sorrows, and Yuuri finds himself being pulled beneath the surface in a way he’s not sure he can survive.

you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be by roserelease (this shit right here is my fucking bread and butter y’all. I can’t even express how much happiness and love this fic gives me) Summary - More than anything, Yuuri wants to impress his cosplay role model Viktor Nikiforov. But after a horrible start to a convention weekend, he panics and backs out at the last second to meet his idol. Normally this would be fine, except Yuuri discovers too late that there's a little Viktor related secret inside the con vlog his best friend filmed over the course of the weekend for him...It's fine, he thinks. Embarrassing, but not the end of the world. And it's not like Viktor himself will ever see the con vlog, so why worry?(Except then Viktor does.)

Paying For Poison by SaerenDPity (another one of my absolute faves that sadly only updates once every other blue moon but when it does update I feel overwhelmingly Blessed) Summary - "Skater Katsuki?" Yuuri's eyes widened as he nodded, and suddenly Viktor Nikiforov was clutching at his coat. He barely registered that his childhood hero knew his name, he couldn't think on that when Viktor's voice was on the edge of breaking. Desperation lined his every movement."Yes th-that's me. Um… Mr. Nikiforov… Do… do you need help?"Viktor shook his head violently and shoved his hand into Yuuri's pocket. Yuuri only had time to squeak before Viktor was backing away, breathing heavily. "Please… please buy me."…Years after Viktor Nikiforov suddenly disappeared from the public eye, he resurfaces at the Rostelecom Cup, desperate for help. And Yuuri simply cannot abandon the man who inspired almost every aspect of his life, and so, he makes the decision to do just as Viktor asks - buy his services as an omega for one night.

Drowning In Your Love by MysticLipstick (another rarely updated fic that I’m head over heels for. please feed me, I need MORE) Summary -  Victor Nikiforov has always gotten away with being a whore in college. Being the top athlete swimmer has gained him tons of attention, championships and girls. However, a cosmic encounter with Yuuri Katsuki has him questioning everything—including his sexuality. Yuuri’s shy nature and blatant disregard for Victor’s fame has Victor chasing him—something he’s never done, but Yuuri shuts him down. Completely.

November’s Secret by LanaBerry (I’ve reread this one about 5 times already tbh) Summary - Overwhelmed with anxiety and his fear of failing, Yuuri faces the issue of if he should continue skating. His best friend, Yuko, proposes a solution - if no one knows it's you, then it's less embarrassing, right? Yuuri begins to create a completely new disguise and persona.But it works a little too well.Before he knows it, Yuuri has become the biggest mystery of the skating world and everyone wants to know who he is. Especially Viktor Nikiforov, the idol he's been loosely basing his new persona on for years.

The ‘Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches’ series by Reiya (recently finished rereading this one, always so fucking good) Summary - ‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’ A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries.Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.

With What We Once Had by MagicalMirai (this one is just too cute tbh) Summary -  They called it quits, over a year and a half ago. But even though he should have been expecting it, Yuuri can’t help but feel suffocated when he bumps into Victor at the Grand Prix final, whilst holding his son. The son... he never told Victor about.

Nerve Endings by Phyona (this one is next on the “to reread” list) Summary -  When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri's anxiety and Victor's secrets to find their balance.

Puppy Love by Phyona (another phyona fic and it’s just way too fucking cute tbh) Summary - When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov's apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol's pet, is watching him pine for someone else.Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

The Stars on his Cheeks by QueenWinterofLuna (this one was actually written for a prompt I personally requested and I absolutely adore it, even still) Summary -  A short drabble based on this Tumblr request from @napsushi: Can you write a fic where Yuuri discovers Victor has freckles and is just over the moon about it? This fandom needs more freckled Vitya.

This is all I can find and think of for now but if I remember more I’ll be sure to update it!!

[ephemeralstark]

Keep On Fighting In the Meantime

Summary: One decision is all it takes for someone's life to be thrown upside down, and sometimes it's not even a decision they've made.

Or, a drunk driver runs a red light and hits a car containing Peter and Happy. The physical and emotional injuries aren't going to go away easily, but thankfully Mr. Stark is always there for his family.

8.5K | Rated T and up | complete

Read HERE on AO3 or click the read more to view here on tumblr

“Peter are you sure you don’t wanna come?” Ned asked as he shoved a pile of papers into his locker, Peter supressed a flinch as he heard some of them tear from the rough force.

“Nah, Mr. Stark said he had some upgrades for Karen and I want to see if I can get her to understand Gen Z humour,” Peter said, “she keeps trying to call for help whenever I make jokes. Apparently, it’s ‘concerning’.”

“I mean it probably is to the uninitiated.” Ned agreed as he tried to jam his locker shut, the papers sticking out around the edges of the door.

“Y’know, MJ is gonna kill you when she sees the state of those.” Peter told him.

“Yeah, but I told her I don’t have room in my locker to store decathlon prep, this will just prove my point.” Ned said with a shrug.

“Dude.” Peter said, shaking his head at his best friend. “You’re a dead man walking. Like genuinely. You must have a death wish.”

“Maybe if she kills me, I won’t have to go to that 8am practice on Saturday.” Ned said after a moment of quiet deliberation as he looked at his locker.

“Bold of you to assume even death could get you out of practice.” Peter snorted, before glancing at him phone that buzzed with a message. “I gotta go, I don’t want to keep Happy waiting. Have fun going over all the wrong answers with the team.”

“It’s meant to be a team dinner.” Ned said quietly, a distinct whine in his voice. “It’s meant to be fun and relaxing.”

“Sure, and MJ stepped down as the leader.” Peter muttered; his words laced with sarcasm.

Peter laughed at Ned’s despair and made his way out of the back door of the school. He had an agreement with Mr. Stark that he would allow himself to be picked up by Happy so long as he used the most discreet car and parked around the back of the school.

While it would have been nice to rub it in Flash’s face that he really was an intern with Stark Industries, he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the extra attention that would come with people believing his story. His classmates would pretend to be his friend only to get close to Mr. Stark and reap the benefits, the media would jump on the story of the high school intern, and some people – in the depths of the internet - would even begin to theorise that Peter Parker was in fact Spider-Man.

So, yes, Peter decided to give up on trying to convince his classmates that he wasn’t a liar.

The familiar Audi was parked by the yellow curb and Peter could see an irate looking Happy checking his watch in the driver’s seat. He mentally snorted, apparently discreet meant an Audi that was illegally parked. Mr. Stark really didn’t have a clue.

“You’re late.” Happy said as Peter opened the back door and threw his backpack in, sliding in after it.

“Actually, I’m not.” Peter said.

“I was here bang on 5:30.” Happy said. “Practice ended at 5:30 and now it’s 5:40. You’re ten minutes late.”

“You’re insane,” Peter declared happily, “and time is a construct. It doesn’t exist, we made it up as humans to suit our needs.”

“You’re not going to exist if you continue speaking nonsense,” Happy said as he pulled away, the child locks automatically clicking on, “time is a real thing, trust me I’ve had enough arguments with Tony about that, and if you’re late again I’m gonna leave you.”

“Mr. Stark would make you come back and get me if you left.” Peter said, calling Happy’s bluff.

“Don’t I know it.” Happy complained. “He’s going soft thanks to you.”

He didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, in fact, Peter thought he almost sounded happy about that fact, but that was impossible. This was Happy they were talking about. Happy was never happy. He was always the grumpy, stoic figure in the driver’s seat who would make snide remarks and complain about the rudeness of youths these days.

If Peter didn’t care so much for his life, he would have called him a grumpy grandpa.

“Did Mr. Stark tell you what upgrades he’s planned for Karen?” Peter asked.

“84 seconds.” Happy said.

“I’m sorry?”

“You managed to stay quiet for an entire 84 seconds, it’s your personal best.” Happy said. “Do you want to try for 100 seconds?”

“Happy, I-” Peter stammered, “was that? Did you just make a joke?”

“No.” Happy said. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, well in that case I should probably tell you that I lost interest in the ‘who can stay quiet the longest’ game when I was five.” Peter continued.

“So, your poor Aunt has been suffering for the last ten years?” Happy asked. “Poor woman deserves a medal.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Peter mumbled. That was a point he wouldn’t argue on.

“Hey, Happy?”

“Kid really?” Happy asked. “What could you possible have to ask now?”

“Well, I was thinking ma-”

Peter didn’t get to finish his question.

His Spidey-Sense rang out loud and clear, it screamed ‘danger’ in his mind, and it was ready for the danger to come before Peter had even realised something was wrong – his hands were automatically in the air, waiting for a blow to land.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense had always been a bit of a guessing game, when he was in a dangerous situation it was useful, when he was fighting an armed assailant he knew that it going off would mean that he was at risk of being stabbed or shot and he could move in time. If he was walking in a dark alley, it could mean that there was someone behind him, so he could turn around in time and they’d lose the element of surprise.

But sitting in the back seat of a car? There was no one following, no one with a knife, and Peter knew Happy had a gun but one quick glance at him showed his hands in the typical ten and two position on the steering wheel. Not that Happy would ever shoot him on purpose, not unless Peter was really, really annoying.

Peter saw the danger too late, his Spidey-Sense had warned him but it was pointless because as he looked out the window and saw the truck coming towards them, he realised there was nothing he could do.

The truck hit with a bone-trembling crash, Peter heard Happy take a sharp breath before cursing loudly and slamming his foot on the breaks. He wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t do anything, they’d already been hit.

Metal gave way, crumbling under the force of the truck and shards of glass rained down on Peter as the windows shattered.

Peter watched numbly as his backpack was tossed around on the backseat as the car was forced to the side because of the impact that had been delivered.  

He was pretty sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t focus on anything that was happening, there was too much noise and light and fear and pain.

Peter didn’t even realise he had been knocked out until he woke up, blinking slowly to remove something from his eyes. He was struggling to focus properly, everything seemed to be hazy and the lights were trailing like a glow stick being waved through the air by a child on a dark night.

He guessed that he hadn’t been out for very long as he was still in the car, strapped in to his seat, he could hear people outside walking around – emergency services must not have arrived yet, because they seemed cautious and unsure about how to proceed.

“Should we pull them out?”

“I don’t think you’re meant to move people with head injuries.”

“How do we know they have a head injury?”

“How do we know they don’t?”

“That kid looks in rough shape, he’s bleeding a lot.”

“I think he’s awake.”

Peter groaned, he assumed that he was the kid that they were talking about, was he bleeding? Where? Oh. He looked down and saw a large, twisted piece of metal protruding from his chest, that was where. As soon as Peter saw the metal, he felt the pain, it was burning and all consuming, he wanted to grit his teeth and be strong, but he couldn’t.

At the end of the day he was a kid, a kid with jagged metal sticking into his body and he couldn’t hold in the screams of pain.

He wanted to go home. He wanted his Aunt.

“Ah, Ha- Hap-py?” He asked between grunts and gasps of pain.

No answer.

“Happy, ow, ah, p-p-please, answer me.” Peter pleaded.

He tried his best to focus, to listen for Happy’s heartbeat but his own was pounding too fast to hear anything else past it. There was too much happening, too many people outside, the car was still creaking and groaning, there were sirens in the distance and Peter’s senses were unreliable when he was feeling so frantic and distracted.

He was just like any other person in that moment, he had no enhanced senses to offer him reassurances, he would just have to hope that Happy was alright until someone gave him a reason to believe otherwise.  

“Clear the way, let us through.”

Peter tried to relax a little as he heard the paramedics arrive, they would help Happy, they’d make sure he was alive, they had to, they had to.

“Kid?” Peter hadn’t realised that the car was on its side until he looked up and saw a paramedic peering through the side window which was now on top facing the overcast skies. “We’re going to get you out, alright, just hold tight.”

“N-n-no,” Peter stammered, “not me. H-Happy.”

“Happy?” the paramedic asked in confusion, obviously wondering whether Peter had hit his head during the accident, to be fair, maybe he had. A lot had happened and at some point, he’d lost consciousness.

“D-driver.” Peter tried to elaborate, oh god why couldn’t they just get it? Every word was hurting.

“Alright, Happy is the driver,” the paramedic said, “don’t worry, we have another team here helping him.”

Peter looked to the front to see that they were telling the truth, there was a paramedic leaning through the broken windscreen to check on Happy, how had he missed them? Were his senses really failing him so drastically?

“See, we’re helping him too, now we’re probably going to need to get the fire service to cut you out, but don’t worry they’re already here so it won’t take long, in the mean time I’m going to come down there and see what I can do to help you.”

Peter nodded, letting his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he breathed through a spasm of pain caused by the movement of the car.

“What’s your name?” The paramedic asked.

“Peter.” He whispered, he was so tired, talking felt like too much energy.

“Alright Peter, now I’m coming down alright?”

He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was so tired.

The exhaustion was heavy, and it seemed to weigh him down, maybe a nap would be the best thing for him, he would only close his eyes for a minute. It would be fine… just a minute. Someone was talking to him, but Peter was too busy falling asleep to care.

-

“Pete? Peter, come on Kiddo,” a familiar voice was determined to rouse Peter from his peaceful slumber, but he was just as determined to stay in the blissful land of sleep, “Peter, come on, wake up. Please.”

Whoever that was, they sure were persistent, it was mildly irritating.

“He frowned,” another voice chipped in, also familiar but Peter still couldn’t place who they were, “did you see that, he definitely frowned!”

“Peter? Can you hear us?”

“He’s moving his lips!”

“Open your eyes, Peter.”

Ugh! Peter complied, hoping that his irritation at being woken up was clear to see. Oh, it was May and Mr. Stark who had been talking, both of them standing over him and staring at him with expectant looks.

What were they waiting for?

“There he is,” May said softly, “you were beginning to worry us, sweetie.”

“Yeah, May over here was panicking like you wouldn’t believe.” Mr. Stark said, with a faint red hue across his cheeks, Peter was sure he could only see that thanks to his Spidey-Senses.

“Mhm,” May hummed, casting an unimpressed look at Mr. Stark, “I was the one panicking.”

“In my defence-”

“You have no defence,” May interrupted.

“I know, but a car accident?” Mr. Stark asked, Peter had the feeling that hadn’t been the first time he’d asked that question.

“A car accident?” Peter asked, trying to filter through hazy memories.

He couldn’t remember it properly, he could remember chatting to Ned and getting into the back of the Audi – Happy had been his usual grumpy self, but after that, everything was hazy and difficult to comprehend.

Happy.

“Wait,” Peter mumbled, interrupting whatever it had been that Mr. Stark was going to say, “is Happy alright?”

“Uh,” May faltered, looking to Mr. Stark for help. Peter’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, since when did May look to him for advice, what was going on?

“Happy was pretty badly hurt,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “he’s in surgery at the moment.”

“Surgery?” Peter asked.

“He’s strong.” Mr. Stark said, trying to reassure him but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a while. They both did.

“How long ago was the accident?” Peter asked.

“A few days, you’ve been in and out of it since then, but you haven’t been able to retain much,” May told him, as she ran a hand through his curls, “the doctors say it’s just because of a bad concussion, and it won’t be permanent.”

“So you’ve told me all of this before?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved.

“Just bits and pieces, this is the longest you’ve managed to keep your eyes open so far.” Mr. Stark said.

“That sounds exhausting,” Peter mumbled, screwing up his nose only to find that there was something shoved up it.

“Don’t pull at that.” May said, gently guiding his hand away, “it’s just something to give you a little extra oxygen and a tube to give you nutrition.”

“Why do I need oxygen?” Peter asked. “I was in a car crash.”

“You were pretty beat up from the accident,” May said calmly, too calmly, she was obviously trying her best not to cause him any worry, “there was a piece of- uh, a piece of metal that stabbed you.”

“Ok,” Peter said, hoping that he appeared calm enough for her to continue, how had he reacted to this in the past? Had he been told about it before? How much of this was actually news to him?  

“It pierced your lung and caused it to collapse,” May said, “they called it, uh, a pneumothorax.”

“Oh.” Peter said.

So… he’d had a collapsed lung, that wasn’t too bad, right? He’d heard about them before, sure, they were dangerous, but he was in the hospital and being cared for, surely that meant he was safe.

“You’re taking this better than last time?” Mr. Stark said, looking pleased with that fact.

“How did I take it last time?” Peter wondered.

“Ugh, there was some panicking, from you and me,” May admitted, “you were convinced that you were suffocating.”

“But,” Peter paused, feeling unsure of himself, “I’m not, right?”

“No, but you did lose a lot of blood, so you’ve had a few transfusions and you should be weaned off the oxygen soon.” May told him.

“It’s weird.” Peter mumbled.

“What is, sweetie?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Peter didn’t hear her reply, the sweet call of sleep was too much to resist, he fell into a peaceful slumber with the sound of May and Mr. Stark talking soothingly somewhere in the distance.

-

The next time Peter woke up, he was in darkness. His heart instantly jumped into action as he panicked and forgot where he was, the beeping from the monitor caused a dark mass to move from beside him.

“Hey, calm down, Underoos, it’s just me.” Mr. Stark. “You’re safe, you’re alright, it’s all ok.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter gasped, using the dim lights from some of the machines to focus on Mr. Stark’s face.

“Don’t apologise,” Mr. Stark said, quick to reassure him, “you’re in the hospital.”

“I know.” Peter said. “I remembered this time.”

“Oh, thank god.” Mr. Stark said, falling back against the chair in relief, Peter heard the small exhale of air from the force of hitting the backrest.

“I was just speaking to you and May?” Peter murmured, confused.

“You were, but you’re on some pretty hefty painkillers, Kiddo, you fell asleep for a few hours after that.” Mr. Stark told him.

“I don’t like feeling so tired.”

“It won’t be forever,” Mr. Stark said reassuringly, “in fact, your healing factor is doing amazing things for you right now. You’ll be home before you know it.”

That was right, Peter was Spider-Man, he had a healing factor that had probably saved his life. Happy, though, he didn’t.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter waited for the quiet hum to continue, “how is Happy doing?”

“He’s stable, he’s in the Intensive Care Unit, but they’re optimistic that he’ll be able to step down in the next day or two.” Mr. Stark said.

“Oh,” that was good, not that he was poorly enough to need the ICU, but that he was improving at least, “and May? Where is she?”

“She nipped home about an hour ago to grab a shower and some food, I promised to stay with you until she gets back.”

“Thank you.”

-

The next time Peter woke up, it was light, and the annoying tubing that was blowing dry air up his nostrils was gone. As was Mr. Stark. May had taken his place, curled up on an uncomfortable looking chair, with a book in one hand and a travel cup of coffee in the other – Peter could smell the faint hint of bitterness in the air, she was drinking coffee. That wasn’t like her, May said that coffee normally made her feel jittery.

“May?”

“Oh, sweetie, you’re awake,” she said, tossing her book aside and unfurling her legs so she could rush over to his side.

“This isn’t the hospital?” Peter was sure of that; he couldn’t smell the antiseptic in the air or hear the beeping of thousands of machines anymore.

“No, you’re stable enough that Tony managed to wrangle a transfer to the Med-Bay, although why they had to wait for you to be this stable is beyond me.” May muttered. “You have S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best doctors organising your care, they were looking after you in the hospital too because of your abilities, you could have been moved earlier.”

“I don’t need their best,” Peter mumbled, “I’m doing fine.”

May didn’t confirm or deny his statement, maybe she didn’t want to jinx anything or worry him, “do you want to try eating something?”

“Do they have jello?” Peter asked.

“Do they- of course they have jello, you do realise that this is Tony’s compound, right?” May asked with a teasing smile.

“Fair point,” Peter mumbled, blushing as May helped him sit up in the bed. Was he really so weak that he needed assistance to sit?

Ow.

“Too much?” May asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Peter lied, but he didn’t want her to overreact and lie him back down, he was hungry, “how long has it been since I’ve eaten?”

“A while, but they put that tube in your nose to make sure that you could still get some nutrients, because it just so happens that your metabolism means that you need quite a high intake.” May said. “Imagine my surprise at only hearing about this now.”

Oops.

“I, uh-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to lecture you while you’re recovering.” May said, waving away his attempts to cover his ass. “Now, sit still, don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be back in a moment with your jello.”

“I never do anything st- well, not intentionally.”

-

“This is a bad idea,” Mr. Stark muttered as he pushed the wheelchair, “like, a really, really bad idea.”

“Shh, if you speak too loudly someone will catch us.” Peter said, scolding his mentor.

It had been two weeks since the accident, two weeks since one of the most difficult experiences of Peter’s life. It was, however, one of the best days Peter had had since the event. He’d been struggling a lot with pain and lethargy, every medical professional had told him that it was perfectly normal, and that he was lucky to have survived, but Peter was growing restless.

He supposed that it made sense to be taking a while to recover when he shouldn’t have made it out alive, but he was Spider-Man, it shouldn’t be taking so long.

He’d wanted to be discharged from the compound, May and Mr. Stark had wanted him to stay in bed, they’d compromised by waiting until May left for work and Mr. Stark smuggled Peter into a wheelchair and promised to take him to visit Happy.

“Maybe someone should catch us.” Mr. Stark muttered.

“I swear, if you’re planning to sabotage us…” Peter let the threat hang in the air.

“You’ll what?” Mr. Stark asked. “Throw your jello at me? Tell on me? Kid, you won’t do anything, and you don’t need to, I’m not sabotaging anything.”

“How is…” Peter paused. “How is Happy?”

“He’s doing well, considering everything,” Mr. Stark said quietly, “he’ll be glad to see you.”

Will he? Peter wondered, it’s my fault he got hurt, I was the one he was picking up from school.

Peter had been told the details of the crash; he knew that it was no fault of Happy’s. A drunk driver had run a red light. It had been that simple and yet, that complicated.

So, logically, there was no blame to be placed on Peter, but then, it was Peter’s fault Happy was in the car; he knew that Mr. Stark would argue with him if he voiced that belief, so he kept quiet, he wasn’t ready for any reassurances, nor did he deserve them.

“Alright, we’re just in here.” Mr. Stark said, as he pushed Peter into a dimly lit room.

Happy had suffered a bleed on the brain thanks to the accident, apparently, he was still getting severe migraines and they were triggered by harsh lights and loud noises.

“He’s sleeping,” Peter whispered, “should we come back later?”

“No.” Mr. Stark hadn’t been the one to answer that.

“Happy?” Peter asked quietly.

“Long time no see, Kid, you’re late.” Happy mumbled, Peter vaguely registered Mr. Stark stepping out to give them a moment.

“Late?” Peter asked, unable to stop the smile from appearing as he grabbed the wheels and pushed himself closer.

“Yeah, I was expecting your annoying face to appear days ago, I never thought I’d get more than 84 seconds of peace.”

“You missed me.” Peter realised.

“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth,” Happy said, “I most definitely did not say that.”

“You did, you missed me,” Peter repeated, “that’s ok, I missed you too… I was, uh, really worried about you.”

“I was worried about you too, Kiddo, you alright? You don’t look yourself.” Happy said.

“I’m good, much better now than I was.” Peter said.

“Hmm.”

“Happy?” Peter asked, resisting the urge to lean forward and shake the man, “Happy? Uh, Mr. Stark!”

“What? Oh,” Mr. Stark had burst into the room when Peter had called, only to pause and look understandingly at him, “he’s just tired, Pete, he can’t stay awake for very long at the moment. Don’t worry, he’s just sleeping.”

“Oh,” Peter said simply, as he stared at Happy’s prone figure, “will he ever be back to normal?”

“Time will tell,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “the doctors seem optimistic, but they’re sure to let us know it’s a cautious optimism.”

“Can I go back to my room?” Peter asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, of course you can, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said gently, turning the chair to push Peter out the room.

Peter closed his eyes, he could still see Happy lying there, looking so still in the bed, so pale… so-

No.

He was alright, he had sassed Peter, he wouldn’t have done that if he was as bad as he looked. Peter hadn’t realised how much he missed that attitude, how much he missed bickering playfully with Happy.

He missed the older man, the guy who had become such a daily staple in his life. Had he taken his presence for granted? Was that why this had happened? As some sick cosmic way to tell Peter he needed to appreciate those in his life more? Peter didn’t know, maybe there was no reason for any of it to happen, maybe sometimes shitty things just occurred.

Peter knew he should be focusing his questions on the drunk driver – the guy who had managed to walk away with a few lacerations and a broken arm, the man who was at fault had suffered the least. Was Peter a bad person for wishing that guy had been hurt more? Not so much that he had died, but just enough so that he would understand what he’d done to Peter and Happy. Maybe he was, maybe he was too vindictive to be Spider-Man.

“There’s a lot of thinking going on in that head of yours.” Mr. Stark said as he pushed Peter, “care to share?”

Peter shrugged, changing the subject, “this isn’t the way to my room, where are we going?”

“I figured you could see the common area before going back to bed, I stocked that fridge with jello too,” Mr. Stark murmured.

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t really want to run into the Avengers, not today.” Peter said, feeling guilty for not being excited about Mr. Stark’s kind gesture.

“You won’t, they’re all out on a mission.” Mr. Stark reassured him. “The only person you might bump into is Rhodey, and even then, that’s a slim possibility, he’s meant to be in the gym doing his physiotherapy.”

“Alright then,” Peter said quietly. That wasn’t so bad – he liked Mr. Rhodes, he’d met him a few times and he’d always met Mr. Stark’s chaotic energy with his own deceivingly calm one, they were funny to see together, “as long as there’s lime jello.”

“You’re a really weird kid.” Mr. Stark said.

“So you keep saying.”

“Who even likes lime jello?”

“I do,” Peter said with a pout.

Mr. Stark wheeled him into the common area, it was large and empty – just as promised.

“So,” Mr. Stark said, clicking the breaks on so he could go rootle about in the fridge, “what’s on your mind?”

Peter shrugged, staring at the tabletop until a green pot of jello slid in front of him, followed by a shiny metal spoon.

“Eat up, there’s plenty more where that one came from,” Mr. Stark said, “I’m telling you no one likes lime jello.”

“Well, I do,” Peter mumbled, peeling away the foil lid and crumpling it in a fist, “it’s the best flavour and it’s even better that no one else likes it because then I get it all to myself.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” Mr, Stark said, taking a seat opposite Peter with his own pot of red Jello – so Mr. Stark was a strawberry guy, that figured.

“What are you trying to do?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes at his mentor.

“What do you remember from the car accident?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Nothing.” Peter lied.

“Hmm, nope, I’m not buying that,” Mr. Stark said, “you’ve been having nightmares, you keep zoning out, you’re refusing to talk about anything to do with it… you remember.”

“Did May put you up to this?” Peter asked as he slurped jello off the spoon, trying to distract himself from what Mr. Stark was asking about.

Smoke… he could smell smoke all around him, and the sticky odour of engine oil mixing in with something metallic and…oh. Blood. Someone was bleeding, was it him? or Happy? Was Happy even alive? Was Peter?

“-concerned, like me, Underoos,” Peter blinked and tried to focus on Mr. Stark’s words rather than the memories of that afternoon, “we want to help you, we want to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

“Mr. Stark, I had a collapsed lung, numerous broken bones, contusions, lacerations, a concussion that caused me to lose days from my memories, and I needed multiple blood transfusions.” Peter said. “I get you guys want to make me feel better, but I almost died, there’s a good chance I would have without my Spider-Man abilities.”

“So, you feel like you shouldn’t be alive?” Mr. Stark asked.

“No…well, kinda, not like I wish I’d died or anything,” Peter was quick to reassure him, “just, if I was meant to die, didn’t I cheat?”

“Cheat?”

“Yeah, like I should be in just as bad shape as Happy is, but because of my abilities I’m sitting in the common area eating jello with you while Happy can barely stay awake for a five minute conversation. It feels unfair, he should be the one sitting here with you.”

“You want to swap places?” Mr. Stark asked, but Peter could tell he didn’t expect an answer. “Kiddo, you can’t think like that.”

“Why not? Don’t you want the same thing?” Peter wondered.

“Of course not!” Mr. Stark’s voice was loud and verging on shouting, it hurt Peter’s still tender brain. “I don’t want either of you to be in Happy’s position, and just because you can heal, doesn’t mean that you aren’t affected by the crash.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry for shouting, kid, but you’re not, you’re wishing you could swap with Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re wishing for further injuries because you feel some sort of misguided guilt over what happened.”

“It’s not misguided!” Peter snapped, dropping his spoon on the desk with a clatter.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Stark asked gently, too gently, Peter broke.

“Happy should have never been there, I shouldn’t have been ten minutes late, I could have walked or got a bus or a taxi or swung over, I could hav-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Mr. Stark interrupted. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

Peter copied Mr. Stark’s exaggerated deep breaths, mimicking the man like he used to as a kid – back when Ben would applaud him for wearing one of his old suit jackets that hung down to Peter’s ankles and tripped him up as he paced back and forth in front of the TV quoting Tony Stark’s clean energy speeches.

“Peter…kiddo…you can’t tell me you think this was your fault?”

“Why not?” Peter asked numbly. “It was.”

“No, it wasn’t, it was George Hendersen’s fault. No one else’s.”

Huh, George Hendersen. It was such a normal name, the kind that a father, brother, son would have. Peter wondered how many people were left confused and pained over his actions? How many members of his family were trying to deal with the knowledge that he had gotten behind the wheel of his car, drunk?

“Why did he do it?” Peter asked, tears falling without his permission.

“Oh, kid,” Mr. Stark said, abandoning his red jello in favour of kneeling beside Peter’s wheelchair, “look at me-” he paused, waiting for Peter to comply, “I don’t know. I wish I did, I really do. I wish I could give you an answer that would make all the pain and fear make sense, but I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“I hate him.” Peter said, the words pouring out without any bite thanks to the sobs that escaped with them. “Is that wrong of me?”

“No,” Mr. Stark said, “hate is a real strong emotion, and my therapist would probably say it’s dangerous to hold onto hate, but personally I hate him too.”

“I wish he hadn’t done it.”

“Me too, kiddo, me too.” Mr. Stark said quietly, before holding his arms open, “come here.”

Peter fell into them easily, breathing in the familiar scent of cologne and grease, Mr. Stark wouldn’t let George Hendersen hurt him or Happy again.

-

“What do you mean he got community service?”

Peter’s head jumped off the pillow with a protesting throb at the shriek that seemed to pierce through his walls and door.

“May, calm down,” Mr. Stark’s voice was quieter, he was trying not to wake Peter, not that it mattered now, “you know I’m going to get Pepper and my best team of lawyers on the case.”

“How the fuck could this happen?” May asked, only a fraction quieter.

“He’s rich, white, and has connections.”

“He nearly killed two innocent people!”

Peter carefully slipped his legs out of bed, toeing on his slippers and inching towards the door.

“He will pay, even if it kills me, I’ll make sure that he pays for what he did to Pete and Hap.”

Peter opened the door, alerting May and Mr. Stark to the fact that he was awake. They cast glances at each other meaningfully before their expressions smoothed out, they were planning to keep it from him.

Did they think that he couldn’t handle this? That he would break down at the thought of his almost murderer walking about normally? His only punishment being that he was losing his free time to help clean the streets of New York or something. Would they even suggest rehab?

“Hey, morning Peter, I thought I’d drop by on my way to work,” May said with her familiar, easy smile.

“Look at you, up on your own!” Mr. Stark said looking proud. “How do you feel?”

“My leg aches a little, where the break was, but otherwise I’m alright,” Peter mumbled, looking between the two of them, come on, come clean and tell me.

“Well, sit yourself down, I’m making breakfast and you can take your painkillers.” Mr. Stark said.

“You’re making breakfast? You?” Peter asked as he hesitantly took a seat at the table.

“Hey!” Mr. Stark protested, flicking some pancake batter Peter’s way. It landed on his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. Back when the Avengers were an actual team, me, Cap and Bruce would make huge meals. We could have fed an army; trust me Cap would have known.”

“Do you miss those days?” Peter asked, taking a sip of the glass of milk that was placed in front of him; Mr. Stark didn’t let him drink coffee. Apparently, he had his hands full enough without a caffeinated Spider-Kid sticking to his ceiling, Peter hadn’t mentioned that he had never been on the ceiling in the Compound…at least not that Mr. Stark had seen.

“Sometimes,” Mr. Stark replied with a shrug, “but I prefer these days more.”

May smiled, seemingly understanding whatever Mr. Stark had meant by that.

“You’re weird.” Peter declared, wiping the milk moustache away with the back of pyjama top’s sleeve.

“Peter!” May scolded in exasperation. “There’s a stack of napkins right there.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

Peter bluffed his way through breakfast and made his excuses to leave and shower as soon as he thought he would get away with it – too soon and they may have realised that he had been listening to their conversation.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Peter asked quietly.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Uh, if I asked you to look someone up, would you tell on me?” Peter asked, feeling like a little kid trying to convince an older sibling not to tattle to mom.

“It depends on who you want me to look up and what information you would like to know about them.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

“Oh, ok, so theoretically if I asked you to look up someone called George Hendersen, would you tell MR. Stark about that?” Peter asked.

“Yes, George Kieran Hendersen is on the list of people you are not allowed access to, and should you request it I will be forced to send an alert to Mr. Stark’s cell.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

“You haven’t though, right?” Peter asked quickly. “I wasn’t asking you to actually do it, I said ‘theoretically’.”

“Correct, the alert has not yet been sent.”

“Great, uh, thanks F.R.I.”

“No problem.”

Peter groaned and shoved his face in his pillow, of course Mr. Stark would put safeguard in place, this was the man who had created the baby monitor and training wheels protocols.

He knew Peter, but… he didn’t know Peter’s friends.

Peter pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text to his best friend:

‘Hey Ned, I need you to do me a favour and look up a George Kieran Hendersen pls’

Send.

Ned was probably at school, but that didn’t stop him from replying in a matter of seconds. Sorry dude, Mr. Stark already said I couldn’t.

Well, fuck…

Peter could have screamed into his pillow.

-

Blood. There was blood everywhere, it was surrounding Peter, preparing to drown him and he couldn’t breathe. He was covered in the thick dark red liquid. It filled every gap and stained everything around him.

He was in the car, the Audi, but it didn’t look like it normally did. The silver paintwork was coated in the sickening red liquid, and the metal frame was twisted and jagged; it looked sharp and ready to bite Peter.

“Happy, we need to stop, this is wrong.” Peter said, from his place in the back seat.

Happy couldn’t hear him.

The glass shattered.

“Happy, we need to stop, something bad is going to happen.” Peter continued.

He still couldn’t hear Peter, he needed to get closer, Peter pushed the button to release his seatbelt but it nothing happened. He jammed his finger against it repeatedly, trying his hardest to free himself from the strangling hold it had on him.

“Happy, please, stop the car, he’s going to hit us.” Peter begged. “Please! Stop! Stop the car! Stop the c-”

“-eter! Peter! Come on kiddo, that’s it, come on,” Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him from the blood filled, twisted car.

“Misser Star’?” Peter slurred in confusion, before the panic brought him back to consciousness faster. “Blood, I’m covered in blood, and I can’t move.”

“There’s no blood kiddo.”

“No blood?” Peter mumbled out the question in confusion, how was that possible? He could feel it, it was everywhere. He was covered in it.

“No blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you turn the lights up please?”

Peter blinked against the harsh light but allowed Mr. Stark to pull him up into a sitting position, still leaning heavily against the older man.

“Look, kiddo, no blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed.

He was right. “But it was so real?” Peter marvelled, running a hand over his t-shirt, trying to find traces of the red liquid that he had been so convinced was there.

“Nightmares will do that to you, kiddo.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare.” Peter mumbled.

“No?” Mr. Stark asked, “what would you call it then?”

“I uh, I don’t know,” Peter mumbled. “I’m fine though, I’m completely fine.”

“Come on,” Mr. Stark said, standing up and holding out a hand to pull Peter up off the bed.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked.

“Well, me and Happy were having hot cocoa and I figure you’d benefit from joining us.” Mr. Stark said.

“You guys are having hot cocoa?” Peter asked in confusion.

“He’s still getting migraines and I’m meant to be caffeine free after 6pm.” Mr. Stark said with a shrug.

Happy had been improving, slowly but surely, it had been a month since the accident and Peter was physically all better, but he refused to leave the compound until he knew that Happy was better. Thankfully, Mr. Stark had been able to use his influence to organise online classes for Peter to complete the year and May had understood.

Peter was lucky.

Happy was lucky.

So why wasn’t it good enough? Why was he still faced with the nightmares and the memories? Why did he flinch when a car honked its horn? Why did he wish he had taken Happy’s place? Why did he wish Hendersen could feel the same pain they had felt?

“It’s a bit late for you to be up.” Happy commented as Peter sat opposite him, Peter followed his gaze to the clock – 01:21 – huh, maybe it was a little late.

“One hot cocoa coming right up, peppermint free for the spider.” Mr. Stark announced as he rummaged in the fridge for milk.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Peter lied to Happy.

“Yes, you could,” Happy corrected, “you just couldn’t forget.”

“Can you?” Peter asked.

Maybe 1am was the time to be honest, maybe when the safety of daylight was gone, the night-time allowed them to be vulnerable with each other.

“No.” Happy said gruffly. “Honestly, I can’t forget any of it, and I’ll never stop feeling sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Peter asked, frowning to himself.

“For not stopping in time.” Happy said.

“The light was green; you were right to go.” Peter said, staring at Mr. Stark’s back as he did so, he couldn’t meet Happy’s gaze. He couldn’t look him in the eye while knowing that he was the reason that the accident had happened.

“I saw the truck coming.” Happy said. “I just couldn’t do anything in time, I couldn’t stop quick enough or swerve out of the way. I could have killed you kid, because I couldn’t do anything other than panic.”

“Happy…” Peter paused, trying to work through everything that he’d just heard. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say, and you told me you hate froyo.”

“Yeah, me and Hap have been trying to work through his misguided guilt over the accident.” Mr. stark said, placing a mug in front of Peter.

“It’s not misguided.”

“You’re right, it’s completely unwarranted.” Mr. Stark said.

Wait. What?

“Happy, no,” Peter interrupted, “you don’t need to feel guilty, none of this was your fault. It was mine. I should have been on time after Decathlon practice, I should have been ten minutes earlier and then we wouldn’t have been at that intersection at the same time as Hendersen, I should have gotten to the tower some other way. You are Mr. Stark’s head of security; you shouldn’t be chasing me around the city or chauffeuring me back and forth between here and Queens.”

“Kid, Happy is the only one I would trust with you.” Mr. Stark said. “Both of you need to get off your self-sacrificial high horses and accept that the only person who should be taking any blame for this is the guy who decided to drive whilst drunk.”

“Tony told me you were trying to look him up.” Happy said quietly.

Peter’s gaze shot to Mr. Stark who was purposefully looking at the countertop, he knew? Why hadn’t he said anything?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. you’re a traitor.” Peter mumbled.

“I did not tell Mr. Stark about your theoretical enquiry.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

“You didn’t?”

“No, she didn’t, it was Ned.” Mr. Stark said.

“Ned?” Peter asked, betrayed by his own best friend.

“Yeah, he’s worried about you, you’ve been dodging his calls, ignoring his texts and then you randomly messaged him asking him to trace the person who hit you and Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “I think he’s pretty right to be worried.”

“I’m fine.” Peter said.

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Stark interrupted.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” Happy said, “and I know, because I’m not either.”

“You- you’re not?” Peter asked.

“Not at all, Kiddo.”

-

Two long, difficult months had passed since the accident. Peter was doing fine, he really was, despite what Happy and Mr. Stark said. He was going out as Spider-Man for a couple of hours each evening, he was meeting his friends once or twice a week and he was planning to ask MJ on a date.

He was fine.

Sure, he was still having nightmares, he refused to get in a car, and he would freak out at the sight of blood – which in retrospect made being Spider-Man slightly more difficult, but he was doing fine.

He didn’t really understand why he was still having so many ‘problems’.

He was alive.

He should be grateful for that; he knew that Happy was. Happy was even driving around the Compound, he wasn’t quite at the point where he could drive the streets of New York, but he was certainly doing well within private grounds.

May had brought up the subject of him moving back into the apartment a few times, and Peter wanted to, he really did, but every time he ventured into the city there were cars everywhere. They were loud, their tyres would screech, and horns would blare. Even though Peter wasn’t in them, he was scared.

He knew he was worrying everyone.

He was worrying himself.

“Peter, this isn’t your normal patrol area.” Karen said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.

“I know, K, I just have something to do here,” Peter mumbled, as he scaled a building, eyes fixed on the balcony that he remembered from his computer screen, “it won’t take long.”

“Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your detour?”

“What? No! why would I want that?” Peter asked, irritation staining his tone. Why was everyone so ready to snitch on him?

“Just in case back up was required.” Karen said. “But your wishes have been noted.”

“Thanks, I promise, we’ll be back to our normal patrols soon.”

By normal – peter did not mean normal at all – he meant a short patrol in a low traffic area of town. He wasn’t ready to handle car accidents and hijackings just yet. Soon, but not right now.

The door to the balcony was slightly open, obviously the man inside hadn’t expected anyone to climb up to the seventh floor, after all, why would he?

“No, no, no, Jennifer, stop, think about this.” A man pleaded, he sounded so normal.

“I can’t do this anymore George,” Jennifer said, “I just can’t, you don’t even have any remorse.”

“I have plenty of remorse!” George shouted. Peter flinched. “I’m not allowed to drive anymore, my job laid me off, you and the kids have been so distant lately and that fucker, Stark, is still coming for me.”

“They’re all consequences.” Jennifer said. “That’s not remorse for your actions.”

“What more do you want?”

“I want you to look fucking sorry, that kid you hit? Stark’s intern? He’s the same age as your daughter.”

“I know that!”

“Why don’t you care?”

“He’s fine, he’s got Stark’s money, he won’t even care at this point.”

“This is about money?”

“No, it’s about you being a fucking judgemental bitch when you’ve made mistakes.” George shouted.

“Yeah, my biggest one was marrying you!”

SLAM

Huh, maybe Hendersen wasn’t as happy as Peter had thought, but still, he wasn’t as guilty as he’d hoped. He didn’t even seem to care that he was drunk driving, he only cared that he had been caught.

“Hey, Karen?” Peter whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Can you tell Mr. Stark that I’ll be home early tonight?” Peter asked.

“Sure thing.”

Peter had meant to confront Hendersen, to shout at him and tell him how much his actions had hurt Peter and his family, but now it seemed pointless. If Hendersen’s wife wasn’t getting through to him, why would he care what Peter had to say? Why would he care that Peter was still traumatised and scared? He wouldn’t.

Peter had heard the cocky edge to his voice, he knew that nothing he said would break through. It was pointless.

But peter wanted to be better.

Thwip

Thwip

He wanted to be the old Peter, the one who had carelessly thrown his backpack in the car and jumped in behind it. The one who knew accidents happened but never thought that any would happen to him.

Nobody ever does, Peter thought bitterly, as he ran out of trees to swing from and resorted to trudging the last few miles to the Compound.

“Hey, Pete,” a metallic voice said from beside him causing him to jump nearly a mile out of his skin, why hadn’t he heard him approach? Was he that off his game?

“Mr. Stark.”

“Karen said you’d be early.” Mr. Stark said, the suit retracting so he could walk beside Peter.

“Yeah, I told her to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mr. Stark asked.

Did he?

Not really.

Yes.

“I went to Hendersen’s apartment.” Peter admitted. He heard Mr. Stark’s sharp inhale, but was grateful that he wasn’t interrupting, instead he was letting Peter talk. “I know I shouldn’t have. It was stupid.”

Peter pulled his mask off, he was on the Compound grounds, there wouldn’t be anyone going about to see him.

“It was.” Mr. Stark agreed.

“I didn’t speak to him.” Peter said. “I just stood outside; he was arguing with his wife.”

He has a wife, and kids, he’s such an ordinary man.

“Did it help?”

“No.” Peter said simply. “I want to hate him. I wanted to talk to him and make him hurt as much as I did, but then I heard him talking to his wife and I don’t know anymore. I don’t think that any amount of talking would help. He was a bad guy.”

“It’s not fair.” Mr. Stark said.

“I don’t know what I wanted.” Peter admitted. “I guess I’m just fed up of feeling like this.”

“Scared?”

“Always.” Peter mumbled. “It was a car accident, people have them all the time, why can’t I just get over it?”

“because you’re a kid, and it was scary and it’s not something you’re going to be able to forget about quickly.” Mr. Stark said.

“I should be stronger.”

“You’re plenty strong.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re the strongest kid I know, in fact you’re stronger than most adults.”

“But-”

“No buts on this on, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said.

“Aren’t I making your life harder by being here though?”

“Not in the slightest, I love having you here, just ask Pepper and May.” Mr. Stark said. “I’d keep you if I could.”

“I’d stay if I could.” Peter admitted. “I’m scared to go back to May’s.”

“Have you thought anymore on my offer of therapy?” Mr. Stark asked.

“I have…” Peter said, hesitating, he didn’t want to take Mr. Stark’s money, but… “I think I want to go for it.”

“I’ll support you every step of the way, Kiddo.” Mr. Stark promised.

“I know.” Peter said. “I heard something else at Hendersen’s… he said you were going after him?”

“Damn right I am,” Mr. Stark said, ruffling Peter’s hair, “he hurt one of my closest friends and my kid.”

[batgirl-87]

i'll start in good faith: explain some situations that your MC will deal once graduated(like maybe the summer before joining for her dream job, or a specific situation you imagined to happen related to her job)

You know I believe I mentioned before on here that I had this idea for a Curse Breaker movie about Bill and his Curse Breaker partner (Keira =p) that was like The Mummy/The Mummy Returns with some Indiana Jones... Guess I could describe that idea in some more detail...

It would be set in Egypt before the Weasley family goes to visit Bill there - basically the reason they go to visit him because after all this he receives some medal to reward him at the end of all these events. Originally I had imagined Cate Blanchett as Rakepick being Bill and Keira’s boss, but despite not playing the game lately I do know about some things that occur still in the game so... Doubt she’d be their boss but we all would love to see Cate Blanchett as Rakepick right?!

Anyway, I digress... This is clearly a fantasy movie that unfortunately will never be made. So sad... Also I have clearly never written a screenplay. Imagine as best as you can...

It would start out with whoever their boss is - could still be Cate Blanchett =p Maybe Rakepick has a good twin or sister or something? - talking with a couple... let’s call them diplomats? From another Curse-Breaking organization because with the whole world filled with artefacts and susceptible to curses Gringotts can’t be the only organization, right? I like to think there are a few scattered around the world and take on different regions but sometimes need to work together although there’s some animosity or competition... sort of like frienemies? Like how different nations interact - it’s some Curse-Breaker UN.

So Head Curse-Breaker of Gringotts discussing a work collaboration with a couple diplomats from another organization and I’m feeling...Russians... And is telling them about their Curse-Breaker agents, assuring them to put the best on the case, pulling out Bill and Keira’s files. As they tell these diplomats all of Bill and Keira’s accolades, how much they’ve accomplished since starting as Curse-Breakers, even before joining Gringotts! The camera can pan down to their files and fade to Bill and Keira in an ancient Egyptian tomb completing a mission. With the voiceover of their boss claiming them to be excellent and professional Curse-Breakers, best of the best!

However, the end of this mission doesn’t go so smoothly as they race down the corridors trying to escape the tidal wave of water that is flooding the tomb, running with the artefact they risked their lives for (I also like to think they’re taking back artefacts from wealthier individuals who stole them from less privileged people and cultures - probably why they’re cursed to begin with). They eventually find an exit from this tomb via some secret doorway that leads to a slide that shoots them out of the tomb and into some nearby body of water. After being submerged for a bit they pop back up, Keira holding up the artefact triumphantly and Bill commenting that he wished for once they could finish a mission without nearly dying or ending up soaking wet (probably because he’s concerned about his hair).

They return to their tent where they receive word that they’ll have an important meeting with their boss tomorrow when they return with the artefact. And she hopes they don’t show up soaking wet this time or with their clothes tattered and burnt =p They’re playing a radio that was a gift for them probably from Penny and Toto’s Africa begins to play with is totally their song and Keira ‘forces’ Bill to sing and dance around with her to it. This is clearly a common occurrence.

Oh and there’s definitely some mercenary ‘curse-breaker/artefact finder for hire’ they have to deal with – one in particular who they have a sort of weird relationship with because they always seem to run into him and have to deal with him so it’s always like a ‘oh you again. Well how are you? How are things?’ He’s also someone who I feel like tries really hard but is clumsy and constantly messes up but tries so hard to be a cool, tough badass but it really cowardly – like Benny from The Mummy =P

Anyway, so they go to meet with their boss, get told they’re doing a mission jointly with these Russians & will be working with his big Russian Curse-Breaker – makes Bill look tiny and like a twig =p – to find some ancient artefact. Ooo maybe from the Romanov Dynasty?! It’s very important to the Russians but the location is suspected after years and years of research to be in Gringott’s territory – hence having to work together. It’s a little awkward and tense at first – can they trust each other? Obviously there’s some distrust because what if Bill and Keira try to take it themselves instead of giving it to the Russians and can you even trust these Russians? And this guy is big and strong and a man of little words so hard to get to know him. But the three set out on this journey which is surely filed with action and adventure and they work well together when dealing with these mercenaries who get in their way and complicate things.

So they find this artefact and as soon as they accomplish their task they get taken by some other large Russians – turns out the leader of this gang is the older brother of their new Russian partner! Was he just using them all along to find this artefact – which is actually a key to a much larger fortune – and luring them to this trap and possibly their doom?! They were bonding! Thought they were friends! Come on man… But his older brother is an arsehole and keeps belittling his younger brother because he was adopted and therefore, worthless because his family didn’t want him so no one would and the only reason he was adopted was because his family just took pity on him, and he wanted a ‘little brother/servant’ so really he saved him so therefore he had to be appreciative and do everything he said/wanted him to do.

Anyway, so Bill and Keira are tied up by these big Russian guys, trying to figure out what to do and coping with the betrayal from their new Russian friend/partner, while the Russian guys discuss what to do with them in their native language. Fortunately Keira knows a little bit of Russian and can pick up a few words about essentially killing them, starting with Bill. So as one approaches them, or Bill specifically, Keira suddenly speaks up in Russian and Bill is like “wtf you speak Russian!?” She does her best to distract them or humanize herself and Bill but really the words she has learned are mainly related to Quidditch… But they got to like Quidditch right? Bill is just freaking flabbergasted because he’s known Keira for like over ten years and had no idea she freaking spoke Russian – what was happening?! Was everyone some secret Russian KGB agent in his life?! Were Fred and George going to start speaking to each other in Russian next?! (Keira now totally has to teach them some to mess with Bill).

Keira manages to at least distract them enough they drop their guards a bit as she rambles nonsensically about Quidditch =p so she can figure out an escape. Maybe something like kicking a knife or wand out of the one Russian’s hand who was approaching them and that kick also sends her back/down to break the wooden chair she’s tied to so she can get free. And if there wasn’t a knife previously from the guy there’s one on some nearby table because I just need Keira to throw a knife at Bill and tell him to cut himself free and get their wands – because they were clearly taken away from them and stored in this gang leader’s ‘office’ – while she runs off and leads this big Russian brute after her and Bill to be like “wtf?! Freaking almost killed me with this knife and how am I supposed to cut myself free with my hands tied?!” and then him awkwardly trying to figure it out. Cue some fight scene between Keira and a giant Russian which probably has a lot of her trying to bash him over the head with any heavy object she finds and this guy just shaking it off and not going down! She tries punching and kicking him – dude is like a brick freaking wall but she’s a fighter and I feel like this guy at least respects her fighting spirit and finds this pretty fun.

I haven’t exactly figured out a location where all this is taking place and how this is exactly to go down but Keira and giant Russian – evil Colossus – fight leaves a lot of property damage and as they stand facing each other for sort of a final showdown they notice…maybe a small fire they accidentally started closing in on a large propane tank or something… a gas leak… basically an explosion is going to happen so they have to get the hell out of there! They’re staring each other down, they look at the impending explosion, they look back at each other and then they both make a run for it. Maybe some slow motion is called for here?

Meanwhile, Bill manages to cut himself free but then Russian gang leader comes out from his office, with his adopted little brother/former Curse-Breaking partner of Bill and Keira – dude needs a name… Viktor? Ivan? I can’t handle anymore Alexanders or Nikitas… There’s some Ivan’s in the Romanov family so Ivan it is. Ivan follows his big arsehole of a brother out of his office who is clearly pissed to find both of his captures had escaped their ropes and one along with his henchmen were missing. Poor Bill is unarmed though and when big arsehole brother (I should give him a name but it is fun to call him this) takes out his wand to do away with Bill Ivan stops him and knocks him out – Ivan can be trusted! He feels awful for betraying Keira and Bill when honestly they’re good people and he liked them, they treated him well unlike his brother here, and they did bond and forge a friendship. He’s sorry he got them into this mess. And he helps Bill retrieve his and Keira’s wands as well as the artefact.

As they prepare to leave – either via apparition, portkey, or floo network which I have some interesting thoughts on but honestly all could work and Bill and Keira would definitely have a portkey to set destination – they realize, oh yeah, where’s Keira? Who of course during this perfect timing flies in with evil Colossus (omg I’m so happy I thought of this nickname for this guy) from the explosion propelling them through a large dividing window – I really feel like glass is the best option here. Evil Colossus is knocked out – the bigger they are, the harder they fall. Keira needs a moment, her ears are ringing, she’s blinking to try and get her blurry vision to focus and finally notices Bill and Ivan shouting to her and waving at her to come to them so they can get the hell out of there.

The explosion, while it knocked out evil Colossus, stirs Ivan’s arsehole brother who notices this new destruction before him and his henchmen taken out by some little witch? Wtf!? He reaches for his dropped wand to shoot at Keira who does her best to quickly get up and race to Bill while somehow avoiding Ivan’s arsehole brother’s attacks – probably because he’s still pretty groggy and not coordinated and focused after being knocked out so his shots are off. Plus in another world he’d be a Stormtrooper =p More slow motion of Keira running and avoiding attacks flying past her? Maybe… So she runs right into Bill’s outstretched arm, Ivan wraps his large arms around both of them, and they disappear – again, either via portkey, apparition, or floo powder/network.

Cut to a quaint little village surrounded by trees/forests and a calming river running through it. Some figures of people walking through the village and one leaving what appears to be a pub, swinging his bag over his shoulder and waving goodbye to his friends as they shout their goodbyes to him. He walks through the village, saying hi to a couple others he passes by, and crosses a bridge over the river to continue down a path towards his cottage-like home. As he opens the door to his quaint dwellings a trio of visitors surprise him by suddenly appearing and collapsing on his living room floor with some painful grunts and groans.

“Bill? Keira?”

If anyone is interested in the rest of my idea for this let me know. This was actually really fun to remember and re-live. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love it if it could be made into a movie one day.

“Hey, Charlie…”

Thank you for asking!

(This also helped me find a lot of good Keira x Charlie gifs from Outlander so thanks for that 😜)

[snowyfrostshadows]

Glass Hearts in Porcelain Towers

In old movies from Earth, it's not unbelievable for a evil branch of government or corporate giant to destroy the life of some average smoe by killing a loved one. The heartbroken underdog then swears vengeance, overthrows the corrupt institution no matter the cost, and saves a million others from that pain.

Put like that, Mark Temple is a hero.

It's as the flagpole is being stained red with blood and the life fades from Biff's eyes that Temple realizes he's in love with his best friend.

Far, far too late to do anything about it, but in his defense, his love for Biff had been such a constant subtle presence in his life, that it had been far too easy to pass it off as something else.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that the love Temple had felt went beyond friendship, beyond brotherly companionship when Georgiana had entered the picture.

She'd been fine, at first. But the longer she stuck around and the closer she and Biff got, the more he'd disliked her. Only now, with Biff dead in his arms, did Temple realize he'd been jealous.

He wasn't sure if he was pleased to be here instead of Georgiana for his friend's last moments or disgusted with himself for taking any pleasure from Biff's dying breaths.

...

He was....happy.

Not that he was thrilled with the reality of his closest and longest friend dying in front of him, but, it was better that he was here for Biff's last moments and not Georgiana. Georgiana would ruin it.

Fall apart. Be no comfort at all.

But he was so much better than that. Stronger.

Temple grabbed Biff's hand and squeezed it. "I promise. I will make this right."

Biff's fingers gave a small twitch, perhaps as an affirmation of hearing his promise and then he's gone and with him, Temple's whole world.

                                                         ----

In the days, weeks, months following Biff's murder, Temple discovers that as dramatic and meaningful as 'I will make this right' are to say to a dying friend, they don't exactly lay out a guideline on how exactly to do just that.

He wastes countless hours holed up in his room drawing up plan after plan, each more outlandish and asinine than the last. It's not until a couple of years pass that a path finally opens up for him.

It starts, like all great epics, with a news cast.

At first glance, it's a puff piece. A bunch of soldiers receiving medals of great bravery. And then the details break clear like the dawning of a new sun.

The soldiers are a bunch of SIM Troopers like himself and the other residents of Desert Gulch. Unlike them though, they saw through Project Freelancer's games and joined together to bring the whole thing down.

Temple is in awe.

These men were picked up, played with, thrown aside and then fought back and won.

And now, they're pointing out the path he and the others must take.

They did the hard part. They revealed Project Freelancer to the world as the sham it was.

Temple and the others; they can do cleanup. It was the very least they could do.

For the first time in a long, long time, Temple feels alive. Finally he has a way to fulfill his promise and avenge Biff.

He assigns Gene to find and dig up everything he can about Project Freelancer. They discover how vile and twisted the whole project was. How they would set up multiple bases of SIM Troopers just so their agents could come along and toy with them for their own sick amusement.

Hundreds of brave volunteers tricked into being nothing more than glorified, living, training dummies for a small handful of fully funded sadists.

The UNSC itself isn't much better. They knew what Freelancer was doing. Funded them.

It's enough to make anyone's blood boil.

But it's fine.

He has a plan to make it all right. The UNSC can burn right alongside the ashes of Freelancer as far as he's concerned. It is the barest of what they deserve.

The only drawback to his grand plan, is that most if not all of the very top brass, the highest agents of Freelancer, are already dead. The knowage that he will never be able to personally make Biff's murderer pay is crushing.

But it's fine. It's fine.

He'll just make whose left suffer all that much more to compensate.

Loco, genius that he is, comes up with the bright idea of locking their targets in their armor to avoid a fight. Gene expands on that idea of just leaving them in the armor for a slow, painful death with the added bonus of easy transport and cleanup.

Temple can't help loving the idea.

A painful, drawn out death is the closest these monsters will ever feel to the pain they caused him.

So while Surge, Cronut, and Buckey go to recruit all the poor lost souls Freelancer broke and threw aside, and Loco and Gene develop and test their freeze tech on Lorenzo, Temple draws up plans for their new secret lair.

Barracks for their soon to be army, nicer quarters for himself and his team, a lab big enough to keep Loco happy, and, his personal favorite, a nice, big trophy room to entertain his soon to be captives.

Biff would be pleased at their progress.

And then, a year into construction of the new base, Temple receives word that the ship carrying the Reds and Blues to their final retirement has gone down with zero survivors.

It is a devastating turn of events and a disappointing end to his idols' legacy, even if Surge insists a blaze of glory like a ship crash is one of the top five ways to go.

Temple allows himself one day of mourning for their loss before speeding up work and the hunt for former freelancers begins in earnest.

And it's fun.

More fun than he's had in ages.

No matter how many times his team tracks down a former freelancer, nor how many times they insist they're retired or 'didn't know what the higher-ups were doing', he never gets tired of watching them freeze with a simple press of a button. Of hearing their tough guy talk fall into confused pleading.

It doesn't take long before he starts waiting for their target to strike the perfect pose before freezing them. It's the one mercy he gladly provides. If you had to stay in one pose for all eternity, then it better be a good one right? Something bold and action-y, as a reflection of their lives. And well, he'd hate if all his trophies looked the same. They'd be so boring to look at.

His absolute favorite encounter is Agent Illinois.

The man had to have been an absolute idiot who somehow stumbled his way into the program.

Because the first thing he does when he sees a group of angry SIM troopers is not to fight, but to get up and offer them a drink.

It's almost tragic, but the offered glass of alcohol in one hand, the easy, light pace of Illinois's walk is too beautiful for Temple to not press his button. Especially as he's likely to never get this exact position from anyone else ever again.

So he locks the former freelancer in place, laughs, and carries him onto their dropship.

The liquid in the glass quickly spills out, but Temple is quick to reassure him they'll refill it back on base. He is, after all, a very considerate host.

After the initial capture and settling in, however, Illinois loses any charm he had when they first crossed paths.

He doesn't say a word as he's brought into the trophy room. Nor does he rise to any of Temple's jabs of sharing the same fate as his former teammates.

If it wasn't for his armor broadcasting his vitals, Temple would think he was dead after the first few hours.

It's not until day three, the day that death usually sets in for the former freelancers that he even speaks at all.

"Why?"

Temple pauses in his usual idle talk of how things are going on in outside world to stare at his captive.

"Why...all...this?" Illinois rasps, voice weak from disuse and lack of water.

Temple gives him a thoughtful look before shrugging. Why not be truthful with a dying man? This agent has been kinder than the rest, not interrupting him, or swearing that any day now they'd break free and kill him. It's only fair he returns that kindness with a last request of sorts.

"Do you know the difference between you and I? It's really quite funny. One of us got to fight in the actual war and be a big hero and the other? The other got to play living test dummy for the first. And just like a test dummy, it didn't matter if I got hurt or killed if it made you better.

"I'm just cashing in my due. I had to watch my best friend die so now you and all your stupid friends can join him and apologize!"

It takes a moment for Temple to realize the weird wheezing in the room is Illinois laughing.

"I'm sorry...mate...but that's...the longest...go-around...I've heard...for someone...to say... they're a...sadist."

Temple bristles. "Call me a sadist, but I'm fixing this corrupt mess you and the other freelancers started! I'm in the right!"

Another dry, broken laugh escapes Illinois and Temple sees red. Faster than he can blink, he slams the butt of his gun against Illinois's helmet.

"If this was an attempt for me to release you, you sorely miscalculated."

"Hah...hah...haaaaah. Give me...some...respect....We...both...know...you can't...free... someone who's...already...dead...."

Temple doesn't step back from Illinois because he's unnerved by the amused tone from the man. No, that'd be stupid. He steps away because he's done here. And he runs a very tight schedule with the Blues and Reds and their small army.

And he most certainly doesn't bolt from the room as Illinois's broken ghost of a laugh fills and echoes through the room. He's just busy with a lot of other things he has to do.

An hour later, the vitals for Illinois flat line and it's not relief fluttering about his chest but satisfaction. For another monster slain, another Freelancer down, the universe just a little bit safer.

                                                            ----

A couple months pass after that. The hunt for freelancers has hit a dead wall as either the few remaining have gotten wise to something picking them off and have gone off the grid or Temple and his team have killed them all.

Sad, but probably for the best in the long run. There is another, bigger target that he really should be focusing on.

It is on one of the days he's going through blueprints with Loco that Buckey pulls them out of the lab and to a tv. All of Temple's protests die in his throat as he catches sight of a familiar group on the screen.

The Reds and Blues are alive.

Somehow, against all odds, they'd survived the ship crash. And then proceeded to take apart another corrupt organization-this time Charon Industries.

For one, glorious moment, Temple felt that same wave of awe and admiration for his heroes as he did all those years ago when he first came across their story.

And then he sees a very familiar sickening shade of cyan armor among their ranks and the world is turned on its' head.

The Reds and Blues, his idols, his heroes, his very inspiration for everything are friends with Biff's murderer.

'Maybe they don't know what she did' a hopeful part of him thinks. 'But they revealed Freelancer for what is was. How could they not know?'

Eyes still on the screen, Temple turns slightly towards Buckey and growls "Tell Gene to get me everything on the Reds and Blues. There's been a slight change of plans.''

                                                         ----

They're idiots.

A fact that becomes abundantly clear after listening to hours of audio and pouring over page after page of requests, reports, and even notes on the Reds and Blues. And that's not even the worst thing about them.

No, the worst thing is that not only were they favored by Project Freelancer, they were hand-picked to be copies of his team.

Every single one of them has a counterpart similar enough in personality it's creepy.

Even Biff.

All to keep a digital copy of the very head of the whole project entertained.

Temple stews and locks himself in his room for a full week to think over how best to deal with this disappointing setback.

For a long time, he considers just killing them outright.

Theoretically, it shouldn't be hard.

A bullet to the back of the head, replacing one of their own and then slipping a knife through each of their ribs. Hell, he could probably even get all of their food poisoned.

But somehow, somehow, they survived a crash from fifty thousand feet in the air.

A feat no one else on board managed to match.

So chances were, a bullet or knife or poison may not be able to do the trick.

....armor locking might.

They could live forever and still not be able to move a muscle.

It's a brilliant plan and he's so so close to incorporating it into their plans already in motion when a small shred of doubt wiggles itself into his conscience.

These men tore down Freelancer. Started him on his path. Gave him purpose. And he wants to return that goodwill with venom?

...

Everything points to them being idiots, so it's likely they don't even know their 'friend' is a freelancer who kills and ruins lives for fun. And it's because the Reds and Blues are so trusting, that she's alive and practically gift wrapped for Temple to kill her himself.

Ultimately, he decides to offer them an olive branch.

They've done so much for him, it's only fair he offers them something back in return.

                                                        ----

More intel is gathered on the Reds and Blues. If he wants them to accept his offer, join his team, then he is going to stack his hand with every card in his favor.

-He learns they've killed at least four freelancers themselves while still keeping two alive and within their ranks.

-They cared deeply for the Director's digital copy, going so far as to 'save' it multiple times.

-The copy is currently 'dead'; moreso from being an outdated faulty piece of tech than ever actually being 'alive'.

The lack of the digital copy turns out to be their ticket to reeling the Reds and Blues in. With just a little prodding, Loco is able to cut up audio files of 'Church' and formats them into a distress call and then broadcasts it throughout space.

The others doubt the broadcast will work without set coordinates but Temple knows it will. Somehow, the audio will find them and they'll come running and he'll welcome them with open arms and a smile.

                                                        ----

It ends up taking a few months longer than Temple thinks it would. By the time they set foot at his front door, he's nearly done putting the finishing touches on his greatest achievement. A few more days and they would have missed it.

And while he easily wins their trust with a little air show and some theatrics he can't help being... disappointed by who all shows up.

The Freelancers are easily taken care of. And best of all, the Reds and Blues don't even notice they're gone. Proving to Temple they were merely saving them for him and absolutely will join his vendetta.

However, they brought a reporter with them and she won't stop poking her nose in every little thing. And their orange solider, the one he was most curious to meet, seems to have quit.

He can't even dispose of the reporter because every time he tries to, their maroon solider has pulled her aside for yet another interview to complain about the missing orange one.

If it wasn't for his two brand new captives (one of which is Her) to torment and final checks to see through, Temple is fairly sure he'd lose it.

Besides, it'll all be worth it in the end. (Until suddenly it isn't)

The truth comes out and Simmons, Tucker, Caboose, and Donut throw his generous offer in his face and decide to stand against him.

Not even an hour after that little confrontation, Surge alerts him to the presence of an intruder.

Who, on the camera feeds is walking around the base like he knows the place. And even though he knows, he knows Biff is dead, his very first thought at seeing the orange armor is thinking it's his old friend.

But it's not him.

Because Biff would never pause in his duties to scarf down a plate of fish with terrifying speed. Nor would he get the bright idea of suddenly shoving his body into too small a space for absolutely no reason.

Most damning of all, Biff would never tell him to fuck off before he even had a chance to open his mouth. But Grif does. Even after Temple and his men spent so much of their precious time pulling his fat ass out of their vent.

So he drags the Reds and Blues' orange fuckup to join the rest of them. He can't even enjoy watching his captives hope for rescue fall because Tucker's cursing Grif out and Grif is ignoring all of them in favor of trying to pull some touchy-feely crap.

It's sickening.

And he can't help it, really he can't. The betrayal and utter dismissal from his former heroes hurt. And the temptation of hurting them back, ripping their little world apart in kind is too much.

So he indulges. Reveals the message from 'Church' was a lie to trick them to meet him. Pounds it into Caboose's think skull until he gets it because he has the decency to not sugar coat the uglier side of things no matter how stupid his listeners are.

And finally the mood in the jail cells is what he wants.

Crushed. Despondent. Cursing his name because he's won and better than all of them combined.

Temple rides that high as he leaves and gets things packed up. He's not even upset when he fails to get any word from Withers confirming Sarge killed the reporter and her cameraman.

Even if Sarge had a change of heart and went crawling back to his team, it doesn't matter. Temple's done here and ready to destroy the UNSC's base on earth.

There is literally no way anyone can stop or even catch up to him in time.

Except the Reds and Blues do.

Not only do they hijack what was supposed to be a dropship full of the last of his army, they manage to outfly nearly every torpedo he throws at them. And even when they ARE hit, they walk off another crash because apparently, a thousand tons of twisted steel and fire is about as life-threatening as a buddle of wet tissue paper to them.

A part of him wants to stay behind and finish them himself, but he's so so close to finally avenging Biff. So he orders Cronut and Lorenzo to direct the men stationed outside of the base.

Over one hundred men with an abundance of tanks, jeeps, guns, and ammo against a measly seven. It should be an easy win.

Should be if everyone on this stupid fucking island but him wasn't an idiot!

Because just as Loco's finished the machine, Surge comes running in to announce the Reds and Blues have made it into the building.

It becomes a mad scramble after that.

Surge, Gene, and Buckey all head off to separate areas to try and somehow contain this clusterfuck and stop their 'guests' before they reach the very heart of the building and destroy all his hard work.

At best, the three of them with the help of their many subordinates will be successful. At worst, they'll merely be obstacles distracting the Reds and Blues just long enough for Loco's doomsday device to go off.

He doesn't want to take any chances though and heads to the heart himself. He will be the final obstacle that they simply can't get past.

And at first, it does seem to be that way.

Tucker, Caboose, Sarge, Donut, and even the reporter surround him, as if they have any sort of high ground here. As if they can actually win when victory and revenge are so close to his grasp.

But even when he's losing, Temple has a card up his sleeve which he happily plays.

With just a simple press of a button, he has them all frozen in place. Well, those who could be a threat anyway. Caboose and the reporter can still move but the reporter's smart enough not to do anything to escalate the situation and Caboose is too stupid to come up with a plan that won't end with his friends' blood on his hands.

Everything is going wonderfully.

And then, right as he's in the middle of explaining that his hands will forever remain clean because the world, nay, the universe will believe the Reds and Blues, the Heroes of Chorus were behind all of this and everything left of the UNSC will collapse in on itself, he gets interrupted by Grif the lazy, fat one of the group of all people.

He'd be more upset if the disgrace to the color orange didn't fall flat on his face trying to swing in to save the day.

Out of the goodness of his heart, Temple offers him the chance to stand with the rest of his stupid, meddling friends instead of dying by his gun right where he landed.

Only, Grif doesn't....take the easy out.

He rises, focuses a hard look at Temple, and refuses to move.

Even as Temple has his gun pointed at his face, finger tense on the trigger, the two of them standing so close, Grif would never be able to dodge a bullet in time.

It's almost.....noble. Familiar.

'What are you doing, Mark?'

Temple flinches and blinks and suddenly it's not the fat lazy knock off of his best friend looking back at him, but the real thing.

And he can just see Biff's expression behind the helmet. His mouth is turned down slightly like he's looking at a puzzle he's trying to figure out and his eyes are lidded in that way they only get when he's faced with something he doesn't understand.

'We're friends, aren't we? You wouldn't kill me, right? We have each others' backs, we always do. What is this Mark?'

Temple's hands shake and he can feel himself taking a step back when that reporter throws him back to That Day and suddenly his whole body is shaking. He looks away for one second, aiming his gun at her to shoot her first when Biff, no, Grif tackles him to the floor where he loses hold of both his gun and the only thing keeping the Reds and Blues in place.

Then Loco runs into the room calling for Caboose as if they're all friends and the last several hours never happened. And while he can't get the controls for the armor lock again, he does get his gun back just long enough to shoot Loco before he can be tricked into revealing how to shut his machine off.

Because he refuses to lose, to let everything he's worked so hard for go up in flames!

But Loco ends up being his only kill for the day as Tucker turns around and knocks the gun of his hands and kicks him back like a wannabe freelancer. Adding insult to injury is the fact that for whatever stupid reason, Loco decided to make his doomsday weapon into a time machine just so Caboose could say goodbye to an unfeeling computer program.

Any hope he had of things finally going his way die with the revelation that ~surprise~! The reporter has been carrying around an ai strong enough to dismantle a super weapon with no ill effects this whole entire time!

He can't even sneak away when it's all over as Tucker grabs hold of him, only knocking him out because Agent Carolina of all people insists they're too good to just outright murder people.

As if that wasn't a laugh and a half.

His army.

Surge.

Gene.

Loco.

All gone because of them.

It's almost a bitter enough taste to drown out the blandness of the fish the small number of them left get in prison.

Almost.

The only thing Temple really tastes anymore is the ash in his mouth after watching years of hard work and planning go up in flames before his very eyes.

It would have been kinder just to kill him. If the situations were reversed, he would have.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 10

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, Gertler Karaoke (TM), Niall

WC: 7k (yowza)

“Could I just… would you mind terribly if I just…”

“Hmm?” Shawn murmurs, eyes closed, leaning into her as her lips explore his jaw.

“Would you mind much if I just chewed on your chin for a while?”

His eyes open. A bubble of surprised laughter bursts out of his chest. He quiets himself quickly, remembering he’s in her bed and he’s not supposed to be. He looks down at her curled up in his lap. He tightens the arm supporting her around her back.

“What?”

Ginny looks undeterred. She brushes the tip of her little nose against his cheek and leans back again to look at him.

“Your chin is beautiful. I’d like to make a snack of it.”

He closes his eyes again, chuckling, leaning back with her against the headboard. His smile is quiet and lazy. “Go right ahead. It’s all yours.”

The unspoken caveat sits between them uncomfortably, reminding her not to leave a mark if she doesn’t want her ass sent home to Heathrow on the next plane.

Ginny hums and teasingly nips at his chin. Her fingers skim up his chest to tangle in the chain that holds the medals around his neck. She kisses strategically, softly. She’ll be damned if this thing between them stops on someone’s account besides theirs.

Ginny feels his breathing even out. She’s about to climb off his lap and let him sleep when he holds her a little tighter.

“Where ya goin’?” he mumbles, blinking his bleary eyes open.

“Gonna let you nap, love,” she says, sweeping a hand through his curls.

He shakes his head. “Stay and watch a movie?”

She doesn’t need much persuading. She smiles and settles back into him. He flips through the hotel’s options until a big smile splits his face. He perks up a bit.

Ten minutes later, “A STAR IS BORN” comes across the screen in big red letters.

+

Ginny’s eyes nearly cross from staring at the multicolored pattern of the train’s seat fabric. And she almost misses her stop.

She scrambles around politely disgruntled London Underground riders with murmured “scuze me, pardon me”s and sneaks between the shutting doors before they snap around the Chanel backpack Shawn bought her for Christmas. She leaps out onto the platform at London Bridge station and curses herself for not sleeping through the flight back to London for her week off so she could get adjusted to the time difference. She trudges up the stairs and ascends close enough to the famous Borough Market to smell that perfect melange of paella, tikka masala, coffee and pastries that means she’s almost home.

Her dad’s flat was the “fun” home when she was growing up. Her parents split early, the result of a driven, career-oriented mum and a flighty musician dad. She lived with her mum pretty much full time but her dad would swing in and out of her life. The one steady thing about him was this flat on Maiden Lane with the yellow door and a series of Fiats parked out front.

Ginny’s dad, Bobby Dresden, has the name of a 50s swing singer, and the voice of one, too. He’s not a deadbeat, broke, ramen-noodles-for-every-meal kind of dad. He was always the calling-from-Boston-on-tour, sending-you-an-American-girl-doll kind of dad that just was never around. He tours with a band that plays American classics and they do pretty well. They spend a lot of time in Vegas and, oddly, Manila but he’s home this week too and she hasn’t seen him in almost a year.

She waits on the front step of the flat he’s lived in since she was two. He bought it with the signing bonus he got from his record company and hasn’t touched a single thing since. The consistency is comforting to Ginny, who feels like she has to reintroduce herself to her dad every time she sees him.

He arrives beside her with that sparkling, crooked grin and slings his arms around her. He always did give the best hugs.

“Hiya, Ginny Bunny.”

She smiles into his shoulder and has the strongest urge to sob into his familiarly unfamiliar scent of some random hotel soap and a new cologne.

It’s been a long year.

“Hi, daddy.”

With one final squeeze, he releases her, only as far as arm’s length so he can look her over. She takes the opportunity to do the same.

He has sandy blonde-brown hair that’s pasted stylishly, way more stylishly than a 55-year-old man driving a Fiat should have. But same goes for the rest of him. He’s incredibly tall and lanky, clad in a light Topman sweater pushed up chicly to the mid forearm. His jeans are brand name and inky dark, tailored to end at his ankle above his Ralph Lauren loafers. He looks wonderful, like he always does. She almost cries again.

He curls an arm around her shoulders and she feels dainty the way she does around almost no one on earth. He begins guiding her toward the market to walk and eat, their father-daughterly tradition.

“So, pumpkin,” he begins, his voice raspy from lack of sleep, “How’s the rockstar life?”

Ginny sniffs a laugh. It could be reasonably assumed that Bobby is asking about Shawn, but she knows him and she knows he’s actually just asking about her. He figures rockstar’s PA is basically rockstar, so that’s how he thinks of her. It’s sweet, actually.

“Completely exhausting and every minute of it perfect,” she answers breezily, gazing around the market. Though over a thousand years old, Borough Market’s transience is one of Ginny’s favorite things about it. It has always surprised her every time she comes in. Maybe it reminds her of her dad a little.

“And how’s our Hannah Banana?”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “She’s well, she got herself knocked up again. She barely had time to drink a margarita between kids. Think she’s getting a bit restless now, though. She never has known how to stop working.”

Bobby grins, squinting with a hand up over his face as he looks over the coffee options. The stall they’ve stopped at has a hanging chalkboard sign with the menu options scrawled in flirty, curly cursive.

“I’ve always liked that about Hannah. She and I are the same that way.”

Ginny blinks and finds herself staring at a canister of roasted beans with a furrow in her brow. She’s never really thought about it, but he has a point. All the people she’s loved the most are extraordinarily driven and can’t sit still for shit. It makes her quietly smile to herself. Her dad orders something outrageous sounding with two shots of whatever and a swirl of this or that. Ginny gets a flat white. He pays.

They walk around, catching up on their travels. He’s dating someone from his label, which is of no surprise or consequence to Ginny. She’s always known about his girlfriends but has never met one. It used to upset her more when she was a child but she understands now he would never dream of introducing her to someone he didn’t actively intend to marry. Another of his strange comforts to her. He asks about whether she gets to sing or play much, like he always does. Bobby thinks of her musical talent as a win for him in his parenting book. He’d tell anyone that would listen that it really is god-given, but that he helped foster it. She assures him she sings and plays often. She blinks quickly and studies a gargantuan pot of paella that smells incredible, willing herself not to think about her karaoke performance from last week.

“And how about your fella?”

Ginny looks up at him. Bobby is smiling, fine lines showing on his youthful face, and just for a second, he feels really and truly fatherly.

Ginny’s face warms. “Not my fella anymore, as you know.”

“He’s still holding out, huh? Poor sod.”

Bobby looks pensive, narrowing his eyes out over the layers of canopied food stalls. He’s trying very hard to be mysterious. Ginny sees through it but decides not to poke holes.

“He’s dating someone, actually. A New Yorker.”

Bobby looks down, still seemingly unruffled. “It won’t last, babygirl. Not when he’s got a girl like you.”

Ginny’s breath catches in her chest. It’s an innocent enough statement. Maybe it’s not very fair to Sara, but when are fathers ever fair when it comes to their daughters? That’s not what bothers her. That’s not what has her curling her fingers into her fists and half-listening for the rest of the afternoon. It’s not what has her rolling over sleepless in her bed at her mum’s house.

Her dad’s never offered her many nuggets of wisdom. He never really had to, he was fun dad. But a man of many half-hearted relationships, he does it now, unwittingly. Ginny feels like they stumbled upon treasure but her dad swept it away, claiming it as fool’s gold.

Not when he’s got a girl like you.

Maybe she loves him still. Maybe she always will. Hell, maybe a part of him even still loves her. But Ginny’s beginning to think none of it will matter, not them, not Sara, if they don’t get out of their own way.

+

Ginny knew something was up as soon as Hannah opened the door to her flat the next morning. Call it best friend intuition, or maybe Hannah’s just super obvious when she has something on her mind by the way her voice raises an octave and she’s even more scattered and flighty than usual.

She doesn’t open her mouth about it though until they’re camped under a tree in Regent’s Park. Ginny is holding Kingsley, snuggling her nose into the baby’s warm neck as he gazes curiously over her shoulder. Hannah watches them both, leaning back on sore wrists as her belly protrudes between them under her stretchy maxi dress.

“I want you back, Gin.”

Ginny looks up, startled, her hand pausing its rubbing motion on her godson’s back. She blinks, blankfaced.

Hannah pulls the corner of her lip into her mouth to chew on. She pushes off her hands and leans forward, eyes focused on Ginny.

“I’ve decided to go back on tour, Gin. Not soon, obviously,” she laughs, running her hand over her belly, “But I need it. I need to know it’s in the plan. It’s what I want most, to take my babies on the road. But if I’m going to tour, I need an album.”

Ginny swallows, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

“I want you to write it with me.”

Ginny’s lips part. She stares at Hannah, waiting for some kind of indication that she didn’t actually just say that.

“I know you’ve never tried writing before, but who better than with me, the one who knows you best? God, it’ll be fantastic. We’ll write it, we’ll record it, we’ll produce it, all together, Gin, just like we always wanted. It’s your shot. Your shot to get out of the situation you’re in. He’s between albums right now anyway, you wouldn’t be leaving him in the lurch or anything. It’s perfect. You and me, back on the road. What do you think? No, wait, don’t tell me now. Want you to really think about it. It’s a lot, I know. But I think it would be good! And--”

Hannah goes on rambling for a while like she does when she’s excited and just a little nervous. Ginny watches her talk without listening, restarting her circular massaging motion on Kingsley’s back, more to soothe herself than him.

She stares off into the distance, feeling the breeze blow her hair around. Logically, she knows it’s the summer wind, but it feels like a draft from a door being flung open. It’s the exit strategy, the one she’s been too stubborn to ask for.

Ginny hands the baby back when Marcus arrives to bring his family to Hannah’s doctor’s appointment. She watches them walk off, pulling her feet out of her Keds and sinking her white-painted toes into the patchy grass.

The thing about exit strategies, Ginny finds, is sometimes even when they’re presented to you like a gift falling into your lap, you don’t actually want it. It feels good when you’re thinking, planning, strategizing. You can pat yourself on the back -- good job, you’re working on it.

Now she’s faced with real opportunity, the move is hers to make. She’s faced with something else, too. She really doesn’t want to leave.

An unhelpful montage of every great moment with her team in the last year and change flits through her head, soft and vignetted, glossy and warm. It’s not all Shawn, either. The team is her family, her chosen family. She stays up for late nights talking strategy with Andrew -- she’s learned more from him as a manager than anyone in her professional life. She talks football with Cez and Mike. When she was so homesick that any mention of the word “London” brought Ginny to the brink of quiet tears, Josiah always noticed and kindly and gently distracted her.

Leaving the team is the right thing. As she lies in the dirt with tears sliding sideways into her temples and her toes pulling at the grass to ground herself, she doesn’t question this decision.

But she does need to mourn it.

+

Sara sits on her knees on the end of her bed, wrapped in a gauzy white sheet with soft morning light coming in the window. She swears she’s never felt more like a movie star.

He always makes her feel like a star.

She’s mashing her chapped lips together, watching him button and zip his jeans as he faces away from her. She has his shirt, that purple t-shirt she really likes, sitting beside her round thighs. His shoes are beside his bag, the one he brought to stay with her this weekend.

This weekend represented a shift she thinks neither of them really planned, or even thought about at all. He’s spent the night before, a few hours stolen between one engagement or another. He’s never spent a whole weekend. With her.

It was a blur of takeout, movies and great sex. She’ll be living off the high of the orgasms for as long as it takes him to come back to her. And as he packs up to head back to his real life, she’ll be going back to hers feeling just a little bit heavier.

When something shifts, it comes off balance and you have to find a way to recover. Sara knows how this works, she’s done it before, but never with someone who isn’t here.

“Do you… uhm, do you know when you’ll be back?” She fights meekness in her voice. She doesn’t want him thinking she’ll be only half here when he’s away. She doesn’t want herself thinking that either.

Shawn looks up from his belt. His eyes are a little wide. She’s never asked before. He feels the teeter-totter of the shift like it’s physically tangible.

He cracks a half-smile like he’s Mr. Casual. It feels wrong as soon as he does it. “Not too long, I think. I’m heading back to LA to meet up with the rest of the team. We have more recording to do. But if this movie moves forward, I’ll come back to New York for meetings. Probably a few weeks.”

There she goes with her lip mashing again. She nods thoughtfully and looks toward the window to look distracted, but the curtains kind of kill her effect.

She looks back when he lifts a knee up beside her on the bed. He cups her round face in both of his enormous hands and gently tilts it up to look at him.

“Gonna be thinking about you, though.”

She smiles. He tucks a strand of red behind her ear and lowers his lips to hers, one more for the road.

When he leaves, though, she feels the shift even more dramatically than before. There’s traces of him everywhere -- leftovers in her fridge, an empty travel can of shaving cream in her garbage, his scent in her sheets.

This shift is making her fucking dizzy.

+

Shawn’s flight to LAX is delayed an hour. He sits in the first class lounge, leg bouncing, trying not to think about the weird feeling he has, like he forgot something, or lost something in New York.

His phone is serving as an only barely passable distraction. He’s kind of afraid to go too deep into Twitter or Instagram right now -- he doesn’t want to find anything about him and Sara because then he’d feel the obligation to tell her about it. And he honestly doesn’t know what she’d do.

YouTube it is.

He scrolls through videos, still drumming anxious fingers, and before long he realizes something’s off. His suggested videos are not familiar -- clips of Arsenal games, Adele covers, British comedians he’s never heard of. It takes him only a few seconds to recognize Ginny logged into her account on his phone at some point, probably months ago when they were stuck somewhere in Europe bored in another airport lounge. In another life.

He goes to log out and thumbs through options, looking for the button. He doesn’t mean to find the videos. He doesn’t realize they’re her at first. They’re badly lit and don’t have her name on them anywhere, not even in the description. But the songs catch his eye. Just like her video suggestions, the content of her page is so… her.

Someone Like You by Adele

I Wanna Know by Whitney Houston

My Old Piano by Diana Ross

He doesn’t think for a second about not clicking. When he hears the first soft strokes of her voice, he lifts a hand to scrub at his cheek and wonders if anyone else can see the tears in his eyes. He looks up. No one’s watching him.

Her voice is a fix he didn’t know he was craving. The last time he heard her sing hurt so bad he actually physically ran away from it. Thinking about it now kicks up the shame that’s been lingering in his gut for days.

He’s never seen her sing like that. He’s seen her sing every kind of song in every kind of mood. He’s never seen her sing like that, like she was screaming secrets to anyone who would listen. When he got up to leave, he was feeling too many things to make sense of. Selfish -- he didn’t want to face her. Thoughtful -- he didn’t want her to have to face him. Instinctive -- he felt his anxiety pulling him toward the door. He could feel the eyes trying so hard not to watch him while she sang about him. He knew they could only keep away from him for so long. He knew they’d feel like battery acid on his skin when they gave in and looked. So he ran.

He regretted it from the moment he got out the door and knocked into a toxic wave of southern California summer heat, even in the dead of night.

He sits in the lounge ignoring the announcements of his flight boarding, deciding he can limp onto the plane once he’s drowned himself in all her videos. He watches them each back to back, bobbing his head with the beat, studying her, the choices she makes musically, the way he can see she feels every song like it’s radiating out of her bones.

He notes the time stamps. The first video was posted weeks ago. She’s been steadily building up a catalog of them -- different hotel rooms, different times of day, different instruments. He recognizes his acoustic in her arms in her guitar cover of “Gravity” by Sara Bareilles. He takes a scroll through the comments to see if any of his fans happened to catch it. He tamps down an edge of disappointment in his chest when he finds no one has noticed. He pushes it over next to his tinge of jealousy that his guitar has been held by her more recently than he has.

Final boarding call.

Shawn drops his phone beside him and lurches forward to hang his head in his hands. He closes his eyes and fights to breathe, but his chest feels swollen, like everything inside him is blocking up his lungs, starving him of oxygen. Everything he’s been fighting, all the feelings he’s been trying to reason away, even sell away to someone else -- someone wonderful, someone deserving of a whole heart made just for her.

They’re choking him.

He swallows once more, rough and papery. He shoves his phone in his pocket and meanders to the gate just before they’re closing the doors. On the plane, he listens to the original versions of the songs she’s covered. They don’t sound the same anymore. Everything Ginny has touched holds something more in it for him now.

The songs sound better when they’re hers.

+

Ginny is fresh off a redeye from Heathrow. Being back in LA amongst palm trees and cold-pressed juiceries is jarring after a week and change back home in blighty Britain. She enjoys being caught between the two worlds, her two homes. Appropriately, she buys herself a fancy juice, the strawberry-heavy one, and the pineapple one Shawn likes. She also pulls out the McVities Digestives she bought at duty free, an ode to London.

She’s perched on a ledge beside Shawn’s baggage claim carousel, waiting for him to deplane. She sees him first, tall and broad and in a red hoodie like he’s never thought about keeping a low profile in his life. When he spots her, she watches in confusion as his throat bobs and his steps grow longer and quicker so he can reach her.

Her pulse increases a little frantically as he power walks over. She lifts herself off the ledge to meet him. He drops his backpack at their feet and scoops her into a tight hug, turning his face so his nose is in her gently scented hair. Ginny gasps a ragged breath of surprise and wraps her arms around him, instinctively bringing her fingers up to smooth the little curls at the base of his neck.

“Love? Y’ok?” she nearly pants, her voice high and on the edge of panic.

He deflates against her chest, letting out a long stream of air from his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment to collect himself.

“I know about the videos.”

+

Ginny manages to get him out to the hired car where Jake is waiting with a driver. Shawn is stiff and awkward around Jake, who eyes Ginny curiously, but lets them tuck themselves into the backseat and tunes out their private conversation. He’s had practice at this, but not recently.

Ginny turns to Shawn as soon as they’re buckled in and pulling away from the curb. Her brows are pulled together slightly, her lips twitch as she decides where to begin. Shawn ducks his head, guilty.

“I… didn’t mean to, I swear. I know you probably would’ve told me if you wanted me to know.”

Shawn pauses in a way that tells Ginny that thought stung him as much as it did her. He shakes it off and tries to continue.

“You were logged into YouTube on my phone. I saw your uploads.”

Ginny tugs the corner of her full lips between her teeth, nodding. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I should’ve just left them alone when I found them. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Ginny doesn’t know either. She’s still confused. His reaction to seeing her at the airport was so visceral, so emotional. She’s missing a piece somewhere, like a jigsaw corner lost in a carpet. It leaves her still tense.

“You watched them all?” she asks unsteadily.

He nods. “I watched them all. They’re… fuckin’ beautiful, Gin. I mean, I know you know that. You have to. You’re so… god, fuck, Ginny, you’re so talented. You’re… you’re incredible. I should tell you more often. I don’t tell you that enough.”

Ginny lifts her hands and tents them over her nose and mouth. Steadying her breath feels like a battle she wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m so sorry.”

She looks up at his words. They sound raw from his throat. His face is anguished.

“For what?”

“For making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. Or didn’t want to. I know… I know things are different now. We don’t know how to do… this.”

This. Translation: we don’t know how to be friends when I’m with someone else. It’s a scary fucking thought.

“I just wanted it for me for a while,” she whispers honestly, shrugging and looking past him out the window at the waves of cars on the freeway as they head for Beverly Hills, “I wanted to see how it felt to do something like this for myself, not involve anyone, not you, not Hannah, not Niall, not Teddy. I wanted to see what it was like when it was just for me.”

Shawn wets his lips. “And?”

Ginny’s quiet for a minute, considering. “And it’s lonely. I thought it would fuel me, to do something independent like this. But creating something and keeping it in a vacuum, not telling the people I love that I’ve done something I’m proud of, it… kind of fucking sucks.”

Shawn’s attention is led back to a memory of the first handful of videos he posted on YouTube, way, way back when, before he mentioned it to his friends and family. He remembers that feeling, too. Even though you’re sharing it with countless strangers, it doesn’t feel like it counts until you share it with the people that love you.

“I don’t…” Shawn pauses, scrunches his face and chuckles awkwardly. Ginny nods at him to continue.

“I don’t know… if I have any right to be. But I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Ginny’s gaze is leveling and heavy. Shawn’s eyes fall to her hands lying in her lap.

“I don’t know if you have any right either. But it’s nice to hear.”

+

“Wha’s the magic word?”

Ginny groans, shaking her head so her curls bounce. “Go Rams.”

The tall wrought iron gate buzzes. Ginny pushes it in and continues smirking on her walk up the driveway to the front door. Niall’s standing there waiting for her in gym shorts, a t-shirt and ankle socks. His hair is flat over his forehead. He’s holding two beers. He hands her one with a twinkle in his eye.

“Can’t believe you make me say that every time I come to your house,” she chides, swiping one of the brews from his hand and striding past him.

“You can take the boy out of Derby County, you can’t take Derby out of the boy.”

Ginny blinks. “You’re not from Derby County.”

He shrugs, like it’s never occurred to him to care about that. He locks the door and scampers behind her in his socked feet, letting her guide him back to his living room. The Leicester-Leeds game is muted and there’s a guitar on the couch. She collapses next to it with a groan.

“Welcome back, then,” he laughs, settling on the other side of the guitar, eyes on the game.

“How’ve you been?” she murmurs, smiling over at him sleepily.

He nods. “Good, love. Writing a lot. Bit of hiking. Staying far away from women and their wiles.”

“Good boy,” she chuckles.

“How was home?”

Ginny bobs her head. “Saw my dad. Always an experience.”

Niall knows the saga. He doesn’t much trust or like Ginny’s dad. He doesn’t understand why someone who Ginny loves so much could feel even the slightest disinterest in her. He decides not to press that.

Ginny looks over. Niall sees something in her eyes.

“What?” he hums.

She bites the inside of her lip and winces. “Hannah offered me a job.”

Niall’s eyebrows lift. He sips his beer, nodding for her to continue.

“She wants to plan a tour. Wants to start working on an album now, finish it after she takes a bit of time after the birth. She wants me to help her write it.”

Niall looks intrigued, but remains quiet. He cocks his head. “I think that sounds great, Gin.”

Ginny closes her eyes. “It does. It does sound great. So why am I being a priss about it?”

He snorts. “What d’you mean?”

She sighs, exasperated, “Like, why am I not bouncing off the walls to get out of where I am? Why don’t I want to get back on Hannah’s team for an obvious step up? Why is it not so easy for me to say yes?”

She looks up at Niall from her swollen cuticles, irritated from near-constant recent picking. He doesn’t look terribly surprised, but thoughtful.

“I think there’s no one easy answer to that, Gin. I think even if you won’t say it out, you’re still in love with him. And I don’t know how you get away from that other than time and space.”

Ginny remains curiously unemotional. “I think I’m worried time and space won’t work either. Just make it hurt more.”

Niall rolls a thumb around the rim of his bottle. “Would it hurt more than seeing him happy with someone else?”

“Can’t imagine anything hurting more than being away from my best friend.”

It’s strikingly honest, so much so it makes even Niall’s breath catch. “But can he stay your best friend if you work for him indefinitely?”

She groans and drops her head into her hands. “Probably not.”

Niall sighs. “Nothing you haven’t heard before, babe, from me and Hannah. And probably your mum. Something’s going to be the thing that pushes you, and it won’t be any of us. It’ll be you. It has to be.”

Ginny is quiet. She lifts Niall’s guitar and snuggles close to it like a lover. It makes him chuckle, watching her graze her fingertips over the strings. It stirs up another notion.

“And maybe…” he begins, trailing off. She looks up. He shrugs again like he always does before he says something deeply intuitive and intelligent, “Maybe it’s not enough, the opportunity you’d be leaving for.”

Ginny looks startled, maybe a little frightened. “What else is there?”

Niall looks up at the TV. “You tell me, Gin.”

+

“Andrew Gertler, you need a new hobby!” Ginny cries.

Andrew turns from his seat to grin at her wickedly. Ever the team’s karaoke enthusiast, he shakes Tom’s cap, making the slips of folded paper inside shake and crinkle temptingly.

“Your turn, Gin. Team bonding. Non-negotiable.”

Ginny grunts. She swallows a snarky comment along the lines of “yeah, because the last karaoke outing was such a ‘kumbaya’ experience” and takes her folded slip. Shawn a few seats down has been eerily quiet all night and trying not to connect eyes with her.

It makes her roll her own. He’s acting like he’s afraid she’ll get up and sing another heartbreaking power ballad in his honor. Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” starts playing in her head, making her smirk.

She’s on last. A few months ago, she’d have been delighted. The final word on karaoke night is a high she’d live on for days. She’d pick from her choice of her beltiest songs, bringing down the house every time. Tonight she’s just not sure she has the energy.

Niall’s words have been swirling around her head all afternoon. She drank a few beers and napped beside him on the couch while Shawn and Andrew were in another meeting about the movie. She was awakened by Niall’s head tipped back, releasing snarling snores that shook the whole house. She left him with a kiss on the cheek and a head full of questions, wandering back to their hotel where she had calls and emails to return to keep her best friend’s life running smoothly.

She’s distracted and reinvigorated by her friends and their performances, if it’s fair to call them that. Andrew’s up to bat first. He chooses “The Reason” by Hoobastank, a truly bizarre opening number. Mike and Zubin team up for “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. Ziggy attempts “The Power of Love” by Celine Dion and gets lambasted by the rest of the team for butchering it. Ginny knows logically that her friends didn’t set out to make her feel better, that this wasn’t a well-designed intricate plot to distract her from her own crazed brain, but it makes her feel so much calmer, steadier, led away from the ledge she’s been teetering on for… weeks.

And then it’s Shawn’s turn.

The evening’s festivities haven’t had the same effect on him that they did on her. He remained mostly quiet, clapping politely and speaking only when spoken to. He was mostly left alone, the team figuring he was either tired from jetlag or moody from being away from Sara.

Ginny gets an odd twisting in her stomach when he takes the stage. Up to this point, he hasn’t been conspicuously recognized. But now that he’s up there, there’s no hiding him. He doesn’t look like he wants to hide. The anticipation feels like it’s rising water around Ginny’s waist, more threatening by the second.

His shoulders are slightly hunched. He cups the mic with one hand, staring off above the heads of his rapt audience. Ginny’s jaw feels sewn shut as she waits. The first chords of something come up over the speakers. Shawn’s reaction is immediate. He darts to the DJ and murmurs something urgently. The DJ, a twenty-something fuckboy who just looks amped to have Shawn Mendes on his stage, nods and cuts the track.

Shawn walks off the stage. Anyone who wasn’t paying attention definitely is now. He heads back toward their cluster of tables and drags his guitar case out from under it, having come straight from his movie meeting where he played them a few songs.

Ginny watches him retreat back to the stage, this time to some applause that he doesn’t acknowledge or even seem to hear. As he passes, she locks eyes with Andrew, who looks grave. Her eyes dart away, eagerly watching Shawn.

Shawn plugs his new Taylor acoustic into the speaker and starts plucking. In seconds, she recognizes it. Her face falls, and she didn’t even realize she was wearing any kind of expression until it snaps into an oddly blank knowingness.

He repeats the opening chords a few times. Ginny vaguely notices the crowd begin to catch on and recognize the tune, but she doesn’t think that’s why he’s doing it. She thinks it’s for him. He looks more nervous than she’s seen him on stage in ages -- shaky, sweaty, a little pale. Almost sickly. She rocks forward in her seat, fingers gripping her knees.

“I’m not fucking going up there.” She says it to herself, loud enough for anyone around her to hear. They’re not listening.

Tell me somethin’, girl

Are you happy in this modern world?

When his voice comes in, she half-expects it to sound as broken as he looks. She should’ve known better. It’s smooth and rich and well-practiced, like he’s been getting ready for this. The thought has her teeth on edge with the rest of her taut body.

Or do you need more?

Is there somethin’ else you’re searchin’ for?

He’s looking down straight at her. She thinks of Jack’s words, whispered in Ally’s ear as she quivers sidestage, terrified of her own fate.

“All you gotta do is trust me. That’s all you gotta do.”

Ginny hangs her head in his hands. She can’t watch him sing to her. Her knee bounces, shaking the hands that hold her up. Her body vibrates with the opposing forces of her choices.

I’m falling

In all the good times I find myself longin’

For change

And in the bad times I fear myself

He plucks at the chords again, waiting for her. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, not once. He doesn’t care about all the people staring curiously at her, following his gaze. He doesn’t care about the iPhones popping up, flashes going off, recording the scene. He will stand here playing these chords until his fingers bleed if it’s what it takes to get her on this stage.

She doesn’t wait that long.

Ginny lurches to stand. Instead of going around to take the stairs to the stage, she lifts her leg and steps up onto it, popping up to thunderous, curious applause. Andrew folds his hands over his nose and mouth, tensing from the shoulders down. The entire team watches in shocked silence as Ginny steps forward. As soon as she’s up there, their eyes don’t leave each other. Zubin swears under his breath. Jake sits forward eagerly.

Ginny takes the mic.

Tell me something, boy

Aren’t you tired tryin’ to fill that void?

The audience reacts even more strongly to Ginny’s voice. It’s nothing like Lady Gaga’s -- it’s softer somehow, warmer, more delicate.

Or do you need more?

Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?

As they build to the chorus, Shawn continues watching her shine. He knows they have the audience. He can feel them, even if he can’t really hear them. He’s focused on the way her eyes are trained on him more steadily than they have been since Ibiza, maybe even before. He doesn’t want to blink. His Ally doesn’t need his coaching, doesn’t need him mouthing the words or nodding encouragingly. She’s got this.

I’m falling

In all the good times I find myself longing

For change

And in the bad times I fear myself

He watches her eyes slide shut and smiles for what feels like the first time all night.

I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in

I’ll never meet the ground

Her voice is bold and huge, unapologetic. She lifts her hands, rising to the occasion as her voice soars.

Crash through the surface, where they can’t hurt us

We’re far from the shallow now

Shawn leans in, only inches from her face, to sing into the mic with her. Their eyes remain locked, their breath mingles, closer than they’ve ever been even with a guitar, a mic and a million miles between them.

In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow

We’re far from the shallow now

The DJ has movie timing. He starts playing the backtrack from the film just as Shawn backs away from the mic, wetting his lips. His Ally doesn’t need his prompting, she isn’t going to hold her hands over her mouth and cower from the mic. She’s going to fucking sing.

Ginny lets her eyes shut, disconnecting from him. This moment isn’t about them, it’s about her. She’s making it hers.

She invents her own lilting, crooning, bellowing vocal run, different from Lady Gaga’s but still so fitting that it’s breathtaking. She doesn’t ignore the eyes this time. She feels them, all of them, and lets herself believe she’s worthy of the attention. When their cheers rise, she grins through her final note and opens her eyes once more. He’s beside her, smiling just as wide and goofy.

In that moment, something settles in the pit of her stomach that’s been riled for too long, niggling at her, wrecking her calm, disturbing her sleep. As she takes the last chorus, she finally feels absolutely certain about the one thing that has been holding her back.

No matter what, she and Shawn are going to be ok.

She doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be on his team. She doesn’t know if they’ll ever get to be in love again. She doesn’t know what the next step is, but she knows he will always be there.

He steps into the mic with her, repeating the final refrain. Ginny feels a chill down her spine at the depth of the words hanging between them.

We’re far from the shallow now

The fading notes are lost in the barreling shouts of their audience and the polite, bewildered applause of their teammates (all except for Jake, who’s clapping and whistling louder than anyone in the room).

Shawn swings the guitar behind his back and opens his arms as Ginny steps into them. She fights the urge to bury her face in his neck and sob with relief. She knows the phones didn’t stop recording after the song ended. They’ll be watched like hawks for the rest of the night.

They separate. Shawn’s smile is warm and welcome, back in its place after a little too long away from home. She matches it, tucking some curls behind her ear as he starts to lead her back to their table. They’re greeted by hugs and high fives all around from their team who are still exhibiting signs of whiplash but are rolling with the punches.

Ginny meets Andrew’s eyes. His expression is difficult to read -- a mix of concern, fondness, anxiety. It’s how he’s always looked when Shawn and Ginny do anything that passes beyond the barrier of very basic working friendship.

She smiles back and sinks into her chair, unwilling to apologize, explain or backtrack. Shawn takes the chair beside her, slinging his heavy arm behind the back of it as he talks to Zubin around her head. She steals a sip of his beer, he pretends not to notice.

Absolutely nothing is what normal once was. Their old normal is unrecognizable. Whatever this is now, no matter how weird and loaded with history and inconvenient, it’s their new normal.

And it’s not gonna be easy.

Please support my longstanding love of super emo karaoke scenes and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @thotfulalena @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @sauveteen @fallmoreinlove @voguemnds

[guksthighs]

Chance Ball | jjk

Summary: A pair of infamous volleyball rivals are paired together and with their shared goal of winning gold in the Olympics, they might just become friends or even something more.

Genre: smut, angst, beach volleyball!au, friend to lovers

Length: 11k

Moodboard: @petrimyg ; thank you for hyping me up when i’m, doubting myself!!

A/N: hi kids, it’s me your local writer who always writes her own prompts and dreams,, my dream the last few months is enemies to lovers jungkook but throwing in some beach volleyball so my man is wearing as little clothing as possible, i guess you can thank my perverted mind for this thicc hunk of a fic.

“What are you doing on my court?” Jeongguk ran a hand through his hair, his gaze meeting yours and making your face heat up. He didn’t wait for an answer, barging past you with a smirk, “you should leave before I get really angry.”

You turned and grabbed his wrist, “I’m not leaving, the Coach told us to come to Gym1 to hear the brief about the new season.” He frowned, and you tried to stop the smile that faltered on your lips from proving him wrong.

A low rumble of a laugh caused you to turn and see Namjoon smiling at you, the sight of his dimples was a huge comfort, making your racing heart begin to slow down. The elder player stepped in front of you, looking at Jeongguk with a disapproving stare, “don’t pick fights kid.” Jeongguk pouted and mumbled an apology, his cheeks were dusted with red and you smiled to yourself, because underneath all his bravado and rude comments he was still the same shy boy.

The same kid who had debuted the same year as you, stumbling towards you with teary eyes as he asked how you were so calm. It was easy to forget how he used to be and Jeongguk made sure everyone perceived him as the being one of the top spikers in the world and not the shy boy who hadn’t made it past the first round of qualifiers.

You shook your head, realising you needed to find someone to do warm-ups with. Luckily Namjoon seemed to have noticed your problem, holding out a volleyball to you, “want to warm up with the team?”

You nodded with a smile, Namjoon was the captain of the men’s Korean volleyball team and always kept an eye on you when Jin wasn’t around. You got on well with most of the boys in the various teams with Jeongguk being the exception.

Namjoon wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards the small part of his team that had arrived on time. He saw you look at Jeongguk chatting with Taehyung, the team’s ace and you felt your pace slow which Namjoon noticed and stopped so he could look you in the eyes.

“He’s a huge fan of yours,” your eyebrows knit together in confusion but Namjoon shook his head as if warning you that he wasn’t going to reveal any more. “Just give him a chance, you’re kindness is stronger than any childish grudge.”

The warm-up was different from usual, with you running around and collecting stray balls from spikes instead of actually playing. Usually, you would be in the midst of the players, spiking to your heart’s content and receiving until your forearms were red and stinging. It was the best feeling, knees aching from slamming into the floor and eyes sparkling with the adrenaline that coursed through your body.

But today was different because of Jeon Jeongguk, who seemed to be on top form, sprinting across the court to receive and making grunts that seemed almost comical due to their volume. He seemed full of energy and as you watched him, you wondered who he was going to be paired with this year, as Jeongguk had been playing for America for the past seasons, in what he had called a ‘soul-seeking’ mission having won gold in the last Olympics. It was true that he had returned with techniques that you, in the Korean sector were amazed by and an abundance of energy.

Now that he had returned, Jeongguk seemed to have shed the nervous exterior and was cockier than ever. You wondered if the rumours were true and that he’d found himself a girlfriend, it had been a massive media scandal with photos of the two seemed to be on every media platform you went onto. The only scandal you’d had was when you changed sponsors from Redbull to Nike.

Unlike Jeongguk who apparently dated bikini models, you tried to keep to other volleyball players knowing that like you, they would want to avoid unwanted media coverage. That was possibly the main problem you had with Jeongguk, as you knew that growing up in the media’s eyes it often seemed hard to hide who you were dating but he seemed to relish in the attention.

“Oy airhead,” Jeongguk was standing inches away from your face, you could feel his breath against your cheeks and you flinched causing him to smirk, “the coach just told everyone to gather on the top court.”

You blinked in surprise, about to thank him for warning you, only to notice Jeongguk had walked away to join his friends. Usually, you would have Jin to keep you company, and although you had friends in other teams, competing with a partner meant that now he had retired, you were alone.

“Wow just look at her, it’s hard to believe that she is gold medallist material,” your head turned to see Jeongguk grinning at you, elbowing Taehyung whilst pointing at you. You frowned at him, watching Jimin wave his hands in the air as if trying to prevent a fight, “poor thing so lost without her partner to carry her into the finals.”

“Being mean doesn’t suit you Gukkie,” you replied, glaring at your feet as you wondered what made him like this. You saw him smiling and laughing with the other teams, messing around as if he didn’t have a care in the world but the second he saw you looking over he would frown.

The coach blew his whistle, striding to stand between you and Jeongguk with a frown, “Jeongguk stop starting fights,” the entire volleyball team fell silent and waited for the punishment he was about to set you and Jeongguk. Instead, coach smiled, placing a hand on both of your shoulders, “especially not with your new partner.”

“Do you think the kid could at least try and pretend he’s not showing off?” Yoongi was talking to Hoseok, his partner, in a whisper that was aimed to embarrass Jeongguk by being loud enough for the boy who was playing across the net to hear.

Jeongguk was fuming at Yoongi’s comments and turned to see if you’d heard, instead he watched you receive one of Hoseok’s famous spikes at a point blank range. The taller boy ground his teeth together as he tried to suppress the awe at your play, his success rate of receiving those spikes was low and to see you do it with what looked like such ease was annoying.

But your laughter broke him from his fuming as you held two fingers to your chest, “Hobi, you might have just broken my fingers with that damn star spike.” Hoseok laughed and Yoongi clapped his partner on the back, depicting the image of a perfect volleyball duo. Jeongguk glanced over to you and grunted something like, ‘leave the receiving to me’.

The gym was filled with the sound of new shoes squeaking and joining the chorus of grunts and calls, Jeongguk had begun to amp up his game, “Mine!” He called as he received Yoongi’s serve and passed it to you, watching as jumped impossibly high and spiked it into the ground.

“Nice kill!” Yoongi went to retrieve the ball and you jogged over to Jeongguk hoping that you had managed to break the ice with your old friend, but his frown seemed to be even deeper set in his brows.

You glanced over at Namjoon, summoning his courage and placed your hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, which he quickly shrugged off, “I can see you’re tired and that’s because you’re screaming for every ball like you’re solo and throwing yourself in front of balls that are clearly mine.” You paused and recoiled back slightly as you noticed the dark look in his eyes, quickly you smiled at him, “we’re playing a team that has been together for years, but I think we’re going to get gold if you just push aside your hatred of me and we work together!”

It was a speech very similar to one Jin had delivered to you when you had first been placed with him, although he had delivered it better, making it sound less like a lecture and more like a pep-talk. At the time you were acting out because it was your first season and having been paired with Jin, a more experienced player, you felt like you would be letting him down.

But you knew Jeongguk’s attitude probably didn’t stem from the same fear, maybe that’s why he rolled his eyes at you and walked away without a word to signify he even felt like cooperating.

“Yoongi let’s go all out,” Hoseok called to his partner and you nodded in agreement, well aware that the male duo had been holding back to try and help you form a bond or even an agreement with Jeongguk. Hoseok gave you a concerned smile but you just grinned at him, you were going to make your haphazard teamwork using Jeongguk’s unrivalled raw talent and your honed skills to get you to that podium with a gold medal around your neck.

Although at present, the boys were thrashing you. The scoreboard stood at 13 points to them and none to you and Jeongguk, likely because you were jumping into each other and squabbling over who got to receive the ball after both calling ‘mine’.

Jeongguk was serving, performing a jump serve that would not have looked as professional in the sand, but you kept quite watching Yoongi just manage to keep the ball up, sending it back to you as a chance ball. “Mine!” You yelled, running underneath it as if to set to Jeongguk who had begun to run to the net for a spike and with a flick of your wrist you sent the ball over the net and onto the floor as a dump.

Usually, you would have just been accommodating to your partner, sending them the ball to spike but you felt like reminding Jeongguk that you also played volleyball at the same level as him – he’d been treating you like a child for too long. The looks on Hoseok and Yoongi’s faces as they watched the silent exchange between you and your partner were priceless, as they tried to hide the knowing smiles as Jeongguk stomped his foot before launching into a lecture about how dumps are not a good play.

Standing calmly, arms on hips you just smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “But it got us the point.”

“Yes, but what I’m saying is that a dump is not an honest play.” Jeongguk sighed when you tilted your head in confusion at his wording, “Fine, do you feel good getting that point?”

“Yeah, it’s the first one we’ve scored to their 13.” Jeongguk threw his hands in the air as if wondering why he’d even tried and you grinned, “for a boy surrounded by gossip and scandals you sure are determined to have a clean volleyball record. Stop sweating the small stuff babe.”

“How about we win before you try and lecture me.” With a straight-faced delivery, Jeongguk had managed to remind you of the desolate situation you had found yourself in, “and don’t call me babe.”

“Rematch!” Jeongguk yelled, straightening up from where he had been hunched over panting to point at Yoongi, “Come on old man, you scared I’ll crush your ass?”

You sat watching your partner act like he was playing alone, you were having to tape your fingers to compress and hoping they wouldn’t be too damaged from having received Hoseok’s spikes. You fiddled with the sticky sides and wrapped them as best you could.

A pale hand landed on top of yours, pulling it towards him. Yoongi shook his head at your futile attempts to wrap your fingers, “you need to bind them, not just wrap them casually.” He began to wrap them properly, both of you ignoring the onslaught of Jeongguk’s insults for the male pair’s refusal to a rematch.

You winced as Yoongi used the tape, laughing as you tried to pull your fingers away, “Young fingers like mine don’t need to be bound like your old man hands.” He rolled his eyes and loosened the tape slightly finishing off and giving you a wide smile.

“Is she still not taking care of herself?” A hand landed on your shoulder and you felt your back straighten whilst you began to smile at the sound of his voice, turning to find Jin grinning down at you. “Someone looks like they’ve been missing me, although if I look at the last text you sent me I can be certain it said something about me being a frail old man.”

You grinned and went to hold his callused hands in your own, “Missed you and your old man jokes, Yoongi just doesn’t live up to the grand old age he is.” You could feel Yoongi glaring at your back but you were busy admiring the luminous pink shoes that Jin was wearing with a slightly appalled expression.

He caught it and placed a foot on the bench next to you, and for a second you were worried he was trying to blind you with the ghastly colour. Jin laughed, “I might have been forced to retire but my fans will not forget me when I’m standing court-side wearing these spotlights!”

“Your fans will be busy shielding their eyes from the neon atrocities on your feet,” you replied, pushing his foot off the bench as if to prove your point. But the second his two feet were firm on the ground again, Jin’s expression changed and become more serious.

He pointed to Jeongguk and gave you what you could only assume was a pained, sorry look, “how is the feisty genius?” You suppressed your laugh at the nickname everyone in the team had adapted for Jeongguk who was always described as a ‘volleyball genius’ in interviews, no one was really sure what that meant but it sounded good and stuck.

“He’s,” you turned to find him squabbling with Yoongi like a child, bouncing the ball on the floor as if he was preparing to do a jump serve, “he’s feisty.” In reality, he was so much more than that, and you knew Jin had most likely been watching from the beginning of training until your match with the lethal male duo of Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Want me to show him how it’s done?”

“Show me how what’s done?” Jeongguk was standing behind you, he placed a hand firmly on your shoulder and took a step over the bench to stand slightly in front of you. That didn’t mean you couldn’t see the smirk on his face as he spoke, “you want to show me how to break my ankle beyond repair? Or how to carry this one to a gold medal in the Olympics?”

You gasped and leapt to your feet, rage filling your head so quickly you had no idea what you were going to, just that he had stepped out of line for the last time and as you went to punch him a hand grabbed your arm, “don’t be stupid,” Jin smiled down at you and continued to speak to Jeongguk, “I wanted to show you how to play with Y/N so you’re using her full strength instead of forcing her to become a burden.”

Jeongguk took a step back, eyes wide as they moved from your clenched fists, your furious gaze and Jin’s arms that was looped in your arm, he seemed shocked and suddenly all the fire dissipated as he sat on his seat, “Show me then, how well a duo who fuck each other can play.”

Jin continued to walk ahead, calling to Yoongi to explain his plan and you could faintly hear him explain that he could play for a few points without risking further injuring his ankle. But Jeongguk’s words swam around your head, and you felt so angry that tears began to well in your eyes.

“I never fucked Jin,” you managed to grit out between your clenched teeth, “stop acting like a baby and watch.”

Playing with Jin was as easy as breathing, he became an extra limb to you as together you smashed ball after ball over the net. The difference in how you played was clear and quickly a crowd had formed where Jeongguk was sitting to watch you and Jin play drawn to the surprising silence on the court instead of the loud shouts of earlier. Jeongguk realised that the trust you had with Jin was so strong that you didn’t need to tell him where to go because you acted cooperatively with each other, performing moves that were called legendary for good reasons.

It was not that you were less enthusiastic than you had been with Jeongguk but that the trust you shared with Jin seemed incomparable to anything anyone had ever seen before. Yoongi and Hoseok had played against you and Jin many times before and were always discussing how they could develop a bond like yours, it was almost magical to watch..

After winning the quick match, being the first pair to score 25 points, you turned to where Jeongguk had been sitting to ask him what he thought and if he was ready to understand the differences in team play and pair play. But he was gone and turning to Jin, you smiled and he nodded, knowing that you were going to chase after him no matter what he warned.

“Looks like he’s not your partner but someone for you to babysit,” Yoongi laughed, watching you pull on your hoodie, turning to laugh at his joke before looking at him with a warning in your hardened expression.

“Don’t tease him anymore, he’s my partner and I believe in him and us!”

Turning back you saw Jeongguk standing in the doorway of the gym, looking at you with wide eyes swimming with emotions you were too far to decipher and as you moved towards his direction, he turned and sprinted away.

Jeongguk had heard you standing up for him and you wondered when the last time someone had shown him genuine belief. He had been bouncing around from team to team and you doubted he had made any bonds as deep as the one you shared with Jin after 4 years of playing together.

Yoongi was looking at you triumphantly and you scrunched your nose at him before laughing slightly in exasperation at your situation, “Fine, maybe he can be a kid sometimes.”

The beach bar was always full of players early in the morning as they prepared for the upcoming day of training by drinking their protein shakes in the shade and gossiping about the latecomers.

“I bet she asks for a new partner by the end of this week,” Hoseok placed ₩30,000 on the table, knowing he wasn’t going to be the only person who had an opinion about what was going to happen with Jeongguk and you.

Taehyung laughed and slammed his hand into the table, “bet they stay together and end up fucking within the month.” He pulled his fist back to reveal he had also placed ₩30,000 on top of Hoseok’s and the boys all sighed at the middle blocker’s attitude towards you.

Namjoon looked at Taehyung in confusion, “aren’t you meant to be-” Namjoon stopped as he tried to find the words to describe the relationship, “-with her Tae?”

“Say it.” Taehyung crossed his arms and placed them on the table, tilting his head with a grin as he waited for Namjoon’s reply. The chance to embarrass Namjoon was very rare and Taehyung couldn’t just let his captain always feel safe, so he took every chance he had to poke fun at him.

Namjoon felt his cheeks heat up, as he glared at the younger boy, “whatever you are, I think it will take longer,” the elder boy placed his money on top of the pile, “once they pass qualifiers. ”

“Give who six months?” The boys jumped having been caught betting but it was just Yoongi who placed an arm over Namjoon’s shoulders as he sat down, “the disastrous duo have already started training.”

“They need it,” Hoseok shook his head with a laugh, his smile widening as everyone laughed in agreement. The group decided to head towards the courts, chatting about the training they needed to get in and the anticipation they felt towards seeing if you and Jeongguk would manage to work together.

Jeongguk was shouting at you from across the net and the boys watched as you completed serve after serve directed at him to receive, “I said I’m sorry!” He shouted but you continued, finally landing a direct hit to his face causing you to stop your actions and stifle laughter as Jeongguk looked up at you, eyebrow twitching in anger.

“Apology accepted!” You replied, ducking under the net you offered him a hand from where he’d collapsed onto the ground, sweat dripping down the side of his face as he heaved breaths. Jeongguk took your hand and instead of using it to stand, he yanked you so hard you landed directly on his lap.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened in shock, his cheeks instantly colouring to look as if he’d got a sunburn across his cheeks and nose, he gritted his teeth and moved his hands to your back as he tried to move you, “you’re heavy.”

“Stop I’m swooning,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words as you stood and pushed him onto his back when he tried to stand again. The other volleyball players had begun filing onto the courts from the beach bar and you decided you weren’t in the mood to make a scene, although as you watched your coach march over you had a feeling he had other plans.

“Run two miles down the beach and be back in an hour. If I find you squabbling again, the punishment will be doubled.”

You nodded and quickly took off in a sprint hoping to escape having to jog next to Jeongguk, but he quickly caught up, elbowing you in the side before overtaking you with a laugh, “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Only thing I’m getting ahead of is you,” he laughed, feet kicking off the firm sand as you both fell silent, trainers splashing the sea water against your legs every time the waves washed up onto the sand. The beach that you trained on was not a popular destination for tourists and due to the large waves, ideal for surfing, you didn’t have to worry about running into anyone.

Instead, you let your the rhythm of your feet hitting the sand calm you down, Jeongguk had knocked on your door in the morning and brought you a coffee as a way to apologise for his behaviour the day before, but you had demanded for him to receive one hundred of your serves before you forgave him.

Watching Jeongguk’s back run ahead of you, you let your mind slip into thinking about him. You were only human after all, and not immune to his good looks especially when you had the biggest crush on him during your first year. He was different then, always anxious and very shy, often coming to you with trembling hands asking if you could hold them so you could absorb his shaking.

Although his personality had gotten worse, you definitely could appreciate what growing up had done to Jeongguk. On arrival from his trip to America, you had been shocked to see how much he had bulked up, thighs now looking strong enough to crush watermelons between them and you had noted that he’d managed to maintain a set of ripped abs that often were glimpsed as he landed from a jump.

It was a popular discussion on the volleyball chat, Taehyung and Jimin relentlessly teasing you and taking photos to send on the chat as if it were a Jeon Jeongguk fan page. Although the quality of the pictures were so good, you had mentioned that the boys should send them to Jeongguk’s official fan pages which they had found incredibly amusing.

However, the thoughts of Jeongguk’s muscular arms and thighs were constantly at the front of your mind, and you had a bad feeling if you weren’t too careful you would end up acting on them. Although maybe that was what was needed, to tell Jeongguk he was hot, maybe kiss and then it would be easy to get over the small fluttering of your heart and focus on whipping the team into a reasonable shape in time for qualifying.

Little did you know that your opportunity would be arising sooner than you thought.

“Gukkie you’re so dumb,” a yawn interrupted your words but Jeongguk still caught it, looking down at where your head was resting on his lap.

“Everything that comes out of your mouth is stupid,” he replied, surprising Taehyung and the few other boys who were sitting on the roof with you. Jeongguk’s hand was resting on your head, stroking it slightly and Yoongi turned to Hoseok to share a confused look.

“Jeon Jeongguk,” you grinned at him and stuck your tongue out before sitting up and stretching with a loud groan.

It was Jimin who figured the two of you must have been exhausted from the weeks of training and constant punishments that neither of you had any fight left. He quickly texted his revelation to the chat that did not have you or Jeongguk in it, where they had been monitoring your relationship and Taehyung replied that he was going to win the bet if this honeymoon phase continued.

The rooftop was cold but it was a tradition for the players to collect around the fire before the night of qualifiers and have a few drinks. However, you had come to the gathering already slightly drunk and upon seeing that the only free space was next to Jeongguk, you had laid down and placed your head on his lap.

“You know what I really want to do,” you asked, staring up at the sky before slouching into your seat wondering if it would be bad to rest your head on Jeongguk’s broad shoulders. But turning to look at him you noticed that he was looking embarrassed, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as he gulped.

“Are you flirting with Jeongguk?” Taehyung burst into laughter, and you looked at him in bewilderment.

“I want to do some training?” You paused and rethought how you had worded your question before laughing and looking back at Jeongguk who’s mouth was slightly ajar, “you thought to do as in have sex? I’m not shameless guys.”

You leapt to your feet in mock outrage, going to walk away when a hand catches your wrist in a strong grip and in one smooth move Jeongguk has pulled you onto his lap. It wasn’t the first time your heart had skipped a beat around him, but when he directed that crazy strength at you, a part of you enjoyed feeling completely helpless.

“Y/N! You’re all zoned out!” You blinked quickly as you shoved your thoughts of Jeongguk away, returning Taehyung’s worried gaze, “I didn’t mean to upset you!” You shook your head and smiled at your friend when he quickly changed the topic, “the next big party is in two months to celebrate the beginning of the semi-finals!”

The conversation quickly trailed off as they discussed how unfair it was that the big parties always happened around big, nerve-wracking events for the players. But you still felt slightly shaken by Jeongguk’s large hand resting on your hip and when he squeezed it to get your attention, you instinctively clenched your thighs forgetting he’d be able to feel that movement.

“You feeling okay?” He whispered, his breath was warm against your neck and you felt your hairs rising as you turned your head and went with your instincts, just this once. Jeongguk’s lips were soft in the brief second you had touched them with your own before drawing back and looking at him with wide eyes almost as surprised as his own.

“You’ve been working out, it suits you.” You moved your hand to squeeze his bicep before giving him a toothy grin as Jeongguk suddenly looked like he was 16 again. A young boy with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking because the crowd was much bigger than what he was used to and without thinking you held his hands in yours, “stop freaking out Guk.”

The other boys had gone silent in surprise at your interaction with Jeongguk and Jimin quickly piped up  in the hopes of saving Jeongguk who seemed completely unable to communicate anymore. “She’s very liberal with her kisses! I’m sure everyone in the squad has been kissed on the cheek by Y/N, don’t overthink it!”

Jeongguk’s dazed out expression disappeared as he raised an eyebrow at you, as if waiting for you to disagree with what Jimin had just said, although aware that there was a difference between platonic kisses to the cheek and whatever a kiss on the lips might mean to you. But you stayed seated on his lap, tilting your head slightly in surprise when you saw a glint of metal hidden in Jeongguk’s hair, quickly moving his hair out of the way to display his now pierced ears.

“Pierced ears,” you nodded approvingly and Taehyung jumped to his feet in interest, resting his head on your shoulder as you both looked at the plethora of earring in Jeongguk’s ear. The silver hoops jingled slightly lining up on his lobe to three and in his cartilage two small diamonds sat next to each other and you couldn’t help the surprise at this. It felt like a physical reminder that Jeongguk wasn’t the boy you had once known, but this combination of many unexpected elements.

“A friend pierced them for me in America,” he muttered, moving the hair away from his hair to showcase the other side but you were already amusing yourself by fitting your little finger into the hoop and out of it; transfixed by the just how much they suited him.

“You’ve changed Gukkie,” you smiled at him, having jumped off his lap, you quickly faked a yawn and then smiled at the rest of the group, “I’m going to bed, the constant forfeits seem to have stolen my ability to drink and not feel sleepy.”

Jeongguk felt a smile spread across his face at your use of the word ‘sleepy’ and watched as you covered your mouth whilst yawning, nose slightly scrunched and he felt his heart  skip a beat for probably the millionth time this evening.

Once you’d gone down, he stood up and didn’t even bother trying to explain where he was going or what he was trying to do because Jeongguk himself wasn’t sure, “go get her buddy.” Taehyung called before getting elbowed by Hoseok who was quickly losing hope in the bet he had so confidently made at the beginning of the week.

Practices proceeded for a few weeks, and Jeongguk and you improved, the semi-finals were nearing on the horizon and the pressure of winning gold had driven both of you to improve. The passes became smoother and Jeongguk finally began to accept that he was playing with you and therefore needed to cooperate. But one thing had been annoying him and that was you were never awake to go on morning runs with him and it was one of these mornings as he stood outside your door knocking that Taehyung opened the door, topless, with his lower half wrapped in a bedsheet.

Taehyung looked sheepishly at Jeongguk before grinning and leaning against the door, “if you’re looking for her than she’s already training, I think she mentioned she was going to lift some weights?”

“Of course I’m looking for her,” Jeongguk replied, shocked at the sight of his friend and watched as Taehyung pushed back his fringe and leant against the door waiting for Jeongguk to say something else but the younger boy shook his head and turned away and began to walk away. “She trains every morning?” He asked, turning to look at Taehyung as the statement finally sunk in.

The elder boy smiled and nodded, “you thought she got that good naturally?” Taehyung knew that was exactly what Jeongguk had thought. But it was the opposite, in fact when Jeongguk had been in America, a boy had been assigned to you for each week to make sure you weren’t overworking yourself. Making sure you were eating three full meals and getting enough calories as well as dragging you out of the gym or into bed after you’d fallen asleep on the sand having taken a water break.

“Maybe I did assume that it was all natural,” Jeongguk replied, kicking the sideboard in embarrassment. For him a lot of his strength and instinct was natural and the thought that you were out training every morning as well as keeping up with him during the day surprised him, a lot.

Jeongguk quickly bid Taehyung goodbye, jogging down the hallway towards where the communal gym was. He felt like an idiot and he wondered if Taehyung was trying not to laugh at him or if every morning Jeongguk had knocked on the door, Taehyung had heard and stayed in bed laughing to himself about how pathetic the younger boy was.

As his negative thoughts seemed to overwhelm him, Jeongguk finally reached the gym and opened the door with a large push to find you on the rowing machine, your top had turned a different colour from your sweat and Jeongguk felt like everything he knew about you was a lie.

Instead of joining in, he opened the door and quickly left because your partner suddenly felt like he had nothing to say apart from to sound angry and rude. And as he left, Jeongguk felt like he was also changing because before he would have shouted at you for letting Taehyung in your room but now he knew that there were more important things to focus on.

So Jeongguk went on his jog, alone.

As the weeks followed after that incident, Jeongguk became more alert to when it looked like you were overworking yourself like right now. You were panting, hands on your knees and doubled over after a few hours of training and drills and Jeongguk grabbed you by the shoulders, “we’re taking a water break!” He called to the Coach, who nodded and waved them away.

You were silent as you watched Jeongguk drink his water, before he fixed you with an angry glare, “why aren’t you drinking anything?” You shrugged and crossed your legs so you could watch the games that were going on and Jeongguk reached and hooking a finger under your chin, he turned your head towards him, “are you an idiot?”

“Are you done?” You asked, standing up and going to walk away before Jeongguk had grabbed you by your ankle causing you to turn and try to kick him off, “I’m fine Guk, let’s go. We have more to catch up on than everyone else.”

Suddenly it felt like the pieces were slotting into view as Jeongguk stood up and fixed you with a concerned look, “are you worried?”

“No dumbass.”

“Yes you are.”

“Olympic gold medallists don’t get worried.”

Jeongguk laughed at your outrageous statement, “that’s absurd and you know it.” He crouched slightly so he could look you dead in the eye, his eyes searching your own for the truth, “you can trust me.”

You smiled and curled your fingers into a fist as you tried to find the words to describe just how you were feeling, but it felt useless. You slumped into Jeongguk’s chest with a sigh, head resting against his collarbone as you finally let yourself breathe, “I have to train like this, if I don’t I’ll let you down.” You looked up into his eyes and Jeongguk gasped as he saw how they were watering, “I’ll let down Jin and his legacy.”

Your partner opened his mouth to disagree but you shook your head, “you don’t even like me because of our past and I don’t know how to change that Gukkie.” A tear rolled down your cheek, “I don’t know how to help you forgive me for whatever I did to upset you.”

You’d already got into the Olympics and only had 5 matches left, and he knew to lose trust now would be the end of his chances to win a gold medal with you.

Jeongguk felt like he had just been submerged in cold water, his movements felt heavy as he moved to wrap your figure that suddenly seemed so delicate and fragile in a hug, he couldn’t believe you had been shouldering this burden alone. “Let’s go home,” he murmured, before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and moving to pick you up and sling you over his shoulders with ease.

He knew from your words that it was time to let the truth out into the open. Jeongguk had hidden it too long and he hoped that if you heard it now, you would be able to take it well and hopefully it would lift your spirits slightly. Although he did accept that it also held the capability to destroy your motivation in a different area but he was willing to take that risk; for you, he would always take a risk.

“Why are you standing so far away? Did I scare you?” you were sitting cross-legged on Jeongguk’s bed as he stood in the doorway fidgeting as if he had something to say but was too scared to go for it. The room was full of trophies and the walls covered in posters and pictures, looking around you tried to hide your smile at the sight of his Iron Man sheets that Jeongguk had placed you on and instead watched as he fidgeted. “Teammates must have trust, right?” Jeongguk watched you nod in confusion and he repeated the action to himself, as if assuring himself he was about to do the right thing, “I’ve been keeping a secret. Well-I-when you kissed me a few weeks ago it-there’s no way you could have known how it felt to me.” You tilted your head slightly and watched him walk towards you and sit on the end of the bed, sighing before trying to continue, “Y/N, I’ve wanted to kiss you since we debuted. I could easily call myself your biggest fan – I’ve kept up with all your interviews, watched all your tournaments on tape and fuck. Sorry, I must sound like a creep especially when I say I’ve been obsessed with you my entire adult life.” He laughed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, “Just-I want so much more with you but I spoke to Tae and don’t use me or mess with me. I couldn’t-“ “Namjoon told me you were a fan,” you interrupted Jeongguk’s confession with what seemed to be an audible consciousness, “I should have actually listened. Gukkie, it is a bit creepy but I guess more surprising than anything.” You fell silent and he looked at you with wide eyes as you stood and looked as if you were going to walk away, instead you dipped down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and continued to walk towards the door. “What was that for?” He yelped, a hand raising to touch where your lips had made contact with his as a warm blush spread across his cheeks. “If you’re so clever, work it out.” Jeongguk leapt to his feet and grabbed you by your arm to swing you around, before wrapping an arm around your waist and dipping you to press a kiss against your lips. It was fast, as if he was worried at any second you were going to stop and as he pressed his soft lips to yours, over and over you let yourself melt into his grip. A hand landed on Jeongguk’s chest and gently pushed him away so you could gasp for breath before panting, “aren’t we moving a bit fast for you idealistic daydreams?” You had been thinking about sleeping with Jeongguk since you’d seen him that first day of training and that feeling had grown with each day you were around him so by now you felt almost unable to suppress it. But for him you did. The young shy boy you had cared for had grown into someone who could be described as having a feisty, confident and loud personality and yet you still loved both sides of him. So when Jeongguk cupped your face in his hands and shook his head, dipping his head down to press a quick kiss to your lips, “this is going at the perfect pace for me.” You knew you had chosen well. Especially when his eyes widened and he held you at an arm's length from himself, “b-but if you’re unsure then I can stop! But I can’t read your mind so you need to tell me!” The smile that spread across your face as you felt overwhelmed with affection for Jeongguk was infectious, causing him to laugh a little as you broke free of his grip and tackled him with a hug into the soft mattress beneath you. Jeongguk continued to plant kisses across your face, both of you laying on your side with your back near the edge of the mattress. But that was of little concern as you gazed into his dark brown eyes and felt so overwhelmed with happiness that you felt your eyes well up. In surprised you went to roll away, realising with a yelp that you were now falling off the bed. In the blink of an eye, Jeongguk had grabbed the back of your top and wrenched you onto his lap and a dishevelled heap. There was always a feeling of safety created when you were with him, and you realised it was because of his crazy strength that meant you felt protected as you rested your head against his chest and listened to his heart race. “A kiss,” you pouted, trying to hide the grin that spread as he pecked your lips on demand before wrapping you in a hug and pulling the blanket over your figures. You squirmed in disbelief that Jeongguk was stopping you from giving him all the affectionate you had been daydreaming about for the past few months. “You need rest,” he murmured and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he thought he had outsmarted you. It wasn’t the first time that Jeongguk had wrapped his arms around you to force you to get some rest and yet in light of recent news, you felt thoroughly loved and couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. “You need less of an attitude,” you yawned and nuzzled your head into his chest, allowing your body to soak in the warmth and radiance. Soon Jeongguk’s slow breaths and heartbeat had sent you to sleep; the most effective lullaby you had ever heard was one created by the boy who was in the process of stealing your heart. As you felt yourself fall asleep, Jeongguk was the main thing on your mind. His hatred of you must have been caused by something, some event and you vowed to ask him when you woke up after your forced nap. Although when you were this comfortable, you wondered if you would ever be able to wake up and leave the safety of Jeongguk’s arms.

 "You know I've never wanted to fuck someone this badly before," Jeongguk ran his fingers across your stomach, your top had been pulled up whilst you were sleeping and now as the golden rays of the morning sun broke through the blinds, Jeongguk let himself touch every inch of your exposed soft skin.

It had been a week since he had first kissed you and there still hadn’t been much progress, on the whole, having sex idea, with training and other arrangements getting in the way.

Jeongguk wondered if the feelings that were stirring in his chest came from the fact that together you were both racing through the Olympics, winning each match by miles or because the girls of his dreams was finally laying in bed with him, wearing his boxers.

You stirred in your sleep, shivering slightly at the feeling of the duvet no longer covering your scarcely clothed figure before nuzzling your head into Jeongguk's lap. His back straightened as your head landed on his hardening dick, causing you to crack an eye open with an amused look, "Morning wood bothering you already?"

Jeongguk blinked as he tried to understand how he was meant to speak to you when you looked like such an angel, surrounded by the white sheets and your head nestled between his tanned thighs, Jeongguk swallowed hard as he felt his length pulse in excitement. He looked away from you as you pointed your toes and lifted your arms above your head to embrace his waist, mumbling, "you have no idea how much I want you."

You looked up at Jeongguk in interest, moving your head off his lap to pull off your top and sit wearing only a pair of his boxers opposite him, "want to show me kid?"

He spluttered and moved his hands so he was blocking out the lewd view of your body sitting in front of him, body begging to be taken in his strong hands and pleasured, "don't tease me!" Jeongguk squeezed his eyes shut, trying to give himself a moment to choose one of the many fantasies and dreams to plan how he was going to make you feel good.

A hand wrapped around his bicep and he looked down in surprise to watch as you pressed a kiss to the defined muscle, you looked up at him through thick lashes and then moved to his stomach, pushing Jeongguk into the bed you began to move his top up whilst unveiling more of his defined abs.

"Fuck," he watched you bite into your lip as you gazed at his body and then met his eyes, becoming embarrassed by your actions and swinging your legs so they were hanging off the bed. "I need a shower," you mumbled, pushing yourself off the bed only to be picked up and dumped back onto the mattress.

"You don't get to rile me up and then leave when you start to feel flustered," he laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck whilst letting his fingers run up and down your sides. Jeongguk paused and inspected his boxers on you, images of volleyballs covered them and he stifled a laugh at the blush that had spread over your cheeks, "way to kill the mood."

You sat up and pouted, pulling his bedsheets around your figure, "It's not like there was a mood to kill with us about to fuck on your Iron Man bedsheets, kid."

"Don't call me a kid."

"What are you going to do about it," you grinned, "kid?", biting the inside of your cheek as you waited to see what provoking Jeongguk would win you in this little game you were playing to see if he really had the guts to fuck you.

A kiss was pressed to your lips, his large hands roaming up from your waist to cup one breast in his hand before he continued to move it. Jeongguk's hand paused under your chin, where he gave a quick squeeze to remind you that he was trying to assert himself before he pulled away from the kiss, "open wide."

If anyone asked you about Jeongguk's hands you would deny having ever looked at them in a way that was sexual. But that was far from the truth, how could you stop yourself from dreaming how good they would feel pinching your nipples, stroking your clit or inside you? Now as they rested on your tongue with Jeongguk watching you intensely, you decided you should appreciate them for all the times just the thought of them had made you cum.

Jeongguk's dick twitched at the feeling of your warm, wet tongue sliding around his fingers, sucking each one diligently before pulling away with a loud pop. "You have a thing for them don't you?" He smirked watching your eyes widen as you shook your head.

"W-Well you've stalked me for half a decade!" you blurted about to hide your head in shame when Jeongguk pushed you slowly onto your back, pulling his boxers that you had been wearing, down and off your legs before he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

"So you wouldn't want me to finger you then?" Jeongguk asked, licking his fingers again before rummaging around in his draw to find a bottle of his favourite, strawberry flavoured lube squirting a generous amount onto his fingers as he waited for you to answer. A sense of pride filled him as he realised he had the upper hand, you were no longer calling him ‘kid’ as well as you being completely naked on his bed with your knees pressed together in an attempt to hide your heat from him. "Babe?"

"I wouldn't be angry if you did," you muttered, throwing your arm over your eyes so you wouldn't have to see that smug look on Jeongguk's face that you knew would be there.

"Guess that's the closest to a yes that I'm going to get," he replied, mainly to himself before he pried your thighs apart and ran a finger up and down your folds, admiring how wet you had become from very little work. Jeongguk knelt on the bed and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, biting it slightly to draw a moan from you before he slid a finger into you.

Your hands turned to fists as you waited for him to begin to move before slowly opening an eye and looking at Jeongguk’s smirk,” sorry doll, I only fuck with consent.” Your smile spread at the thought of the boy who had been obsessing over you for years being able to stop himself and ask for proper permission.

Leaning up, aware that there was still a finger not yet filling you up the way you wanted, you pressed a kiss to his nose, “Yes Gukkie, I want you to fuck me.”

With that he pushed another finger in, letting out an appreciative groan at the feeling of your heat before beginning to scissor his fingers within you, a long drawn out moan left your lips as your walls clenched down on his finger and Jeongguk marvelled at the feeling of just how tight you were, before he pulled his finger out and inserted another one. Then as you became used to the scissoring motions he had started, to properly prepare your pussy for him, Jeongguk placed his mouth onto your clit, flicking his tongue against the ball of nerves to extract the best sounds he had ever heard.

"You taste fucking delicious."

"Aren't you using flavoured lube?"

Jeongguk stopped his actions and looked up at you, his mouth glistening slightly from your wetness as he smirked, "some food needs ketchup to taste truly amazing."

“My pussy is not a plate of fries you fucker!”

Jeongguk laughed and used your anger to move his hands to your thighs, pinning your legs down as you went to kick him in irritation, but you were quickly lost in the pleasure of his fingers and tongue as they continued their previous ministrations.

After what felt like hours you began to wriggle, "can I have your dick now?" The phrase sounded more erotic than it had in your head but you meant it as you knelt and watched him tear open the condom with his teeth and begin to roll the plastic down his long, hard length.

"One day I'm going to need that down my throat," you grinned at his startled expression and wondered for a second if he was going to cum, Jeongguk didn't but it was clear that he was dangerously close.

The room fell silent as Jeongguk looked at you and smiled, "are you sure this is okay?"

"Never been more certain Gukkie," you smiled back although it quickly turned into a grimace as he began to push inside you, your walls felt like they were going to rip and you wondered if you were going to stain his childish bedsheets. Jeongguk stilled once he was ball-deep, moving forward to capture your lips with his and ask with his eyes if it was okay to start moving.

You answered the question by grabbing his arm and squeezing, letting out a moan before grinding up into his dick. Jeongguk pulled his length out in one quick movement, leaving his head barely inside and poured an excessive amount of lube onto his dick before he pushed in again with a grunt.

A knock at the door interrupted you mid-moan and you both exchanged looks as Jeongguk placed a large palm over your mouth and continued to thrust, both of you listening to the repetitive knocks that could only belong to one person, Taehyung.

"If you're going to fuck can you not do it so early in the morning?" he asked through the door, "also Guk, she likes it when you pinch her nipples," you choked a laugh under Jeongguk's hand before listening to the sound of his footsteps becoming fainter and then a door slamming with a sense of relief.

You had broken things off with Taehyung the morning Jeongguk had found him in your dorm. The elder boy had listened to your weird feelings for your partner and told you to follow your heart, even if it meant he was going to lose the best fleshlight he'd ever used.

"We better finish up quickly," Jeongguk grunted, his thrusts starting up again as he pounded into you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in circles as he watched you arch your back into his hands. You still managed to fix him with a questioning look through your complete ecstasy and he smirked, "you only slept five hours last night and as your boyfriend, I must make sure you're in perfect health so we can fuck every day!"

“You skipped breakfast today which meant you went back on your promise to eat before morning practice,” Jeongguk had taken to scolding you like a mother if dared not look after your health but he tended to keep his affectionate worry behind doors. So speaking like this in front of Taehyung and Jimin who had been training with you was a surprise to you and the pair.

Taehyung pressed his palm to his mouth, looking at Jimin with wide eyes as he tried to convey his amusement at the scene that was playing out in front of them. Jeon Jeongguk, the boy they had thought would never settle down and care for anyone apart from himself and his big ego was looking after and standing up to you.

“I know you only had protein shakes yesterday.” Jeongguk fixed you with a hard stare, “so eat.” The boy turned to pull his rucksack off his shoulder and began to dig through it, producing a bento box that he placed into your hands.

With a smile you walked towards the benches, watching as Jeongguk’s friends began to tease him relentlessly asking if he could make them packed lunches as well. There was a weird feeling of déjà vu that seemed to follow your interactions with Jeongguk recently, usually, it was small events like him tying your shoelaces for you or wrapping you in a hug before a game.

This time as the feeling began to make your head swim with unease you easily sourced why you felt like you had lived through this exact same scenario before; Jin had quickly noticed that you tended to skip breakfast to run off to training and began to leave boxes of yoghurt and fruit on the bench for you.

When Jin had taken an interest in your well-being, you felt like it was almost his duty to you as a good partner but now every time Jeongguk made sure you slept at a normal time and ate enough food, your heart would race as if you had never experienced such care and tenderness before.

There were times you were tempted to purposefully not remember to bring your knee pads for indoor training or not fill up your water bottle to watch Jeongguk’s face morph in anger to resignation. He had quickly come to the realisation that if he wasn’t the one to complete a job, it probably wasn’t going to be completed.

“Looks like you’re the kid these days,” Taehyung laughed, eyes crinkling at the sight of Jeongguk looking so worried and thoughtful gazing down at you. Taehyung had already won the bet, but the elder boy was excited by the concept of your relationship with his best friend after witnessing on a daily basis the improvement to both of your characters.

You made a sound of disagreement before tackling Jeongguk in a headlock, “this little guy is still my kid.” You ruffled his hair as if to make a point, but Taehyung just pulled a face at the affection between you and shook his head.

“But you can’t fuck your kid sugarplum,” Jeongguk finally managed to get free of your grasp to pull a face at what Taehyung had just said before glancing over to you to see what you had to say.

“You do have a point there Tae,” you mused and Jeongguk finally kicked into action, dragging you over to your side of the court to get some more practice in before the qualifiers. As he dragged you, you grabbed one of his hands and placed it to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and turning around to find Jeongguk looking at you in surprise you grinned, “you’re the cutest little bunny.”

“You’re so hot when you squeeze around my dick like that,” Jeongguk grunted, each thrust so hard you were sure the bed was going to break. Your last match was tomorrow, the final to decide if you were to stand on the podium with gold in your hands.

It was your decision to have sex, knowing that it could be the only thing with the power to calm Jeongguk’s nerves, even if just by a little bit. You were laying with him on top of you, your hands intertwined as you watched his face contort with pleasure, “I’m gonna cum babe- fuck.”

His hips stuttered before Jeongguk stilled inside you, bending his head he pressed a kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, peeling the condom of his length and tying it before throwing it in the bin.

“Good work kid, you get a gold star,” you winked, opening your arms to try and get a hug before you both fell asleep, but Jeongguk had other plans as he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you, until your hips were on the edge of the bed.

Jeongguk was most definitely a giver in bed, and as he bit into your thigh,  sucking at the flesh before looking up at you and wiggling his eyebrows, you couldn’t help but give the boy a show.

As his nips, licks and sucks moved up your thigh and to your heat, your back arched into his mouth, knowing that he wouldn’t stop his teasing and satisfied smirks until you had cum.

“Come on babe” Jeongguk’s voice was lower than usual, and the slight husk sent shivers down your back as he reached a hand up for you to suck. He laughed at how quickly you began to tighten around his other fingers, rocking your hips up into his mouth and finally your body began to tremble.

“Fuck I love you!”

Your eyes sprang open as the adrenaline wore off, pulling the covers over your form to look up nervously at Jeongguk who was still kneeling at the end of the bed, eyes wide and frozen in place.

There was a moment where you mused that you’d managed to kill him with the ‘L’ word, as both of you had managed to avoid saying it and now you’d gone and done it; the night before the finals.

“D-do you mean it?” Jeongguk questioned, slowly standing and perching on the edge of the bed, as if ready to sprint out if you were to say the wrong thing.

But as you sat there, thinking of all the times he had teased and bullied you and then to the times that he’d looked after you and protected you, it wasn’t hard to give an honest reply, “I do love you. Jeon Jeongguk, I love you, a lot.”

He moved up the bed, finally sitting next to you, “even after everything I’ve done?” Jeongguk watched you climb onto his lap, cupping his cheeks in your hands so you could force him to look you dead in the eye.

“You’re not that kid, who pretended to be a dick to hide his stalkerish crush,” with a grin you pressed a kiss on his lips, “you’re my partner and I had to move past all of that to trust you properly.”

Jeongguk chewed on his lip before swallowing and looking up, “I love you too, I just never thought there was a good time.” With a roll of your eyes at his usual overthinking, you wrapped your arms around his warm, golden torso.

“So you used to hate me,” you mused, leaning forward and resting your head on his shoulder, “am I allowed to know why?”

“But it’s stupid.”

“Yeah well, I was expecting that.”

“If you’re going to be rude I won’t tell you, ”Jeongguk pouted until you pressed a quick kiss to his lips and pretended to zip up your own, “well, when we trained together before debuting. I used to get teased for having a weaker spike than a girl because everyone knew that I admired how you played.”

He paused as if wondering if he should say the next bit until you nudged him, with a sigh and a glare Jeongguk continued, “okay so, I wouldn’t shut up about you and how you played. And then after all this teasing, we debuted at the same time and you won,” he paused again until you kissed his neck trying to comfort him as well as make him continue, “well, I got thrashed in my first match. So I called you my arch enemy so people wouldn’t tell me that you were out of my league anymore.”

There was something about the vulnerability that Jeongguk had just displayed that made you want to wrap him up in blankets and cuddle him forever. The boy had been carrying a burden that was so small but due his overthinking had become so heavy his only way to release it was to lash out at you. You felt like you and Jeongguk were much closer than before as he lay down next to you, your head still resting on his chest, listening to the soft thump of his heart wondering what the outcome of the final would be.

“I hope I don’t offend you by saying this was a surprising outcome!”

“Archenemies to gold winners!”

Jeongguk and you were sitting on the panel, shoulder to shoulder as multiple journalists and reporters shouted questions at the two of you. Underneath the table Jeongguk was holding your hand, squeezing it repeatedly as if he was making sure this wasn’t a dream.

You cleared your throat and the reporters silenced, “We worked very hard for this gold medal,” you paused and lifted Jeongguk’s hand to your lips, pressing a long kiss to it and trying to hide the smile at the shock on his face as well as the flash of the cameras.

“It was thanks to these talented hands that we were able to win! I’m very lucky to have Jeongguk as my partner!”

“-AND BOYFRIEND!” Taehyung shouted from the audience and you let out a heavy sigh as the bombarding of questions restarted, reporters desperately trying to get the newest scoop of the gold-winning pair.

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[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Nomu!Hero Course Basics

Shinsou is the first to be taken, right after the Sports Festival because his Quirk is ‘villainous’ so AFO sends Kurogiri to collect him.

It’s honestly pretty easy given that Shinsou isn’t able to fight back well (Aizawa hasn’t offered to train him yet so he’s unskilled as a fighter and he can’t rely on his Quirk because Kurogiri won’t respond to him)

He tried that once and it was not pleasant afterwards

He brainwashed Shigaraki and AFO broke his left leg to keep him from getting further.

He refuses to become a villain so they make him into a Nomu.

He gets pretty useless Quirks because AFO is saving the better ones for the others.

“Sorry you get the useless ones. I’m saving the good ones for a friend of yours. You might remember him. Midoriya Izuku.“

Shinsou manages to stay lucid for  few hours even with the three new Quirks eating away at him.

He does slip into a catatonic state eventually though, because he figures nobody’s coming. He figures he’s just a Gen Ed student, who lives in an orphanage no less, so nobody cares.

Boy is he wrong. Midoriya is an anxious puppy about his friend and even Bakugo gets worried when he hears that Shinsou hasn’t showed up, both to school, work, and at the orphanage he lives at, for a week.

It doesn’t help that, when Hosu happens, Midoriya, Iida, and Todoroki are also kidnapped and forced to become Nomu as well.

It’s at this point that Shinsou ‘wakes up’ from his catanonia because he finally sees something familiar that isn’t these four walls and a man who keeps hurting him.

Unfortunately, Midoriya, Iida, and Todoroki aren’t that lucky.

Since Shinsou can barely keep keep himself calm when he first ‘wakes up’, he really can’t do anything without falling over so he really can’t just play prison break, even if he wants to.

He’s especially unable to be calm when he sees AFO using his Forcible Quirk Activation stolen Quirk on Todoroki with his new Porcelain Quirk (keeps shattering pieces of Todoroki to test it), Iida with his Blood Knives Quirk (forcing Iida to make weaponry to train him), and Midoriya with his new Fire Breath Quirk (it keeps hurting Midoriya’s throat after prolonged use)

Shinsou is in terrible condition by the way. He can’t eat so he’s got a feeding tube in his nose, he’s routinely got an IV in his arm because he’s always dehydrated because because ‘no, you can’t take the mask off’ even to eat.

Shinsou isn’t really expecting to be saved. And having brainless Midoriya, Todoroki, and Iida around really isn’t giving him any optimistic vibes.

But now he’s ‘awake’ so he can’t go back to ‘sleep’.

To pass time he tests his new wings and masters autonomy of them.

Eventually he gains up the nerve to tug on AFO’s sleeve and points at his wings and flaps them like ‘hey bitch, I wanna train these, you’ve got me stuck here I may as well pass time.’

AFO is ecstatic that he wants to be a ‘useful Nomu’ and agrees, although he basically puts him on a leash and hands him to Dabi.

Cue Hitoshi’s new Memory Read kicking in and he sees Dabi’s memories and just how much Dabi is hurting and in pain and sad and doesn’t want to do this anymore.

He manages to fly pretty damn well for someone who hasn’t had wings his whole life.

Dabi is highly impressed with him.

Shinsou knows JSL, because he grew up wearing a muzzle for his ‘villain Quirk’.

Shinsou uses JSL to talk to Dabi.

‘I know you’re Todoroki Touya‘ “how?“ ‘new quirk.‘ “ah, and?“ ‘your little brother is a Nomu now too.‘

Cue pissed Dabi but he’s thankfully containable or else AFO would have killed Shinsou and Dabi both.

Dabi visits Shoto when his hair grows out with the original red and it ‘wakes him up’ from his catatonia from seeing something familiar.

Sadly Iida and Midoriya aren’t ‘waking up’ yet because they don’t know who the hell Todoroki Touya is.

Dabi, unwillingly, goes through with the Forest Training Arc hoping to any god that will listen that the other students just go with becoming villains.

Damn, did he give himself false hope thinking that.

Mr. Compress captures the entire rest of class 1a just to go overboard like the showman he is.

Almost immediately the students deemed ‘useless villains’ get turned into Nomu. (Aoyama, Ashido, Asui, Uraraka, Ojiro, Koda, Sato, Shoji, Jirou, Sero, and Hagakure)

The others are with the League, where Shigaraki and the others are trying to convince them to become evil.

Haha, bitch you fail. They don’t want to be villains so off to become Nomus do they go too.

Dabi has managed to steal a few things from the kids’ houses that he hopes has meaning to them and he ‘wakes up’ Iida with an old picture of his brother and Midoriya with an AllMight action figure.

The others all wake up to varying degrees when they see AllMight and the other heroes.

So now Aizawa has twenty Nomufied students that are at varying states of their catatonia and the only way to ‘wake them up’ is to give them something from their childhood as a way of cognitive recalibration.

Once all the kids are safe (thank you Mt. Lady and the whole damn Vanguard).

The Vanguard helps save the hero course kids from being in the way. They did not sign up to this to hurt kids. They all thought the kids would just be like…left in a random place for the pro heroes to find.

They’re blaming themselves for kids being hurt like this so they all decide to save them from getting hurt and get them out of the way with Mt. Lady.

Most of the pros are shocked seeing the villains carrying/dragging the students to safety. But hey the kids are safe, help them.

All of their parents are asked to bring something from their childhood of great emotional value to the hospital in Kamino they’re being checked at.

It ‘wakes’ them all up.

And now Aizawa has twenty students with brand new Quirks they can’t control well.

So what does he do? Starts training the simpler Quirks in the hospital so they can get a handle on them and actually focus on something so they can all calm down.

First it’s Kaminari because he’s actually terrified. He’s phasing through everything and crying and Aizawa brings Mirio in to help him allow Kaminari to get a good handle on his new Quirk.

His panics are solved with putting special gloves on from Mirio’s first year prototype outfit that stay tangible even when your body goes through things (provides something stable to use as a grip).

Next is Ashido. She can’t stop using Glitch and she can’t use her Suppression on herself so she’s basically crying on Aizawa, since she can’t use Glitch if she’s touching someone.

Hatsume Mei is a goddess to 1A now. She makes them all suppressors and gadgets to help them with their new Quirks.

Mei gives Mina an inhibitor so her Quirks are lowered to a containable level while Aizawa teaches her that she can grab onto something if she feels a glitch coming on.

Poor Mina glitches when she sneezes and sadly she’s sick with a cold when she’s at AFO’s warehouse.

Aizawa pairs Uraraka with Midnight to try to contain her Laughing Gas Quirk and thankfully, together, they manage it in just over an hour.

Next is Todoroki. The poor boy was manhandled too much getting out of Kamino and now he’s got fractures and cracks in several places and the doctors are scared to touch him.

Thankfully, Sero’s new Mend Quirk is unable to be turned off and so he puts them together so Sero can heal Shoto just as fast as he cracks.

It doesn’t help that Shoto is blind now thanks to the Quirk transfer being too much for his body to handle with his already powerful mixed Quirk and his right eye froze over and was too damaged to repair, even with Sero now healing him constantly.

Bakugo is all sorts of out of it. He’s still partially brainless because, his childhood was just pain and abuse from his mother, he has seemingly nothing he’s emotionally attached to.

That is, until Masaru lets Aizawa send Yamada into Katsuki’s room and Hizashi finds an old worn teddy bear he presents to Bakugo that finally recalibrates his memories.

The Quirk transfer also made Bakugo fully deaf so now he can’t hear, but he can thankfully see peoples Auras and kind of know what their intentions are. Don’t worry if he’s scared he’ll let you know. His hair turns bright fricking purple when he’s scared.

Midoriya has trouble controlling his Light Body Quirk and he keeps accidentally activating it. Aizawa brings in Ashido and tells her to touch his hand and it’s long enough for him to get the inhibitor on him.

He also does this for Iida with his Darkness Body Quirk.

Shinsou has the most mastery of his new Quirks because he actually trained them with Dabi, much to Aizawa’s surprise and horror yet also his pride.

Like, he’s a pro at this, he’s been training these new Quirks.

He knows how to fold his Wings to get through small doorways or just to let people past him, he can turn into energy via his Energy Body and float around the doctors so that he doesn’t get in the way while they’re going past him, he can translate information to the doctors of what’s wrong with the others through his Memory Read.

Someone give him a medal, he deserves it.

Eventually he gets exhausted though and he passes out against Kaminari (who’s exhausted from crying so much), Bakugo (who just doesn’t want to be alone), and Kirishima (who’s been worried about his friends the whole time he’s been ‘awake’).

Dabi is busy with Shoto, catching up, mostly they’re both crying and hugging and Sero is so happy he gets to witness this beautiful brotherly interaction.

Midoriya is with Iida and they’re calming each other down. Uraraka and Asui join them later because their optical Quirks make it hard to look at people without fearing they might hurt them so they opt to wear blindfolds.

Yaoyorozu has determined she will test her new Will O Wisp Quirk and is using it to set small pieces of paper on fire with her fingertips (using the bare minimum to test it) to see the end result of each color.

Aoyama and Tokoyami are basically playing day and night to drive off each other’s loneliness while Shoji makes sure the shadow kid and sunshine kid are okay. Thank god, because he balances the situation a lot.

Once she’s got a handle on her new Quirks, Mina is hanging out with Jirou and Hagakure just so she doesn’t have to be alone. She’s just scared of possibly glitching out of existence and having them hug her is very comforting.

Sato, Ojiro, and Koda made a blanket fort in their hospital room and have fallen asleep there.

It was originally to make something for Sato because he wanted to bake but couldn’t, do something to calm down Ojiro, and provide comfort for Koda.

It worked.

Eventually they all end up in a giant cuddle pile in Ojiro, Koda, and Sato’s room, even those who had already fallen asleep.

Everyone came and they all brought their blankets and made it a giant blanket castle and Aizawa just sits at the door and guards them (and also to alert then when the doctors will be coming in.)

Sadly the four there the longest have eating problems, they can’t chew food because they haven’t in so long so they’ve lost both fat and muscle and are very underweight.

Todoroki is the worst, surprisingly. Since he’s now made of porcelain, his digestion is super fast compared to before so he just burns thought whatever he’s given too quickly (it just makes it worse that he can’t have solid food anymore too).

Thankfully big bro Dabi to the rescue getting all the students tons of food from a Peace Cafe in Kamino Ward, named Heiwa To Chōwa, where the owner of it has basically all but adopted him.

The cafe makes a lot of specialty foods since they’re both

a) close to the hospital so people pick up food for their loved ones there and

b) surprisingly a lot of villains and heroes have eating problems and/or food problems whether from battle, genetic, self-inflicted, or otherwise.

Shinsou and Dabi both work at Heiwa To Chōwa and he and Dabi are like bros when they find out they work opposite shifts (Dabi works day shift aka 8am to 4pm and Shinsou works evening shift aka 5pm to 12pm).

The rest of the Vanguard isn’t just forgiven immediately, even Dabi. The others are in very intense interrogations while Aizawa and the other teachers are helping the students.

The police officers aren’t about to rip Dabi away from his little brother just for questioning until they’re sure Shoto is stable and won’t go back into a catatonic state if Dabi leaves.

Though he does have Hawks following him around as protection for the students.

After two weeks, they move to the dorms and their parents all agree because there’s like limited other ways for the students to learn to control their new Quirks.

[rhabakoli]

Infinite White - 2

I don’t have any control, and @cgn-99​ asked... well, I do not live to please, but it’s pretty close. 

@dreamwritesimagines​ @i-am-always-famished​ @marauderskeeper​ @superwolfchild-fan​ @thescarsweleave​ @cgn-99​ @alicedopey​ @anxietysucks​ @kitsch-i-might-be​

The week went by, finals creeped closer, Fenja and her roommate never saw each other anymore, one being always in the library (Fenja) and the other one (Maeve) always on the track or the gym. That’s why at lunch on Wednesday, the only day of the week where they had lunch break at the same time, they had to eat and catch up at the same time. Which, to be honest, they did not manage. “How’s your boyfriend?” “He’s fine. Buried somewhere under his books and his dog and his scripts.” Maeve shoved a piece of steak into her mouth, rolling with her eyes when her taste buds exploded. “How do they make this so good, I don’t understand?” Someone had to give Fenja a medal for understanding her even with cheeks like a chipmunk.

“There are actually faeries working in the kitchen, that’s why everything tastes so good.”, she remarked, stabbing her own food with vigour.

Maeve swallowed, taking a sip of her water and pointed her fork at her friend. “How’s your essay going? Deadline was yesterday, wasn’t it?” Fenja nodded. “I had some slight difficulties with the conclusion, that made me want to just burn it, but I got help. I hope Finehair is satisfied, I’d die if I disappointed him.” Maeve chuckled. “Isn’t it funny that no one ever calls him by his real name? Even the other professors call him Finehair.” “Come on, look at it. It’s beautiful.” Fenja grinned. “And no one can pronounce his last name without butchering it or biting off their tongue. It’s a service to him, if anything.” “I have to agree.”, a male voice came from next to them, made the roomies look up wide eyed. “Professor.”, Fenja pressed out, terrified that he heard her. Maeve looked like she had swallowed her tongue, eyes bulging and face red. Harald “Finehair” Halfdanarson stood at their table, thermos under his arm and papers in his hand. His hair was in his typical braid, that made half the long-haired population of their school turn green with envy. They wanted to break into his bathroom and take a look at his hair care regime. “I saw you, and wanted to congratulate you on your essay, it was brilliant, Ms. Mueller.” “Oh, thank you, Sir.” “I am off in a minute, I have a meeting, but I’d like to submit it to the YWA. If that is something you’d be interested in.” Maeve squeaked and grabbed her friends hand over the table, immediately answering for her. “Of course she is! She’d be stupid, if she didn’t!” Fenja just agreed silently, still staring at her professor in stunned silence. The man laughed at her enthusiasm and did a little bow. “I’ll make sure they get it, then. Have a nice day, ladies.” He tipped his imaginary hat and wandered off, leaving the two of them in tense, excited silence. That is, until Fenja found her voice and breathed: “What. The. Fuck.” Maeve started giggling manically, her food forgotten for once. “The freaking Young Writers Association, freaking hell, Fenja!” “What the fuck.” “I know!” Maeve got up, came around the table and latched onto her roommates shoulders, giddy and basically vibrating from joy. “The last person from our school to have their writing submitted was one of the Ragnarssons, wasn’t it?” Fenja nodded, absent-mindedly correcting her: “Actually, it was Gala. She was also the first woman to get awarded by them and have her articles in their publications.” “You’re gonna get into the Hall of Fame, darling! I can feel it.” “I think I’ll be sick.”

The Young Writers Association was an organisation oriented to support young talents, help them establish themselves in the writer’s world. They collaborated with legal firms specialized on publishing, publishing houses both internationally renowned and small local ones, and they were always striving for fair and transparent relations between providers and talents. Tons of people submitted their works, craving for the YWA to judge their words, and to actually get through to an editor- It was a big stepping stone, and to have a Professor’s opinion definitely carried a bit of an extra weight, made them look a bit closer and be harsher in their judgement. Fenja was out of it for the rest of the day, even though she tried to get on with her study plan. But her brain continued to pull out doubts and questionable comments and insecurities, which, frankly, she did not need right now. With a frustrated grunt, she shoved her pens and books away and let her head fall onto the desk, forehead colliding with the wood, making her regret that particular move on the spot. “Ouch.”, she murmured, rubbing at it. Her phone chimed, and then again, and again, and again. She pressed her thumb against the sensor, unlocking it successfully. Then, not taking her head from the wood, she read the emails she got. “Spam, Spam, Finehair,- Linguae Populi?” She halted, burrowing through her brain, but she didn’t associate anything with that name. “What the heck is that?” After opening the mail, she groaned again. “That freaking baboon.”

Dear Ms. Mueller,

My brother told me you’d like to help us with developing and testing our Translator. I want to thank you for your time and efforts, firstly. Secondly, I’d like to meet up, to explain our work ethic and to hash out the details of your work with us. If my brother is to believe, you’re fluent in German, which - coincidentally - is one of the languages we haven’t yet managed to translate at all.

I’d be delighted to hear back from you.

Ingrid Ivarsdottir Chief of Development Linguae Populi

“Well, fuck me.” That looked way professional. Poor Ingrid, being burdened with such a challenged truffle pig of a brother. She decided to write her back, to not let her wait too long and maybe get her hopes up. She decidedly did not have the time to do this. Definitely not. And if Ragnar had listened, he’d known as well. Afterward, she opened the email from her professor, sitting up rapidly as she read the single sentence he’d sent.

just informing you that i submitted your essay, I wish you luck

Oh noooooo. She’d die of nervous gastric problems. Her forehead thumped against the wooden surface once more, making her wince. That hurt.

After a couple of minutes wallowing in her self doubt and nervousness, and bouncing knees, she decided to do something productive with her energy and go for a run. Bad idea. Big mistake. Even a bigger mistake than letting Finehair submit her essay. Her lungs were probably cussing at her, her heart was threatening to break through her chest and strangle her with her own arteries and veins, her legs burned as well as her windpipe. “Fuck. Nah. Never again.” The schools ‘Athletic Campus’ was situated behind the administrative building, bracketed in by dorm buildings left and right. It held a huge American Football field, one for soccer/lacrosse, and around both were of them tracks, which were just enough to house both the track team and Fenja as well as a couple of fellow masochistic psychopaths. The soccer field was empty, so she decided to crawl there and die in the green grass. Her shirt camouflaged into it, maybe they’d let her rot here. Her breath was rattling in her lungs, she could feel her rapid pulse in her fingertips and she was 99.9% sure her legs would not carry her back to the dorms. “Are you dead yet? Do I get to live in a single room?” “Geh sterben.” “I may not know what that meant, but I do know it was not nice.” Maeve bent over her roomie, hands on her knees and broad grin on her face. “I saw you running. You never run.” “Yes, and I just now remembered why.” Fenja struggled to get up, so Maeve grabbed her hands and pulled her into a sitting position. “It’s awful.” “No, it’s not.” “Yeah it is. You, my dearest honeyboo, you are just crazy.” Maeve shrugged. “Might be, but you’ll regret not training with me when zombies are after us and try to eat our nutritious, healthy brains.” With that, she made her way back to her team, waving at her friend as she jogged over. Backwards. Such a bragging bugger. Fenja sat there for a while, watching her friend and the team do their drills, and let the sun shine on her back. It was really nice today, blue sky, fresh air, a small breeze. Her thoughts drifted, thinking about her plans for the coming week, whether she’d be able to visit her grandparents and when she’d have to do the final reviews before her exams. Thus, she did not hear the soccer team walk out, the guys playing and fucking around. And, who would guess, of course one of them sent a ball flying, right towards her unsuspecting figure.

**

Part 3

[believerindaydreams]

displacement activity

...the next one after Angel Eyes’ annoying friend Baker shows up, so Blondie’s barely out the door at this point.

"Have fun cooking," Susan says, juggling her purse and a casserole dish with difficulty. Angel Eyes barely manages to lift a keyring off the latter, before she charges off.

Baker stares at them dubiously. "You need your bodyguard to help you make soup."

"Yes."

"Angel, you never let anybody help you make soup. It's your thing! It's what you do!"

"He's the one who knows the recipe," Angel Eyes says, slamming the door hard in Baker's face. There are an unusual number of locks and fasteners on it, more than you'd necessarily expect for a kitchen; and Angel takes care to deploy every last one before he speaks again. "That was largely to get him to go away, he knows I don't ever let anybody help me cook in the field. Although if you have any notions on the subject, feel free to mention."

"Maybe I don't know how to make a good soup," Tuco ventures, taking two tries to pull himself on the heavy steel table. This room is huge, big enough to butcher an ox and cook it afterwards; he wonders if the house came this way or if it was something Angel installed. "I mean, not like a man like you would want to eat."

"I might surprise you."

That grim smile, it's Angel Eyes all over, but also they are alone and the door is locked and he might be forgiven for constructing it as flirtatious. Thank god for Blondie. Having the man between them means nothing can happen, not of too much consequence...

if he passes it off lightly, maybe Angel will take it the same way. "If you need something nice, how about minestrone? Minestrone is easy, anybody can make that."

"Could work, although I do have recipes for that. Mea culpa..."

Tuco snorts. "Your fault for what?" It's nice that Angel Eyes will stop to explain himself, when asked to translate, but that bit of Latin everybody knows.

Though maybe not in Angel's circles. The man looks just a little surprised (mischievous, almost, that expression is only ever fleeting but it makes him feel more at home). "For thinking you'd have something more exotic up your sleeve. I shouldn't have assumed that, or that I was entitled to it if you did- I can see how it might feel too much like your hustle."

"Nobody is going to ask me for the recipe for menudo over a poker game, that's more Spanish than they want to know. You want a recipe for chili that'll make you very sick, I can give you that. Kidney beans without enough soaking...it used to make Blondie mad," Tuco says, absently rubbing his mustache. "He said it was enough to take a mark's money. I said, if they were dumb enough to ask the man they were trying to con for a recipe, they deserved what they got. But I guess we're not in a poker game now..."

He trails off, waiting for Angel Eyes to respond, but the man's hunting through a bookcase now. "You're like Blondie sometimes, you know that? I talk all the time, but when I stop, maybe you still don't say anything."

"I'm listening," Angel Eyes says simply.

His partner also listens to him, so what's the difference here? "Menudo is terrible. All that tripe, I think it was the forfeit for a drunken bet...no, I make decent albondigas but I won't cook that today. Baker's here."

"Not necessarily a sticking point. We could always fob him off with a can of Campbell's."

Tuco trusts Angel enough now, to give him the side-eye when that seems right. "Funny idea of hospitality you have, eh?"

"You've met Baker."

Good point. He switches topics. "And why do you even have canned soup, eh? That doesn't seem much like the Angel Eyes I know-" and stops himself just in time. Damnit, he is not talking to Blondie and ought to remember that.

"Susan uses the kitchen for her own cooking before she goes home, and she says it's a requirement for making genuine hotdish. Naturally I think that's a travesty, but it's worth conceding the point when she feels so strongly about it. Treating the help badly can get a man killed."

Ah, ah- that explains it. All the politeness, the willingness to indulge him. "And you think I'm Blondie's help, eh?"

"If Blondie would just explain himself once in a while," Angel Eyes says, "I might have an answer for that. As it is, I don't know and I'm not guessing."

"Uh-huh- well, I'm not. We're partners." It feels good, to be able to say that out loud. Most anywhere else, it'd be dangerous to even hint what the two of them are to each other. "But you must really not like Baker- the first night we were here, we had the best mole I've ever tasted."

Angel Eyes looks at him quizzically, while dumping an armful of books on the table. "Is that what it was? I'd forgotten."

How you forget a thing like that, well, maybe that's what being rich does to you. "Sure. We parked the station wagon outside, came into this huge house. I thought, this is when he tells me to leave, but you didn't. You even let me pick the supper."

That's a slightly edited version- he remembers lingering at the door while Angel and Blondie had been getting vigorously reacquainted in the hall. Wondering if he should go back to the car, until Angel had opened the door again and told him to come inside already. Maybe Angel doesn't remember that part either, but he's still grateful for it.

"Well, it was never any good asking Blondie what he wanted," Angel Eyes remarks; which is so perfectly true that it makes Tuco laugh.

"But you could have...I don't know. Kept him, thrown me out."

"I wasn't taking chances, after what went wrong the first time. If he needed you to be with him to stay, I was willing to accept that- only that doesn't seem to have worked either. I do seem to keep asking you the wrong questions."

"How's that?"

"You might have told me that Blondie's in the habit of running off."

"Sure. If you'd asked."

"For someone who talks all the time, you're very good at not giving away more than you want known," Angel muses. He's studying the cookbooks now. Clean as if they've never been used, but the spines are cracked and pages torn. They must be in fairly frequent rotation, Tuco decides.

"You knew what I was, when I showed up...well, maybe you didn't. I remember seeing Susan and thinking, no way can that Valkyrie cook anything Mexican. I was wrong about that."

"Brought up in Mexico City," Angel Eyes says at length. "Then she moved north and took up turkey hunting. I gave her some tips on the subject, before hiring her."

Tuco's not sure, whether it's Susan or the glossy pictures of chicken soup that are making Angel smile like that. He's not even very fond of chicken soup and that print would make him smile.

"But you're right. Assumptions are dangerous things, to my way of thinking." Angel Eyes hasn't even taken the gloves off yet, has been flipping through pages mercilessly. "And I seem to have been making too many of them about Blondie. As for you...sub silentio, that's a phrase that might suit you. In silence, that which is implied but never stated."

That'll be something to put on his next postcard. Hey, brother, I met a crazy millionaire who gifted me a Latin phrase, all my own. Maybe you know it...

"More than Blondie, it's difficult to catch you in an actual lie. I have a certain respect for that. Enough to avoid pressing you about anything you'd prefer not to tell- though I have made a few guesses."

It's not that an enthusiasm for poker has taught him, how to sit here calmly swinging his legs and not breaking into a sweat; it's that having the talent made poker an obvious use for it. "Guess all you like. Back to confessions again, eh? Well, I gave you one last night."

"And I haven't given you mine yet," Angel Eyes agrees. "Having something taken away from me- I had a mentor who used to do that, quite often." His smile could be used to flavour a meringue, Tuco thinks; all sour and yet a little sweet. "You might call her a self-help expert. She'd hide my possessions when I wasn't looking, to drill in the point that I shouldn't put my faith in any specific material object."

"You paid her good money for that? If all you want is to have somebody pocket things when you aren't looking, I'll do it for half the price," Tuco jokes.

"That debt's been paid long since," Angel says, somewhat tiredly. Baker is a wearying man to have around the place, Tuco decides; he should do something about that. "Her efforts succeeded."

"...you mean you have all this, wealth and everything, and you don't enjoy it? What's the use of that?"

"Sometimes I ask myself that same question."

Tuco shakes his head. "It'd be different if you'd been poor, like me. If I was rich enough to buy a whole state, there'd still be things I liked better than anything else."

"Like that pack?"

"Like the pack." He considers for a moment, whether to tell the story about how he got it. Decides to hold off (if they're buying and selling stories now, that makes information precious.) "Or the St Christopher's medal my brother gave me, I wouldn't lose that for anything. Some other things, too." It's strangely tempting to mention the jute winding, the one that Blondie begs for at nights, but Angel Eyes must know about that already; and he'd feel wrong mentioning it out loud. Maybe he should, though. It might make Angel Eyes feel less cut off, to find common ground...no, no, that won't work with Blondie away.

He's suddenly aware how lonely this is. Normally when his partner splits he'll go off to find a girl, someone who's soft and dark and won't want anything but kindness and maybe some help with her rent. That doesn't seem like an option this time though, given the current delicate arrangement- damn it, he'd better stop even thinking along those lines. Angel's in much too close proximity, leaning over the table like that.

"Hmm," Angel Eyes says. "This pork egg drop looks promising. And if it doesn't go well, we might have a worse test subject to try it on than our dinner guest."

"At least you like something," Tuco says with relief. "You like soup."

"You say that as if liking is a positive virtue."

"Live with Blondie long enough, you'll decide the same thing just in self-defense. Not that it does him any good- you know I've had just this one bag, for years and years. Cost a lot of money, but it's lasted me. Now he goes and gets a duffle from the Salvation Army every year, and it's cheap and there's holes in it, or the strap's broken or something, not a quarter so good as mine. And he says that's less worldly than loving a pack the way I do- now does that make any sense?"

"There's something to be said for both points of view," Angel Eyes says imperturbably. Tuco rolls his eyes, as he hoists himself off the table.

"How long does making a soup take you, then?"

"Oh. A few hours, generally...it'll be a fine excuse to avoid Baker for a while."

"That's not very polite for a guest," Tuco says gravely. "I'll go talk to him, keep him amused."

"You might not want to do that," Angel says. "Believe me. He's more violent than he looks."

"Maybe I don't. Maybe I don't need you treating me like the help, either. You want to give me orders, you better put me on a salary first."

For a minute he can see that Angel's actually considering it, hard thought and a note of concern, and it reminds him of this morning's mistrust. This isn't the best idea he's ever had, to be sure.

"I don't know that I could look Blondie in the face when he gets back, if I did that," Angel Eyes says eventually. "Buying you off, I think you'd both consider that an insult."

"True." An insult he might want to take up one of these days, but he's getting a sense of what stakes Blondie's playing for, and they're too good for him to fold just at present.

"So just- be careful. You know where to find me. And tell Baker if he tells me that story about Santa Fe again, I'll serve him up his own head for dinner."

"Done."

Angel Eyes is precise; a few hours means at least two. Baker's been hanging around all day, ignoring every hint to go with the enthusiasm of the truly desperate- or the enamored.

So obviously it's not right for either of them, but maybe a little hospitality will slake both their problems at once...

[hollenka99]

Hollywood Forever

Summary: Seán meets up with his Granny's parents and talks to them.

September 14, 2018

Seán walked into the living room, still a little tired from sleep. He was yet to do his hair but that could wait until after breakfast. Nine o'clock had come and gone. He really should get on with everything he was meant to do today. After spending a day and a half playing the Spider-Man game the week before, he didn't have to worry about today's video. What was it, the ninth episode of the series? Either way, the most he needed to do video-wise was double check everything was ready to go.

It was good he had his immediate work sorted for today. He could film another instalment of Funniest Home Videos tonight, keep things easy. There were other things that needed to take priority. Namely, visiting the grave of an actor who died 86 years ago.

"Morning." "Hey. So, what's your plan for today?" Mark asked absentmindedly. "Uh, Hollywood. I've been meaning to visit Jameson while here. If I'm going to do it, today's the best day to see him." "Want me to come with you?" "No, no. It's fine, thanks. It's something I have do alone, you know?" "Sure." Mark nods.

The Uber ride is generally uneventful except for the 15 minutes following the driver learning Seán is going to pay his respects to Jameson Jackson. He doesn't mention his relation to the man, only that he is special to Seán's family. Lord knows that would have added more time to the conversation. Seán is too preoccupied working out what exactly he's going to say once he gets there. By the time the car has arrived at Santa Monica Boulevard, he has checked his bag for the copy of his grandmother's favourite book four times. As he was reassuring himself for the fourth time, his brain had screamed at him to cut it out already. He hadn't taken it out of the bag so it couldn't have gone anywhere. Therefore, he should cease all further checks.

The cemetery wasn't called Hollywood Memorial Park anymore, like it had been in Jameson's day. It was now the Hollywood Forever Cemetery and Seán had no idea where he was going. After wandering for a while, he came across two names he recognised.

                JACKSON JAMESON                SIOBHAN 1887 - 1932            1888 - 1984

"Hey." He stood awkwardly in front of the headstone. "I'm sorry about the Anti stuff. It was Halloween and everyone was expecting it. Can't really do a pumpkin carving video without Anti showing up. That short is one of my favourites from the ones you did though." He falters for a moment.

"I guess I should introduce myself. So... hi, I'm Seán. I'm your great-grandson, which is still crazy to think about. I remember when Granny told me we were related. It was Christmas and I was 10 or 11. I was stuck indoors and super bored so she pulls out all these photos I didn't know she had. A whole bunch of albums. You don't look right without the facial hair. Anything I've seen of you in, out of the ones that have survived, you always have the moustache. So when she shows me a picture where you're super young, like 19 or something, what was I supposed to think? That wasn't you. You weren't... you yet. Which I'm sure makes absolutely no sense."

"It's funny, I'd heard of you because a lot of people have. But when Granny asked if I'd heard of her brother or sisters, nope, not a clue. For a second, she even looked at me like I really needed educating. Which, to be fair, I did. It never clicked why she got all her collection of little animal sculptures as gifts from their creator. I never met any of them. Although, I definitely went to Anthony's funeral with my mother. But that was more on behalf of Granny because she was in hospital. It wasn't like she had to wait that long before seeing him again. My Way is played at funerals ad nauseum so when the video he'd prepared started playing, I rolled my eyes. But, you know what, it was a good pick, given everything he tried to help do in the 50s and 60s. It suited him. I still don't believe he was friends with Sinatra. I swear that was just some story Granny made up to make a 10 year old boy think his great uncle was cool."

Sean finds he is subconsciously seating himself on the grass. It's not quite so daunting now.

"I'm a performer too. Well, I am and I'm not. We have these things called computers now. We can use them for all sorts of things like research, communication and even games. That's where people like me come in. I play a game, record myself doing it and then put it up on the internet for anyone to watch. For some reason, 20 million people have decided they like what I give them. I'm not complaining, it's just insane that so many people want to watch my stuff in the first place. A lot of them are so creative. The art, oh my god, the art. You would not believe the kind of things that come from me just goofing around."

"The tour's one of those things. It's a comedy show where I work out how I became the Jacksepticeye they know today. I've already been all over America. There's only one leg left, the one around Europe. It ends in good ol' Ireland, home sweet home. There's no way I'm not going to go back to all the places I talk about from my childhood. They'll be no rush. Besides, it's not like-" He stops, a deep sigh escaping. "It's not like I have a dog or something that needs me to rush back to Brighton. I'll be able to see Malcolm in Paris though. As for the other three, I'll hopefully hang out with them in Ireland."

"The community was one of the reasons I was a little hesitant to go through with my plans to recreate 'Craving For Beginners'. The community gets so into those kind of videos. And it was going to be personal, no matter what I did. At the same time, it was going to be your 130th birthday, Jameson. So after a bunch of going back and forth, I decided to say screw it. There wasn't much for me to lose. It was just a fun tribute and I wanted to do another pumpkin video. I dressed up as you, posted the teaser photographs on Instagram and suddenly, everyone was getting excited. I took forever to finally say he was an ego. I didn't really want to make him one. It was just one video made for the hell of it, you know. None of the others are based on a real person. Took me until March to tell myself he was a parody of the Jolly Gentleman and therefore fair game. The drawings I've seen since then have been amazing. I swear I saw a Mirror of Erised piece at some point with me instead of Harry Potter. You'd be surprised how many have drawn you looking fondly on or a comparison of my JJ and the real Jolly Gentleman."

"You know, they have a museum in Saint John. It's not only for you, Jameson. It's more... for the three of you. I guess it's kind of Saint John's way of saying 'Hey, these three actors that you might have heard of came from here'. I visited back in July, after performing at the Just For Laughs festival. It had a bunch of old photographs and letters, all donated by the family, of course. There's a small section on Thaddaeus House for the Disadvantaged, which is still functional by the way. This woman that worked there was super enthusiastic. She liked telling me everything about every photograph I looked at. And I thought I was over the top at times. One thing I will say, while it's cool that there's a photograph from the 1890s, when your family didn't have access to that kind of thing, I'm glad society and mortality rates have moved on so pictures like that aren't a thing anymore. God, it would be like if Alison had to sit next to me after I'd... you know. Yeah, that change was for the better. Apart from all that, it was a really interesting visit. Oh, one of the letters mentioned you visiting Ireland and briefly staying at a 'geometrically challenged village' in County Offaly." He laughs at the phrase. Who knows how many times it's made him chuckle. "Yeah, that's Cloghan for you."

Seán pauses, unsure what he wants to say next. He should talk about the book. He didn't bring it all the way to Los Angeles just for the sake of it. The problem is how to transition from the museum to his grandmother's favourite children's book. From seemingly nowhere, thoughts of the soldier brothers show up. His mouth begins moving before he's fully aware of it.

"This one time I was telling Granny about this game called Metal Gear Solid. There's a bit of violence involved. Guns and explosives, that kind of thing. Immediately, and I mean immediately, she starts going on about the medals. 'Don't go breaking your poor mother's heart like that, will you, Seán.' Do I honestly look like someone who'd sign up? Even back then, I was too busy playing videos games or running around like an idiot to think about doing something like that when I was older. Granny would have been in her late teens when it happened so I'm not surprised it stuck with her. She always insisted you were doing somersaults down there. Not sure where the actual medals are now though."

"One thing I do have is this." That's it. Well done, Seán. Good transition. From his bag, he pulls out the worn old book that had seen decades of use. "First edition, signed. She never got rid of it. I'll admit it's seen better days but it has been over 80 years. If I looked hard enough, I could probably find the sellotaped pages from when Uncle Dennis was tiny and got his hands on it. She took it with her to Ireland when she was a girl, read it to her kids and then let us read it when we were little. Every time I went there for the holidays or whatever, there it was. She had the other editions too. But this was the one she cared the most about. When her leg got infected, she couldn't recognise me and soon she was just... gone. I was, uh, 16, I think? We were all clearing the house because Gramps had died before I was born so it was going to be empty. We're packing all her books into boxes, you know, and I pick up this one. I don't know why but I start flicking through it, which leads to me actually reading a bit of it and Mum telling me I should go home and do homework or whatever if I wasn't going to help. It's technically Mum's now. God knows why Granny specifically picked Mum to pass it down to. Maybe because she's the eldest? It can't be because I was still at home. Hazel's the youngest grandchild. Either way, when I asked Mum if I could take this to LA, she told me she'd have my head if anything happened to it. I don't blame her. This isn't a heirloom as such, at least I don't see it as an heirloom, but it definitely has a hell of a lot of sentimental value. Without a doubt, her favourite scene is the one about rescheduling."

"Granny cared. Mum might not be that fussed about being your granddaughter but Granny tried to get us interested. I mean, Siobhan, I think you lived long enough to meet three of us so you had a little hand in that. I don't know if she saw what I could become but she definitely noticed I was likely to become a big fan of your movies. Which, in fact, I did. It's a good thing she was the youngest of your children, especially with siblings so much older than her. Whenever I felt fed up with everyone leaving home, she was there to remind me one day I'd be an adult who could visit my brothers and sisters whenever I wanted. She also understood my worries about Dad. I know I'm going to have to say goodbye to him sooner than most people. The guy's 82 now and only 9 years younger than her. She'd just tell me stories she'd heard about the two of you. Made me feel better most of the time."

He stays there for a few minutes. It's nearly lunchtime now and the sun is getting stronger. He should probably wrap this up and find somewhere in the shade to eat. He's practically exhausted all topics he wanted to talk about. Packing the book into his bag again, he slowly gets up.

"Thanks for all the stuff you made. I know some of it was lost because that kind of thing is somewhat inevitable after such a long time. I wish everything had survived but the stuff that did last is still great today. Back when I was a kid, I used my connection to you as bragging rights. 'I'm related to someone famous and you're not', that sort of thing. I don't think I said it enough to sound like an asshole but... I said it enough. I'm sorry for the namedropping. The truth is, I'm proud to say I'm your great-grandson. It's pretty cool, knowing we're related. So, yeah... thank you for everything. Especially for not stopping at six kids because uh, kinda wouldn't be here if you had. Maybe I should swing by again one day. Depends on how things work out. I'll see you."

Seán heads back to the entrance, glad to have spent some time with his family.

[fullmetalirin]

Fullmetal Alchemist OG: Episode 8

After that brief moment of convergence, OG won’t be catching up with Brotherhood again for a while. Strap in.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 8: "The Philosopher's Stone"

Anguished by the horrible demise of Nina, and disgusted at his first assignment of organizing Tucker's research after learning of the man's death, Ed considers deserting to track down Nina's killer. Luckily, Al finds reference to the philosopher's stone among Tucker's papers. Ed is incredulous that such a thing even exists. Left to his own devices, Al has spoken to Führer King Bradley. Winry, who has arrived at Central to visit, is kidnapped by a butcher-turned-serial killer named Barry the Chopper, who disguises himself as a woman. Ed gets kidnapped as well and his automail arm is taken from him as he tries to free Winry and run away. Forced into a fight for his life, Ed almost kills Barry in an act of maddened desperation until Al arrived to stop him, having the authorities arrest Barry. Ed breaks down in tears, and then agrees to search for the philosopher's stone with Al after talking it out with him. Mustang later allows them to search for it, with the caveat that he be kept abreast of developments. Ed is officially dubbed the "Fullmetal Alchemist" by Bradley.

We open with Ed trying to do alchemy on Nina's bloodstain while sobbing. it's okay I didn't need my heart anyway

Then we get the bit Mustang said in Brotherhood about how State Alchemists aren't so different than Tucker. It's slightly different, though – the comparison he draws is that they both have to cultivate an emotional detachment so they can follow the state's orders.

And Riza actually pushes back! Thank you! She points out that holy crap, they're still just kids, give them a break.

Mustang then walks up and gives the speech to Ed directly. He's incredibly cold and callous, saying he wouldn't be helping anyone by bringing back a twisted chimera even if he could. He tells him the world is ugly and he has to suck it up and deal, which makes Ed furious. Mustang grabs his arm forcefully and says he has to focus on the reason he became a State Alchemist and not get distracted.

So, uh, wow that was a lot darker than in Brotherhood. Much as we saw with Rose earlier, this is a dialogue instead of a monologue: Ed pushes back and is clearly conflicted. We aren't left with a certainty of who's right, or indeed if anyone is right at all. That's a much more powerful way of showing that the world is hard and ugly. This isn't just a loss of innocence, it's a loss of moral certainty.

Cut to the next day. Ed is depressed, but is willing to take another assignment to take his mind off of things. Unfortunately, that assignment turns out to be compiling Tucker's research! I have to wonder whose decision this is. Is Mustang or someone purposefully trying to break this kid?

Ed demands they get Tucker to do it instead, and Havoc tells him he was executed without trial. Ed cleverly recognizes that as a coverup. Havoc warns him not to question the will of the military.

Ed is really spiralling. We see him feeding the chimeras while Al does the actual research, which is a sweet detail.

It seems like this is where they first get motivated to pursue the Philosopher's Stone. Ed dismisses it as a myth, and Al says it can't be if a real alchemist like Tucker was researching it. Ed loses it at him and starts ranting about how evil Tucker was. He runs out and looks like he's about to cry.

We cut to Ed requesting a transfer to the serial killer case, positing that they could have killed Nina. Mustang just dispassionately tells him to finish the work he was already assigned, and that if he wants to investigate on his own, he'll need to turn in his watch. Ed does so without flinching.

Al tries to talk him down, pointing out they're not police. He believes a better use of their talents is finding a way to safely separate chimeras so they can save people if it happens again. Ed doesn't listen.

Ed bumps into Scar, who spares him because he's no longer a State Alchemist. As he walks off, he explicitly thinks to himself that he would absolutely murder that kid if he was. Wow, Scar.

Al is being actually productive and asking around about the Stone. Riza tries to warn him bad things happen to alchemists pursuing the Stone, but Bradley tells him he totally should by the way there are files in the library he could access if a certain someone just so happened to get his State Alchemist status back. He is very kind and fatherly the whole time. Riza doesn't even get to finish saying he's the Fuhrer, but her stiffness and formality around him foreshadows that there is more going on with him.

Ed has been tapping Hughes for the case files. Good use of resources! Kid is learning how to network.

Hughes steals Ed's food and Ed drags the tray away from him. LOL. That's some nice subtle comedy without going into a full-on skit, appropriate for the relative seriousness and plot relevance of this scene.

Hughes suggests the killer could be an alchemist, which makes Ed snap that alchemists aren't killers! Poor PTSD boy.

We cut to Barry infiltrating the kitchens in disguise. The cook tells him Ed is the talk of the town, and once again we get emphasis on how young he is.

Winry is impressed by refrigerated trucks, which are new technology.

Ed finds Winry missing. He's able to figure out she was his visitor by comparing a dropped screw to his automail, then notices the tracks in the road and starts asking about the trucks. When he hears about refrigerated trucks, he connects it to his earlier conversation with Hughes about a car that could hide bodies. Good detectiving! His leaps of logic are clever enough it's reasonable no one figured it out earlier, but not so far they seem implausable.

When Barry knocks Ed out, he takes out his automail arm, because he heard from the cook Ed can transmute by clapping his hands. That's clever!

Barry brings up the war theme:

BARRY: Men have morals, but send them to war and they have no problem slaying each other in the most brutal fashions.

He also says he saw State Alchemists massacring a village.

He cuts into Ed's flesh arm, which I think is really impressive horror – Ed has always made it out okay up to this point by blocking everything with his automail. I think this is the first time he's been really injured.

Ed starts having a PTSD attack to all the violence he's seen, but successfully scratches a transmutation circle on his chains with Winry's screw. Clever use of resources.

Ed looks more muscular than he did in earlier episodes, so let's mark that down as a point for "characters aging realistically".

Ed looks absolutely terrified. He keeps tripping and flailing his weapon wildly without direction.

Ed screams in agony when he forces his automail back in.

I believe this is the first time chronologically we see him do the spike thing with his automail. I think it makes a lot more sense as a technique he discovered in desperation – it's really not a good idea to turn your limbs into weapons unless you have no better options.

It's unclear if Winry pushed herself into the carcasses on purpose or if she just slipped.

Ed has totally lost it, crying and screaming. He nearly stabs Barry but Alphonse restrains him. When he does, Ed whips around and slashes him. Wow, that's dark. Ed has a breakdown but Al stays strong for him.

Al says that without a body, he can't feel the same terror Ed did. He definitely seems to act afraid and emotional in other scenes, so I'm not sure exactly how that works. Perhaps it's related to the idea that emotions are controlled by chemicals, so even if he still feels emotions, they're muted.

Ed was really affected by the fact Al came to save him, because he thought no one would. This is where he makes the decision that they have to stick by each other no matter what, and also that he'll do anything to restore them, even joining the military.

He also says his line about how they're not gods, they're pathetic humans because they couldn't even save a little girl. The delivery is sad, not angry like in Brotherhood, and the fact that he's still affected by this even though it happened an episode ago is a lot more powerful. It shows that this is something he will carry with him his whole life, not something he'll forget when it's convenient.

Cut to Ed requesting his watch back. He says he'll obey Mustang's orders, but he wants info on the Stone. Mustang says that if anyone finds out about their human transmutation, Al will get hauled off to a lab, then explicitly tells this kid who was just traumatized by his little sister getting hauled off to a lab for horrible experiments that he's going to hold that over his head to make sure he behaves. Wow, Mustang. Wow.

Ed is still visibly recovering. There are bags under his eyes and it looks like he's been crying.

Ed's reaction to hearing his title is similar to Brotherhood in words, but his tone is much colder and fiercer. There's additional depth to him getting his title now – it's supposed to be a cool thing he can take pride in, but it's now tainted by tying it to this traumatic incident. "You just saw your little sister get horribly murdered and were nearly murdered yourself by a psycho killer, but look, you got a medal!" The whole thing is a twisted farce, perverse.

Winry takes Ed on a date, but he's still wondering who killed Nina… and then we cut to Scar. Hohoho. He sees Ed has his State Alchemist watch again, and walks off ominously.

Conclusion

I’m really struck by how vulnerable Ed is throughout this. This episode is so raw, so painful, so emotional. There’s an antagonist and a fight scene, but the real antagonist of this episode is Ed’s own trauma, despair, and fear of death. We’re given a whole episode to process the heavy content of last episode and examine what this means for the characters going forward.

I also think it’s worth paying attention to Mustang. He seems to be getting characterized as a much darker and colder figure than in Brotherhood. For all that people say OG is so dark and grim -- and that is a fair assessment -- it actually does have the courage to say that telling kids the world is crap and misery forever and there’s nothing you can do about it is maybe not good behavior. His philosophies are not simply stated, but challenged.

Overall, this episode shows exactly what I like about OG, and may well be my favorite episode so far. Do Brotherhood fans like this episode too, or is this classed as crappy filler?

[80srockher]

Yuri on Ice Re-Watch and Live Commentary, Episode 9: Yuri vs. Yuri The Horror!! Rostelecom Cup, Free Skate

School: in session

Work: tedious

Coworkers: petty

Supervisors: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Homework: ugh

Yuri on Ice: On deck!

Victor’s sexual preference: a man he can wrap his arms around three times.

Godspeed, Victor.  Have them muzzle the dog until the season’s over.

Really, Yakov?  If you only planned to do a half-assed job as a substitute then why’d you agree to begin with?

“’Hello’, he lied.”

Because he and Victor have a relationship that pre-dates your very existence, Yurio.  Gosh.

I love how Gramps always has food on him.

I’ve never had a pirozkhi of such size and variety!  I reiterate, Gramps and I need to be better friends.

Don’t question his culinary genius!

I can respect an athlete who admits to home-ice advantage.

Why does this sound so timely?

Cut to new family drama.

Cord, meet scissors.

Seriously!  Sarah, will you co-author a book with me on this very topic?

Ha!  Sarah’s you-disappoint-me-face is gold.

Ha!  Mickey thinks Yuri is moody.  Sir Kettle, don’t judge Mr. Pot.

How’re gonna stereotype your own kind, Mickey?

A certified therapist is just a phone call away, boo.

Is that so, Georgi? By the way, let’s kiki about mascara brands, k?

Playing devil’s advocate: it might help if you found another seat aside from Mickey’s lap, Sarah.

She just doesn’t want to sit with you in the kiss-and-cry.  And she wants to text boys.  That’s literally it.  Calm down, Mickey.

Just had to slide in this cap of Seung-Gil’s Michael Jackson-esque gloves.

Anyway, Mickey performs flawlessly, to which Sarah observes…

Ha.  Mickey.

Also, I love to love ya Sarah, but follow the signs.  Seung Gil is not into you.

Yurio decides to switch up his jump composition to earn more points.  Methinks Gramps’ presence is a motivator.  Still…Yuri’s a formidable competitor after all, huh?  LOL.

Seung-Gil doesn’t make it to the GPF. :( :( :( I’ll miss those MJ gloves, Seung-Gil!

Seriously, I respect how the writers don’t shy away from performance anxiety and the fact that even the most confident actors can suffer from it.

Look at Plushenko and his Russian mullet.  Lol.

Love this music and this program.  Though he doesn’t care for it, Yurio is capable of capitalizing on that Prima Ballerina archetype.

I’m just noticing the black blades.  Those really appeal to me, actually.

Yurio’s Achilles heel – to no one’s surprise – is his bullheaded-ness.  I have a theory about this I’ll try to remember to expound upon in a later commentary.

This cap is prob my fav of Ep. 9, lol.

So, Yurio’s in first after his free skate.  Yuri performs right after.   Victor is countries away.  Oh, Yuri’s sub-coach won’t talk to him. 

All that is enough to give someone performance anxiety, methinks.

My thoughts, exactly.

Yuri’s internal monologue here is very revealing.  To regroup after some rough patches in his program, he (of course) thinks of Victor, realizing that he couldn’t admit to himself that he wanted to win gold before Victor came into his life.  He even admits how he wanted to win gold at the previous GPF.  Much like JJ, he was aiming to surpass Victor.

So, JJ catches Yurio supporting Yuri from the sidelines.  For everyone’s sake, try supporting this newfound maturity of his, JJ.

OMG, Yuri can only be this spicy in his own head.  I love it!

Another zinger.  Keep ‘em coming, sweetie.

I mean, you must be doing the most if Yakov is impressed.

Man, poor Vitya. Well, I guess all that fussing did garner results.

The spectre of Victor is still strong within these competitors.  Y’all.  HE’S. NOT.  COMPETING.

This is in regards to Victor.  JJ sought to break Victor’s winning streak.  But… doesn’t he already have 5 championships?  Am I missing something?

So, if this pose didn’t already give it away, JJ wins Rostelecom cup, Yurio’s second, and Mickey, bless his heart, grabs bronze (pays to listen to your sibling, doesn’t it, Mickey?) However, Yuri squeaks into the final because he medal-ed at a previous event.  You have my utmost respect, Yuri.

Mickey is literally foaming at the mouth from a hug.  Get those un-sisterly germs away from him, Yuri.

But seriously, I’m head-canoning Yuri as feeling incredibly grateful, yet undeserving of his GPF spot. Thus, the comedic hug-sequence.  Cuz he really, really needs a few.

Also, I can’t imagine hugging Yakov being all that satisfying.

Observe: Yuri yet again feeling unworthy of someone’s time and attention.  That anxiety thing is a rank bitch.

Sigh.  No one can have a quiet moment as long as Yurio is around.

Yurio’s all, “hell yeah, that’s what it is!” 

I am quite touched at Yurio searching for Yuri in the snow with his bag of gourmet pork cutlet pirozkhis to share. 

He’s alive!!!

The dog, I meant. Poor Victor looks about half-dead.

Run to him, Victor! Let Yuri’s embrace rejuvenate you.

A hug that says, “Ayeeee, the shit I been through, bro!”

Yaaas, that’s what I like to see!  You are worth his time, Yuri.  Don’t forget it.

Eeee, I just noticed that little smile.  So cute!

Victor, you sweet-talker. Ugh, these two!

Yay!  I mean, we know how it ends, but Ganbatte Yuri!

I think I’ve capped more for the ep. than any other before it.  Worth it, though.  Thanks for reading!

[icsek]

Obikin Equestrian AU Part 5/? aka Pursuit

Or read here on AO3 as ‘Pursuit’

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Anakin had made sure to text Ben when he’d arrived at home, snapping a quick picture of him in front of the large home with a thumbs up and sending it along with a simple message of ‘here :)’. The drive had been quiet, mostly straight up I-95 until turning off to catch State Road 40 across back home to Ocala. Breha had walked out not long after he’d pulled his truck in the driveway, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Bail won’t be here and I would’ve fixed dinner!” She let him go only to slap his arm lightly, “You should’ve at least called me when you were on your way.”

Smiling, he pulled her into another hug, “I wanted to surprise you with a visit.”

She relented, hugging him tightly once again, “It’s so good to have you home. Come on, I’m pretty sure I might have a box of Captain Crunch in the pantry.”

It was their thing that had started when he’d been just an eleven year old boy in a large home with two people he only sorta knew. He’d been trying so hard to be on his best behavior, using the table manners he’d been taught at the group home, being seen and not heard. Keeping it up had been so difficult and stressful, but they had given him so many things he didn’t deserve and hadn’t earned.

Breha was a volunteer at the group home he’d been at since becoming an orphan at the age of five. He was old enough to remember his mother yet too young to really understand what had happened. The counselor at the home had tried to explain it all to him, but it had taken several years for him to truly understand that his mother wasn’t coming back for him. It was the horses at the group home that kept him going through it all. They were mostly older retired lesson horses and ponies, but he knew each and every one by name, spending most of his free time in the ragged barn brushing and petting them or helping with whatever chores he was able to do.

Breha had been the one to ask if he wanted to ride one instead of just petting and brushing them. He’d seen the older kids in the bi-weekly lessons she gave and watched them, but had never joined in. Anakin had nodded and Breha had saddled up his favorite pony, Snowball, a gray pony of an undeterminable breed or age. When she would tell the story, she’d always smile and tell everyone, ‘The minute he sat on that pony, I knew he was going to make quite the rider. As you know, some people just have it and Anakin has it in spades.’ She’d been right, he’d spent all his spare time on a horse, reading about horses, or cleaning the worn down donated tack while daydreaming about his big show debut.

The big show debut had happened only a year later, a small fun show with the normal flat classes but also egg and spoon races, trail course, and gymkhana events. Breha had been given some clothing from one of her friends who’s son had outgrown them and put a fancy velvet cover over his battered helmet. Snowball had even cooperated to canter a few times during their classes and brought him a blue ribbon.

“Anakin?” Breha waved her hand in front of his face, apparently trying to get his attention while he’d been reminiscing. A bowl of Captain Crunch with only a splash of milk sat in front of him on the bar and he smiled in gratitude before digging in.

“I know that expression, what are you thinking about?” She sat next to him at the bar, eating her own bowl drowned in milk.

“Nothing much, just remembering my first show with Snowball way back when.”

Her laughter was one of his favorite things about her, “I’m surprised you even remember that! You couldn’t have been more than eight? A scrawny little boy on the most ornery little pony I’ve ever met. I still have that picture hanging in the barn office of your big smile with that blue ribbon. You’d worked so hard for that little show.”

“Snowball was an angel to put up with me, I’m surprised I didn’t ride the hair off that poor old pony.” He smiled, polishing off the rest of his bowl and slurping the little bit of milk left in the bottom of the bowl.

“I will give him that, you’ve certainly ridden through several horses. When you moved in with us, Winston hadn’t been ridden that hard or much in years. You’d get up early before school to have time to ride then you’d be right back in the barn once you got home from school. Now look at where you are, Anakin,” she laid a gentle, small hand on his forearm, “riding under an Olympic gold medalist, working towards your own Olympics in Eventing. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Tears threatened to fall when she pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring any pain it caused to take comfort in her arms. Anakin could never consider her his mother, he had one of those already, but Breha was the most important woman in his life hands down. “Thanks, Breha.”

“You’re welcome, darling. Now, come tell me about how things have been with Ben? Is he treating you well? Are you learning anything?” She drew him towards the couch, patting the space next to her.

“He’s a really good teacher, I don’t think my equitation has ever been this good. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard and he’s not the easiest to ride under when you aren’t a paying client, but I get a lot more one on one attention than I was with Don. I’m riding three to five client horses a day for him and doing hour and a half lessons five days a week. Plus he’s letting me lease this really nice gray Hano gelding that I think could really make it as an eventer. He’s far too forward moving to just be a dressage horse. I think I have a video, you have to see the scope this horse has over fences.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and searched through his videos.

When he found the right video of him taking Artoo through a one meter jump course, he pressed play and handed the phone to her, watching from her shoulder, “See? Look at how much tuck he has in his front end, how tight he pulls his feet to his belly. And he’s so brave, his first time through a water obstacle and he didn’t balk one bit. Though he’s stubborn, I don’t think I’ve fallen off one horse so much since I got Twilight off the track.” He pulled up another video, one Ben had taken for him that was filmed completely at the wrong angle, but it was the most recent one he had of taking Artoo through their meager cross country course.

“You’re right, he’s a very nice horse. I can see how much your equitation has improved. Five you said?” She handed his phone back to him.

“He’s coming six, I’m hoping to do a Novice young horse this fall if Ben agrees. I wish you could watch him ride, he’s amazing, Breha.” He sighed wistfully.

“I’ve seen him ride, Anakin, you made me watch his gold medal go at least fifty times the year he won and easily twice that since then. He’s a very talented man. So he’s treating you well?”

He ducked his head to hide the blush that suddenly appeared on his cheeks, “Yes, very well. He’s a really good cook. I get Sundays off entirely too.”

Breha grabbed his chin and pulled his head up to meet her warm brown eyes, “I know that look. He is a rather handsome man, you’d be a good match.”

Anakin’s blush deepened, spreading down his neck in embarrassment, “It’s not like that. Trust me, I’ve tried, he’s not interested.”

“Darling, then he’s missing out on an outstanding and talented young man with so much to give. Someone I love very much.” Breha kissed his cheek, “You look tired, why don’t you go ahead and get a shower and turn in for the night? Bail should be home tomorrow around dinner from a meeting at Hialeah tomorrow.”

Nodding, he kissed her on the cheek and grabbed his bag he’d left by the front door before heading upstairs to his old room. Other than being dust free and freshly vacuumed, his room looked much the same as it did before he left. Pictures, ribbons and plaques filled the walls from the time he’d been adopted at twelve by the Organas. His dresser was full of trophies as were several shelves, ranging from small pony clubber participating trophies to series grand champion trophies.

Pictures on the walls showed a much younger Anakin on various ponies until he graduated from his jodphurs to tall boots and much larger horses. The most recent one had been two years back and his biggest Grand Prix win so far. A picture of him as a teenager and a very racey looking Twilight made him smile. He’d barely known what he was doing at fourteen, but he’d seen the big gelding fresh from the claiming races and had fallen in love instantly. There’d been another mare he’d been saving up for, but he just knew Twilight was the one for him.

Bail had tried talking him out of it, he’d only taken Anakin to Hialeah with him because he’d wanted to watch the races while Bail handled some paperwork and clients he had at the track, but Anakin had been convinced. Company at Twilight had actually been one of Bail’s client’s horses who’d been more than happy to arrange for shipping back to their farm, patting Anakin on the back with a word of encouragement and best wishes with the gelding.

Twilight had been far more horse than Anakin needed, but his coach at the time made sure he took his time and did all the slow work to transition the gelding from the track to life as a pampered show jumper. It was hard, frustrating, and plenty of tears had been shed during their training, but he’d never felt more proud than he had on his self-made horse. From there, it only got better, the jumps got higher, the competition became tougher, but Twilight never let him down.

Anakin hoped it would be the same with Artoo, even if he was technically Ben’s horse. He hadn’t been gone even a day and he already missed the man, though he doubted Ben missed him. He was probably grateful for the break from Anakin's constant chatter and awkward seduction attempts. If he hadn't broken at this point, then Anakin should just give up.

In fact, that's exactly what he would do when he got back. There was no point in continuing to throw himself at Ben and jeopardize the amazing opportunity he had. It was time for Operation Seduction to end.