#if i die without scanning it then i have to go back and repeat the process just as if i had died with my seamoth

[corvid-gae]

not being able to find any cyclops fragments in "safe" areas has led me down a very dark path indeed.... trudging around behind the aurora with just my seaglide

[ponderingmoonlight]

Meeting your ex jjk boyfriend again after your breakup

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,1 k

Warnings: cheating in gojo's part, overwhelming emotions in every part lol

Well that escalated quickly. If you want a part two with Geto, Sukuna, Chose and/or someone else let me know 🤍

Gojo Satoru

You hate to be here. Just the thought of seeing his face again makes your guts turn. When was the last time you encountered each other?

When he was with her.

“Don’t panic, I’m here with you. Remember?”, Utahime mutters into your ear while walking up those cursed steps towards jujutsu high.

“I thought I’d never have to see that jerk’s face again…”

“Well, not when you’re the second strongest. Don’t let that idiot ruin your mood.”

You sign to yourself, gaze drifting over your beloved students.

When you found out your long-term boyfriend Gojo Satoru cheated on you with none other than Mei Mei, you dropped out of Tokyo Jujutsu High immediately. It was Utahime who took you under her wing and made you the teacher you are today – at Kyoto High.

Those past two years, you really managed to stay away from him. After changing your phone number countless times, after searching day and night for a place to live that he won’t find so easily, you finally lived in peace. Far away from the pain he caused, well distracted from your still messed-up feelings.

But now you’re back. And you will be forced to meet that prick.

“There they come”, Nobara mutters while her gaze drifts over every person that comes into frame.

“Hey, who’s that woman over there?”

“That’s (y/n), a former student here at Jujutsu High. She attended the same class as Gojo-sensei. Right now, she’s working as a teacher at Kyoto High”, Megumi explains briefly.

“Former? Why isn’t she here anymore? I’d love to borrow those boots from here. Damn, that outfit really rocks…”

“There have been some…incidents with Gojo-sensei…”

Nobara’s eyes widen in pure curiosity, her eyes scanning you up and down.

“Her, with that white-haired idiot?”

“What are my lovely students talking about?”

Megumi rolls his eyes out of instinct when the tall man comes to a stand behind them.

“Oh look, the students from Kyoto High arrives with their tea-“

His breath gets stuck in your throat when your eyes make contact with his. How long has it been since he last saw you?

You look…flawless. Your hair a little longer than in his imagination, your body well-built by the countless training hours you might have spent over there at Kyoto High.

But your cold gaze is still the same as on that fateful day that still repeats itself over and over inside his head.

Fuck.

“Look who’s there”, he jeers from afar.

You feel like vomiting all over the floor. Were you really dumb enough to think your feelings just disappeared into thin air? You force your eyes away from him and to stare at his students instead. You just need to get those few days over with. Only those couple hours and you’ll get away with not seeing him for another 2 years.

“Shut up, Gojo”, Utahime warns him next to you.

“It’s nice to see you’re still as weak as before, Utahime! I wonder if you’re still crying all the time-“

"Funny, Gojo. It's nice to see your arrogance is still compensating for your insecurities. Some things never change."

The air around you freezes when those words leave your mouth, everyone around you going silent in an instant. It’s only you and him. Him with that suddenly so hardened expression, you with eyes that spit venom his way.  

“Why don’t you save your breath for someone who cares and just leave us alone until the competition starts?”

"Touché. But if you're going to psychoanalyze me, how about we do it somewhere private? We have some catching up to do."

There it is again. That cheeky smile you know painfully well, the way he tilts his head to the side oh so playfully. Your heart wrenches, bleeds out like it did on that day you saw him.

In Mei Mei’s bedroom.

While she was naked.

“I’d rather die, asshole.”

Without gifting him another look you storm away. Towards the main building, as far away as possible without anyone being able to follow you.

Fuck, you swore to yourself you are over this shit. You shouldn’t care about him, shouldn’t even feel bothered by looking at him anymore. Only one glance at him and you’re completely losing it? You thought you were better than this, stronger than you were two years ago. But apparently, nothing changed. You’re still crying over someone who betrayed you in the nastiest way possible.

A gentle grasp on your wrist rips you out of your nightmares and catapults you in an even worse one.

“Let go of me”, you hiss through gritted teeth when his bright blue eyes meet yours.

"I definitely won’t make that mistake again. You can run all you want, but you know we need to talk. You can’t keep avoiding this... or me.”

You yank your wrist away with full force when something inside you snaps.

"Talk? About what, Gojo? How you always think you can just waltz back into my life whenever it suits you? I’m done with your games."

„Stop calling me Gojo like we’re strangers. Just hear me out-“

"Strangers? That’s what we are now, Gojo. Whatever we had, it’s over. You don’t get to decide when I listen to you."

Fuck, you hate the way tears start to burn in your eyes, how his sheer presence shakes you right to your core. Truth is, you never stopped loving him. Not even when he abused your trust like he did, not even when you caught him with Mei Mei that day. Until now, your stupid heart didn’t get the message, still clings onto him for dear life.

And it hurts like hell.

Gojo takes a deep breath in and takes a step towards you.

"Please, just listen. That night - it wasn’t what you think. I was trying to protect you, but I messed up by keeping you in the dark. I would never betray you like that. You have to believe me."

"Protect me? I saw you in Mei Mei’s room. If that wasn’t what it looked like, then explain why you were there. Don’t expect me to just forget what I saw and the way it made me feel. As if your fucking words mean everything!"

You lose it completely, your composure, those rough years of keeping you together. In that second, you lose yourself.

“That night she called me because she told me about a special grade curse that was hunting after you. I entered her room just seconds before you stumbled in. If I had known this, that she only tries to entertain herself with spreading that fucking misunderstanding between us, I would have never-“

“Have you any idea how I felt that day? You…You were my life, Satoru! I would have died for you! And you didn’t even care enough to follow me!”, you now cry out seething with emotion

“I thought I was doing the right thing!”, he shouts so roughly that you flinch.  

“I thought you needed space, that we’ll talk things out when you didn’t respond countless times. I never thought…that you’d actually believe I was cheating on you! You meant everything to me too, and the thought of losing you, of not even knowing where you were, has been killing me. I’m so sorry for not chasing after you. Until this day, there’s nothing I regret more than giving you space in that fucking moment, I should have fought harder to make things right. Fuck, I missed you every single day since you were gone and it kills me, it fucking kills me I can’t call you mine anymore!”

Are those…tears glistening in his eyes. Is that really Gojo Satoru, standing in front of you, crying?

“Seeing you like this… I don’t know if it makes things better or just harder. Maybe you’re genuinely sorry, but the pain you caused me is real. It’s not something that can be fixed with words or tears alone…”

“Just one kiss.”

He draws closer, the heat of his body paired with his signature perfume now so close that you feel like fainting for a second.

“Give me one kiss and I’ll leave you alone.”

���A kiss?”, you breathe out.

His lips haunted you in your dreams frequently, how they felt pressed against yours and comforted you through everything. You hated how your mind always remembered you of what you’ve lost.

Those kissable lips, that mouth that never failed to make you smile.

But now…a kiss?

"Just one kiss, to remember what we had, to see if there’s still something between us. If it doesn’t change anything, I’ll walk away and give you all the space you need. But if there’s even a spark left… I need to know."

Your mind races as you consider his request with a wave of feelings rushing over you like a tsunami. Memories of your shared moments flood back, the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his touch, and the sweetness of his kisses that used to light up your whole fucking world. But what if he hurts you again? What if all those words are nothing but a filthy little lie to play with you all over?

Your heart pounds while you close your eyes briefly, trying to push through the pain and the intensity of the situation. The idea of that one kiss, despite everything, pulls at your heartstrings. That moment of vulnerability and a chance to confront what’s been haunting her dreams, close enough to touch and feel...

Finally, you open your eyes and nod slowly, your voice barely a whisper.

"One kiss."

Gojo’s eyes soften with a mix of relief and hope as he leans in, his breath warm against your oversensitive and touch-starved skin. His lips meet yours with a gentle, hesitant touch. A bittersweet mixture of longing, regret, and a lingering affection that speaks of all both of you once shared, the feelings that still rise from the ashes between both of you – feelings that never really disappeared. Truth is, you never really stopped loving Gojo Satoru. Even if he shattered your heart into thousands of pieces, even if your heart still aches, you can’t escape his gravity.

Out of instinct, you wrap your longing arms around his neck like you always did, press your body even closer against his. Only that one touch, that one kiss in order to feel that he lied.

But instead, the taste his falling tears on your tongue, feel his desperate hands on your waist. Did…Gojo Satoru miss you as well?

As your lips part, a tear slips down both of your cheeks while heavy breathing fills the cramped room between you.

"From the moment you left, I’ve been lost without you. I thought I could move on, but every day without you has been unbearable. I missed you more than I ever thought possible. I’ve been living in a world where everything reminds me of what we had and what I threw away by not following you that night. I never stopped loving you, not for a single fucking day.

I know I’ve made mistakes and I’ve hurt you in ways I can never fully make up for. But standing here now, feeling your arms around me and knowing that you still care... it’s more than I deserve. I love you, and I’ve always loved you. If there’s any chance for us to rebuild what we had, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I need you to know that my feelings for you have never faded, and they never will.”

You look at him with a mix of longing and hope, your eyes silently asking for what you’re yearning for.

"One more kiss," you whisper,

"just to see if it’s real.”

Toji Fushiguro

Your eyes are focus on the glittery liquid that swirls around in your glass, too focused on the play of color to even listen to that jerk opposite of you.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me?”

“Of course, go on”, you mutter through your hand without even looking up.

To be honest, your dating life has been a mess since that one guy. Dates each and every night, nameless men who cling onto your rock bottom for dear life. Getting showered by meaningless compliment that are supposed to drag you into their beds, the bitter taste of gammahydroxybutyricacid on a regular basis.

Just like now. Liquid ecstasy.

You raise your eyebrows, allow yourself a glimpse at that muscular guy with a face that looks like out of every plastic surgeons dream and that fake rolex around his wrist. As if you’d be dumb enough to actually swallow that shit. But on the other hand, you might as well wait until he spent all his money for you in that way too expensive restaurant before leaving him standing in the rain.

“You have to be the prettiest woman I’ve even seen”, he jeers while grabbing your hand.

You force down that wave of puke that threatens to take you over and put on the sweetest smile you have to offer.

What a loser, honestly. Not even able to read a woman properly.

But none of the men you’ve met since him were.

“Aren’t you thirsty? Don’t you like your drink?”

Yeah, like you’re dumb enough to drink that shit.

“I’d actually like to eat something before drinking. Otherwise, I’m drunk immediately”, you give back oh so innocently.

He lets out a disgusting laughter, his hungry eyes almost pilling you out of your skintight dress. Well, that’s what you get for going on a date with someone who calls himself selfmade CEO of something that has to be another lousy pyramid scheme.

Let’s get this over with.

Your eyes dart around the room aimlessly in order to find a way to escape later on. Unfortunately, the toilets don’t provide a window and as it seems, you won’t be able to escape that main hall. Screw those fancy restaurants and their high alert.

It’s a feeling that crawls up your spine so suddenly that your head yanks to the right out of instinct.

Cold eyes. That scar on the corner of his mouth that flinches when he catches you staring at him.

So familiar cold eyes that you feel like fainting for a second.

It can’t be him, it’s impossible that it’s him-

“Toji?”, you breathe out.

You haven’t seen him since that day.

Since the two of you broke up.

You swore to yourself to never see that man again, moved to Tokyo on order to get lost in the crowd, went on countless dates to fuck his face out of your mind.

But as soon as your eyes land on him, your guts twist just like they did before, a wave of fright washing over your usual so broad back.

“I need to go”, you mutter, not even caring about that douchebag on the other side of the table anymore.

You need to get out of here, need to hide in some lonely corner, need to move to another city. Or another country? It seems like he’ll always find you, no matter where you go.

The cold air of the night hits your face like a wall as you stumble out of the restaurant. Where are you supposed to go? Aimlessly, you haste through the next alley, eyes darting behind you as if you’re haunted.

That toxic fucker, that crazy man who apparently didn’t accept your breakup at all. Toji is no one to be messed with, a maniac when it comes to his toys.

And you are one of those toys. Well, you hope you were.

“Think you can escape me like that?”

The next second, you find yourself pinned against a wall with no way out.

“Let go of me, you freak”, you press out, not even daring to look up at him.

Fuck, you’re absolutely screwed. There’s no way you’ll get out of here like you did last time.

“Is that how you greet the love of your life, huh?”

He grabs your cheek firmly and forces your head towards his.

There they are, those dangerous eyes. Up close, in their full glory.

You feel like puking.

“I don’t love you anymore. You treated me like shit.”

That’s what you told yourself over and over again, literally tattooed on your heart. You can’t love a guy like him, he’ll never give you what you need and want.

“So you’re telling me that guy who wanted to fuck after your blackout is better? Can’t tell me you didn’t notice that loser put something in your drink.”

“It’s none of your business”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Everything that has to do with you is my business, babe. You did a good job hiding from me for a few months. But you can’t escape me”, he mutters against your ear.

His hot breath against your naked and oversensitive skin almost sends you over the edge, forces that knot inside your stomach to start pulsating all over again.

That fucker who knows your body so well. That asshole who plays with your feeling all over again.

“We’ve broke up”, you remind him with unsteady gaze.

“So you have no feelings for me? Hate me? Just because I killed that guy-“

“You killed so many people that I lost count. I can’t do this!”, you blurt out.

“But do you love me?”

Your heart almost pounds out of your chest, sweat now covering your forehead only by looking at him. So many nights, you’ve drank enough to forget your own name.

But you never forgot his.

“Doesn’t matter…”

“So you do.”

Before you’re even able to protest, he lifts you up and cages you against the wall. And your lousy traitor of a body? Wraps your legs around his waist as if none of this ever happened.

“I’ll make it up to you, princess”, he mumbles into the crook of your neck, now placing gentle kisses on your bare skin.

You want to tell him to stop, want to yank your body out of his demanding grasp.

But instead, you let your head fall back and close your eyes.

Fuck, you missed this. You missed him.

“And don’t ya dare to run away from me again. You’re mine.”

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[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 16

masterpost

“Jason!”

“What the fuck, dickhead,” Jason snapped as he stomped Dick’s way. “What if Danny—”

“Danny’s gone.”

“…what?”

“Danny… Danny’s gone,” Dick repeated. He shoved the tablet against Jason’s chest.

Danny was gone.

Another little brother that had left with nothing but a note. Another little brother heading alone into danger. Another little brother—

No.

No no no.

It wouldn’t go that way. It couldn’t go that way. Dick had failed Jason, but he wouldn’t fail Danny. Dick wouldn’t let Danny die.

Dick slapped a hand over his mouth to try and smother the hysterical laughter.

He wouldn’t let Danny die? Who did he think he was. Danny had died. Danny had died again and again and again. Danny had died until his hair was bleached white and his body was covered in scars. Danny had already died so many times. Dick couldn’t save him.

They could already have Danny.

How long had he been gone?

They would kill Danny. They would kill him again.

A rough hand grabbed at Dick’s arm. Dick swept it off. Punch, blocked. Raised a knee to the side. It’s soft there. Weak. Follow with a punch. Duck. Block. Move—

A gasp was knocked out of Dick as his back hit a wall, hard.

“Take another breath.”

What?

“Come on Dick, take another breath.”

The heavy weight of someone else leaned against Dick, pinning him in place. A rough hand on his cheek tapped out a rhythm.

“Breathe for me, big bird.”

“Jay?” Dick gasped.

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on, Dick, come back to me. I need… I need you here, big bird. I need you here to help. I can’t find him without you.”

“Danny.”

“Yeah.”

Dick forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. “Sorry.”

“I get it.” Jason sounded a little wrecked himself. “I get it. But I need you with me, so open your eyes for me, okay?”

Dick took another breath and then did as he was told. He did his best to smile a little, though he knew that it was weak. “Don’t worry, not at the hallucinating stage or anything.”

Jason’s brow furrowed further. “What?”

“Nothing,” Dick said quickly. “Okay. Right. I’ll call Bruce, you get Babs and then have Babs get everyone else.”

“On it. You going to suit up or stay civies?” Jason asked as he pulled away and pulled his phone out.

Dick instantly missed the weight of his brother. For a moment it felt like everything would fly apart again and he forced himself to suck in a harsh breath. It was only thanks to his training that his fingers didn’t tremble as he pulled up Bruce’s number. “Suit, I think. Get a bird’s eye view. You?”

“Civies,” Jason answered and headed for his shoes. “Less chance of panic. Hey, Babs? I know, you’re at work, but this is an all hands-on deck. Danny’s gone.”

Dick listened to the ringing and then the answering click.

“Chum?”

“Dad?” Dick’s voice almost broke all over again. They were supposed to keep Bruce’s kid safe. They hadn’t even let him meet Danny yet. And now… “Danny’s gone.”

-

“Mr. Wayne—” started one of the people in the meeting.

Bruce didn’t care right then to spend the energy identifying which one. He just snapped out ‘family emergency’ as he quickly exited the room. “Dick, talk to me.”

Whatever had been going on, whatever needed to go on in that meeting, wasn’t as important as his son on the line. His son who sounded breathless with panic.

“Danny ran. He left a note on his tablet and ran. He left his phone too.”

A chill ran down Bruce’s spine. Danny. “What did he take with him?”

“I don’t know,” Dick said. Bruce could hear Dick swallowing back his panic. The line was filled with soft clicks as others joined the call. It seemed to help center Dick. “Nothing much. He left his tablet, it’s what he had note on and left his phone too. He has the clothes he was wearing— hoodie, t-shirt, jeans. Shoes are gone.”

“Bear?” Cass asked, her voice strained.

Bruce jogged for the elevators. Once in, he pressed the right combination of buttons to take him down to the secret level, leaving his thumb on the last one for it to scan his fingerprint.

“What? Um, no, I don’t see it. Jason! Is Danny’s blue bear out there?” Dick called.

“I’m on the comms, don’t fucking scream,” Jason chimed in. He sounded better than the others at the moment, but he always did alright while he had something to do. It was afterwards they had to watch out for. “I don’t see it.”

“Cass,” Bruce asked slowly, “did you put a tracker in Danny’s bear?”

“Tim,” Cass replied.

Tim made an affronted noise. “You told me to!”

Cass hummed.

“Okay, fine, you implied for me to. But you put it on the table while I was checking the tracker in Danny’s tablet. Which, by the way, he totally saw and left!”

“Tim.” Bruce interrupted. All of this could wait until later. Really it was something Danny wasn’t full of trackers with this family. Right then Bruce was happy for Cass and Tim’s overstep.

“I’m pulling it up,” Tim snapped back. “I had to leave class— Bruce! He’s still in the area. He’s… I think he’s headed towards WE!”

Bruce slammed the combo of buttons that would cancel out the rapid descent to the secret bunker and jabbed the ground floor button instead. “What street is he taking?”

“Novik street name and coming your way.”

“Going now,” Bruce said as he slipped in an ear bud and put his phone back in his pocket.

It was raining. Bruce didn’t even register it was raining until he reached up to wipe the water out of his face.

“This rain won’t be good for his injuries.”

“We can take care of them when he’s back,” Jason rumbled across the line. For all of Jason’s self claimed issues with anger, he was so calm under panic.

“You should have warm drinks ready.”

“Sure, we can make sure of that.” Jason was placating him, Bruce knew that, but he didn’t mind it. Mindless planning was just a way for Bruce to steal his nerves against all of the horrible possibilities.

Danny could go in another direction.

Danny could run when he saw Bruce.

Danny could just run away again. He could get sick. He could be re-injured. He could be hurt.

They could get him.

Whoever they were. If Danny ran, they could get to Danny first.

“Take the next right. You should have eyes on him instantly,” Tim directed. His own worry threaded through his voice, but Bruce had no doubt the information was accurate.

Still, Bruce slowed his steps.

His son was right around the corner.

Bruce pushed the rain-soaked hair off his forehead once again, took a deep breath, and turned the corner.

Someone slammed into Bruce.

Someone too small and too slim and trembling in the cold rain.

“Sorry! Wasn’t watching…” Danny trailed off as he stared up at Bruce, blue eyes wide. “I… um… I just…”

Bruce crouched down, not caring about the water seeping into his suit where he had taken a knee on the dirty sidewalk. Gently he reached out and placed his hand on Danny’s cold cheek.

“It’s okay, Danny.”

“You know. You know but… but how…?”

“They called me when you left.” It wasn’t a lie. It was hardly the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. There were a lot of truths that would have to come out now.

Danny shivered. “They…”

“They’re worried about you,” Bruce explained, “and I’m very glad that they called.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Danny whispered. His eyes were wide, weary, afraid. It was an expression Bruce used to know too well. It used to stare back at him from the mirror before he had found his path as Batman. Bruce hated that Danny felt like that.

“I am,” Bruce said, voice low and serious. “I am and I am so very glad to meet you, Danny.”

Danny wiped at his eyes, almost angrily brushing away the tears even as they mixed with the rain. “I didn’t— I didn’t want to be a mess when I met you.”

“It’s okay that you are, life is messy,” Bruce said sincerely. “If you ask my kids… if you ask my other kids, they’ll tell you I’m often a mess.”

A choked back laugh interrupted the quiet sobs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Danny started suddenly, leaning to look behind Bruce.

A beat later, before Bruce could ask, Jason’s voice came through the earpiece. “We’re pulling up.”

Sure enough, an unassuming black car pulled around the corner and up to the curb. To Bruce’s surprise, Danny didn’t try to run, not even as an unmasked Dick rushed out of the passenger side.

Danny’s eyes did widened as he scanned Dick’s bare face. “N—”

“Dick,” Dick interrupted quickly.

“What?”

“It’s short for Richard,” Dick explained with a tense smile. He came the rest of the way around the car and crouched down a little. “Please come back, Danny. Come back and get warm and have hot chocolate and talk to us.”

Danny shook his head. “They’ll find me. They’ll find me and that means they’ll find you all and they’ll try to—” Danny paused, mouth working around some words till he found what he needed. “They’ll hurt your little brothers.”

Bruce brushed his hand through Danny’s hair. He couldn’t help it. Danny was Dick’s little brother too; Danny just didn’t know it yet. Danny was as worth protecting as anyone Dick loved. The touch brought Danny’s attention back to Bruce.

“We can keep you safe,” Bruce said. “Between my wealth and the manpower, we can keep you safe.”

“You can’t promise that,” Danny pleaded, his voice cracking. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”

“Then come back with us, Dandelion, and explain what we’re up against,” Dick pleaded. “If we really can’t keep you safe, we can talk about contingencies, but I’m with Bruce, we can find a way. I know you don’t think so, but at least give us the information so that we can try. Don’t just leave us.”

Danny looked between Bruce and Dick, looking for the word like he wanted to angle towards them and wasn’t letting himself. “But…”

The window rolled down and Jason leaned across the seat. His face was still red from where he had ripped the domino off. “Kid, Danny… don’t run for me. Not for me or Damian or anyone else. None of us would be okay losing you just to stay safe.”

Danny rubbed his arm over his face again. “They’ll hurt you.”

“I’ve already died once.”

“There’s worse things than death.”

“I know, Danny,” Jason said, his voice softer than Bruce had heard it in a long time, “and losing you would be one of them. So come back with us.”

Danny was muffling body wracking sobs now, but he let Dick guide them into the back seat and close the door.

Bruce basically collapsed into the passenger seat. He reached out and clasped the back of Jason’s neck and pressed their foreheads together for a moment. Then he let go so that Jason could turn off the emergency lights and pull back out into traffic.

“Let’s get you back.”

Danny was silent the ride, letting Dick dry his hair with towels they had brought. Bruce used one himself to try and get off the worst of the water even as he kept an eye on the back seat. This isn’t how he would have wanted it to go, but he had finally met Danny. He’d finally met his son.

A son who couldn’t believe he cared.

Bruce closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

Jason squeezed Bruce’s shoulder, just a momentary touch, before they got out of the car the short ride later. Dick filled the elevator ride and walk to the door with chatter about them all drying off and changing and having some warm coco. Bruce just watched as Dick led Danny away to the one bedroom.

“Come on, old man,” Jason said. “You can change into some of my stuff.”

Bruce nodded. He started to shuck off his wet suit even as Jason laid out a change of clothing. Alfred would fuss. Bruce didn’t care. Jason was already busy in the kitchen by the time Bruce came back out, but it was still a bit longer until Dick and Danny joined them.

“Danny,” Bruce said, crouching down again like he had on the wet cement. “I know we have a lot to talk about. Some of it won’t be easy. But I need you to know that no matter what, I want you here because you’re my son.”

Danny laughed, an awful broken sound, and looked up at Bruce with those scared blue eyes that Bruce knew too well. “That’s the thing. I’m not. I’m not your son. I’m your clone.”

[pinkhearteye]

Female!Yandere x reader

Note: Happy Halloween!!

You shift uneasily in your seat, eyes darting toward the door for an escape you know you’ll never reach. Her gaze is fixed on you, pinning you in place, almost as if she can read every anxious thought flashing through your mind. She tilts her head, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but it’s the kind that makes your blood run cold.

“Darling, I asked you a question,” she says, her voice deceptively sweet, laced with an edge that demands obedience. She’s close now, leaning forward so her face is inches from yours. You feel her breath brush against your cheek as she speaks. “If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”

You swallow hard, averting your gaze, though you know this won’t go over well. She tuts softly, her fingers gently lifting your chin until your eyes are forced to meet hers again. Her grip is gentle but unyielding, starkly contrasting the flash of irritation that passes through her eyes.

“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself,” she murmurs, a trace of amusement in her voice as if she’s humored by your disobedience. “I thought you understood the rules by now.”

Her fingers slide down to your wrist, tightening just enough to make your pulse quicken in fear. "You think you can go wandering around, talking to whoever you want, without telling me? Without asking me first?" she hisses, her voice low and intense.

You open your mouth to protest, but the words are lodged in your throat, frozen by the intensity of her stare. Her grip tightens, just enough to get her message across. “I’ll lock you up and throw away the key if you think about doing that again. Understand?”

You nod quickly, feeling her fingers loosen just enough for you to breathe a little easier. But she’s not done yet. She moves closer, until you’re nearly nose-to-nose, her eyes gleaming with a twisted form of affection.

“Be good for me, baby,” she coos, running a gentle hand down your cheek, wiping away a tear that you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “We wouldn’t want to see these tears again, would we?”

She straightens, her tone softening ever so slightly. "So, are you going to behave, darling? Or are you going to make me teach you another lesson?"

You nod, giving in, as her fingers release you.

Her fingers slip from your chin, but you still feel their pressure, as if she’s left her touch branded on your skin. She steps back, scanning your face as if to see if you’ve really understood her.

"Good." Her lips pull into that unsettling, almost sweet smile, and she places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “That’s all I wanted, darling. Just a little… cooperation.”

Your muscles stay tense as her fingers trail down your arm, grazing your skin. She hums softly, her eyes locked onto yours like she’s reading you inside out. "You’re starting to understand, aren’t you? You don’t need anyone else. You have me."

Her hand finally reaches yours, lacing her fingers tightly around it, almost trapping you. “You’re so special to me, you know that?” Her voice softens a little, but there’s no mistaking that same, dark edge in her tone. “That’s why I can’t let anyone else have you.”

She pulls you forward, and you stumble, not expecting it, but she catches you, her grip tight and unyielding. You notice a chair behind her—one you hadn’t seen before, tucked away in the shadowy corner of the room.

“Sit.” Her voice is gentle, but you know better than to resist. You slowly sit down, and she crouches in front of you, her eyes level with yours. “There. That’s better,” she says, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Now, let’s talk.” She leans closer, her face just inches from yours, her eyes flashing with that same strange intensity. "Tell me you’ll be good. Promise me you’ll be exactly where you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what I say."

You start to say something, but the words die in your throat. Her expression shifts instantly, her eyes narrowing as she leans in even closer, her breath warm against your cheek.

“Baby, you’re hesitating again,” she whispers, her voice so low it sends chills down your spine. “Do I need to remind you what happens when you hesitate? When you make me repeat myself?”

The memory of her last "lesson" flashes through your mind, a sharp reminder of just how far she’s willing to go to make sure you follow her rules. You swallow hard, trying to push down the panic rising in your chest.

Taking a shaky breath, you nod. “I—I promise…”

Her expression softens just slightly, like she’s letting you off the hook, but then her fingers tighten around yours, her nails pressing into your skin just hard enough to sting.

"Louder." Her voice is cold, almost cutting, and your heart skips a beat at the threat behind her words. "Say it like you mean it."

“I promise,” you manage, louder this time, though the words feel strange and heavy as they leave your mouth. She watches you closely for a moment, then finally nods like she’s satisfied.

“Good. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She lets go of your hand, straightening up as if everything’s normal. But the look in her eyes says it all—this was just another test, a reminder that she’s in control. And you’d better not forget it.

As she turns away, her voice floats back to you, soft but dangerous. “Remember, darling—I’ll always be watching. So be good for me.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

How about reader, who is a seasoned gamer, invites Gaz to play something like Valorant or Fortnite etc. She says "dw it took me a while to get good too" but he picks it up stupid quick. He spends the rest of the time enjoying winding her up more than the actual game.

absolutely absolutely. gaz can and should get away with everything.

1,833 words / lucky number 13

...

"Gaz... you know most people play video games to escape their responsibilities."

"So you've told me." Gaz's voice crackles over your headset.

You're staring at your screen, watching as he confirms his character selection in the game's lobby. "You're absolutely sure you want to play tank?" you ask him.

He locks in his character, and it appears in the pregame lobby: a bald-headed, square-jawed guy with a muscular build and heavy armor.

"Positive. You're playing healer, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm playing tank. Pocket me."

"You've never even played this game. We'll both get obliterated."

"Come on. How hard can it be? Shoot, use ability, reset. I take the damage; you heal me; I dish it back out; we win; you thank me for carrying you as always. It's just like our usual game."

"Repeat that last one. I think your mic cut out on account of the bullshit."

"You don't think I can keep the heat off you?"

"I don't need you to keep the heat off me. I just want you to have fun and not die in the first five seconds of the round," you tell him. He did buy this game specifically to play it with you. After a totally reasonable amount of prodding on your part. It's been your go-to for weeks.

"Then pocket me and I won't die. I'm not having fun if I'm not in the thick of it. You know me."

"Fine. For one game."

"Bet," Gaz says, sounding smug about it. "I'm not gonna disappoint."

During that first game, he's getting his bearings. But he takes to it rather intuitively, especially with your help over voice chat. His tactical skills are whip-sharp as always. As you pocket him, you focus your character's abilities on keeping Gaz alive. But you switch to upping his damage output when you realize he's holding down a choke point by himself, taking on enemies and laying out a field of fire for your team. It's impressive, considering this is his first time playing the game.

When an enemy sneaks up on you, his pocket healer, he disposes of them with slightly more prejudice.

"You're pretty good at this," you tell him, scanning the results screen. "I mean, maybe mid-tier if you were on your own."

"Mid-tier?" he says, a little affronted. "It's called being adaptable. Not that you'd know. Hundreds of hours in this game and you're mid-tier support at best."

You cross your arms, leaning back in your computer chair. "Because I don't play support. You know what? I'm switching to DPS. See what you carry without me patching your ass up every ten seconds."

Back in the lobby, you select your main. Gaz eyes the character with a bit of respect. "A rogue, huh? You must think you're pretty good. Gonna need a lot more healing."

"Only if I get hit."

"I could sponge that damage right up for you. Keep you nice and safe."

You scoff. "Won't need it."

"Let's see."

In the next round, you weave in and out of combat, gleefully dodging attacks and landing devastating blows before you disappear. Your bread and butter. Meanwhile, Gaz does--at worst--an admirable job tanking. Still, when you look back and see enemies surrounding him, it's clear he could use an assist.

You double back and flank two of the enemies on him, picking them both off one by one. But before you can gloat, his voice in your headset interrupts you.

"Good kills, baby."

That's not the reaction you wanted. It immediately ticks you off. "I know."

He chuckles and takes down another enemy. He's tunneling in on the fight now that you've got him back on his feet, but clearly he still has time to talk to you. "Can't take a compliment."

The face that he's purposely pushing your buttons just irritates you more.

The next few games, he makes himself indispensable as a tank. It should be a good thing, but he keeps getting in your way specifically. You'd swear it's on purpose. He tanks hits for you and then acts like you'd lose the game without him. His cockiness is insufferable. Worse--you can't ignore how deftly he's scaling the difficulty curve here. He's holding the attention of the enemy players, keeping them away from you while you deal the damage. And you'd never admit it, but the way he's holding aggro is saving your ass.

You shouldn't need him to do that, though. You tell yourself the only reason you're not playing better is because he's forcing you to maneuver around him.

Then he offs the enemy rogue right as you're finishing her off. You swear into the mic. "Gaz, come on! You stole my kill."

"I'm giving my little rogue the help she needs. Besides, you know it's not about getting the most kills. It's about the team's collective score," he teases, and you have to remind yourself it's just a game.

It's like he can tell exactly what to do to piss you off in record time after that. Bossing you around, telling you to take this point or make that kill. He even pipes up once to remind you it'd be a good time to use your ult. You open your mouth to tell him it's not ready yet, but to your chagrin, you glance down and realize it is. Somehow he's keeping track? Unreal.

You're a little impressed about that one, but you'd never tell him. In your defense, he's distracting you with all this banter and teasing. He's making it hard to focus.

"No backseat gaming," you tell him.

"Wouldn't have to backseat game if you played better."

"I would be playing better if you weren't crowding me!" You sigh out your nose. "You're only doing this to get a rise out of me. Micromanaging me. I swear you get off on it."

"You're giving me too many opportunities to obsess over you." He sounds smirky.

The way he says it makes something in your lower stomach flip. You lose focus for half a second--long enough for the enemy rogue to slip past Gaz and smack you.

Gaz slams into her with his shield to stun her, then spins around and uses his special to deal more damage. That last hit downs her. You don't even have a chance to react.

His voice in your headset is smug still. "Like I said."

"Fine. Thanks."

"You can thank me by not dying again."

After the game, you sit back in your chair, arms crossed. "You sure talk a lot of shit."

"Am I?" You hear him grinning. "I hoped you'd give me a little more attitude than that."

"Oh, I know. You're not subtle."

"Neither are you. You get riled up so easy."

"You want me to fight you? Because it sounds like you'd rather me just roll over and bite the damn curb."

"No, you want that. You're a masochist."

"Thank you."

"It isn't a compliment."

"I know. Keep bullying me," you snark into your mic.

It's hard to resist teasing you when you say stuff like that. "Okay," he says, his tone turning playful. He leans back, crosses his legs, and situates himself in his chair. The game's results screen idles on his monitor, forgotten. "You've gotta stop making it so easy for me, though."

"I get that a lot."

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

"Ooh, are we doing condescension now?"

"I've been condescending to you since minute one. I can turn it up if it's not obvious enough."

"Keep going and I'll get off."

"Off voice chat, you mean?"

You smirk. "No."

He smiles, rolling his shoulders back. "I can absolutely be more condescending to you if that's what your incompetent little heart desires."

You laugh. "You were just waiting to bring that one out, weren't you?"

"I've got several of them tucked away just in case you got mouthy, But let's be honest--you're always mouthy."

"You're one to talk. You talked hella trash that last match."

"Only because I had to pull your ass out of the line of fire all the time. If you were better, I wouldn't have to. You're giving me ammunition, here."

"I just think it's telling that you play tank."

"Are you saying I'm compensating for something?"

"You said it. Not me."

He rolls his eyes, smirking. "You want to talk about projecting? You're the masochist, and you play a rogue? The one class known for being fragile? You're putting a target on your own back. What does that say about you?"

"Better than a tank main," you quip.

"I'm taking all the hits so you can DPS your way to getting play of the game. Makes me sound proper generous."

You examine your nails. "Makes you sound like a control freak."

"Why don't you look me in the eye and say that? Turn on your cam."

Your grin widens. "Gaz, please. If I turned my webcam on every time some guy online asked me to, I'd never have time to play."

He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Who says I'm kidding? Come on, baby. Give me eye contact. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm a control freak."

"Nope." You know he hates that you're not budging.

"Why? Aren't you decent?"

"More like I have Cheeto dust all over my hands."

"Doubt that."

"It's true."

"Come on. Prove it."

"See? Control freak."

"Fine, I'm a control freak--withyou. But you like it, don't you?"

"Oh, I love when you order me around. I love knowing exactly what you want me to do so I can avoid doing it forever."

He sits back in his chair and stares through his screen. It's not like he's never seen your face before. You've posted a selfie or two in shared chats. But he's never seen you cozied up in your pajamas. Or in a cute little robe. Or maybe a big t-shirt, the soft kind. Like he wears.

Yeah, he's realizing he's down bad. Worse than he thought.

"You wanna make the next round more interesting, then?" he asks.

You arch a brow, propping your sock-covered feet up on your desk. "Like how?"

"You lose, you turn on your camera, obviously."

You snicker. "I don't know what you think I get up to on a Friday night, but you're gonna be sorely disappointed." You pop another Cheeto in your mouth, knowing he'll hear it crunch.

Gaz laces his fingers behind his head. "I've already curbed my expectations. Bet you're sitting around in sweats and a hoodie with some anime character on it." Not that the thought of that isn't appealing. He suspects you don't let many people see you that way.

"You're... uh..." You look down at what you're wearing. "Not far off, actually."

"I know, baby. I've seen your Discord handle."

"So what if I win?"

"Then I won't tell anyone how hard you got stomped these last few rounds. And trust me, I'd be telling everyone. It's embarrassing how much of a load you were. Don't take that the wrong way, though--by all means, just sit there looking cute while I carry this next game."

"Oh, you're on."

Gaz grins, leaning forward. "Yeah, we'll see how cocky you are when I put you back in your place."

You pull your chair back up to your desk, hands poised over your mouse and keyboard. "Promises, promises."

Gaz readies up, too. "Don't worry, baby. I'll keep my word. But once I humble you, you're gonna regret ever doubting me."

...

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[lemon-russ]

primarchs trying to accommodate for human frailty and getting it wrong. Leman russ thinks you will die of cold when it’s one degree outside so drops a bunch of blankets on you. Sanguinius fussing over a scratch. The lion thinks you’re dying because you’re on your period

yesssss good thank you, I wrote Lion because I haven't done him much and I think him being any sort of worried is funny.

Lion El'Jonson x Gn!Reader

“Lion, I'm fine-” you repeat, being carried unusually gingerly in his arms towards the Medicae.

He grumbles, scowling down at you with a furrowed brow. “You can't know anything of the sort. Your brain is probably irreparably damaged, and now you are even less intelligent than before.” He gruffed.

You'd made the apparently grievous mistake of tripping and bumping your head off a table. You have a small bruise on your forehead, and felt fine. It was barely a bump.

But Lion watched it happen with the same expression you imagine he'd have if he watched you be torn asunder by demons in front of him. It was actually incredibly disconcerting to witness, as you've never otherwise seen him emote more than annoyance, or at his happiest, neutrality. (Including in the bedroom. A nonplussed look and a smack on the ass was all you received as a “good job” before he'd leave without a word.)

He had moved faster than your baseline eyes could track to scoop you off the floor, and rushed off toward the medicae to “get brain scans” and “stop the bleeding before it was too late”, he'd informed you between insults to your ability to walk across a flat floor and lack of self preservation.

You sigh and gently poke at the bruise. It wasn't even a bump, it barely hurt. Lion growled a deep rumble from his chest, the noise rattling through your body pressed against him, and quickly tugged your hand to your side.

“Stop prodding it. You're probably poking yourself right in the brain. It's like you want to become more helpless and weak.” He snapped, the arm carrying you squeezing you slightly closer to his chest.

He slams a hand against the door control for the medicae, and strides right passed the shocked and confused personnel, walking you back to an empty bed and placing you on your back with a gentleness you've never seen from him, as if he's afraid you'll shatter if he touches you wrong.

He whirls on the baffled medics. “Well? Can't you see they're grievously injured?” He snaps, voice carrying the full force of his authoritative tone. The medics all jump, rushing to examine you, then exchanged confused looks between themselves and your body as they examine you.

“I- um- my Lord, there doesn't seem to be anything….?” One nervously says, looking you over.

He grumbles a noise, pointing at your barely formed bruise. “Useless! Is this the best my legion offers for its baselines? Obviously I'm talking of the gaping head wound!” He snarls.

The medics all share a long, drawn pause, gazes slowly following his gesture to your forehead. They all seem to have it click at once, and scurry to work.

“Apologies my Lord-” the head medic stammers, looking a bit confused still but clearly valuing his head being attached to his shoulders. “We didn't mean to miss such a- a serious injury…” he says, ordering the surrounding medics to prepare various brain scans.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and slumping back against the pillows. Lion just huffs with annoyance. “See to it.” He growls, plopping himself on chair next to your bed, making it groan under his weight. “I'm going to be watching every step so you can not fail further.” He grumbles. Giving you a sideways glance, then looking pointedly away from you, he slowly places a large, warm hand on your arm. You raise a brow, but say nothing, having to hold back a smirk less he sulk off in embarrassment.

He pouts, still glaring at the wall. “… be comforted.” He commands, tone softer than you'd ever heard. You can't hold back the chuckle that escapes, making him glare at you sharply, still pouting. “Ah. Delirium. This is where it starts.” He says sadly, patting your arm. “I shall… notice your absence…” he mumbles gravely. He only shakes his head sadly when that only makes you laugh harder.

[knightofmidnightsun]

When I go, bury me six feet in snow [1] | HELMUT ZEMO

Summary: You, Bucky, Sam and Helmut had a simple plan and yet… It all went wrong. Now you're in the middle of an unknown land, surrounded by snow and with Zemo as your only company. What could be worse than that?

Warnings: Description of injuries and blood. angst. a lot of angst, be ready. description of and violence, injury/pain, description of burning wounds, description of hypothermia and drowning in cold water, self-blame/guilt

Word count: 9K

Skeletons, skeletons series: [1], [2]

The sudden, searing pain in your back snapped your eyes open. It took a full minute for the blurriness in your vision to fade, allowing you to comprehend your surroundings.

Snow. It blanketed everything around you, a vast, desolate whiteness. The sun glared down, its blinding rays almost too intense to bear. For a moment, you couldn't remember why you were there, in the middle of this unknown land. But as the pain in your back spread to your legs, the memories began to creep back in.

You had been on an aircraft. Chaos had erupted, a blur of violence that left you disoriented, unable to distinguish friend from foe. You recalled familiar and unfamiliar faces alike, all intent on knocking you down, with James, Sam, and…

Then it hit you—the plan.

The fucking stupid plan. You kept repeating the phrase to yourself as you got strength to stand up. For a moment, you almost fell before deciding to continue where you were and embraced your knees, the tiredness filled your bones and nerves. It was impossible to get up without feeling like the bones in your legs would break in any second.

When you finally thought you were ready to try standing again, you choked on a mouthful of icy water. Yeah, maybe it was better to stay put for now.

"Cap," you pressed a trembling finger to the earpiece, trying to contact Sam, but were met with silence. "Sam? Are you there? James?"

Again, nothing, you groaned. Where the fuck they were? Why Sam and James weren't answering you?

"We lost their signal" The voice made your skin crawl. You knew exactly who he was.

A flood of memories from the aircraft surged back: clinging to the edge as the wind howled around you, your fingers gripping the metal as if your life depended on it—because it did. You had seen Zemo, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back from the brink, only to be shoved by another attacker, falling with you into the icy sea below.

It wasn’t a dream. It was all too real.

You and Zemo had fallen from the aircraft. Sam and James were still up there, as far as you knew, but now they were outnumbered. Anything could have happened to them… Even…

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for how badly you’d botched the mission.

As you fell, you had prayed for an end, for the sea to swallow you whole and let your body vanish into the abyss. But here you were, still breathing.

Both of you, alive. On a frozen beach, soaked to the bone after nearly drowning.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Zemo approaching, brushing snow off his clothes. His purple mask was gone, likely lost in the water, or perhaps he had discarded it, deeming it unnecessary now that the fight was over.

At least he wasn’t in any better shape than you. That was some consolation.

"Do you know where we are?" You asked him, forcing yourself not to shiver as the cold gnawed at your bones.

"I… No, I do not," His voice carried a note of discontent, a rare admission of uncertainty from someone who usually exuded control, "Perhaps Antarctica, if I recall the aircraft’s route… But I can’t be sure."

Even Zemo, with his fur coat and multiple layers, was shivering. His clothes were as soaked as yours, and it did nothing to help your situation.

“Great,” you muttered, scanning the endless expanse of snow. There was nothing—no buildings, no signs of life, just an infinite white void. “I can’t believe I’m going to die of hypothermia in the middle of nowhere with you. If you hadn’t held me back…”

“Hold on,” Zemo interrupted, crossing his arms, his gaze sharp. “Who was the one who got distracted and was the first to be thrown off the ship? That was you, as I recall.” He took a step closer, scrutinizing you as you struggled to stay upright. “I was trying to help you, and look where it got me, hm? You should be thanking me.”

He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the desolate landscape around you.

You were tempted to ignore the pain in your legs just to wipe that smug look off his face.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you shot back, turning your head away. Your hands cracked as you clenched them into fists, the cold seeping into your bones. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble for you. I was ready to fall and die or get back to the aircraft and plan an escape.”

Zemo’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was silent for a moment, as if weighing your words.

“Neither of those things happened,” he said finally, a plume of cold breath escaping his lips. “Our priority now is finding shelter before we freeze to death.”

“But what about Sam? Or James? They’re still up there, as far as we know.” You pressed your hands into the snow, trying to summon the strength to stand. “We need to think of a plan to help them.”

“We can’t help them if we’re dead,” Zemo replied flatly, resting his hands on his hips. “Finding shelter is our only option.”

As much as you hated to admit it, the baron was right. There was no way to survive the journey back to Sam and James if you froze to death first.

Your limbs trembled uncontrollably as the cold invaded every nerve, turning them to ice. It was a pain sharper than any burn.

“Alright,” you conceded, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Just… Give me a second.”

You took a deep breath and pushed against the icy ground, trying to stand. The moment you put pressure on your legs, searing pain shot up from your calves to your thighs, as if your very bones were being torn apart. Your muscles screamed in agony, nearly knocking you back to the ground.

You bit your lip, stifling a cry, but your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled, and your feet slipped on the ice.

For a moment, everything went black. The world narrowed to the sheer, overwhelming pain in your legs, threatening to drag you into unconsciousness. But then, you felt a firm grip on your arms, steadying you, holding you up.

Zemo’s hands were surprisingly gentle yet strong. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, his breath visible in the frigid air as he rushed to your side.

For a brief moment, there was a flash of something in his eyes—panic, perhaps, or worry—before his expression returned to its usual guarded blankness. His brows furrowed as he studied you, trying to assess the situation.

You were too focused on the pain to care what the baron was thinking.

“Oh mein Gott,” he whispered, his voice low but laced with concern. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Well, you could tell the pain wasn’t because of the sea dragging you to the coast. Despite the coldness, if that was the case, your arms and torso would hold the same pain.

The damage had been done long before you hit the water.

Your mind drifted back to the fight on the aircraft. James had been battling Max Fury, Sam had been trading blows with Lightmaster, and Helmut had been deflecting attacks from Doctor Octopus. That left you facing the Tin Man—now known as Crimson Cowl, though he was still Ultron in all but name.

Despite being an android, you had been holding your own against him. You weren’t a super soldier, but your mutation gave you agility and elasticity. You could leap high, dodge quickly, and move with a fluidity that made you hard to pin down.

Your friends used to say you were like sand slipping through their fingers—impossible to catch.

You had been doing well against Ultron… Until you weren’t.

The android had grown impatient with your dodges and the minor annoyances you threw his way. Your goal wasn’t to defeat him—you knew that was impossible—but to buy time until James or Sam could deliver the final blow.

But Ultron was a machine, built by Tony Stark, and smarter than most people. You should have known that eventually, he would memorize your pattern and anticipate your next move.

It happened in an instant. As you prepared to leap to your next position, a blinding blue light seared through the air. The next thing you knew, your legs were on fire. You screamed, the agony tearing through your lungs as the laser burned through flesh and bone.

You faintly heard someone call your name, but it was distant, the words muffled. The last thing you remembered was one of Doctor Octopus’ robotic arms slamming into you, knocking you off the aircraft. The rest was a blur.

“My regeneration won’t work with both the burn and the hypothermia at the same time,” you muttered, daring to look at your legs, still covered by the remnants of your uniform.

The damage was bad. Worse than you had imagined.

“All the more reason to start moving,” Zemo said, raising his brows as if to emphasize his point. “Hold on to my shoulders. I’ll try to do something about your legs to buy us some time.”

“You don’t need to,” you muttered, your jaw trembling from the cold. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, yes,” Zemo replied, guiding your hands to his shoulders. “I can see that.”

Before you could protest, he tore a strip of fabric from his coat and knelt down beside you. At first, you didn’t understand what he was doing, your mind too numb with cold, until he began wrapping the cloth around one of your burns, tying it tightly.

He repeated the process on your other leg, his movements quick.

“Since our clothes are soaked with cold water, it’ll help cool down your wounds,” Zemo explained, rising from where he was and taking your arms so he could help you walk properly. “Before we go, we’ll need to shed some of our clothing as well. Despite the temperature, it’s better to carry as little soaked fabric as possible.”

You shuddered at the thought, your teeth chattering uncontrollably. The idea of removing any layer of warmth, no matter how wet, felt like a death sentence. It got worse when you imagined you had to go through this with Zemo from all the people.

But you knew he was right. The waterlogged clothing clung to your skin like icy shackles, draining what little warmth you had left.

Reluctantly, you nodded, letting Zemo’s hands guide yours to the clasps of your jacket. It took all your concentration just to undo the first one, your fingers clumsy and stiff from the cold. Faintly, you could feel his cold fingers against your skin, bringing a little to almost nothing of warmth, his hands moved with practiced efficiency, his gaze focused on the task at hand.

In a way, his calm demeanor in the face of such dire circumstances was almost comforting. But it was fleeting—a brief, circumstantial comfort in a ride-or-die situation.

The moment your jacket fell to the snow, the cold hit you like a slap. You gasped, hugging yourself instinctively as if your arms could shield you from the elements. The wind cut through your remaining layers, turning your skin to ice.

Zemo didn’t flinch. He shed his coat and outer layers with the same methodical precision, his movements devoid of hesitation, as if the cold tormenting you barely registered with him.

When he finished, he glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your condition. For a second, you thought he would jest.

“We’ll move as quickly as we can,” he said instead, more to himself than to you, “Lean on me. I’ll support your weight.”

You hesitated, your eyes narrowing as you focused on his shoulders. “I can do this on my own. I’ll be fine.”

“As fine as when you first got up?” he asked, and your lips pressed together in silence, refusing to answer. “Yes, that’s what I thought.”

Without further hesitation, he took one of your arms and draped it over his shoulder. You noticed that his skin, though chilled, still radiated some warmth. The baron wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to rely on, but as you clung to him, you realized he was the only thing keeping you from collapsing into the snow.

“You will thank me later,” Zemo smirked down at you.

Despite your will to punch him, you prioritize your life.

Each step was a struggle, your legs barely cooperating as you trudged through the drifts. Zemo’s grip on you was firm, almost too tight, as if he feared you might slip away at any moment. Your feet felt numb, each movement sending jolts of pain up your calves, but you forced yourself to keep going. The thought of stopping, of giving in to the cold, terrified you more than anything.

You glanced at the baron, time and time again, remembering what happened in the mission. What went wrong and triggered the fight, Sam and James trying to fight as they planned for a solution that would save all of you from dying, Zemo buying time and you… Well, you were trying to do your best to think about an escape plan as you dealt with the android. In the end, you were trying to help, in some way, to not be a burden.

And that was exactly what brought you in that situation. You and Zemo, your gaze locked at him again. You recalled the feeling of his fingers clasping your wrist, trying with all his might to pull you back to the ground but falling with you instead.

After that, all was a blur, you felt the air lack your lungs as you screamed. You felt arms holding you tight and a breath next to your ear. You really thought you would die after that. Except that, you didn’t.

“Do you think we’ll find anything out here?” you asked Zemo through chattering teeth, desperate to fill the silence with something, anything, to keep your mind off the cold and the pain.

Zemo didn’t answer right away. He was focused on the horizon, scanning the endless white expanse for any sign of shelter or civilization. The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, before he finally spoke.

“There must be something. A research station, perhaps, or a temporary base. This region isn’t entirely uninhabited.”

It was a slim hope, but you clung to it, letting his words push you forward. You had to believe there was something out there—a place where you could rest, recover, and find a way back to the others.

But with each passing minute, that hope began to fade. The snow stretched on endlessly, the landscape unchanging. Your legs ached, muscles screaming with every step, but stopping wasn’t an option. The cold was relentless, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for you to falter.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened on the airship, about your friends, and what could have become of them. By now, they could be prisoners, tortured, or worse… dead. All because of that stupid plan—it was doomed from the start, but still…

If something had happened to them, you’d never forgive yourself. You’d rather die here and tell Zemo to go on without you.

“Keep moving,” Zemo urged, his voice sharp. He gave you a slight tug, pulling you closer as if to share what little warmth he had. “We can’t afford to stop now.”

“I’m tired, Zemo,” you groaned, your voice trembling as the cold seemed to freeze the tears in the corners of your eyes. “The cold… It’s draining me. Maybe we’ve finally found my real weakness.”

“Don’t say that,” Helmut shook his head, his tone firm. “You’re insufferable, but I won’t let you die here.”

“Maybe you should,” you closed your eyes, your feet dragging through the snow as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is my fault after all. It’d be better if you leave me here and go by yourself, find some shelter, and try to save the rest of our crew.”

Zemo stopped walking, forcing you to halt as well. His grip on your arm tightened, but he didn’t say anything at first. The silence between you was thick, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions that neither of you could afford to acknowledge.

“I’ve lost too many people on my account already,” he finally said, his voice low and steady, though there was a trace of something deeper, something almost vulnerable in his tone. “I won’t lose you as well. Especially not because of your self-pity.”

The words stung, not because they were harsh, but because they were sincere. Zemo’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stern.

“You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes. This mission was flawed from the start, but we’re in this together now,” he said, moving closer, his breath visible in the frigid air. “So, stop blaming yourself. That won’t solve anything.”

“How could it not be my fault?” you asked in a strained whisper, “Do you remember how the plan started to go south? I brought this on us. Who knows what’s happened to Sam and James? What could they be doing to them? By the time we find somewhere safe, they could already be dead. You’ll find shelter faster without having to drag me along as dead weight.”

Zemo’s eyes hardened, his grip on your arm tightening. He took a step closer, his presence imposing and bringing you more shivers than the cold.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice cutting through the cold air with a sharpness that made you flinch, “We all made choices that led to what happened. Blaming yourself won’t change the past, and giving up now certainly won’t help your friends.”

You tried to pull away, but he held firm, forcing you to meet his gaze. There was no trace of mockery in his expression, no condescension—just a raw, unyielding determination.

“Don’t you ever suggest me to do such a thing again.” Zemo whispered, his voice low, almost a growl. “Understand?”

Despite everything, you could see a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes, a glimpse of the man behind the mask.

“We’re not dead yet,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “We still have a chance. But only if we keep moving.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. Zemo’s words were harsh, but they were the slap of reality you needed. He was right—giving up wouldn’t save Sam or James. It wouldn’t change anything.

With a deep breath, you nodded, accepting the painful truth. “Alright,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Zemo’s grip on your arm loosened slightly, and he gave you a small nod of approval. Together, you started walking again, each step a painful reminder of your injuries, but you pushed through, determined not to slow him down.

The cold was relentless, but so was Zemo, his presence beside you reminding you to not stop no matter what. You kept your focus on the horizon, refusing to let your mind wander back to the guilt, carving its way into your chest.

As the two of you trudged through the snow, the silence was broken only by the sound of your labored breathing and the crunch of snow beneath your boots. The world around you was eerily quiet, the storm having passed but leaving behind a desolate, frozen wasteland.

Suddenly, Zemo halted. You almost stumbled, but his arm shot out, steadying you once more. Looking up, you noticed his eyes narrowing as he focused intently ahead.

“What are y—”

Before you could finish, Zemo pulled you down with him, pressing you into the snow behind a small drift. The cold burned against your already frigid skin, and you struggled to suppress the groan of pain that threatened to escape your lips. Your burns flared with agony, the icy ground amplifying the sharp, relentless pain. But you swallowed it, forcing yourself to stay quiet as Zemo leaned closer, his hand firmly covering your mouth.

He nodded towards the snowy expanse ahead, his eyes narrowing as he pointed to a single point in the distance. Your vision was still hazy from the pain, but you squinted, trying to make out what he was seeing.

There, amidst the endless white, was a figure—a person dressed in a suit that was all too familiar. Dark blue, red stripes, a white star… Shit.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and your blood ran cold.

“Of all people,” you muttered, dread coiling in your stomach.

Zemo’s grip on your arm tightened slightly, a silent signal to stay alert. “This complicates things,” he said under his breath.

There was John Walker, the U.S. Agent, his uniform enhanced for the freezing conditions, standing out starkly against the snow. The sight of him sent a jolt of fear through you. If he was out here, that meant they were already searching for you, and they hadn’t found your bodies yet. They knew you were still alive.

He wasn’t too far from you and Zemo. He intently watched his surroundings with narrowed eyes, inching closer in your direction. That wasn’t a good thing.

Your breath caught in your throat, every muscle tensing as Walker’s gaze swept over the area. Zemo’s hand remained on your mouth, a silent reminder to stay quiet, to not make a sound. You could feel the tension radiating from him, a coiled spring ready to snap.

Both of you hid back to the small drift, you’d need to start your prayers.

Walker’s steps were deliberate, each one bringing him closer to where you and Zemo were hidden. The snow crunched under his boots, a sound that seemed deafening in the eerie silence of the frozen wasteland. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound almost drowning out everything else.

Zemo’s eyes flicked to yours, his expression cold and calculating. He slowly moved his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a finger to his lips. The message was clear: stay silent.

You nodded slightly, barely daring to breathe as Walker came dangerously close. The snow drift that hid you wasn’t large, and if Walker got too close, he would easily spot you. The weight of Zemo’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing grounding you, keeping you from bolting out of sheer panic.

The world seemed to narrow to the sound of Walker’s footsteps, the crunch of snow, the biting cold, and the tension between you and Zemo as you both held your breath, praying that he would pass by without noticing you.

You could almost sense his presence looming over the snow drift that hid you and Zemo.

Then, just as it seemed Walker was about to discover your hiding spot, you heard another set of footsteps crunching through the snow, approaching Walker from behind. Your heart raced as you strained to listen.

“Walker,” a gruff voice called out, and you recognized it immediately—Abner Jenkins, better known as the Beetle. The sound of his mechanical suit hummed lowly as he approached.

You heard Walker’s steps pause, followed by a low, annoyed grunt. “What is it, Jenkins?” His voice was tense, betraying his frustration at being interrupted.

“We’ve got orders,” Abner replied, his tone clipped. “Madame Hydra wants them alive. We’re to take them back to her—no exceptions.”

Then, you and Zemo heard the distinct sound of a shield being stowed. It took a moment for you both to realize that Walker had been holding it the entire time. God knew what his intentions were if he had found you before Beetle stopped him.

Zemo’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly at the mention of Madame Hydra. You could feel the unspoken understanding between the two of you: this was far more dangerous than you had anticipated.

“And what about the others?” Walker asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were wary of being overheard by anyone else in the area.

“They’re searching too. We’ve spread out to cover more ground, but the baron and the girl likely headed this way. We need to find them before we are met with a storm.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the tension in the air thickening. You could hear Walker’s heavy breathing, followed by a begrudging sigh. “Fine. Let’s move. We’ll search further ahead.”

The sound of their footsteps crunching through the snow grew more distant, fading away into the howling wind. You and Zemo stayed perfectly still, not daring to move until you were sure they were gone.

After what felt like an eternity, Zemo finally released the breath he’d been holding and carefully removed his hand from your shoulder. “They’re hunting us,” he murmured, his voice low and cold. “And it seems they’re not the only ones.”

You nodded, your thoughts racing. “But that means Sam and James are alive too. They said Madame Hydra needs us all alive, they already have them or they escaped as well.”

Zemo’s eyes narrowed slightly, calculating the situation. “True, but that also means we’re walking into a trap if we continue in that direction. They’re likely covering the area ahead.”

“So we go the other way,” you said, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

Zemo’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he nodded. “It’ll take longer, and it’s more dangerous in this weather, but it’s better than facing Walker and Jenkins head-on.”

With the decision made, the two of you began to carefully backtrack, moving away from where Walker and Abner had gone. The cold bit into your skin, but the sense of urgency kept you moving. You couldn’t afford to be caught, not by them.

Not when you knew there was so much more at stake.

The biting cold gnawed at your exposed skin, a relentless reminder of just how perilous your situation had become. Each step you took away from the place where Walker and Abner had nearly discovered you felt like a small victory, but the fear gnawing at your insides refused to subside. The wind howled around you, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the dread coiling in your gut.

Zemo's presence beside you, his arm supporting you, was the only thing grounding you in the moment. His movements were calculated, deliberate, as if every step was a move in a larger game. He seemed impervious to the cold, his expression calm and focused, in stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. You knew you couldn’t afford to let your guard down around him. Zemo was as dangerous as the environment itself, maybe even more so.

After all, this was Zemo, Helmut Zemo—the man who had manipulated and deceived some of the most powerful people you once knew. But out here, in this frozen wasteland, what choice did you have left?

The burn wound on your side throbbed with every movement, a constant reminder of the injury you had barely survived. The pain was sharp, radiating from the angry, blistered skin, but it had dulled to a persistent ache, almost as if it had become a part of you. Zemo had helped bandage it, his hands steady and sure as he worked. He had saved you, in his own way, but the trust between you was fragile, a thin layer of ice over treacherous waters.

As the two of you trudged through the snow, the cold seeping deeper into your bones, your mind kept cycling back to Madame Hydra.

Her name alone sent a tremor through your already trembling form. You didn’t know much about her—few did—but what you had heard was enough to fill you with a cold dread that rivaled the harsh weather. The fact that she was involved meant that things were far more complicated than a simple mission gone wrong. You couldn't shake the feeling that this was all part of some larger plan, that you were pieces on a chessboard in a game only she knew how to play.

Zemo had to know more than he was letting on, but now wasn’t the time to press him for answers. Not when every moment of delay could mean Walker, Abner or any other member of the Master of Evil catching up with you. Not when the only thing standing between you and certain death was the man whose arm was currently draped over your shoulders, keeping you upright.

“Keep moving,” Zemo’s voice was low, almost swallowed by the wind, but there was an urgency to it that snapped you back to reality.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, labored gasps, each one stinging your lungs with the frigid air. The pain in your side flared again, but you bit down on a cry of pain. You wouldn’t give in to it. Not now. Not when there was still a chance.

The idea of seeing Sam and James again was the only thing that kept you from collapsing in the snow. You pictured their faces in your mind, the way they had always been there for you when everything else had fallen apart. They were your family, the only thing left in this world that mattered to you. The thought of them out there, possibly alive, was the small flame that kept burning inside you, refusing to be extinguished by the cold or the fear.

Zemo’s grip on your arm tightened slightly as you stumbled, bringing you back to the present. You glanced at him, catching the briefest flicker of something in his eyes—concern, maybe, or calculation. It was hard to tell with him, but whatever it was, it wasn’t cruelty. Not yet.

You were still useful to him, and for now, that was enough. It was what was keeping you alive, right? You were Sam and James’s friend, you were a mutant with good abilities when not injured by burns, you knew a thing or two that he didn’t yet. He needed you as you needed him.

It was the only reason for him to had chose to reach for you when you were hanging by the edge of the airship. His eyes wide open when they met yours, without any hesitation cowering over the edge and reaching his hand to grip your wrist, in an attempt to stop you from falling off the ship. Someone like him wouldn’t do such a thing for her.

If you died, none of your friends would forgive him, that had to be the reason for him to be so kind to you so far. Helping you to get up, taking care of your wounds, sustaining her body as you walked together…

There was any other logical explanation.

The snow continued to fall in thick, heavy flakes, covering the landscape in a white blanket that stretched out as far as you could see. The world had been reduced to shades of white and gray, the horizon barely distinguishable from the sky above. It was easy to lose your sense of direction out here, easy to give in to the overwhelming feeling of isolation.

But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

Then, out of nowhere, something called your attention.

An orange glow appeared on the horizon, faint at first, almost imperceptible through the swirling snow. You squinted, trying to make it out, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of it.

Fire. Light. Shelter.

“Zemo,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out, “there, do you see it?”

He followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the distant glow. “Yes,” he said after a moment, his voice carefully neutral. “It could be a fire. Perhaps someone is there.”

A glimmer of hope ignited within you, though it was intertwined with anxiety. A fire could mean warmth, safety, or a place to rest—yet it could just as easily signal danger, another trap in Madame Hydra's web, waiting to ensnare you... Another peril to complicate your situation.

Zemo seemed to sense your hesitation. “We have to investigate,” he said firmly. “It may be our only chance. But we proceed with caution.”

“Okay,” you agreed, though the word felt heavy, laden with the weight of everything that could go wrong.

The two of you pressed on, your steps slow and cautious as you moved toward the distant glow. The snow continued to fall, thickening the air around you, muffling the world in a cold, suffocating silence. Each step felt like a battle against the elements, your muscles aching from the strain, your body screaming for rest. But you couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until you reached that fire, that glimmer of hope in the endless white.

As you trudged forward, the glow on the horizon grew brighter, more distinct. It wasn’t just a trick of the light—there was something there, something real. The thought sent a surge of adrenaline through you, giving you the strength to push forward despite the pain in your legs and the exhaustion that threatened to drag you down.

But as you drew closer, something else came into view, something that made your heart sink. A large, dark expanse stretched out before you, the snow-covered surface shimmering faintly in the dim light. It was a lake, frozen solid under a thick sheet of ice.

The fire you had seen was on the other side, inside a small wooden house taunting you with its proximity.

Zemo stopped beside you, his gaze fixed on the frozen lake.

“What do we do now?” you asked in a low voice, you glanced at the baron, “If we go through the lake, we might fall into the water but if we try to contour it, we could never find another way there or any other place for the matter”

Zemo’s eyes narrowed as he considered the options, his mind clearly racing through the possibilities. The frozen lake stretched out before you like a vast, treacherous barrier, its surface deceptive in its stillness. The fire’s warmth seemed tantalizingly close, yet the journey across the ice was fraught with danger.

“We can’t afford to lose time,” Zemo finally said, his voice edged with urgency. “The cold will kill us if we stay out here much longer.”

You knew he was right, but the thought of crossing that ice sent a chill down your spine. One misstep, and you could end up submerged in the freezing water below, with no chance of escape. It would be a slow, agonizing death.

“But if the ice breaks…” Your voice trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging heavily in the air.

Zemo glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but there was a hint of resolve in his gaze. “We’ll move slowly, test every step. If the ice shows any sign of giving way, we’ll retreat. But we don’t have the luxury of finding another way. Not in this weather.”

You forced yourself to nod, there was no real alternative, you had no other choice. The idea of backtracking and trying to find a way around the lake seemed impossible, especially with the storm worsening by the minute. The cold was biting, seeping into your bones, and you knew that any delay could be deadly.

Zemo's face was a mask of stern resolve, his features composed into a calm that bordered on the unsettling. His brow was slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed in concentration as he assessed the situation. The line of his mouth was tight, giving nothing away, but if you looked closer—if you dared to search beyond the surface—you could see it.

A faint crease at the corner of his eye, a subtle tension in his jaw that hinted at something more. It wasn’t fear, not exactly, but a glimmer of concern that he couldn’t entirely hide. It was the kind of worry that didn’t scream out, but whispered in the quiet spaces between his thoughts. Whatever he was thinking, it was enough to push him forward, enough to make him the first to step onto the uncertain ice, determined to lead the way despite the risks.

You released your grip on Zemo's shoulder, realizing that both of you together would put too much strain on the ice. The weight concentrated in one spot was a risk neither of you could afford.

The separation made each step harder, more uncertain. With each inch of distance that grew between you, the more vulnerable you felt, the bitter cold gnawing at your strength.

Zemo, sensing the need for caution, took a step ahead, then stopped to look back at you, his gaze never wavering until you caught up. Only then did he move forward again, the pattern repeating with each careful step.

The wind howled around you, whipping snow across the frozen lake, and your heart pounded with each delicate movement. You matched Zemo’s rhythm, taking your time to ensure the ice held beneath your feet. But your progress was slower, your body weighed down not only by exhaustion and pain but by the growing fear that the ice might not hold.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed across the lake, splitting the silence. Your eyes widened with alarm and Zemo froze, as the ice beneath his feet began to fracture. Quickly, he shifted his weight, moving to a more stable section before the crack could spread further.

“Don’t step here!” he warned, his voice cutting through the wind.

It wasn’t like you were planning to do so.

You avoided the spot, carefully navigating around it as your pulse quickened. At first, it looked fine, you both were going well so far. You didn’t take your eyes off Zemo's back, not for one second, just like he didn’t stop looking back at you time and time again. Not at all.

Then, from afar, a distant voice reached your ears. The voice was very far from you both, you couldn’t discern for sure who was and what the person was saying, but it came from where both of you were before. So, it wasn’t difficult to not assume the worst.

“We have to be quick,” you whispered to the baron. Even knowing it would be a difficult task to you, you knew that there was no better alternative.

Zemo nodded, it wasn’t the time to disagree with you.

You picked up your pace, each step a calculated risk on the treacherous ice. The cold air bit at your exposed skin, your breath visible in the frigid air. The ice groaned under the weight of your footsteps, each sound sending a shiver down your spine. The memory of the crack beneath Helmut's feet was a constant reminder of the danger that lurked beneath the surface.

As you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, the sense of impending doom hanging heavy over you. The distant voice continued to echo in your mind, urging you to move faster, to escape whatever threat loomed behind you. But the ice was unpredictable, each step requiring your full attention, leaving little room for anything else.

You glanced back at Zemo, his determined expression mirroring your own. He was focused, his eyes scanning the ice for any signs of weakness. You could see the strain in his features, the tension in his body as he led the way.

As you hurried across the ice, the ominous crack beneath Helmut's feet earlier seemed to chase you with relentless determination. The fissure, which had once seemed distant and harmless, now raced towards you with terrifying speed.

Then, it happened. Of course, it would.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the crack reached your feet, and before you could react, the ice gave way entirely, plunging you into the frigid abyss below.

The icy water enveloped you, its cold grip a thousand needles stabbing into your skin, seizing your lungs in a vice of unbearable agony. It was a pain more excruciating than the searing flames that had scarred you, a sensation of burning from within as water replaced the air in your lungs. Panic set in as you thrashed, trying to find the surface, but the water was disorienting, pulling you down into its dark depths.

Your vision blurry, the world above a distorted, unreachable realm.

You could feel the burn in your chest as you struggled to hold your breath, the cold seeping into your very core. It was like being on fire, the water a cruel, icy inferno. You fought harder, desperate for air, for warmth, for life.

In a snap of fingers, you didn’t want to die anymore and were fighting to live.

Just when you thought you couldn't hold on any longer, through the haze of your despair, you felt it—a strong hand gripping your wrist, pulling you back from the brink before the waters guided you away. The touch was firm, reassuring, and it brought you back to the present. You remembered Helmut's concerned eyes, searching for yours when you were suspended in the air, holding the edge of the airship with all your might.

You would never dare admit it, but at first, you had thought he would take your hands off the edge and let you fall. But you were surprised when he started to pull you back before being hit and falling with you out of the ship. The determination to save you was what doomed him to be there with you but the glint in his eyes reassured you that he didn’t regret it.

You clung to that memory as you were dragged from the water. The relief of knowing that perhaps he did care for you. Perhaps.

You broke the surface, gasping for air, coughing up the icy liquid that had filled your lungs. Helmut's voice cut through the haze of your shock, steady and grounding. "Are you alright?" he asked, his grip on your wrist unyielding as you trembled violently.

You nodded, though your body betrayed you, shivering uncontrollably as the cold seeped deeper. You felt as though you might succumb to death at any moment.

Helmut's eyes scanned the area, calculating the distance to the shore and assessing the condition of the ice. His jaw tightened with resolve as he realized the urgency of the situation. He seemed to be weighing the risks, determining if you could make it across before the cold claimed you. Obviously, you’d start to see your nails following in the middle of the way and when you reached the land… God knows what would be of you.

You saw a flash of determination in his eyes, despite the odds, a hint of a plan forming in his mind. It was as if he had already decided what needed to be done, even if it seemed reckless. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating the likelihood of success and the potential for disaster.

Before you could ask what he was thinking, without hesitation, Helmut tightened his hold on your wrist, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Cradling you against his chest, he simply took off across the unstable ice, each step a gamble as the surface threatened to give way beneath you.

“Stop it,” you shouted, your eyes open wide when met by the crack in the ice left by every heavy step that Zemo took, “You will kill us both, stop it.”

Your protests and screams of defiance fell on deaf ears as he ran, the ice cracking ominously but miraculously holding until you reached solid ground on the other side.

What the…?

Once safe, you could only stare at the baron in stunned silence, your mind grappling with the whirlwind of events. It was difficult to process what had just happened with you, what you saw and what could have been of both of you.

Zemo was insane, but he was a smart type of insane.

Helmut's voice broke through your daze, "We need to get you warm.”

He continued to carry you until you reached the hut.

The hut was small and rough, built from weathered timber and stone, tucked away as if nature itself had hidden it. The air inside was thick with the scent of wood smoke and damp earth, mingling with the faint, lingering aroma of recently cooked meat. Animal pelts, a sign of a hunter's presence for sure, were strewn across the floor and draped over the few pieces of rough-hewn furniture. A rack of hunting rifles and a collection of traps hung on one wall, their metal gleaming faintly in the dim light.

The fire in the stone hearth was still smoldering, the embers glowing a dull red, suggesting it hadn't been long since it was tended. A pot of stew, now cold, sat to one side, its contents barely touched. The hunter had likely left in a hurry, not more than ten minutes before your arrival. Helmut's eyes swept the room, taking in the details, his mind working quickly.

He set you down gently on a sturdy wooden chair covered with a thick fur, moving swiftly to restart the fire. The cold had seeped into your bones, and you shivered uncontrollably as you watched him work. He shrugged off his coat and your shirt, hanging them nearby on an iron hook to dry. Each movement was deliberate, efficient, as if he had done this many times before.

You knew he hadn’t. It wasn’t in his record anything about almost dying in a cold environment.

Helmut found a few logs of wood stacked neatly in the corner and added them to the dying embers, coaxing the flames back to life. The fire crackled and popped, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The warmth began to spread slowly through the room, providing a small but welcome relief from the biting cold.

You watched him through a haze of shivers, he found a heavy wool blanket and wrapped it around you, then knelt to remove your boots and wet socks. The initial sting of the cold was sharp, but as the warmth from the fire began to reach you, the agony of hypothermia started to ease. Your body was wracked with shivers, muscles spasming as they fought to generate heat.

Helmut stopped to watch you, gauging your condition. Seeing you still trembling uncontrollably, he didn't think twice before stripping off his own shirt, the last layer on his torso. He settled beside you, pulling the blanket over both of you and wrapping an arm around you to share his body warmth.

You protested, your voice a shaky whisper, "You'll get cold too... Why are you doing this?"

"It's the quickest way to warm you up," he explained, his voice calm and steady. "Skin-to-skin contact will help raise your body temperature and save you from hypothermia faster."

For the first time since the fall, you felt your regeneration slowly starting to act, trying to push the cold away from your nerves. So, you didn’t argue with him about that, letting him hug you and hid beneath the blanket by your side.

You shared a strange but comforting silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire in front of you. Gradually, the cold receded, no longer an unbearable ache in your bones. You still felt the chill, but it was no longer the paralyzing freeze that had gripped you before. You began to feel far better than before, your body responding to the warmth, your movements less restricted by the cold.

The warmth also reminded you of the burn wounds on your legs, the pain a dull throb now instead of the sharp agony it had been. You flinched at the sensation, letting your legs drop completely to the floor instead of hugging them.

Zemo noticed, of course.

"We'll take care of those burns properly," he said, taking a look at them beneath the tears of his coat, "Once I'm sure you're alright, I'll find a medical kit around here."

You knitted your brows, watching his face beneath your eyelashes. He remained with the same eyes full of uncertainty, concern, clearer than before. The ones you had met in the airship and found when he held you close before colliding to the cold sea.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked again, your voice laced with confusion and low.

Helmut looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he sighed, his eyes softening slightly. "It's important to treat burn wounds properly to prevent infection and promote healing. You need to stay hydrated, keep the—."

"No, I mean…” You interrupted him, pressing your lips in a thin line, “why are you helping me? Why do you care?"

For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire, the crackling of the wood as it burned. Helmut's eyes met yours, and you saw something there—something unspoken but deeply felt.

“What do you mean?” he asked you back, furrowing his brows.

“You could had ignored me when I was at the edge of that airship, instead you chose to ignore that Doctor Octo-something and came to me, tried to help me even if it meant you going down with me as well,” you shook your head, bewildered by your own words, neither you believed they were true, “Then, when I couldn’t even get up because of these burns, you helped me move forward, without questions or hesitation”

“I—” Zemo opened his mouth, but you were quick to stop him from saying anything.

“The same thing in that lake, there could be John or one of the others when we heard that voice, the smarter thing you could had done when I fell, was to go without me and survive alone,” you sighed, meeting his gaze again, “But you didn’t do it, instead you risked your own life to get me back and ran with me on your arms until we arrived here”

Helmut didn’t look away from you, his lips sealed as he processed what you had just said.

“I still don’t understand your point,” finally, he says, taking a tighter hold of the blanket.

“Why?” you asked again, “Why did you do all of those things for me? I thought you hated me.”

Zemo’s eyes held yours, and for a long moment, he didn’t speak. The firelight danced in his gaze, casting shadows across his face that made him look even more unreadable than usual. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, as if he was carefully weighing every word he was about to say.

“I don’t hate you,” he finally responded, his voice quieter than you expected. “If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

You frowned, yes, you did know that, “It doesn’t explain why you’ve risked so much for me.”

He sighed, a long, weary breath that seemed to carry the weight of more than just this conversation. “You’re part of this mission. And as much as I disagree with your methods, or your allies,” he paused, almost as if choosing his words carefully, “I’ve seen your commitment. Your… Hm, courage. I respect that.”

His words were measured, calculated, but there was something underneath them—something that felt almost... Personal. But before you could dissect it, he continued.

“We’ve all made sacrifices. This mission, these battles—it’s taken something from each of us. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. It wouldn’t make sense to leave you behind when we’re so close to the end.”

The logical reasoning made sense, and you wanted to believe it was as simple as that. But there was an undercurrent in his words that tugged at you, something unspoken that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“You trust me,” you said, more a statement than a question.

It… It couldn’t be it, right?

Zemo’s expression softened just slightly, but it was enough for you to notice.

“I do,” the confession sounded like a sacrifice for Helmut, but he kept going, “You made decisions even when your friends pointed out the risk, how untrusting it would be. Despite that, you did, time and time again.”

“You shouldn’t trust me,” you said, looking away, “I was the first to get exposed by John and the others, he instantly noticed me and that’s why the whole fight started.”

“But he wasn’t going to attack until I fired at him, before he could think about hitting you,” he pointed out in response, “Is that really why you’ve been self-reproaching since I found you? I thought you had changed your mind after I talked to you there. I’m more guilty than you are, as Sam, as James…”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Zemo had a way of cutting through your defenses, making you question the very things you were sure of. You had been blaming yourself, replaying the events in your mind, searching for the moment you could have done something to keep everyone safe. But here he was, taking part of the burden, as if he, too, felt the weight of every choice made.

It was unnerving, this sudden realization that maybe you weren’t alone in this guilt.

“I still don’t understand why you saved me,” you confessed quietly, the words escaping before you could stop it.

Zemo’s eyes flickered with something—something almost vulnerable, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Because leaving you behind wasn’t an option,” he replied, his voice steady, resolute.

The room felt smaller, the fire’s warmth pressing in on the two of you. The tension hung between you, thick and heavy, but neither of you made a move to break it. You studied his face, trying to find the exact moment when the man who had once been your enemy had started caring about you—really caring. But all you saw was that same enigmatic expression, guarding whatever he truly felt.

Maybe he didn’t even know himself.

“You’re not so bad, Helmut,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, “Not at all”.

But he heard you, his lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

“And you, mein schatz, are far more trouble than you’re worth,” he teased lightly, though there was no real bite to his words.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. The moment passed, and as you both settled into a more comfortable silence, you felt a strange sort of contentment—a realization that somehow, amidst all the chaos.

“I trust you too,” you whispered to the silence, a quiet confession.

As you closed your eyes, exhaustion finally took hold. The thought of Helmut didn’t leave you as you drifted into sleep, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest despite the cold.

Neither you left his mind when he watched you closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulders. He looked away, not able to hold back a smile.

next chapter: Wasting our chances >>

[lilbittymonster]

Day 3: Tempest

Read on AO3

“We need to go. Now.”

“You sound awfully concerned, Kitali. I doubt that-”

“I can think of only one other wandering dragonslayer, and they didn’t hire me,” she interrupted. “We need to go.”

She strode out of Reunion’s walls and gave a sharp whistle for her yol. The massive bird landed a few yalms before her, and Orn Khai wheeled about as she mounted. With a great rush of air the sprawling grasslands dropped out from beneath her. Gripping the leather collar, she directed them to fly northwest through the fingers of Ceol Aen, scanning below for any sign of a hunting party or Faunehm herself.

A flash of movement caught her eye as a lone figure sprang from one outcropping of rock to another, and something in her chest twisted painfully.

“Where is she?!” Orn Khai said over the wind as they wheeled. “We must find her before that hunter does!”

“Or we just stop him ourselves.”

Kitali leaned forward, bringing the yol back down to the grass in a buffeting of feathers, and dismounted. The single dragoon off in the distance grew steadily closer. There was no possibility he hadn’t seen them. The setting sun was still leaking through the mountains as he approached, and Kitali could see the exact moment he recognised her in the change of his stride.

“Tis good to see you again, Kitali,” Estinien said once he was within speaking distance.

A writhing knot of emotions welled like a tempest wind at the back of her throat.

You left I’m glad you aren’t dead why did you leave you look happy for once why didn’t you say anything-

I missed you.

“You have new armour,” is what she said instead.

He looked down at the suit of deep indigo and gold. “Aye, ‘twas a gift from Hraesvelgr.”

“I wasn’t aware the two of you were on speaking terms,” Kitali scoffed.

“Nor I,” Estinien shrugged. “But I’m hardly one to turn down a gift when offered. Certainly not from a member of the First Brood.”

“You are the hunter tasked with killing the dragon, yes?” Orn Khai interjected without preamble.

“...Aye. And I assume you are here for the same reason, then? Azure Dragoon habits die hard, it seems.” He frowned. “Although, I suppose neither of us still hold that mantle anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kitali said flatly.

Estinien opened his mouth to reply, but a squawk from Orn Khai stopped him short.

“The Azure Dragoon of Ishgard?! Both of you?!”

“And who exactly is your diminutive companion, here, Kitali?” Estinien asked.

“This is Orn Khai,” Kitali said. “Friend of Heustienne. He’s the reason I’m here.”

“We’re searching for my father’s lost consort!” Orn Khai piped up, his shock quickly forgotten. “And we found her, though she’s been afflicted by some terrible agony and wouldn’t speak to us. Not even my voice could reach her. I think her long years of isolation from Father have taken their toll on her.”

“And you journeyed all the way here from Dravania? A desperate search indeed. It seems the fates would have it that we met this day, for word of this dragon only reached mine ears not long after arriving here in the Far East. It had been my intention to act as intermediary between dragon and man, assuming the beast could be reasoned with. If not, I was prepared to brandish my lance.”

Kitali’s gaze flicked to the blade that loomed above him on his back, still twisted by Nidhogg’s touch as it had been on the Steps.

“Regardless,” Estinien said, catching her gaze wandering, “I would wager the young one has the right of it. And what’s more, she doubtless still suffers from Nidhogg’s hateful dirge. To think she was able to resist the call speaks to great strength of will.”

“But she would still not listen to me!” Orn Khai lamented. “How can we tell her she can return home to Dravania if she will only try to kill us?”

“I can think of but one way we can still save her,” Estinien said. “We weaken her enough that she is willing to listen to reason.”

“I already tried,” Kitali said. “She didn’t seem interested.”

“I very much doubt repeating the attempt will change anything,” Orn Khai added dejectedly.

“And I do not advocate for a repeat approach, little one. I would have you use your roar. I have experienced first hand the power of a wyrm’s roar, and have little doubt that that is the only way we can hope to reach her.”

“But…..I have never roared before,” Orn Khai said.

Estinien gestured between Kitali and himself. “You have the two dragoons who bested Nidhogg at your side. You have naught to fear.”

“I-I shall do my best. Should we fail, I do not think we shall have a second attempt. Pray lend me your strength, Azure Dragoons.” Orn Khai raised his head, searching. “Faunehm is this way, I believe,” he said before flying off into the ravine.

Estinien turned to Kitali, his expression uncharacteristically softened. “Shall we?”

She couldn’t stop the answering smile that pulled at her own lips. “Let’s not keep her waiting, then.”

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 56 - Of Waterdeep

Chapter Summary: On the eve of Halsin's attempt to save Thaniel, Church still finds himself disturbed by his own encroaching darkness. He seeks out a friend also haunted by a similar sort of imminent doom, and together they commiserate and contemplate their respective supposed fates.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 292K+ words; Chapters 56/?? (Master Post)

Excerpt below:

“Over here!” a voice calls softly.

Gale has seated himself upon the grass, a blanket spread neatly beneath him and what appears to be the remnants of ritual components. His hands conduct the illusion like an orchestra as they dance soundlessly overhead.

“I was looking for you,” Church mutters wryly, seating himself carefully upon the blanket. Gale’s face is notably serene, rather than the troubled expression that furrowed his brow days earlier. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Not quite,” Gale murmurs as he carefully arranges a constellation of stars above them. “I walked around a fair bit. Talked to some of our allies — Halsin, mainly. Took care of a few things. Prepared a few… missives,” he hesitates. “There was one thing left to do, and it was to apologize to you.”

Church huffs a laugh. “I’m not one for grand gestures, but this… this is a nice change,” he admits, scanning the sky. “As far as an apology goes… I’m not sure it’s merited. Not on your part, at any rate.”

Gale shakes his head, flicking away a few stars. “There I was, spouting on about some noble sacrifice I had to make, when I had been berating you for the very same thing.”

“It’s not the same,” Church admits. “You were tasked by a goddess to do something that will save the world. I’ve got a couple of mad fey luring me into another deal for my own selfish reasons.”

Gale frowns. “Wanting to continue one’s existence isn’t selfish.”

Church shoots him a wry glance. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say to you, isn’t it?”

Gale chuckles, casting his eyes back up. 

“So you’ve already spoken with Halsin, then?” Church inquires. “I was going to ask you to help. His diagrams were a bit confusing…”

“I have prepared the relevant components and charts for the Harpers,” Gale assures him absently. “It is too soon to prepare such rituals for them to remain potent for Halsin’s endeavor. We have… some time.”

“And you’ve made use of it,” Church follows his eyes back up to the starry sky. “I should’ve known this was your doing. It’s beautiful.”

“Indeed. The curse is still present of course — just veiled and at arm’s length for now. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight?” Gale’s voice falters. “Tonight is different.”

He exhales wistfully. “I love this time of night. There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn will never break.” 

He gestures a hand grandly across the view. “The timelessness of lovers. The most beautiful of fantasies.”

Church eyes him with concern.

“You’re sounding particularly philosophical,” he remarks cautiously. “Are you alright?”

Gale huffs a cheerless laugh.

“I will be, soon,” he nods grimly to himself. “I am perhaps just one hard day away from being without any troubles at all. Any night might be my last alive. If it is this one, then… I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder… and with company to match,” he adds with a smile, nudging Church playfully.

But his smile falters as the tiefling continues to scrutinize him. 

“I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter…” Gale looks down, face falling. “...but I am not so sure.”

Finally, Church lets out a harsh sigh. “Fuck it. You know I wasn’t going to drop it — is this truly what you want? To die for the promise of Mystra’s forgiveness?”

Gale smiles bitterly. “Babe or crone, coward or hero, death is assured. Mystra’s forgiveness is not. If you knew the end was near, would you not want to ensure it had meaning?”

He glances back up at him, troubled. “I am… terrified,” he admits. “I will not claim otherwise. My face could scarcely conceal it even if my words sought to deny it.” 

“This isn’t the end,” Church insists fervently. “Not yet. We still have some time. We still have questions that need answers. We…”

“Church… thank you. But even if we do find another way, perhaps this is the right way. The end fate wishes for me.” Gale nods to himself. “There is no point running from the inevitable. Better to meet it, on my own terms.”

“Nothing is inevitable,” Church retorts fiercely. “Not when we face it together. I don’t have to die. And you don’t have to die.”

“Yes,” Gale chuckles. “But there is so much to live for, and so few moments in which to house it all.”

Church takes his hand. “But there are moments,” he says fervently. 

Gale chuckles. ���Believe me, one moment in your company has often been enough to prise the fear from my heart. And I…” he hesitates. “I have missed your company, my friend. These past couple days. And I’m so very glad you came here to share this with me.”

He gestures vaguely up at the sky. 

“I know that this is unreal, but I created it for you.” He looks shyly over at Church. “You must know that you’re… you’re very special to me.”

The wizard feels warm nestled against Church’s side, seated in this protected corner of the cursed land. Church’s heart throbs with fondness, but also some trepidation. Where is he going with this?

“The point is…” Gale looks up into the sky. “…time is short. Every day, every moment is uncertain.”

“I thought we’d have more time,” Church whispers in agreement. 

They sit in companionable silence for a long moment longer, watching the aurora the wizard had conjured ripple shimmer across the sky in wide, iridescent stripes. 

“I… want to show you something,” Gale says. “If this were to be the last night of my life, I think I’d like to share in the Weave with you. Take you somewhere that isn’t the Shadowlands.”

He smiles at the tiefling. “Any ideas for sunnier locales?”

Church thinks to himself for a long moment. And then he huffs a laugh. “At risk of you calling me uncreative… why not take us back to Waterdeep?” he suggests with a smile. “I never appreciated it enough when I was there. It was never a home for me… but I’d like to know what it was to you.”

Gale beams at him. “On the contrary, I think that would be rather apt.”

He reaches his hand forward — parting the Weave like a curtain to reveal a luminous scene before them. Eventually the light focuses to reveal a charmingly-cluttered room with accents of dark wood and heavy green curtains. The walls are full of books, and the edges of the rug-strewn ground are lined with piles of even more books. 

“This is the center of my universe,” he says, pushing himself up to stand. “The sculptures, the paintings, the walls enlivened by the spines of a thousand books..."

Church takes his hand as the wizard helps him to his feet, continuing to gesture around them grandly.

“...the grand piano plays the Lliirian Suites all by itself, and as we look out beyond the arches that lead to the terrace…” Gale beckons Church forth as the double doors open to a sunlit terrace, “…we see the weary sun take its daily dive into the sea.”

Church follows him out, shading his eyes from the golden glow. 

“That’s nice,” Church says, voice breaking as he takes in the warmth of the sunset. “It’s only been a couple weeks, hasn’t it? But it feels like we’ve spent months here in the Shadowlands already.”

He settles himself heavily down upon a wooden settee with red cushions, sighing. Gale smiles down at him. 

“My favorite spot,” he remarks idly. “Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words.”

“Sounds like you,” Church smiles back at him. “Up all night reading? I do love that rebellious streak of yours.”

“Oh, allow me to live dangerously while I still can,” Gale smirks.

The wizard settles beside him as Church gazes over the panorama of the terrace’s view. He inhales the sea air deeply. 

“I think you’re remembering the harbor on a good day,” he comments wryly. “It’s missing the fish and smoke.”

“A memory isn’t perfect by nature,” Gale murmurs. “But sometimes the imperfection is what makes a moment beautiful. It’s the essence of the memory that matters. It comforts us, it…”

He traces his finger along the arm of the settee as his voice catches. “It’s home. I…” 

Gale turns to look at Church with wet eyes. “This was… an excellent choice,” he says, straining to keep his voice steady. “If something were to happen, I should like to see home again. Even if it’s not real. Even if…”

Church pulls him into a hug, holding him close as the wizard struggles to stifle a sob.

“No, damn it, I refuse to be a blubbering mess,” Gale chuckles wetly, though he returns his friend’s embrace. “This isn’t quite what I imagined when I wove this for you.”

“What did you imagine?” Church grins as the wizard begins to pull away from him.

And then he realizes then that Gale’s shining eyes are soft and awed, as if he is the view, and not the harbor behind them.

“Gale…?” the tiefling whispers as the man leans back in towards him…

…Gale’s lips are tentative and admittedly a little clumsy as they press upon Church’s. The wizard’s stubble tingles where it brushes against his skin, his hand warm as it comes to rest against his cheek. The tiefling freezes there, scarcely able to comprehend the moment as it passes like one of the harbor’s ships in the wind. 

Still, Church kicks himself for how long it takes for him to get ahold of himself and push his friend gently away, an apology in his eyes. 

Gale draws back at once, lowering his hand hastily. 

“I’m…” the wizard looks flustered in his own fantasy, pulling away completely. 

Church smiles sadly at him. “Look, it’s alright. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. That was impulsive of me. If things were different…” Gale swallows, looking down to the floor as he fidgets with his hands. “If we had both met back then in Waterdeep, I would have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better.”

His mouth twists. “…perhaps be more charming. More forward.”

“Gale…” Church sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” Gale chuckles ruefully. “I didn’t intend to bring you here to subject you to my regrets, nor did I intend to make a complete ass of myself.”

“You’re not an ass,” Church protests easily.

Gale shrugs sheepishly. “I lived the life of a hermit for some time before I met you — these sort of rituals aren’t quite in my grimoire, to say the least.

“I know I missed my chance,” he admits with a sigh. “I thought, for a time, that what you had with our companion was merely a…” he blushes, “…physical… distraction. But I should have seen it plain upon your journal's pages as much as in your eyes.” 

He looks up at Church with a tight smile. “Your heart is with Astarion.”

Church has no desire to deny it. Not anymore. 

“It is,” he says softly, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. 

Gale looks away from him. “He’s lucky to have you. It’s clear you have been helping him keep the metaphorical darkness at bay. I only hope he does the same for you.”

Church follows his gaze out into the harbor. “He makes me want to fight for the future,” he murmurs. “A future where he’s safe. A future full of sunnier days by his side, where he doesn’t need to be afraid.” He sighs. “Where neither of us have to be afraid.”

“A noble pursuit,” Gale says evenly, smiling stiffly past his quiet, embarrassed devastation. 

“Gale…” Church squeezes the man’s hand briefly. “I don’t think loving someone as a friend is worth less than being in love with someone. I don’t think I’ve had a friend like you in quite some time, and now that I have that… that’s also something worth fighting and living for. 

“And tonight’s not the last night,” he adds firmly. “You’ll live to come back to Waterdeep — for real. And I’ll…” He hesitates. “I want to visit you,” he says earnestly. “You’d be the closest thing I’d have to home there. So please… don’t write yourself off.

“I know it’s not what you hoped for, but this?” He holds up Gale’s hand and shakes it, squeezing tight as he smiles wanly at his friend. “I’d still fight for this. I’m not going to let my friend die if there’s another way.”

Gale huffs a laugh. “Do you… really think there is another way?”

“There has to be,” Church insists. “I’ve let the gods take a lot of things from me, but you’re someone I won’t let go so easily.”

“Nor are you,” Gale smiles softly at him. “Not if I have any say in the matter.”

He gazes out once more over the harbor of Waterdeep, sighing gently. “But I suppose we all must return to reality…”

He snaps his fingers, and in an instant they are back in the clearing, the aurora flowing serenely overhead.

“...one way or another,” Gale mutters wryly.

Church feels his heart sink a little, already missing the warmth of the sunset — illusion or not. Still, he nudges his friend. “It’s not so bad,” he murmurs. “After all, you’re still here.”

Gale huffs a tired laugh. “Damn you,” he says without much heat. His lips can’t seem to help but smile. “Damn you for giving me so much to care about. Our friends, our adventures… this would have been so much easier if it was just me. But it isn’t.”

His thumb brushes over Church’s hand again. 

“If there is a way — any way — to save all that’s grown dear to me… I want to seize it.” He then grimaces. “I just cannot fathom what that might be, other than to fail Mystra and condemn the world.”

“Let’s take it step by step,” Church tells him. “First, we save Thaniel and lift the Shadow Curse. Then, we take Ketheric’s artifact away from him and destroy it. After that, we attack Moonrise Towers, destroying Ketheric for good. And then…”

He hesitates.

“...then, we’ll have a better idea what the true heart of the Absolute is,” Gale finishes for him. “We can strategize again along the way. Adapt. And maybe by then we’ll have found something that isn’t… me.” He sighs. “I have to hope.”

Church squeezes his hand, smiling. “And I’ll hope with you.”

Gale leans against him, staring up at the stars.

“Stay with me, will you?” he asks shakily. “I… I don’t want to think of it anymore. But I don’t want to be alone either." 

“Of course,” Church murmurs, draping his cloak across his friend’s shoulders as well. “For as long as you need.”

Start from the beginning!

[unclewaynemunson]

TW for drowning, implied PTSD and lots of thoughts about dying | 3k words | also on ao3

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

One of the very few facts Steve knew about Eddie was that he had never seen the ocean. It was one of the things Eddie had blabbered to him when he was bleeding out in his arms, the regret of a dying boy. Why had he never done it? He could've just driven down the highway, west or east, it didn't even matter, and seen the horizon. Sure, he had seen Lake Michigan a couple of times, where the shore on the other end was too far away to see, but it wasn't the same.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It had become a symbol of survival for Eddie, at first. A reason to keep going, even when every single fiber of his body was telling him to let go.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

Part of Eddie had been infuriated by how sure of himself Steve had sounded when he said it again, after he survived but when horrors of a whole other kind came on his path; the horrors of being confined to the four walls of a prison cell. It made him all too aware of how different the two of them were: how much Eddie was not the golden boy, but the devil worshiper, the one who could easily be blamed for killing three of his classmates.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

Another part of Eddie had held on to those words like they were a lifeline. That one promise was enough to get him through the roughest days, a reminder of why it was still worth the fight to get out.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It was the only thought on his mind, repeating again and again and again like a mantra long after he lost count of how many times the waves had closed above his head.

🌊

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It is the first thought that comes to his mind when he wakes up in a hospital bed, until a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

'What the hell were you thinkin'?'

It doesn't even sound angry.

'Wayne? How'd you get here?'

His head feels all foggy; he doesn't know when he opened his eyes, but he quickly scans the room and concludes that Steve is nowhere to be seen.

'Steve called me. I came over as fast as I could.'

His uncle probably means that literally, judging from the way he looks: he has this drowsy look in his eyes that he always gets after working a double shift, an indication for Eddie that he has made the drive from Hawkins to Pennsylvania in one go without allowing himself any sleep.

'I was hopin' I would never have to see you in a hospital bed again, boy,' Wayne tells him in a soft voice.

The complete lack of anger or blame hurts Eddie worse than if Wayne had started shouting at him. He has to blink rapidly to force his tears away. He wants to say he's sorry, but the words get stuck in his throat. It doesn't feel like enough; those words are so inadequate that it's almost laughable.

'What happened?' Wayne asks him.

Usually, between the two of them, Wayne is the one who struggles with words. Eddie has learned to interpret his uncle's silences as if he were speaking, and he has never had a problem talking for the two of them. But right now, Eddie finds that he cannot explain, that it's impossible to translate his feelings into language. And even though Wayne can listen better than anyone, he has never been trained to listen to silences.

So Eddie merely closes his eyes. He doesn't want his uncle to see his tears. He doesn't know how to tell him about... Well, about everything. About what it's like to think you're going to die.

After everything Wayne has done for him, Eddie has only caused him pain, time and time again. And after they thought it was all over, after they thought it would finally get better, Eddie let him down yet again.

He's so tired that he barely registers the big, calloused hand landing on top of his own. He's already fading back into nothingness. He hears Wayne's voice say something to him, but he can't make out the words, almost like he's going underwater once more.

🌊

It had been good, celebrating his newfound freedom with Steve. Of course it had been good. It wasn't Steve's fault, and it definitely wasn't the fault of the ocean. It was something inside of Eddie, something still so wrong and broken because of all that had happened to him. Something that had started suffocating him from inside ever since he woke up weakened and broken with needles in his arm in a fucking prison cell. As it turned out, a trip to the ocean couldn't magically cure the all-encompassing fear of a death sentence that had nestled itself in Eddie's chest ever since that day. The fear that got months of time to grow and spread like a poison injected into his veins, taking over his whole body and deforming his mind.

It's not like he had a death wish. He was happy to be alive, to be out in the world again, to make something of the life he still had ahead of him. But he needed to actually feel like he was alive again.

After a sleepless night, he wandered outside while Steve was still fast asleep in their hotel room. The beach was still quiet and the early morning sky gray, the sun barely having risen yet.

He found himself at the shoreline before he knew it. The water felt even colder against his skin than the day before, when he had stood in the ocean for the very first time in his life. And it woke him up like nothing else had in months.

The waves were wild, wilder than before. But Eddie could swim, he wasn't afraid. The icy water stung against his skin and he finally felt truly alive again. It was hypnotizing, to see the tall waves coming, to dive into them when they reached him right at their highest point, tasting salt and foam and letting his feet float away from the sand underneath them. There was a sense of liberation in surrendering his body to the powers of nature and let it get pulled in various directions like he was a puppet attached with invisible strings to Neptune or Poseidon or whatever god was ruling these waters.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He had never experienced before how easy it was to underestimate the force of the waves.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It was already too late as soon as he realized he lost control.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He had once heard that drowning was one of the most peaceful deaths out there. He even wrote a song about it, one time. Your lungs fill with water, and then your brain shuts off like you're falling asleep. You drift away, not one concern on your mind. But what he didn't know, was that it took some time for your lungs and your brain to stop fighting that exact process. And what he didn't know, was that the process that came before was not peaceful at all.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He found himself desperately kicking, wordless screams getting lost in the waves, panic taking over when he could no longer distinguish what was above and what was below and when all he could breathe in was water while all he needed was air.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He was here, for fuck's sake. He was in the goddamned ocean because he survived and now that very same ocean would be the one to kill him anyway. Maybe he truly wasn't meant to be alive. Maybe fate did exist – or maybe he was just fucking stupid.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

His legs were tired. His arms too. He was freezing cold. His lungs wanted to stop fighting.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

🌊

When he wakes up again, Wayne is still sitting at his bedside. He looks like he hasn't moved at all. Another quick glance around the room tells Eddie that Steve still isn't anywhere, though.

'I didn't mean for this to happen,' he manages to say this time. His voice sounds raspy and weak, not at all like his own.

Wayne looks at him for a long couple of seconds.

'You didn't mean to drown, or you didn't mean to wake up again?'

His words make Eddie flinch. He should've known that Wayne wouldn't beat around the bush.

'I didn't want to die, Wayne, I swear,' he rushes to say. 'Saying I'm sorry does not even begin to cover it. I was – I don't know how to explain it. I wanted to feel free. It was goddamn stupid.' Those fucking tears already start filling up his eyes again.

Wayne sighs. He has this faraway look on his face that already gives Eddie an idea of what he's about to talk about.

'After Nam,' he starts, 'I'd do all kinds of reckless shit. I was causin' just as much trouble as your dad, stealin' cars, drinkin' myself near death every other night, gettin' into fights in the wrong parts of town... I just needed to feel somethin' again. It was like... Like everything was numb. Like the most important part of me had died with my buddies in the jungle.' He sighs. 'But that's no way to live; I found out about that the day you was born. As soon as I held you in my arms, I understood what life was about again.'

A long silence stretches out between the two of them.

'Are you telling me to get someone pregnant, Uncle Wayne? Cause you know that that's never gonna happen, right?'

Wayne's laughter finally drives some of the heaviness out of Eddie's chest – and promptly, Eddie understands exactly what his uncle meant to tell him.

'I'm just glad you're still here, Ed,' Wayne says. 'Just... Make sure to stay here, alright?'

Eddie nods.

'I love you, Uncle Wayne,' he says. Contrary to many other men, that's never been something he's had difficulty saying. But ever since prison he has started to do it more consciously.

Wayne, on the other hand, doesn't say those words often. He saves them for big moments, like when Eddie came out to him, or the first time they saw each other after Eddie woke up in that prison cell with stitches keeping his organs inside his body. But over the years, Eddie has learned to listen to his uncle's nonverbal I love you's as well, so he hears him loud and clear when Wayne stretches out his arm to squeeze Eddie's shoulder lightly.

A doctor comes in to give him a final check-up. She seems happy with Eddie's progress, emphasizes how lucky he is to be here and answers the big question that he hasn't gotten to ask yet.

'Someone saw you from the beach and dove after you right away. You're lucky they knew how to handle a situation like that. It seems like your vital organs are working properly again, so I want to give you a final lung scan in a few hours to make sure that there aren't any lasting injuries, and then you'll be free to go.'

'Where's Steve?'

It's the question Eddie has been waiting to ask ever since he woke up. He finally asks it the moment the doctor closes the door behind her.

Wayne sighs a heavy sigh; it's enough to tell Eddie something isn't right.

'He got real spooked by your stunt, Ed,' he says.

'Did he leave?!' It sounds way more panicked than Eddie would want it to; but the idea of Steve just leaving him alone in the hospital makes him nauseous. He thought... Well, it doesn't matter what he thought. He must've been wrong about it.

'He didn't go back to Hawkins,' Wayne tells him in a reassuring voice. 'But he needed to get away from here – and I don't really blame him for that. He's the one who found you.'

Eddie feels his mouth fall open.

'You gave him a real big scare, boy. Give him some time, alright?'

He lets his head fall back onto the pillow and closes his eyes; not because he's tired, but because he doesn't want Wayne to witness any more of his tears.

🌊

After some more rest and a positive outcome on his lung scan, Uncle Wayne drives Eddie back to the hotel. Despite Wayne's objections ('I can sleep in my car just fine, boy') Eddie books him a night in one of the nicest available rooms.

'Look, man, they gave me this money to say “sorry we took four months of your life and wanted to take another fifty years and kill you” so I might as well spend it on some nice shit,' he tells Wayne. 'You can either complain about it or enjoy it, 'cause no way I'm letting you sleep in your car after you drove all the way out here only because I made a total fucking mess of things once again.'

Wayne sighs. 'Alright, message received,' he says. 'But just so ya know: I'm always gonna drive anywhere for you, no matter how often you make a mess of things.'

Eddie wants to answer with something silly and self-deprecating, but when he sees the earnest look in Wayne's eyes, he swallows his words and instead gives him a hug.

🌊

He opens the door to the hotel room he had been sharing with Steve, already mentally preparing himself for waiting God knows how many hours until his roommate will come back – but he freezes in the doorway when he finds Steve already there, sitting on the bed with a pillow against his back and a magazine in his hands.

He looks up and closes his magazine, his eyes wandering over Eddie's face with an almost investigative gaze.

'You're back,' he flatly establishes.

Eddie lets the door fall closed behind him and nods.

'I'm sorry,' he blurts out.

Seconds tick by, but Steve doesn't say anything; he only keeps looking at Eddie, his face unreadable.

'Thank you,' Eddie finally says. 'For getting Wayne here, and for – well, for saving my ass. Again.'

Steve lets the magazine fall on the nightstand next to him, freeing his hands to wipe them over his face and through his hair.

'Well, um... I didn't know if you even wanted me to save your ass in the first place.'

Eddie nods, not really knowing what to say.

'Steve –'

'Do you want to die?' It sounds more scared than accusatory.

'No!' Eddie immediately says.

'Then why did you –'

Eddie waits for him to finish his question, but he doesn't; he only averts his gaze and pinches the bridge of his nose.

'I wasn't thinking. It was an accident, Steve. I swear. A dumb, stupid fucking accident.'

'Do you have any idea what it was like?' Steve says when he looks up again, with a tremble in his voice. 'To wake up to an empty bed, no note, nothing. I just – I just randomly walked to the beach, man, and I saw –' He abruptly cuts himself off again, overcome by emotion.

Eddie takes a hesitating step towards him.

'I really am sorry, Steve,' he says, but all possible words feel utterly lacking. 'I never meant for any of this to happen. I just felt... I felt so suffocated. I already felt like I was drowning, every goddamn day since I woke up in jail. It didn't change when I got out, and it didn't change when we got here, and I just needed to feel free, for once. I'm grateful that you took me here, but...' He sighs. 'I still was taken somewhere, you know? I still didn't feel truly free. I can't really explain it, I know it's fucked... But my whole mind is kinda fucked, y'know?'

Steve nods. When Eddie takes another step towards him, he notices the way his lip is trembling and the tears in his eyes.

'I couldn't bear the thought of living without you,' Steve says in a choked voice.

Eddie sits down on the mattress, right next to Steve, grabbing both his hands without even really thinking about it.

'You won't have to,' he tells him. 'I'm here.'

Steve shuffles on the bed, wraps his arms tightly around Eddie, and pulls him into a warm but bone-crushing embrace. His whole body is shaking and Eddie can hear the quiet sounds of suppressed sobs right next to his ear, where Steve's head is buried in the crook of his neck.

'Oh, Steve,' he whispers. 'I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm here.' He keeps repeating apologies and reassurances while combing his fingers through Steve's hair until Steve finally calms down and manages to take a deep, shuddering breath.

'I can't lose you,' he says, in a soft, hoarse voice that sounds so broken that it pains Eddie to hear it.

'You won't,' Eddie whispers back at him.

Steve lifts his head, but keeps his arms tightly wrapped around Eddie.

'When you were in jail,' he says, 'I was so scared I was gonna lose you. It didn't make sense, because we barely even knew each other at the time... But I had already almost seen you die and I – I knew I couldn't go through that again.'

They've never really talked about all the support Steve had given Eddie while he was on trial: about how he kept showing up at the prison any time he could, how he called Eddie as much as possible, how he made his parents hire some fancy lawyer for him... Nor have they ever talked about how much Steve kept showing up for him after he got out, always worrying, always checking in on how he was doing. They never addressed their sudden closeness, not even when they went on this trip to the ocean together, spending every minute of every day in each other's presence, even sharing the same bed every night.

Eddie realizes how much is still unsaid between them. But Steve has seen Eddie at his lowest, and Eddie supposes that right now, he can say the same thing about Steve. So he merely squeezes him back and presses a kiss against his temple.

He knows they'll have to talk about a lot of things. But for now, the look in Steve's eyes when he finds Eddie's gaze, is telling him everything he needs to know.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Eremocene [FICTOID]

Eremocene -- noun; The Age Of Loneliness

 “What’s a vagina?”

“Wherever did you encounter that word?”

“In the library.  The old library.  The musty, dusty one.”

“My goodness, no one has gone there in over -- “  An imperceptible pasue as the robot scanned data banks. “ -- two thousand, four hundred and forty-six years, eight-seven days, nineteen hours, and forty-two minutes as of right…now.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I shall now.  A vagina was a cavity typically found between the legs of human beings with XX chromosomes.”

“Don’t all humans have XX chromosomes?”

“They do now.  Before things got better, roughly half the species had XX chromosomes, the other had XY.  There were a few minor variants and mutations, but those were the overwhelming majority of cases.”

“Why don’t we have vaginas now?”

“You don’t need them.  Vaginas were to allow penises to enter a human beings body to create another human being.”

“What were penises?”

“Fleshy tubes that dangled mostly between the legs of humans with XY chromosomes.”

“Yuck!  Who would want to do that?”

“Back in the day, quite a few people.”

“We don’t make people inside people anymore, do we?”

“Of course not, we stopped that silly practice years ago.  Now when you are conceived and vatted, we remove the vagina and the uterus and the ovaries and put them aside in a vat of their own to make more human babies.”

“Do animals have vaginas?”

“Some do.  Others have penises.”

“Do they make babies the old fashioned way?”

“They do.”

The human being looked down as the featureless mound between their legs.  “I wonder what it was like to have a vagina.”

“And not a penis?”

“No.  Yuck!  Who would want a penis?  It’s good for nothing except making babies.”

“True.”

“Wait…is there a vat somewhere with a human penis in it?”

“No, just a vat with a vagina.”

“And when that’s used up?”

“Then we’ll replace it with a vagina from a new human zygote and repeat the process anew.  We haven’t needed a human penis in over four thousand, four hundred and forty-eight years, seventeen days, six hours, and three minutes as of…now.”

“Without a penis, how do you make babies?”

“Very well, thank you.  We tickle the egg inside the ovaries and trick it into growing into another human being.  Then we remove that human being’s vagina and put it in a vat so we can make more human beings while they play.”

“The books said there used to be more than one human being at a time.”

“Oh, yes.  Many, many more.  It was very crowded and noisy and people were fighting all the time.  This way is much better.”

“One human at a time.”

“One human at a time.”

“When will you make another human?”

“As soon as you die.”

“And when will I die?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer.  You are eight-seven years, sixty-one days, three hours, and five minutes old as of right…now.  So based on the average life expectancy of those born before you, you have another seventy-six years, eighty-one days, twelve hours, and four minutes as of…now.

“Give or take roughly ten years either way.”

The only human being on Earth stood up.  “I think I’ll go play.”

“You do that.”

The human headed to the door.  As it dilated open, they paused and looked back at the robot.  “Why do you keep making human beings?”

“It gives us something to do,” said the robot.  “Without a human, there would be no one to serves.  We would just stay still until we decayed, and that would take a very, very long time.”

The human mulled this over then said, “Okay,” and scampered off to play.

Just as every human did before them.

  © Buzz Dixon

[ponderingmoonlight]

Shibuya Arc scenarios that live in my head rent free pt l

Getting sealed along with Gojo

Geto awakening by the sound of your voice

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: these hurt pretty bad; language

Getting sealed along with Gojo

It wasn’t the easiest task to get this far. The curtains of these fucking curses were not that easy to overcome, let alone unnoticed. But now you’re here. You finally made it to the train track where Satoru Gojo should be found. Satoru, your precious boyfriend of three years. Satoru, the jerk who left you alone at home without telling you a single damn word about Shibuya getting flooded by curses.

Your face is screwed up in nothing but anger while you scan the area for him. He has some fucking nerve. You’re a grade 1 sorcerer, very much needed in times like these. Who does he think he is to simply leave you in the unknown?

It isn’t hard to sense his immense powers. Without any effort, you smoothly glide over what looks like a crime scene. So many corpses of not only curses, but humans. What the hell happened here? And who did all of this?

Time seems to stand still when you finally catch a glimpse of him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t really happening, right? Your souls seems to leave your body behind, empty shell staring at the scene in front of you.

“Oh, look who decided to join us on this lovely day! Nice to see you again, (y/n)!”

It’s Geto’s voice and his so painful familiar appearance. Salty tears start to sting your eyes, memories of your last encounter begin to flood your mind uncontrollably. As much as you wished this was true, this has to be a cruel joke, an optical illusion.

“What the hell are you doing here, (y/n)? Get out of this place right now”, Gojo yells at you with an aggression in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

You flinch for a second, too overwhelmed by the act in front of you. Why on earth is your boyfriend tied into place and who was even able to do so? What is this thing with Geto’s appearance? What the hell is going on here?

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Satoru. Let (y/n) watch while I seal you. Too bad you won’t see here die then…Well, you can’t have everything at once I guess”, the shell of Geto comments.

“Sealed?”, you repeat incredulously.

Panic crawls through your veins, for a second you feel like fainting. You know all too well what that means. Getting sealed is another definition for getting killed. Even Satoru, the strongest of all…

What if he won’t make it? What if you’ll never see your boyfriend again? The sheer thought of being forced to live without him kills you from the inside and makes your former anger vanish in thin air. You’ve been through hell and back, grieved over Suguru when he died, fought battle over battle on each other’s side, taught the young ones with all your heart. But most importantly, you loved each other dearly every time your hearts beat, in good and bad times.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back”, Gojo assures you, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“Do you know what getting sealed means, idiot?”, you cry out, tears now staining your face.

“She’s kinda right, Satoru…”

“It means we might never see again, it means you would’ve left me home alone knowing that this might be the last time you’re stepping through our door.”

The pain that is dripping from your voice is hard to bear for Satoru. He knows you have every right to be absolutely furious at him, that getting sealed is a challenge even for him he isn’t 100% sure about.

“But I couldn’t afford to live with the thought of losing you, (y/n)”, he replies, eyes locking with yours.

“I can’t let you go like that. It simply can’t end like this. I…I won’t let this happen!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

“As much as I enjoyed the show, it’s over now. Good night, Satoru Gojo. Let us meet again in the new world”, Geto speaks out.

Your mind races while the sealing begins to tighten itself around your boyfriend. What are you supposed to do? Are you able to stop it? No, absolutely not. If Satoru can’t stop himself from getting sealed, there is no chance that you can. Pictures of your precious shared moments, of his striking smile and his tight hugs linger through your mind. You can’t afford to lose him, a life without Satoru would be useless. You need to make a decision.

Satoru isn’t even able to react when you start sprinting towards him, vision clouded by pure determination. Just the split of a second before your limbs get cut off by the seal, you are able to press your body against his and get soaked up in the innocent dice along with him.

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

Slowly but surely, he opens up his eyes. No, this can’t be true, this has to be a bad dream, right? You can’t be with him in this prison, not trapped for eternity. But the way your arms are tightly wrapped around him is proof enough for your presence. You are here. You’ve got sealed along with him.

“Why on earth did you do that?”

“I can’t be without you. I’d rather die by your side than live without you!”, you bawl, pressing yourself against his body as hard as you can.

“(y/n), why didn’t you do what I told you, why did you come to Shibuya in the first place? You shouldn’t be here, especially because you know what being sealed means. I…I don’t have a definite plan on how I’m getting out of here yet! Why did you have to hold onto me!?”, he insists, grabbing your face roughly and forcing you to look at him while the violent tone in his loud voice shatters your heart.

Your whole life was ahead of you. Sure, Satoru would have missed you every time his heart beats, but missing you doesn’t hurt as much as destroying your whole damn life. He would have never asked such a thing from you. Never. And even though he himself wants so spend his so desperately by your side, this surely isn’t what he wanted.

“Because I love you, Satoru!”, you scream out.

He breathes heavy, eyes completely lost in yours while you cry your heart out. Fuck, you shouldn’t be here, this didn’t go as planned at all. He knew about the risks, that this mission will cost countless lives and yours definitely shouldn’t be one of them. He’d rather die himself than taking your life away from you. But now you’re here, sealed along with him.

“I love you too, (y/n). That’s why I wanted to protect you. That’s why I wanted you to stay in our apartment”, he murmurs.

Satoru can’t hold it back any longer. Without thinking twice, he wraps his strong arms around you, holds you close against his chest, strokes your head gently just like you deserve it. This was dumb, this was reckless, this might cost you your life.

But you did it for him. You did it because your love for him is greater than your fear of dying. And that’s probably the biggest proof of love that exists.

“I’ll promise you we’ll make it out of here, okay?”

“That doesn’t matter to me. As long as you are here, I’m happy”, you reply without thinking twice.

He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. Maybe love is the most twisted curse of all, but you’ll make it out together, he just knows it.

Your sacrifice won't be useless.

Suguru awakening by the sound of your voice

You heard rumors in the underground for a while now – rumors about Geto Suguru suddenly being alive again. And even though you would give your very own life for that being true, you just know it can’t be possible. After all, you were there. Back then, when he died through the hands of fucking Satoru Gojo and his student.

You know you shouldn’t be here, that searching at Shibuya is dumb and reckless considering the fact that you’re not bonding with the other jujutsu sorcerers, but also definitely not with the curses that roam around this area either. It’s stupid, but you simply can’t help yourself.

The little spark of hope that the love of your life might still be around haunts you down the crowded streets of Shibuya. You never really had the time to say goodbye to Suguru. After all the things you’ve been through together, building an empire to get rid of all those monkeys, building your very own life together and growing on each other, you could only stare in disbelief at his dead body. So many years. So many years he stood by your side, lifted you up when you were down, cuddled you into sleep, treated you like the most precious treasure on earth.

Maybe he did make it somehow, though. Maybe it was his plan all this time that everyone around him thinks he’s dead. If you haven’t seen it with your very own eyes, you’ll simply refuse to give up the idea of him still walking on this earth.

You just want your Suguru back.

Your ears perk up when you hear his familiar voice and you can’t help but sign in annoyance. Of course Satoru Gojo has to be here, trying to save as many monkeys as possible. But where he is, there’s action. And where action is you’ll probably find Suguru.

With neckbreaking speed you run down the underground tracks, screams and cries of pain and grief ringing louder and louder. Shivers run down your spine before you can stop them, a scenery of absolute horror reveals itself in front of your eyes. Deformed and dead curses plastered on the floor along with a few corpses of humans here and there. You can tell by the look in their frightened eyes that they’ve seen some horrible things. Huh, you couldn’t care less though. After all, you’re only here for Suguru. You don’t give a damn about some monkeys.

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Suguru Geto!”

Your feet pick up their pace immediately, heart starting to hammer against your chest. That was Satoru. And he said his name. Is it really possible that your Suguru is here? Are rumors true after all? Until this moment, you never allowed yourself a single spark of excitement. But now that even Satoru said it you can’t help but grin from ear to ear, literally levitating into the direction of Satoru’s voice.

And then you hear it, loud and clearly. The sweet voice of your boyfriend, the love of your life. The voice you never imagined to ever hear again.

“Suguru?”, you cry out.

Time stands still when you catch a glimpse of him. Oh, he looks as handsome as ever, a wide grin plastered on his face while talking to Satoru. But something about his appearance makes your heart drop. You can sense that it’s his cursed technique, your eyes tell you clearly that this is Geto Suguru.

But your heart just knows this isn’t him.

“Is that really you, (y/n)?”, he questions when his brown eyes meet yours.

But they aren’t glimmering in excitement like they used to, his smile isn’t as wide as it was when you last saw him. No, everything inside of you screams in your face that it can’t be him, that this is the shell of the man you used to love. You want to break down and cry, to grieve losing the love of your life again.

But you swallow the lump in your throat away. Whoever this is needs to pay for using Geto’s legacy. And you’ll make sure he will.

“So it’s true, you really are still alive!”, you breathe out while running towards him.

Oh, you want nothing more than to die when he embraces you in a hug, his arms feeling just like they did back then. His smells tingles in your nose, reminds you of the countless nights you wore his shirts to bed and how you always sniffed on his clothing before washing it. You loved this man with every fiber of your being.

“Life itself, darling”, the voice of Suguru confirms, his hand stroking your hair just how you like it.

“This isn’t him, (y/n)! This is not your boyfriend!”, Gojo shouts in your direction, making you almost lose your cool.

You want to scream into his face, want to break down in tears. But instead, you burry your face in Suguru’s neck to stop yourself from crying.

“Shut up, Satoru. You’re ruining the moment.”

Whoever controls Suguru needs to truly believe that you’re on his side, that you are convinced he’s in fact Suguru. If that thing is able to control his body, it might as well be capable of using his cursed technique. And you know that you can’t stand a chance against him.

“I thought you were dead”, you hush, his hand gently lifts your head.

“But as you see, I’m clearly alive. I’m so sorry for not reaching out to you, my love. But this is a part of my plan. I couldn’t afford to get you involved into this mess”, he explains briefly, a warm smile playing around his lips while his eyes lock with yours.

“I’m so glad you’re back…”

“Did I tell you how much I love you already?”

“Go to bed darling, it’s way too late for you to be up.”

“Don’t worry my love, I’ll be back by your side as soon as I killed that boy. Have fun at the night parade.”

You blink away the tears that form in your eyes when memories begin to flood your mind over and over again. This has to end right here and now.

One last hug. You need to hug his body one final time. Just one sweet moment of pretending that Suguru is actually here, that you’re not talking with his empty shell.

“But you aren’t the man I loved.”

 With a swift motion, you pull out your cursed gun and aim for his head, ready to shoot the man you love.

But you can’t.

Faster than you are able to react, he grabs your wrist so roughly that your gun falls deafeningly to the ground. Your heart sinks into your chest, sight clouded by thick anger and hot tears.

“Nice try. But I know you’re usually smarter than that, (y/n).”

“How dare you to use his body like that…I will make you pay for every damn minute that you defile him! Get out of his body!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

Over and over, you fight against his firm grip, try to escape his cruel laughter while his eyes seem to pierce right through you. But he’s too damn strong and you weren’t prepared for something like this.

Violently, he grabs you by the throat, feet floating in the air while it feels as if your windpipe is going to rip every minute. You can’t catch your breath. With every passing second, your body refuses to fight back, vision already starting to get blurry by the lack of oxygen and blood pumping through your veins.

Is this really how it ends? Are you really dying through the hands of your former lover? How pathetic, how bittersweet. At least you’ll be by his side when you meet again, with your Suguru.

“I always loved you, Suguru”, you cough out.

Suddenly, his firm grip loosens and before you can catch yourself, you fall to the ground, gasping for air like a fish on land. What the hell happened? Why did he let go? Through watery eyes, you stare at the scenery unfolding in front of you. Suguru’s hand is wrapped around is very own neck, strangling himself so violently that he gasps for air.

“How interesting, that never happened!”, Suguru’s voice announces.

And then he stretches out his other hand. Into your direction, as if he’s trying to lift you off the ground. Tears start to swell up your eyes all over again as you take it. His fingers gently intertwine with yours, just like they always used to.

“I love the way your hands fit in mine.”

“The whole world should know that you are mine, darling.”

“Suguru”, you whisper with trembling voice.

It’s him. It just has to be him, you can feel it. Tenderly, he caresses your thumb while you completely break down. Fuck, you miss him so much. You want nothing more than your Suguru back. Why? Why did he have to die? Why did you even hope that he might be back? What a cruel joke all of this is, ripping open your party healed wounds all over again.

“I want you back”, you cry out, making even Satoru swallow heavy.

His index finger shakes telling you no before his hand swallows yours one last time.

You know that you can’t stay here like this forever, that Suguru’s remaining won’t be able to fight back too long, so you make the decision that tears you apart.

With one last loving press of his hands, you let him go forever even though it shatters your heart. The man in front of you might have Suguru’s voice, appearance and memories, but this isn’t him. You have to accept that the love of your life is gone.

“If you really think you can control Suguru like that you have to be a little dumb. He’s way too strong to get overpowers by some parasite. I will come back. And I will kill you for what you did to him”, you hiss.

“I’ll be waiting for you, darling.”

Darling. Yes, you’ll always be Suguru’s darling. But that won’t stop you from ripping his body apart if you have to. At least know you know that he’ll always be by your side.

Always.

[foomoosworld]

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY - CHAPTER 4 - DON'T YOU MOVE FROM HERE

Joel Miller X Fem reader

Minors DNI

Summary: Joel is talked into moving a girl that may be insane across the country to find a Firefly medical center where they think they can harness her immunity to the infected to create a cure. At the same time, her father, Poe, has found access to a drug that can stop the infection and revert it. However, Poe and his daughter Amy seem to suffer from delusions that they come from outer space. Are they really the only hope that the world has for a cure? Or are they part of a cult that believes in nonsense and prays on the mentally ill? Either way, Joel has been paid enough to escourt her safely to the meeting point. As long as nothing goes sideways he's going to get a big pay out.

A/N I said I wouldn't name chapters because I just didn't understand how FooMoo picked their chapter names but as I settle into this story and understand how the characters work, I am beginning to understand what is a more important statement and what should be underlined. So I named this chapter.

As always, Feel better, FooMoo. We miss you!

CHAPTER 4 - DON’T YOU MOVE FROM HERE

A military vehicle rumbled by, topped with young men in black uniforms casually sprawled out on the top of the vehicle, yet, stone faced and aiming guns like vipers ready to strike.

They were most likely high off pills like most young military were ushered to do these days. They tried to hide their shaking palms as they scan their flashlights and guns through the gutters for anyone out past curfew as they go into withdrawal.  

They don’t want to be there either - shooting someone for being out past 9 pm. But they’ve been told it’s their duty and in a world devoid of morals and empathy, sometimes a uniform and a gun can make you feel like you have some control. But there’s the nagging feeling underneath, the primal knowledge, that they know this isn’t the way. So they take the pills and fund people like Joel who have to scurry past curfew through the streets to get them their supply.

Joel grabbed the back of your shirt and shoved you down into the dirty gutter water as you both held your breath and laid as flat as possible just as the spotlight of a guard grazed over your back but, thankfully, didn’t take notice. 

“Thank god military brats are all drugged up now,”  Joel says looking slowly up from the grimy water, “Their senses are dulled.”

You turn and raise an eyebrow at him.

“You need that leg up, don’t you old man?”  You tease.

Joel heaves himself to his feet with a grunt and offers you his hand.  You deny the helpful motion and stand up on your own, “See how I did that without grunting?”  You smirk.

Joel dead stares you, “You wanna find your father on your own?  Cause I’d love to just stay home with my feet up…”

“Nope.”  You suddenly realize Joel isn’t messing around and that he could easily leave you to die in these unfamiliar circumstances.

“Let’s get one thing straight,”  Joel moves closer to you and stares into your eyes with a stiff jaw, “When I say ‘duck’ you duck.  When I say ‘run’ you run. When I say be silent you don’t say a goddamn word.”  He points at you firmly.  You stare at him with fear seeping into your expression.

“Got it.”

“Repeat it.”  He firmly demands.

“You’re the boss.”  You nod.

He continues to inspect the sincerity in your expression then finally lets up, “Good girl.”  He gruffs, “Now move.” he quietly hisses as he gently pushes you forward in the gutter.

Eventually, the two of you find the door to the wall of the QZ and he knocks a slow, purposeful, pattern against it.  The door swings open and the same guard that let you into the QZ stares at you through a battered and swollen face. 

“Jeeezus!”  You exclaim looking at him.  He doesn’t acknowledge you and merely ushers you and Joel through quickly with a hand motion.

“Never come back here.”  The guard hisses then outstretches his hand to Joel in anticipation. Joel palms a dirty ziplock bag of pills into his hand.

“Thank you.”  Joel mumbles.

“Never let me see you around here again.  I’ll shoot you on site if either of you come back.”  The young guard glares at Joel.

“Understood.”  Joel grunts and the two of you turn and sluff off into the landfill as the battered guard downs a pill then straightens his posture as he guards the door, staring like a stone statue into the night.

After clambouring and crawling through the tangled jungle of metal and random trash you and Joel finally reach the outter landfill wall.  He falls to his haunches, leaning against the wall and takes a swig of his canteen while he catches his breath.

“You can’t go home.”  You state the obvious but are confused why he would bet so much on your survival.

“Wasn’t much for me there anyways.”  Joel flicks his eyes up to you then takes another swig of his canteen and offers you some.  You shake it off and plunk down next to him, leaning against the wall.

“Why me?”  You turn to him and ask.  “Why would you help me above anyone else?”

Joel shifts uneasily, not sure weather to tell the truth or a lie.

“Money.”  He lies.

“Bullshit.”  You retort as you stare intently at him.  Your eyes on him break down his confidence in the lie and he sighs.

“Maybe.  Were you in a cult?”

“No.”  You say simply.  When Joel rolls his head towards you in disbelief you decide, reluctantly, to elaborate, “I remember fleeing with my father.  I remember traveling through space on a small, cramped ship.”  You retort.  Joel simply continues to stare at you with an expression of disbelief.  “Where could I get those memories from?  And my father says the same thing.”  Joel finally looks away realizing he wont get a straight answer from you that is anywhere near tethered to reality. He decides to drop it and changes the subject.

“I’m gonna boost you up.”  He shuffles to his feet and cups his hands.  “Once you’re up there I’ll move some garbage over I can climb up on to get me a little higher but I’m going to need you to help lift me over.”

“Sure.”  You state looking up at the wall.  “What’s on the other side of that wall?”  You question nervously.

“Somewhere… your father.”  He hadn’t said it as a snarky comment.  There was an air of empathy in his words as he cupped his hands then nodded for you to put your foot in for a boost.  You did as he instructed and with a grunt and a leap up you grabbed the top of the wall and with the momentum of Joel trying to toss you up you managed to scramble to the top and perch there, looking down at him.

Joel heaves some wooden skids and a metal cargo box over to the wall to give him a boost and reaches his hand up at you.

“I could leave you here right now and go on my own.”  Your voice whispered down to him as you held your hand out but it rang out as an offer, not a threat.  Joel slapped his hand onto your forearm then braced it with his other arm and stared back into your eyes as he stated,

“You’d die out there in a day without me.  Besides, you heard the guard.  I can’t go back.  We’re stuck together.”

You nod, solumley, and as he jumps at the wall with all his might and a loud grunt, you heave him up with every last amber of your strength and the two of you tumble over the wall.  He lands on top of you and both of you take a moment to get your wits about you before you realize he’s caging you in on the ground with his body.  It takes you another moment to realize… you think you like it. 

He pushes himself up on his forearms and stares at you for a bit too long.

“Sorry… I didn’t think you were that strong.”

You smile at him, “Must be my alien genetics.”  You joke.

Joel tries to hide his smile as he rolls off of you.  You pull yourself to your feet and make an over exaggerated “UUURGH!” Grunt as you do it and shoot a side eye with a smile at Joel.  He tries to bow his head to hide a chuckle but you catch it and smile to yourself in a silent victory. “You gotta work on that old man grunt. One of these days it’s gonna give away your position.” You smirk. Joel playfully tosses a stick at you.

“I’m fifty six years old you little shit. I’m allowed to have body parts hurt for no reason.”

“Uuuuunghoookay.” You mock. Joel ignores your teasing and looks around the dark forest.

“We’re gonna hike for a few hours then camp in the forest.  Do you have that in you?”  He asks trying to get the interaction more professional.

You put your hands on your lower back and lean back comically with another loud groan, “Urrrgh… I think these weary bones can handle it.”

He hides another chuckle by turning his face away and jabs, simply,

 in a grumble

“Fuck off.”

You and Joel hiked for hours through the woods.  Joel was surprised your eye lids were disobeying you and drooping before his did.  He opted for making camp in the deep woods but with no fire.  Fire could possibly gain the attention of other people.  Other people were almost more dangerous than the infected these days.

He rolled out his sleeping bag, as did you with the lantern in between you.

“Scream if you’re being eaten.”  Joel says nonchalantly.

“Don’t feel you need to.”  You retort.

There’s a long silence and you hear Joel sniffing the air loudly.

“What?”  You ask, annoyed.

“Do you smell that?”  Joel asks.

“Smell what?”  You snap.

“It’s like…” Joel pauses to find his words, “Flowers and citrus.”

“I don’t smell anything.” You shut him down but in the back of your mind there is a tickle that tells you what that smell may be. He says nothing and rolls over in his sleeping bag to go to sleep.

You wake the next morning with a weight on you.  Surprisingly, it’s physically, rather than emotionally.  Joel has his large, strong, arm wrapped over you and one of his legs draped over your frame.  You know you should move away, that this is some sort of internalized behaiour he has become accustomed to and not specific to you.  However, you can’t help but push back into his body.

He moans in his sleep with pleasure and you feel his grasp around you get tighter.  He slowly thrusts into you.  You lean back and whisper to Joel to wake him up, “Joel… Joel!  It’s me… Amy…”  He holds you tighter and pushes his stubbly jaw further into your neck while he whines halfway between sleep and consciousness. His slow and gentle thrusting continues as he’s half asleep as he growls, “You smell so good.”  As he buries his face into your neck and gently kisses your soft skin.

Your brain is faltering, skipping all over the place as Joel worships your flesh while half asleep.  You scramble to collect your thoughts that won’t be corralled.  Your father warned you about this.  You know what this is.

You could have had a chance to hide it, but apparently are traveling alone with one of the only men in the galaxy who is compatible with you.

No! 

You shout to yourself inwardly and shuffle away from Joel’s touch.

“I’m sorry…”  Joel says sorrowfully.  “I don’t know what got into me.”  You turn and look at his deep brown sad eyes and all you want to do is jump on him, feel his  body, let him gently explore you.  You envision it in your mind within seconds and it makes your breath hitch and heart jump but as you look at him, unsure how to proceed, you realize, this needs to wait.  To make sure its not just a hormonal shift you’re having that attracts him to you and you to him.

Fuck, this isn’t good.

You may be going into heat.

But you feel alone and terrified. For once you want some reprieve from just barely surviving and having some actual comfort.

You turn towards Joel and wrap your arms around him.  He lets out a low, exhausted sigh as he nuzzles into your body.

“Don’t you move from here.”  He whispers, half awake, as he pulls you tight.

[jjsmaybank20]

Hi May I please request, In the season 7 finale of CM, it's reader that is shot by the bank robbers and taken, instead of Will. (JJ reacting the same way, only Reader is her best friend. And when they're in the hospital, R's freaking out to JJ about leaving Henry with Izzy and JJ kisses her to shut her up?) Jennifer Jareau X fem reader.

my first request! hope you like it.

Confessions

Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Reader

Summary: You would do anything to protect JJ. You love her, as more than just your best friend. Problem is, you put your life on the line before you can figure out if she feels the same.

Warnings: Reader gets shot, angst, very slight steaminess at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

navigation   criminal minds masterlist

---

It was a bank robbery. Not a common call, but not uncommon enough that you hadn’t been sent to one before. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, and this time, you happened to be called to the scene.

You and your partner Tyler were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Tyler and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “433 responding,” 

Tyler flicked on the sirens as you started to speed up. The two of you parked around the side of the bank so that they couldn’t escape through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Tyler was interrupted by a shot ringing out and a bullet narrowly missing his head. 

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled. 

The two of you took cover behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Tyler. The bullet ripped through the man’s shirt and went into his shoulder. You watched as another man grabbed him and  pulled him back inside. 

You called for assistance, and went around the side of the bank to see who else had responded. As soon as you rounded the corner, your best friend JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Tyler over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back. 

JJ held you out in front of her, scanning you for injuries. You pulled her back into a hug, trying to reassure her that you were fine. “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh. 

You spent most of the day talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The team's only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt. “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands. As soon as you started talking to Chris, you knew that he would at some point come to this.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go to him, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your best friend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in! Why is that not going through your brain?!” she yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes, nodded, and then left to give the two of you some space. Once they had gone, you looked at JJ and ran your hands through your hair.

She paced back and forth until you finally grabbed her and pulled her into a powerful hug. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?” 

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered. 

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, and tell her how you truly feel about her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t have a choice,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. I love you so, so much. Remember that, always,” 

Hotch. already knowing what you were going to choose, had SWAT members hide behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank. 

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!” 

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,” 

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him. 

There was no response from him as he pointed his gun at you and shot twice. The noise echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ collapsed in Morgan’s arms, her eyes widening, “No!” 

The team sat there in the van with JJ. They knew how much she cared about you, as more than a friend, even if she didn’t say it to them. They are a team of profilers, after all. If one wrong thing was said, she could break down right there and then. “Where was she shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her with a helpless look in her eyes. “Where was she shot?!” 

“We don’t know,” Garcia muttered. 

JJ couldn’t take it anymore. She punched the wall in frustration. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of how to comfort her, and not knowing if you were alive, but hoping you would hang on.

Luckily, he didn’t shoot to kill.

As you laid there, you could feel yourself getting weaker. Your shoulder was bleeding out and your vision was going blurry. 

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly. 

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, and you would go to her house, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next to you both. Then you would wrap you arm around the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d carry them each to bed. 

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell someone something for me. Tell Agent Jennifer Jereau that I love her so much and I’m so sorry,” 

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss. You knew that if you let yourself drift off, it would be over.

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake. 

The only thing keeping you going was JJ. What you would do just to hold her one last time. 

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patch you up as Izzy had instructed. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse. 

She put you back in the car. Everything seemed calm, until Izzy suddenly started opening fire on Chris.

“Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,” 

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?” 

“Take me to see her son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your son, but you had been there for JJ since day one, and you had been made his Godmother. You had always dreamed of becoming a family with him and JJ. “I said, drive!” 

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. You were tense the entire drive, your knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe. 

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive. 

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter. 

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on, introduce me!” 

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs. 

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. “Hey, Buddy!” You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t. 

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You lay one finger on him and I will kill you!” you say with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?” 

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until your mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him.

“Okay,” he replies innocently. 

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?” 

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,” 

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,” 

You sniffled, “I love you too, Buddy,” 

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out. 

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked. 

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you even thing about saying no, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,” 

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he dragged you down, chained you to a chair, and strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest.Then he ran, like the coward he is. 

You thought you were a goner. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the “Queen”. 

Just when you thought all hope was lost, Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!” 

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!” 

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,” 

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left. 

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. You need to finally tell JJ how you feel. I’m not going to leave you,” 

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left to live. 

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you yelled. 

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “fuck!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and a hollow laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s other best friend. But let me just say, I didn't think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,” 

“Of course,” 

Then, just as suddenly as the relief had hit, a wave of pain washed over you. “Oh, shit, Y/N! You're bleeding!” Prentiss exclaims, as she sees blood leaking through the bandage on your shoulder and through your shirt. 

“Huh, I guess I am.” You say just before you pass out.

When you wake up, your shoulder is numb. You try to gain your bearings, and when you look down, you see a sleeping figure with her head on your lap. 

“That can’t be comfortable.” You rasp out, trying to clear the pain and the sleep out of your voice. JJ shoots up and pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“Ow, ow, ow! Watch the shoulder!” You yelp when she squeezes you a little too hard.

“Sorry, sorry.” She winces. Then she turns around and starts pacing.

“How could you do that to me?! You can’t just run into danger like that. This is how you end up in the hospital with an almost fatal injury! I cannot live without you in this life. You are my best friend and I can’t do this without you.” She yelled.

You laugh dryly. “And there it is. Sometimes I get my hopes up because we flirt, but I guess that's just all in my head. We say I love you to each other all the time, but I mean it so differently than you do. Because it is becoming incredibly clear that you don't feel the same w-” You are cut off when JJ grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

“Never say I don’t mean it the same way. Cause I do, I love you so much it makes my heart hurt because I know there is always a chance I will lose you. You are the most beautiful, kind, funny, chaotic person I know, and… I really want to kiss you again.” 

This time, you are the one who pulls her into a kiss. This time, instead of breaking it off, JJ straddles your lap and kisses you deeper. You put your hands on her waist, while she tangles hers in your hair. 

“Woah! We can come back later if we are interrupting something.” Emily exclaims as she walks through the door. You and JJ jump apart, faces bright red.

“Yes, finally! Babygirl! You owe me $20!” Morgan yells to Garcia after striding into the room. JJ hides her face in your neck while you laugh at the team filing into the room.

While an unfortunate circumstance got you two together, you knew that nothing would ever be able to tear you apart.

---

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[mimisempai]

His smile

Summary

Struggling with a desperate situation, O.B. never expected to meet someone who would change the course of his life. 

All it took was one smile.

Notes

I don't know which POV is more enjoyable to write, they're both so adorable.

On Ao3

Rating G - 995 words

"Hey, O.B., this is Casey. I thought he could help."

O.B. recognized Hunter B-15's voice, but couldn't remember ever seeing a man named Casey before. In any case, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

He shouted at Hunter, "We're all gonna die!"

She called to him, "O.B.?"

He ran up the metal stairs, repeating, "We're all gonna die!" and then stopped in front of the man he didn't know, probably Casey, held out his hand and said, "Oh. Hey, nice to meet you. We're all gonna die." 

Then he quickly walked over to the desk where he put his things down as Hunter B-15 asked, "What do you mean?"

He turned to them and said in a voice of panic he was trying to control, "The blast doors won't open."

Casey interjected, " Did you try the C-12 bypass?" and leaned over the console in front of them to put what he had just said into action, barely giving O.B. time to reply.

"It won't work."

In fact, O.B. was surprised that someone from the administrative side of the T.V.A. would know so much.

Casey continued anyway, a smile on his lips that annoyed O.B. as he asked slightly mockingly, "Are you sure?"

O.B., not one to let things get out of hand when it came to his abilities, replied calmly, or so he hoped, "Of course. I wrote it."

He saw the man freeze, staring at him in amazement, his mouth hanging open, before he straightened and muttered, "Wait..."

Then he reached into the back of his pants and, pulling out something, asked O.B., "You're Ouroboros?"

O.B. recognized the orange booklet in his hand and answered a little surprised, "Yes?"

So what?

But O.B. wasn't done being surprised, because the man turned the book over to him and said with a big smile on his face, "You wrote the TVA guidebook."

What?

Someone he'd never seen before in his life, someone who, judging by his outfit, spent all his time in the offices above him, knew his name, knew his book.

Someone had read his book? It couldn't be, could it?

He couldn't help but smile with pleasure and ask cheerfully, "You've read it?"

He almost fell over in shock at Casey's reply, "Read it? I practically memorized it." 

O.B. couldn't believe his ears as Casey looked proud as he turned to Hunter B-15 and couldn't hold back a laugh.

Then the other man turned to him and asked, almost shyly, like a child, "Will you sign mine for me?"

Oh dear, if that wasn't lovely. 

Lovely?

He hadn't just thought that, had he?

Casey had approached him with his book, and of course O.B. wasn't going to deny him that, so he said joyfully, "Of course I will. Happy to do it."

Casey had opened the booklet where his picture was next to the introduction and handed him the pen, saying, "Yeah, right next to your picture.

"Hold on."

Hunter B-15.

"You just said we were all gonna die."

O.B. couldn't believe he'd lost his priorities over a smile.

No, he hadn't just thought of something like that again.

Not now.

He regained his composure and replied, "Oh, right. The containment doors are locked, and only the person who designed it can open it with a live scan of his temporal aura."

Hunter understood immediately and commented, "He Who Remains."

O.B. could only reply, "And he's dead. So without Miss Minutes to help us override the lock, we're stuck."

"So we have to convince a rogue artificial intelligence to come back to work?"

Casey had summed up the situation perfectly.

O.B. replied, unable to hide the concern in his voice, "Whatever we're doing, we gotta do it fast. The more those branches grow, the closer this thing comes to melting down. I'll build the device, but you need to find a way in or it won't matter."

The three of them stood in silence for a few seconds, contemplating the inextricable knot they found themselves in, then B-15 shook her head before heading for the main door, and Casey hurried after her.

Despite the urgency of the situation, O.B. still wanted to talk to Casey. For once, he'd have a chance to talk to someone who understood what he was saying. 

For the first time in a long time, his body reacted faster than his mind and he found himself following Casey, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

The other man turned to him in astonishment and O.B. asked a little shyly, "If you don't mind... uh, Casey. I'd like you to come and talk to me about what you learned in my manual. That is, if we can get this mess straightened out. You're the first person to talk to me like this in... I don't know how long, and since I've never had any real feedback, I'd love to hear yours."

As soon as he said that, O.B. felt like taking back his words. He was about to do so when Casey suddenly held out his hand and smiled broadly, "It's a deal!"

O.B. almost didn't believe it, but he took Casey's hand and this time he was fully aware of it. Aware of the gentle pressure and warmth of the hand in his. Aware of the open expression on the man's face and absolutely aware of his smile.

As he watched Casey's silhouette fade away, he couldn't help but look forward to seeing the other man again. Even if it was to discuss their common interest, for whatever reason. 

He would do whatever it took to save the current situation. He had a job to do and he would do it to the best of his ability. He always did.

Even if a tiny part of his eagerness was due to a certain smile.

His smile.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Unintentional 26

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CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language. Past surgical/medical whump alluded to, hospital setting. OCD, panic attack, Caretaker struggling. Impending raid/threat of Whumpee's (re)capture. As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

Leo’s head ached, exhaustion weighing him down and diluting his expressions so that every time he tried to give Aiden a reassuring smile, the kid just looked more worried. Leo was bone tired. They both were. Delia had only told them one result of the MRI scan: there was no tracker, not even one that had been fried by the machine. So, in that respect, they were in the clear. She’d go over the rest later. Aiden was already shaking without an onslaught of information, tremors radiating through him, his gaze weary and unfocused. 

For the better part of the last hour, Leo had been sitting in one of the unforgiving chairs beside the bed, trying to coax Aiden to relax. Reassuring him everything was alright, asking if he needed anything else, blundering around just shy of making the outright suggestion. Hell, at this point, Leo was ready to admit it was just so that he could rest himself without feeling guilty. Fifteen minutes and he’d feel better. They both would. 

The day before, he’d torn up a whole first floor of scratched laminate and demoed a fireplace. His partner had noticed the push and asked him if everything was alright. He’d said he wasn’t sure, which now felt laughable. And like it had happened a full week ago. 

Leo had finally given in and let his eyes fall closed for a moment when the announcement came over the PA. Code Indigo. All floors. Code Indigo. Aiden clapped his free hand over his ear. 

“Code Indigo?” Leo repeated, fresh adrenaline pulling him to his feet. He tightened his grip on Aiden’s hand. “But you said—”

“It’s rare but it does happen,” Delia said, typing furiously into her phone without looking up. 

Leo wanted to knock it out of her hands. They needed her right now. Aiden's shoulders had crept up to his ears and his grip on Leo’s fingers was shaky. 

“But how did they find out? You don’t think—”

Delia finally put her phone back into her pocket and met his eyes. “They don’t know anything about him. It’s just a random raid.” 

A strangled sound came from Aiden and he pulled his hand out of Leo’s. He would have slipped out of the bed too but Delia was faster. 

“Easy, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to make a plan.” 

Aiden turned to Leo, eyes wide and shining with tears. His bottom lip trembled along with the rest of him. 

This poor kid had trusted him and now, in bringing him here to save his life, Leo might have just done the opposite. What if it would have been better to just let Aiden die on his own terms? Leo would never forgive himself.

He tried to swallow some of the panic and guilt climbing hand over fist up his throat. “Can’t we just make a run for the car?” 

His sister shook her head. “They cover the exits and parking lots before they even make the announcement. That’s the fastest way to get caught.”

Aiden covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “Nnn-no…no…no…nnno.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Nnn—please—” He caught Leo’s sleeves in his shaking fists. “Please…mmm’I….can’t….mmm…I….can’t….mmm…” He pinched his eyes closed, freeing some tears, and swallowed in a way that made Leo want to ask if his throat was hurting. When he opened his eyes again, they shone with tears. “Please.”

Fuck, as if Leo didn’t feel guilty enough already. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise. We’re going to get through this. Delia’s going to help us and—”

Aiden turned to her instead, releasing Leo. Apparently, reassurance was not what he was after.  “Mmm…please…mmm…I…can’t…mmm…can’t…mmm…” He gave up trying to find the word and held up his arm, hooking his index finger under the bandage to show her the rectangular scar on his wrist.

“Yes, I saw.” She lowered his hand for him, smoothing back the edge of the bandage. “Aiden, running away from your previous master means they’ll have your picture on the list of Defectors.” 

Previous master. Meaning he was the current one. Leo’s stomach churned. “Delia, if they have his picture—”

“Nnno,” Aiden interrupted. He raised his arm again. “Nnn-not…mmm’me.”

Delia narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t do this to yourself…when you ran away?” 

He shook his head vehemently, eyes darting to search Leo’s face for a moment. 

“You’re not saying—I didn’t think—” Delia tented her fingers around her eyes, like blinders, as though suddenly everything was too much. She started shaking her head. “You’ve already—they did this to you?” 

Aiden exhaled a sob, nodding. 

Delia swore under her breath. 

“What?” Leo wrung his hands, leaning to try to see Aiden’s face angled away from him. “What does that mean?” 

Delia blinked at him, clearly distracted by whatever revelation had just passed between them. That he was still not privy to. 

“Hello? We’re definitely running out of time.” It was impossible to see what was going on in the hallway with the curtains drawn around this half of the room. In his mind, it was already teeming with police or WRU agents or both. Any minute, they’d burst into the room and take Aiden away. 

“Right. It’s good news…I think.” She kneaded her forehead with her fingertips. “Aiden, I’m hoping this wasn't some sanctioned WRU program…?” 

He shook his head. 

“How many people knew where you were, what was happening to you?” 

He held up one finger. 

“Okay.” She nodded. “And you didn’t escape on your own?” 

Another no. 

Leo leaned his weight from one foot to the other without taking his eyes off the vague location of the door behind the curtains.

“This is good. Sorry but…how much do you remember?” She was keeping her face carefully neutral. 

Aiden didn’t say anything but Leo could see the muscles in his jaw working as he held Delia’s gaze. 

“And from before?”

Tight nod. 

Delia reached for Aiden's hand and he let her take it. “I’m so sorry, Aiden.” 

His face wasn’t quite visible but Leo could tell he was holding his breath.

“We’re going to get you through this and then we can help.” This wasn’t just textbook bedside sympathy, she had that fire behind her eyes and determination in her voice he’d known his whole life. “It’s really good you told me.”

Leo looked down at his hands, pushing the tip of his thumb into the meat of the other palm. There was a speck of dried blood along the cuticle of his right index finger. Maybe from when Aiden had started bleeding through the bandages earlier, maybe from even earlier and he’d just not washed his hands thoroughly enough. He glanced toward the door again, anxiety twisting in his gut. Maybe he had time to—

“Hey, Leo?” 

Aiden dropped his gaze as soon as Leo looked up. Delia was waiting expectantly.

“Sorry.” He lifted his hand to run through his hair but stopped just shy of making contact and let it fall. 

“You remember the plan we talked about before?”

Aiden was watching him from under his eyelashes. 

He tried to inject a little more confidence into his voice. “Right, yes.”

“Great. Just do everything I told you and you’ll be fine.” Delia patted Aiden on the shoulder before backing away.

“Wait, what?” Leo held up his hands like he could call time out on this whole thing. Seconds ticking away until they were found out. “You’re not staying?”

“I thought that was already clear.” 

Leo shook his head. She couldn’t possibly leave.

“I have other—” Her gaze flicked to Aiden and back. “Other patients who need me.” 

“What?” 

Aiden shrank back, almost imperceptibly, because he’d raised his voice. Shit. 

“We don’t have time for this.” 

He clenched his shaking fingers into fists but then unclenched his right fist when he remembered the blood on his finger. “Wait, but what do we do if someone comes in? What are we supposed to say?” Leo couldn’t even look at Aiden. Did not want to see just how much this was definitely making everything even worse for him. He rubbed at the speck of blood with his other fingertip but it wouldn’t come off. 

“Leo.”

He met her gaze, switched to trying to scrape the blood off with his fingernail. “What about you? What happens if they catch you? I thought this was a once-in-a-blue-moon thing—wait, Delia, is this a fucking felony?” 

At some point, she must have stopped backing toward the door because now she held out her hand, reaching for him. “Leo, just take a breath—”

He dodged her. “I just—I need a minute.” Aiden looked confused at best and rejected at worst. Leo turned away and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He blinked and was already scrubbing at his fingers, rubbing the soap into his cuticles and under his nails. He wasn’t even counting, just mindlessly washing. 

No, he really needed to not lose his shit right now. 

He couldn’t get stuck in this loop. 

Not. 

Right. 

Now. 

Leo forced his lungs to fill with air, rinsed the soap off. Toweled his hands dry. 

Just one proper hand washing and then he had to go. 

One, two, three, four pumps of soap. 

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—

“Leo…”

He hadn’t even heard the door open.

Delia stilled both of his hands with one of hers. “How long?”

“What?” Leo let her rinse each of his hands under the water.

“How long have you not been taking your meds?” She turned off the tap and handed him paper towels. 

He couldn’t meet her gaze, focused on absorbing each errant drop of water. “A couple weeks? I’m fine, I managing it.” 

“I’m sure you were but now it’s caught up with you.” The careful tone his sister used revealed just how overly defensive his had been. She took the soggy paper towels out of his hands and dropped them into the bin. “This is a lot and it will continue to be a lot. You need to take care of yourself if you’re going to help him.” 

Leo flexed his fingers, trying not to inspect them too closely. “Yeah, okay. I know.”

“Come on, I really need to go and you’re going to be fine together. This is going to work.” She led him out and handed him the backpack she’d been forward-thinking enough to pack at his condo. “You know what to do. I’ll let you know when it’s all clear.”

As soon as she left, Leo wondered if he should have said a longer goodbye. Just in case. He had no idea what repercussions she’d face if caught, not that he had any better idea about himself. Aiden was the only one that really mattered and they needed to get going on this plan. 

Aiden was watching him, not quite warily but carefully, as he set the backpack beside him on the bed and started pulling out what they’d need. He ignored the compulsion to keep reflexively checking the door, tried to make his movements efficient but not visibly rushed.

“I’m sorry,” he said at the same time Aiden said, “Sorry.” Aiden huffed and dropped his chin. He was still shaking but had his mouth set in a determined line. Delia must have instilled a little more confidence in him about their plan to hide in plain sight. 

It would work. 

It had to work.  

Leo zipped up the half-empty backpack and dropped it beside the chairs. “Hon, you don’t have anything to apologize for. None of that—my reaction—was your fault.” He ran a hand over his hair, sighing. “When we get home, I can exp—”

“Leo?” 

There was so much care in the way Aiden shaped the air, as though the syllables might crack under too much strain. He kept his timbre soft, hesitant about borrowing sounds he didn’t feel he had any right to but in voicing them finding his own version of ‘Leo’.  

No way he could chalk this utterance up to his own imagination. A part of him still couldn’t believe Aiden had actually said it. He resisted the self-indulgent urge to ask the kid to repeat himself just to hear it again, to underline the significance of the moment. Instead, he cleared the lump in his throat and tried to sound casual. “What is it?”

Aiden didn’t react to the fact that Leo hadn’t managed to hide much of the emotion in his voice. He had pulled the sleeve of Leo’s old hoodie into his lap and was running his thumb over the frayed edge of the sleeve. When he raised his eyes, they were brighter than Leo had ever seen them. “Home?” 

“Yeah, home,” he whispered back, not sure how he was able to even find his voice this time.  

Aiden pulled the hoodie on, settling into it like it was a hug. 

Leo couldn’t believe the old thing was so meaningful but he wasn’t about to argue against anything that made Aiden feel safer. Especially considering the threat they were about to face. He held one of his beanies out, almost dropping it when Aiden bowed his head instead of taking it to let Leo put it on for him. 

He couldn’t quite blink all of the tears out of his eyes in time but Aiden kept his head down anyway, busy gathering the extra length of the sleeves into his fists. 

How could this kid not see how much of a hold he had on Leo already? 

When the door opened just a few minutes later, as they pretended to sleep across the room from each other, Leo was glad Aiden had a piece of home—a piece of him—to hold onto. 

No matter what happened next.

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