#this has hit my brain at speed and great violence

[ashhaven]

me thinking about the moshpit:

Untitled (You construct intricate rituals), Barbara Kruger, 1981

[sorcerersandskillusers]

I think Akutagawa will probably die, but he will transfer Rashomon to Atsushi. That way Dazai’s plan for combining their abilities still comes to fruition.

Sorry for reuploading again, I had to edit any panels containing blood out so tumblr won't flag this for violence again

I really think Akutagawa is going to die in this arc, Asagiri introducing his lung disease on top of saying that he was already dead before he got converted into a vampire feels like a message that this death is supposed to be final.  However, I don’t think Akutagawa is done yet in the story, I’m sure he will have at least one last great moment with Atsushi before the end and I think it will tie together a lot of current plot threads.

Why Akutagawa will probably die: A lot of effort was clearly put, into making Akutagawas death seem permanent; He was confirmed dead twice, his lung condition was revealed which means even if he became un-vamped he would still not have long to live, this could be another fake-out death, but at this point I would be madder if it was, because even though I love Akutagawa, any more fake deaths would really lower the tension of the series

  A lot of emphasis has also been put on Akutagawa looking for a meaning to his life, and slowly realising that maybe Atsushi is important to what Dazai is trying to show him.

I think that Akutagawa will probably temporarily regain control of his body, him keeping his promise is already proof he is still in there somewhere, Atsushi might reference Dazai and it might shake him out of the vampire's control, calling back to this panel.

But I don’t think he will be fully cured, so he will ask Atsushi for that duel he promised him. It would even parallel Atsushi “killing” Shibusawa in TDA, since both were technically already dead to begin with.

Atsushi taught Akutagawa how to value lives, and the patience to consider his actions. Akutagawa will teach Atsushi the conviction to take them and how to overcome the guilt he feels within himself. each one going from black and white, to grey.

My only hang up for this idea was that it wouldn’t make sense for Asagriri to waste all the build up for Atsushi and Akutagawas abilities being perfect complements to each other, but then I had a brain wave for how both things could still happen.

The strength of Shin Soukoku: Atsushi and Akutagawa have the perfect abilities to compliment each other; Akutagawa’s ability has range, defence, versatility, and the power to cut all physical matter, its main weakness is Akutagawa’s weak constitution.

Atsushi’s ability gives him high speed regeneration, insane speed, enhanced senses, basically indestructible fur and claws that can rend the very fabric of an ability.

And when combined, the ‘Black Tigers Supreme Claws’ are said to be able to even kill God if you can land a hit.

The ultimate spear against the monsters trying to destroy Yokohama.

Together they are the ultimate counter to almost any enemy, Dazai has pointed this out before. So, the best way I can think of to keep that perfect combination if Akutagawa dies is…

Atsushi inherits Rashomon: We know that abilities can be transferred from one person to another, Kyouka (a character with a close connection to both Akutagawa and Atsushi) got her ability from her mother. We also know that whenever Atsushi and Akutagawa fight a major villain they grow more in sink and coordinate and merge their skills more and more. This is what Dazai planned when he joined them together.

We also know that Akutagawa only sees his value in his strength, which for him is almost entirely in his ability. Rashomon is what protected him when he was on the streets, and it is what made Dazai take an interest in him. Strengthening his ability was the only thing he thought about for a very long time… Until Atsushi showed him how to see past his own skill and power.   

Atsushi was the one who made him realise that he needed to prioritise some things over his own pride, and in the end, he even sacrificed himself to save Atsushi, proving that lesson had stuck. Him transferring Rashomon to Atsushi would be the ultimate show of humility, him finally letting go of trying to prove his own strength, and instead helping the person he once hated most in the world, he finally learned to temper his sword, just like Dazai wanted him too.

As for Atsushi; he has spent the entire series wracked by indecision, self-loathing and fear. All of which tend to leave him when he is near Akuatagawa. At first because he sees him as an enemy who he can be 100% sure needs to be defeated, so no doubt or fear clouds his mind.

Then as a rival who he can’t afford to let be better than him, someone who gives him confidence just by being everything Atsushi doesn’t want to be.

Finally, as an ally, someone who he can fight alongside and who stops that terrifying fear of being alone that Atsushi has been fighting his whole life. Akutagawa has truly become Atsushi’s source of resolve,

and we see that in how Atsushi perceives him in his vision. 

So, if the transfer happens, it could symbolise Atsushi gaining that strength and conviction from Akutagawa once and for all. Completing their respective character arcs of Atsushi teaching Akutagawa to be selfless Akutagawa teaching Atsushi to be brave.

Dazai: Dazai is the ultimate connection for Atsushi and Akutagawa,

he is what binds them together and what drives them apart, he orchestrated their relationship and turned them into his trump card. But something that seems strange is that we never see Dazai’s reaction to Akutagawa’s death. Atsushi meets up with Ango after he escapes the ship, so there’s no way Dazai doesn’t know exactly what happened, the battle on the ship took place days before the Meursault prison break, so Dazai should have been able to receive one of Ango’s messages, so why don’t we see anything from him? not even disappointment.

We know Dazai has been planning sskk since he first met Atsushi,

and it seems crazy that he wouldn’t know about Akutagawa’s lung condition all the way back in the port mafia. So, I think it's possible Dazai always planned to have Akutagawa die to both motivate and strengthen Atsushi, since we’ve seen that he is, or rather was, not above sacrificing people for the greater good of his plans. It would also explain why he stayed so distant from Akutagawa, never really trying to make up for the things he did despite his promise to Oda, if he knew Akutagawa was going to die, then he wouldn’t want to get too attached to him.

I honestly think that if Dazai might regret his plan now, Atsushi has helped Dazai grow so much so fast since they met, his current arc with Sigma is proof enough of that. But it's far too late to back out of it now, and he probably justifies it with ‘He’s doomed to die anyway.’

The final battle: Every arc final battle in bsd involves Atsushi and Akutagawa fighting, whether against each other, or side by side. And through each of those fights, the two of them grow closer and closer, understanding each other a little more.

I think the impact of their defeat on the ship would be undercut if Akutagawa is just healed and they fight Fukuchi again just like before, there would need to be some major difference this time, and something to give Atsushi an edge over Fukuchi. And what better way to do that, then to use the form that already defeated him once (before he cut the past)

The Black Tiger’s Supreme Claws can cut through space, so can get close to Fukuchi despite his martial arts and insane ability. And If the time sword is cut by the tiger’s claws its ability will stop working, so it might be the only way to kill Fukuchi permanently. 

The main weakness of BTSC was Akutagawa, since he was defenceless while it was used,

so if Atsushi could use it on his own, he would probably be a proper match for Fukuchi in a fight. (Also just imagine Atsushi showing up to face Fukuchi in Akutagawas coat, which he still has since he escaped wearing it and which was originally Dazai’s which fits so well, and facing Fukuchi to avenge Akutagawa, who he now thinks of as a friend.)

And for anyone who thinks that this would make Atsushi to OP, remember that BSD is not a show about who can beat who in a fight, its a show of strategy and hax, there are still plenty of ability users who could counter someone like Atshushi, this would just bring him to the same table as the other heavy hitters. Also keep in mind that the next arc will probably be when we see the skill users from Europe, who are meant to be the most powerful in the world, like the transcendents. 

The event and aftermath: I think the actual transfer would happen after they finally have their duel and Akutagawa if dying, he would transfer Rashomon to Atsushi and ask him to continue Dazai-sans mission and he would acknowledge Atsushi as a more worthy subordinate then he ever was. He might even ask Atsushi to apologise to Kyouka for him, since he seems to genuinely care for her somewhat, it would be a really powerful moment for both of them.

And Afterward I hope Atsushi Finally snaps at Dazai, and actually calls him out for how he treated Akutagawa, which would be great for both Dazai and Atsushi’s character growth and maybe help Dazai realise that he feels genuinely remorseful for what he did, and that might help him understand how Oda felt after he gave up killing.

Overall this theory just ties together so many plot threads, character storylines and bits of foreshadowing, that I really think it might come true, but of course one of BSD’s best qualities is how unpredictable it is, so who knows what will ultimately happen.

I had to remove a lot of the panel evidence, here are all the panels I took out: link

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Nine

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Leona gets involved in an exciting adventure and receives surprising help.

Hello!

I have a few Trigger Warnings for today's chapter: Blood, violence, weapons, gore, viscera, death, and extensive injuries.

Have fun!:)

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform

I.H.L. - Infected humanoid lifeform

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Nine

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Everything is happening so fast that I can only stare in shock at what unfolds before my eyes through the binoculars. A whole dozen deformed creatures emerge from the smoke rising after the explosion, and they throw themselves among the debris of the street at such a speed, that the soldiers who took cover hardly have time to retreat before one of the beasts, which looks as heavy as a small elephant, snarls and throws itself at the wreck that has served as a hiding place for them. And it's only thanks to MacTavish's lightning-fast reflexes that the bear-like monster doesn't tear one of the scattered soldiers apart, because the Hunter appears in front of the mutant so suddenly, that I'm unable to follow him with my paralyzed brain. With his bare hands, he fights back the shovel-like, huge paw that is about to strike, so that when the enraged creature stands up on its two hind legs and attacks again, he hits the vital organs with a couple of well-aimed shots and takes the behemoth down.

However, they don't have time to enjoy this small victory, because more and more I.M.L.s appear, and as I glance at the entrance to the nest, I realize that, judging by the number of mutants constantly pouring out, they certainly won't have a chance to rejoice for a while. But if this all continues like this, it's also doubtful whether anyone will survive long enough to see a happy ending. A desperate fight begins, and the soldiers flee to get some cover behind the many ruins spread out on the street, from where they attempt to pump the monsters galloping towards them full with bullets. And I'm trying to process what happened through the astonishment taking over my limbs. The I.H.L.s walked through those fucking bombs, willingly and with great joy, to defuse them for their friends who showed up next. Not only did the I.M.L.s not kill the humanoid abominations, they welcomed them into the warmth of their nice little family, and now they even seem to be working together. Which is a fucking wild assumption, even for my imagination running rampant with stress, because so far there has been no example of this in the last fifty years. These bastards are incapable of intelligent actions, let alone outmaneuvering those who hunt them. What the hell is going on here?

"It's Hunter 0-15! Everyone stays in position! They can't go any further!" I hear Riley's command on the radio, and the raw anger in his voice is the testimony that the hell that broke loose has also caught him desperately unprepared. All calmness is lost from his words reaching my ears, and because of this, my pulse skyrockets and tries to breathe some life into me, because it slowly reaches my awareness that the situation will soon become difficult for me as well, even though I am far away from the events.

MacTavish's little soldiers continue to fire at the mutants from behind the rubble, and although they are surprisingly effective at killing the demonic creatures, and they manage to eliminate some of them, this isn't nearly enough for most of them to stay on the ground permanently. Again, a loud explosion shakes the street, which has turned into a picture of frenzied killing, and I'm also forced to close my eyes for a moment from the flashing lights. And by the time I turn back to follow the actions, the foglike smoke that has appeared lulls me into a false calm with its immobility. Because when it starts to disintegrate, it reveals the corpses of the monsters torn to pieces, but soon more of their friends arrive to take their place. It's as if they are besieged by an endless stream, and despite the soldiers fighting and shooting at them incessantly, the dozens of monsters that keep popping up create this feeling, which causes unimaginable panic to run through my every nerve fiber. As if the mouth of the nest would open straight into hell, where more and more vermins ready to kill would pour out. And the whole struggle suddenly seems like a completely hopeless suffering.

Maybe that's why the Hunter with the mohawk can decide to take matters into his hands and rush towards the beasts alone, entrusting his team's survival to his abilities. He can also guess that if even one of the I.M.L.s gets close enough to his comrades, that unfortunate person will suffer the most painful death imaginable. And although he has the repertoire with which he can take out these bastards, his lethal power is in vain if he is outnumbered by the enemy. And this isn't a good thing, to say the least.

"Cover me!" MacTavish says on the radio to his comrades behind him, who obey his instructions without hesitation and get ready in a second to target anything they can. And as the man steps out of his cover and sets off towards the diabolic creatures with a determined momentum, my stomach shrinks from some unknown unpleasant grip, because the only image that appears in my mind is the promise of the Hunter's dead body frozen in blood. And although I trust him and his experience, I'm unable to banish this simple intuition from my subconscious, which is slowly torn in two by the claws of worry and terror.

Despite all the risks, he directs his weapon at the incoming beasts without a moment's delay, hitting them with brutal precision before they can get even a little close enough to attack. And when one of the degenerates, throwing itself over the defeated cadaver of its companion, comes within arm's reach of the Hunter, he frees one hand and swings his fist at his attacker, and hits the brute’s bare, skull-like head with such force that even though I can only see the image through the lens of the binoculars, but in my ears I hear the imaginary crunching of bones. The I.M.L. falls to the ground, and as it lies down in the dust, I see its blood-soaked face, mangled by the blow, in which MacTavish makes a hole with a well-aimed shot just to be on the safe side.

Even I'm amazed at the efficiency with which he exterminates the wretched swines, an although they continue to advance towards the small group with unstoppable anger, still hope awakens in me when the man I have known so far as harmless and friendly shows that it’s no accident that he belongs to S-class. Even though it seems stomach-churning, as minute by minute he enriches the road decorated with black blood and wrecks with more and more unrecognizable limp bodies, I still hope that this pace won't leave him and he sends all these bastards to the other world.

Still, when a mutant larger than its previous buddies appears and, pointing its horns at MacTavish, rushes forward, cutting through the carcasses lying in the filth, my blood runs cold. A skillful little soldier begins to shoot, but it doesn’t make a difference, for the beast charges forward furiously and unrelenting toward its goal, and when it arrives and strikes with unstoppable momentum, it's just a hair's breadth away from slicing open the chest of its victim, who is lucky enough that his vest absorbs the lion's share of the attack. Taking a few steps back, the Scotsman lowers his weapon onto its sling, then pulls himself together to grab the bone growths that are about to strike again, before it can stab him. He fixes his booted feet on the ground to hold back the enraged monster, who tries to push forward toward his chosen prey with muscles tensing under the pale, scarred skin. For a nerve-wracking moment, when the Hunter's legs slide backward in the dust, it seems that he might lose his balance and the fiend will get to him, but this horrific illusion lasts only for an uncertain second. In the blink of an eye, he regains control and pushes his attacker by its horns, then reaches into his tactical vest, grabs a large hunting knife from there and places it in the head of the mutant. The blade sinks right up to the hilt into the creature's skull as easily as if the man just wanted to cut a birthday cake, and he pulls it out with at least that much ease, so that he can continue the fight undisturbed.

And as soon as I see the large body spread out on the ground, I let out the air which I didn't know with what despair had stuck in my lungs until now. I hastily shift my gaze through my binoculars to assess the less-than-ideal state of the battlefield, because at this point the eventual outcome of this fight becomes highly doubtful. And I'm not greeted by a prettier sight from the intersection either, and although I see some of the monsters fall on the road limply, another one inexplicably appears in its place, which throws itself to the soldiers firing from their hiding places. And even my mind, confused by the chaos, knows that we have stepped into a real wasp's nest, because it has long since gone beyond the limits of a routine nest extermination. This is something completely different that we walked into completely unprepared.

I continue to observe the chaotic scene of the battle, and I'm just about to make up my mind to create some workable plan that could help me to survive, when something in my periphery suddenly moves on the battered roof of one of the ruined buildings. Reflexively, I turn my head in the direction of the phenomenon, and concentrating all my attention there, I try to assess with my sharp little eyes, what the figure slowly creeping out from the shadows and appearing almost out of nowhere could be. And when the silvery light of the moon finally envelops the stranger, my eyebrows meet in confusion at the sight materializing before me. Because for a split second, it occurs to me that I might have fallen victim to a hallucination caused by fear and stress, because I can't find a sane explanation as to why the I.M.L., with a body woven with lean muscles, appears with a human-like creature on its back peeping ever so slowly through the stumps of half-destroyed walls covered with vegetation.

But, when I understand what I'm seeing and my brain starts to work on interpreting the visual stimuli received through my eyes, a completely new kind of astonishment comes over me. It defies all known facts as the mutant and its rider stalk towards the edge of the building with almost stoic calm, and just the wording of this observation is enough to make me lean forward, holding on to the handrail, to see if I can get a better look at this impossible picture. The I.H.L. sitting on his cute little pet looks down on the events taking place in the turmoil of the street as superiorly as if it were just watching a movie, and although I can't see its face clearly, I can still perfectly measure up that its features have remained much more human-like than those of its other infected friends. While the other infected humanoid creatures only resembled their late selves in traces, and like the other monsters they took on an amorphous form littered with ulcers, growths, and superhuman muscles, which probably makes their appearance resemble a wraith from a nightmare, this individual remained surprisingly human. Only a few tumors and scars decorate its body, swollen with developed muscles, and its unwavering and proud posture is definitely different from the horrible nest dwellers.

However, I don't have time to analyze the creature any further, because when it raises one hand and points it towards the soldiers and Scottish Hunter fighting at the end of the road, I suddenly forget to muse on the events that took place so far. Because at least a dozen I.H.L.s drag themselves out of the alley that runs next to the building with slow movements, and at the silent instructions of their leader puffing above them, they begin a clumsy but all the more determined stealth towards the unsuspecting troops. And at this point, my mind finally snaps out of the paralyzed contemplation and instead postpones my further smart observations, and my hand hastily reaches for the radio resting on my tactical vest so I can warn MacTavish before the bastards can surprise them.

"MacTavish! I.H.L.s are approaching you from behind!" I shout with an almost desperate urgency, and I tensely aim my eyes at the man, who continues to fight with restless momentum against the ever-coming mass of enemies. An icy terror shoots through me when I don't see any reaction from him, and only one of the soldiers turns back for a moment to check the authenticity of the information coming from me. And when he notices the lanky figures slowly emerging from the shadows of the walls, he quickly spins around and waves his hand to the rest of his comrades who have retreated to cover.

"They're behind us!" I hear the soldier's nervous voice in my ear, and now they all think it's better to turn around and deal with the new threat that is approaching them with dangerous certainty. Even so, the restlessness of the soldiers doesn't break the Hunter from his murderous activities, and he continues to wipe out the monsters showing up from the intersection, despite the fact that by now he is doing this by himself. And I frown in confusion, since he gives no sign of being aware of the catastrophe that will soon begin.

It seems I'm not the only one who notices this, because one of the soldiers hiding close by suddenly jumps up and motions towards the Hunter, no doubt trying to shout over the noise of the active battle. And when he doesn't succeed, he hastily leaves his hideout and sneaks closer to try to warn his superior again. This message finally reaches its destination, because the Scottish man puts down the mutant coming towards him in a fraction of a second, only to look back and face the creatures that are about to pounce on them.

But then it's too late, because the monstrosities, who have been advancing calmly up to this point, suddenly find their anger and attack the small group with all their uncontrollable bloodlust, and the Hunter and his men are now forced to defend themselves from two directions. The soldiers immediately start firing, but all efforts and even the Hunter fighting at their side are in vain when a handful of people don't stand a chance against these wretches. Since when the I.H.L.s reach them, the real carnage begins, and in the blink of an eye, the hopeless struggle thus far turns into total hell. They unstoppably burst into the combatants, and as one of the deformed creatures throws itself at the man shooting from behind a chunk of concrete, it grabs its victim by the neck with indefensible speed with its grotesque, spider-like long arms, and tears off the unfortunate soldier's head with playful ease, as if it had just tried to rip off a piece of grape from its cluster. And the acid rises in my throat at the sight with unforgiving force, and holding my hand in front of my mouth, I swallow back the contents of my stomach that want to burst out, which was led toward the outside world by fear so graciously.

I can't hear it, but it's enough to see MacTavish's mouth open in agony to feel the surprised fury in the scream that leaves the man's lips. But the fun isn't over yet, as the chaos of the night that turned into bloodshed is cut in two by a bone-chilling roar that draws my attention back to the unknown being who started this whole fucking event. And that bastard climbs down the side of the building where it had been observing up until now, sitting on top of the mutant behemoth, and gallops towards the group fighting desperately with its chest out. And my hands reflexively find my radio to do something, to warn someone who knows how to prevent the horror that is slowly unfolding before my eyes.

"MacTavish! There's one more coming up from behind!" I yell into the device at full volume, and I look again for the mentioned person, but instead of responding to my call, he throws himself into eliminating the beasts with even more aggression than before, like a cornered wild animal. And the unpleasant realization dawns on me that this cannot be the work of chance, and that he is not deliberately ignoring my call, but that some accident has happened with his communication device. And this, if possible, pushes me even further towards complete panic, the like of which I wasn't lucky enough to feel even in the forest. That's why I decide it's time to tell someone else about the mess the team got into.

"Riley!" I call for the masked Hunter, ignoring the panic that mixes with my voice that breaks through the radio. Because my instincts are taking over my brain, and it screams inside my skull that if my Scottish friend doesn't get help soon, I'm going to watch with my own two eyes as that fucking beast-riding mutant bastard guts him. And this is just enough to drive my body to the verge of dizziness. "MacTavish's team is surrounded, they need help!" I exclaim, and I shift my frantic gaze to the intersection through my binoculars, just in case Riley and one of his partners appear in the heat of the madness and rush to help.

However, for a nerve-wracking moment, no answer comes, and although I can hear the soldiers messaging each other in broken voices, none of them are the deep, British-accented ones I'm looking for. And that disgusting foreboding creeps into my skull, which tells me that something terrible might have happened to the other man, which prevents him from answering. And this possibility triggers even more ominous thoughts in my brain, which is already falling into a deeper pit of stress. But, when I hear the crackling of the radio in my ear, I almost instinctively feel a sense of relief, because I wouldn't be able to process so much crap in one night.

"Roger that. Stay where you are." Comes the rather concise reaction, and while his tone doesn't surprise me at all, his words are even more so. There is such a measured indifference radiating from the man over the line as he directs this firm instruction at me, that it instantly raises my blood pressure. Because I get the feeling that, he's belittling my concerns and disregarding my observations, and ignoring my entire report, as if it were nothing more than the unnecessary squealing of a silly little girl. Although I can accurately assess the superior confidence with which the demonic monster approaches our mutual friend, who is slowly running out of space to protect himself from threats.

"Riley, I'm not fucking kidding!" I snap at the man fiercely, and my fingers tighten around the radio with such force that I'm afraid it will crack in my grip. "There's a fucking I.H.L. riding a mutant, and it directs the other bastards there and they're cornering MacTavish and his team!" I explain to him, leaving behind all my pride and arrogance, which I have been so happy to convey to him during our conversations. With this, hoping that he will also understand the seriousness of the situation and will finally rally his people, and help the Scottish man so that we can get out of this cesspool together. Because the only chance of survival here is to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Whether this is the orderly and correct step or not.

"Continue to observe and hold your position!" He raises his voice now, informing me of his previously perfectly worded order a little more irritatedly, with which the problem so far wasn't that my brain cells couldn't process it. And I stare blankly into the distance, with my flaming eyes fixed on the man even through the ruined buildings covered with plants, because I'm unable to understand what is so damn hard to understand in the fact that without his help, his friend will soon kick the bucket. As I take another look at the battle taking place in the street, and see how the multitude of monsters and degenerate creatures are slowly closing in on MacTavish and his two companions who are still alive, my chest tightens with a stabbing pain. Too many enemies are arriving, and there is no end in sight to the bloody mess, and although the Hunter is heroically trying to stand his ground, it's perfectly clear that their chances of survival will soon be zero if something is not done urgently. And it seems that the man is also aware of this, because he nervously turns his head behind his back, looking for an escape route, so that when he notices the entrance to the small alley stretching to the left, he signals to his men to order them behind him. He keeps his weapon on the beats attacking them, trying to hold them back until he manages to fish out a grenade from his vest, and then throws the useful little bomb into the small gang of mutants. The force of the explosion causes the bastards to fly apart like startled birds, and those who are still hit by the detonation are blown into discrete pieces. It seems that MacTavish takes advantage of this momentary distraction, because by the time the dust and smoke clears, there is no sign of him and his friends. And even though I lose sight of them in this way, it still makes me more anxious to wonder how much time they will gain with this stunt before their pursuers catch up with them again.

My concerns are soon answered, because the mutant-riding I.H.L. stands only with immeasurable calmness at the edge of the scene of destruction, only to retreat for a fleeting moment, surveying its sweet little beasts with quite deceptive apathy. It gives the impression as it runs its milk-white gaze over its remaining bloodthirsty companions, as if it would just count how many chess pieces it has left, which it can mobilize in order to inflict maximum damage. And when it’s convinced that there are still enough scumbags that it can unleash on its victims, it once again directs the dozens of monsters towards the escape route used by the Scotsman with that eerily sensible gesture, and the brutes throw themselves onto the designated path with murderous enthusiasm. But it doesn't stay idle either, no. As soon as the last of its kind is swallowed up by the darkness of the side street, the monster below it suddenly moves and dashes after them with amazing speed. And it doesn't take much logic for me to figure out that this is going to be a hide-and-seek with an easily fatal outcome. And this gives me enough justification to try asking for help again.

"Riley!" I call for the man again, and I know that there is real desperation and anger in my voice, but the urgent feeling that with every passing minute, we are getting closer to the bloody highlight of this whole nerve-racking mission doesn’t let me rest. And when a few painfully long seconds pass and there is still no answer, my teeth clench so nervously that my jaw almost aches from it. What the fuck?

"MacTavish has left his position and is now being chased by a herd of mutants. If someone doesn't help them, they will most certainly die." I try again, now perhaps more impatiently than necessary, emphasizing each word separately. But again, I don't get any reaction, from which I can directly conclude that the man is probably swimming up to his knees in the carcasses of the beasts, and thus he can be in exactly as dire of a position as his friend with the mohawk. Because I know he wouldn’t deliberately ignore my warning about the suffering of his dear friend, considering how fiercely he defended his little unit from my harmful little scheming.

From this whole helpless situation, the image of MacTavish's mangled body, lying in the dirt swimming in blood while a beast feasts on him, flashes before my mind's eye inexplicably. The vision projected in my imagination seems so real that the pressure, which was benevolently suppressed by the compulsion to follow the events, once again returns to its well-accustomed place in my throat. Just the thought that the life of the man, who effectively sneaked into the corners of my dark little soul even during our fleeting time together, would die in such a violent and painful manner fills my limbs with unbearable pain.

And as I take in the sight of the gaping nest at the intersection and the monsters rampaging around it through my binoculars again, the very definite idea begins to take shape in the winding paths of my gray matter, that maybe it's time to leave my position that lulls me into the illusion of safety. Although all my survival instincts protest against the idea, I still have the best chance to rush to the aid of the Scottish Hunter, because his other comrades, just like him, are still fighting desperately for their lives. And this simple fact seems like such a logical step, which nevertheless sufficiently triggers the raging waves of adrenaline in my body. And the smile that makes its way to my face breaks out of me almost hysterically when I realize how far I have strayed from the selfish little ideas of my former self at this moment. Because while previously no one could have persuaded me to commit such a stupid and irresponsible move, now the voice in the deepest part of my skull is reviving, which drowns out the sounds of my selfishness, and which screams for me to pull myself together and finally do something. I've never been a coward, I've always been manipulative and calculating, so it's time to act before the terror in my stomach wins. Shit.

"I'll go after him." I announce my sudden decision with surprising ease, as soon as my fingers find my radio again. It's quite obvious that even though I could flee in silence and maybe even survive, every cell in me is furiously protesting the fleeting idea, as if the suggestion itself were a disgusting disease. And thinking rationally, I'm most definitely not going to get out of here alone tonight, so it would be best if I would actively do something so that I and my little friends can get through the night. Even if I put my own skin at risk.

"I told you not to leave your position! This is a command!" Riley's voice suddenly echoes in my ears, and I find it quite funny that breaking his instructions is what finally prompts him to react. I'd like to think he's sounding so aggressive over the radio because he's worried about my safety, but I know he probably just wants to avoid explaining how I died if I would actually bit the bullet during my rescue operation. And while my realistic self understands why he insists to idle my time away here, the fact that he would rather keep me at this fucking observation point than let me do what I'm willingly offering helps the poison spread through my veins. Now is not the time when he can flaunt his dominance, because once I have a rock-solid determination, very little will distract me from it. And the role of the strict Hunter is not one of them.

"I couldn't care less about your order, Riley." I throw my remark at him determinedly, and although I know that this will probably only fan the flames of his temper even more, unfortunately, this die is already cast. "I won't let him die." I explain to him my brief reasoning behind my sudden decision, and before I can even wait for his answer, my hands glide with automatic movements towards the communicator hidden deep in the side pocket of my pants, and with my clever little fingers I call up the map of the whole damn city so that I can look for the man with the mohawk on it. And when the little red dot marking him with his call sign appears, as he flees diligently heading west, then I already know what the target direction of my little action will be.

"Woods! Stay in your fuckin' position!" The masked man reprimands me again, but I only deal with this matter with a sarcastic snort, because at this point he already should know that he won't stop me with this, because he hasn't been able to divert me with his threats so far either. And only a hidden corner of my consciousness grasps the unknown and impatient tension, which until now I haven't heard in his deep voice, but I don't pay any importance to it now. After all, at this moment, the interpretation of his behavior, unfortunately, fell back in the order of priority. And because of this, I decide that I'd rather not waste any more words on this futile verbal battle, because I will get to where I need to be that much later.

"I'll let you know when there's a new development." I send him one last message, so that I can finally surrender to the impatient nervousness in my muscles, which pushes each of my limbs towards action. And although panic is still actively working in my veins, my realization gives me enough impetus to finally move. I push myself away from the handrail that has provided me with firm support until now, and sliding my binoculars back into their holder, I turn my back on the active battlefield, where the sound of loud gunfire and inarticulate howls still fills the space. I grab my assault rifle slung over my shoulder and start with hasty steps towards the stairs leading down from the overpass, crossing the broken concrete road. Even I'm amazed at how springy my movements are, as I take the steps in twos, only to start running immediately after a final check of my communicator.

I decide that I might have better luck avoiding the monsters whose after MacTavish if I try to approach them one street up, because the mutants are definitely working on cornering him. And if the beast-riding bastard is there with them, then unfortunately for the Hunter, but to my luck, maybe his trashy friends won't wander away from there. Because, even though I was suddenly promoted to a one-man relief army, my common sense and will to survive didn't leave me. I run across the wide road, from the end of which the sounds of the battle still reach me, and even though I still hear the memory of Riley's deep voice filled with anger, I only take one last look at the events taking place at the intersection. I will care about the man's rage when everyone is back in the safe and calm confines of the base. Maybe I'll even be happy if he scolds me.

A narrow stretch of road between ruined buildings appears in front of my eyes, and when I realize that the next part of my journey will lead to it, I double my speed and throw myself into the side street surrounded by crumbling walls. I'm greeted by nothing but ominous pitch darkness, and my nose is suddenly filled with the smell of wet vegetation and gunpowder traveling on the back of the wind, but I'm not deterred for a moment by this archival horror movie environment. It takes some time for my eyes to adjust to the world of the alley dominated by shadows, and for the few seconds until this happens, I continue sprinting without waiting, because my heart beating in my ears and the adrenaline bubbling in my veins tells me that there is no time to hesitate. But thanks to fate, my pretty little eyes overcome this obstacle after running a few meters blindly, and from then on I continue on the desolate road with full confidence.

My lungs are filled with decades of dust kicked up by my steps, and the fine crumbs of plaster peeling off the crumbling walls slowly fill my mouth, but even in spite of this, I hurry along the narrow and ridiculously long street. Sometimes I jump with the elegance of a gazelle over the many abandoned belongings and objects lying on the ground that are rotten beyond recognition, and my mind, focused on the task, doesn't stop to think about what a piece of cloth of dubious origin or an obscure outline that appears suspiciously might be. And I'm terribly grateful for that, because now I don't feel like getting into that kind of nostalgia.

When the claustrophobic feeling from wandering in the depths of the alley would finally start to get on my nerves, my small path suddenly ends and I get to another wide concrete road, in the middle of which an overturned large vehicle is lying still. And although most of the paint had peeled off, there are still a couple of yellow scale-like remnants left on it, from which I can deduce that it must have been a school bus once. And I prefer to direct my gaze to the hologram glowing in blue on my communicator, rather than to the windows that look like many screaming mouths, through which I catch the decaying frames of the torn seats for a moment.

I search for MacTavish's blinking little dot on the map again, and when I find it three streets down, pulsing unmovingly in one place, worry fills me. Because the fact that he decided to take a rest in the middle of his escape can mean two things. Either he managed to kill all the mutants, or something is actively preventing him from leaving. And if it's the latter, then I have to hurry because it could lead straight to his death.

I quickly identify the small, one-way street where I will continue my way, which is located one street directly above the position of the Hunter, so that I can leave behind the haunting ruins of the school and begin my frenzied sprint once again. My whole body continues to be doped by the ever-growing waves of adrenaline, which drives away the dryness that bites my esophagus, the burning tension in my muscles, and every other sensation, and pushes me further into the emptiness of the seemingly endless street. The moonlight colors the once serene surroundings in silver and lends a quite eerie atmosphere to the silence, which slowly envelops everything. The sounds of the battle in the combat zone behind me had long since disappeared, and nothing remains but the dull noise of my boots pounding on the concrete and the sound of my hurried breathing.

Every minute, I return to the map looming in blue with my eyes, and as the red dot marking the man with the mohawk, still blinking frozen in place, gets closer and closer, my heart rate soars to dangerous heights. Because I have a strong suspicion that my first hypothesis was correct, and that the being leading the mutants really directed all of his minions towards the Hunter, and that's exactly why MacTavish has been stalling in the same place for minutes, and that's why luck has so far spared me from running into stray I.M.L.. And this realization is a sufficient warning for caution, because at this point it becomes clear that I will have to come up with a tricky little tactic if I want to save not only the man and his friends, but also my own skin.

And when I finally see the end of this damned street, I rather take back my momentum, because I hear the unmistakable deep, rasping and definitely otherwordly grunts and growls, the likes of which only a single lifeform can emit. With cat-like steps, I sneak closer to the end of the street to look for a temporary hiding place, snuggling up against the side of a building dotted with decaying old plaster. I slowly and silently slide my communicator back into my pocket, as I suspect it will be obvious where the Scotsman and his companions have been confined. Resting my palm against the wall, I lean out of the my hideout, and when I see the mob of beasts, my eyebrows nervously furrow. Because a good thirty meters away, they are peacefully huddling in front of an alley, from which the muffled sounds of fighting are heard. And they have every reason to be calm, because the mutant-riding I.H.L. does the same, and observes the events of the battle that emanate from the dark alley with deep indifference. As my gaze glides across the gathered herd to assess how many of them are there, I see a small group of monsters circling the ground with great interest. And as soon as one of them moves, I can finally see what occupied them so effectively. Although there is only a blood-soaked, mangled corpse lying on the ground, I only need to look at the uniformed leg dangling from one of the beast's sharp, needle-like teeth to know that by now MacTavish may be the last survivor of his team. And I thank the stress hormone working in me for kindly suppressing the first friendly waves of nausea, because I don't want to be caught just because I do a technicolor yawn.

And before I can analyze the situation further, I hear a loud bang of a gun firing, which is followed by sick silence. It seems that the little fucker riding the beast could have been waiting for this, because it seizes this opportunity and decides to join the party, raising an object that looks terriby close to a spear in its hand. My chest suddenly tightens as my brain takes in the facts, and then the decision is born in me that I have to act now, or the Hunter, who may have run out of ammunition and weapons, and may be injured and exhausted, won't be able to stand his ground against this scumbag. Even if every fiber of my being hopes the contrary.

And this, instead of causing me to fall into despair, in some inexplicable way rekindles the bubbling energy in my veins that I last felt when I locked eyes with that fucking wild boar. And although I thought that my body wasn't shaken for a moment by that faithful meeting, I'm still glad that this image is etched in my memory. Because now at least I will benefit from the unquestionable determination that once again overwhelms me, and now even though not my survival depends on it, I let this unknown force lick my insides with angry flames. And my brain in a heightened state magically comes up with the plan that I have to implement. And for some reason, I have no doubts about its success.

My fingers nimbly fish out the flash grenade resting on my vest, and its other two much more destructive brothers, because it seems much more logical and poetic to shred these garbage into confetti, as they did with the unsuspecting soldiers. I emerge from the cover of the wall for the last time, and I see that the monsters are still waiting for me at their dinner table, stuffing their faces, and this suddenly makes me want to kill them even more. My body moves almost by itself, and I aim my weapon with automatic movements, then throw the flash grenade between the gathered mutants with such precision as if I had been doing this all my life. I quickly hide myself behind the wall again, and the bastards don't even have time to process what's happening, because as soon as the sneaky little gadget hits the ground, the blinding light that escapes from it momentarily covers the entire ruined street. And when a deafening whine-like sound erupts from them, I know that my vile little distraction was effective.

I grasp the opportunity, and I don't give them time to recover from this, but I activate the two companions that are more powerful than the flash grenade, and I send them flying on their destructive journey straight between the paralyzed, frozen creatures. And although I once again retreat to the protective shield of the building, when the hand grenades land, they explode with a well-known boom, after which nothing remains but the air movement and the mass of dust flying with it. Thus, even in the shelter of my hiding place, I hear the wet splashing of torn bodies of the beasts and the sharp thump of the debris hitting the ground, and I take this as the sign that I can finally make my entrance on the blood-covered stage.

I step out onto the concrete road with every inch of my body filled with determination, and I see, through the dispersing smoke, that my little surprise has indeed achieved the necessary effect. The remains of bodies mutilated beyond recognition lie on the ground, and even the luckier ones, those who are still moving and writhing on the mangled leashes of their own limbs, will no longer pose a threat. I briskly cross the street that has become the site of bloodshed, and my boots clatter with a disgusting sound in the dirt soaked with dark body fluids, but instead of being repulsed by the whole sight, a small joy awakens in my soul, because they all deserved it. Each and everyone of them.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the entrence of the alley, and when I arrive, I lose momentum for split second, and I pause to survey the scene unfolding before me. MacTavish might have been able to struggle heroically against the enemy until now, because the narrow street is covered by the many lifeless corpse of I.M.L.s, and it must have been a miracle of God that he survived in this hot water until now. But now, backing towards the end of the dead end alley, his hands are pressed to his stomach, where the remnants of his tactical vest and T-shirt hang in jagged pieces, giving a clear view of the long, claw-like cuts that run across his torso. A painful moan escapes the man, and his gaze glowing with weak red light is fixed on the beast towering over him, and on the deformed creature sitting on it, who is preparing to finish its cruel work with its spear raised high. And this awakens such anger and hatred in me, the heat of which burns my insides alive, and along which the energy burns even more strongly in my veins, sending a single message to my brain. Kill it. And it doesn't have to be said twice.

Before the scumbag can even make its next move, I grab my assault rifle and aim it without hesitation to pump the bastart full of bullets. My gun fires with a series of loud bangs, and I manage to surprise the mutant, because by the time it realizes what's happening, the fired bullets are already piercing through its body, and maybe even Riley himself would be proud of how efficiently I take I.H.L. down with my sharpened senses. A shrill scream erupts from it, then with a dull thump the human-like creature turns from the throne it had occupied until now, and as soon as it sprawls on the dirty ground, its pet also notices that something is very wrong. The mutant turns with such fervor, as if it were genuinely enraged by my intervention, which it might be. But I'm not frightened by the way it snarls and focuses all its attention on me, because when it lunges towards me and wants to get up on two legs to throw itself at me, I deploy my mean little rifle again and shoot the fucker with deadly efficiency, focusing on its chest, because the useful wisdom that I learned during my training appears in my brain. And I know from this that if I cause enough damage, it will fall to the ground. I don't have to be disappointed in the knowledge I've acquired from my teachers, because when a bunch of bloody gaping holes cover the brute's broad chest, it falls in the filth next to its master. As I unwaveringly walk towards it, and when with its last breath, the milky white eyes resting on its wrinkled, tumor-distorted head look up at me, then I decide to take pity on it and free it from its suffering, and I present it with one last bullet to its skull. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that it's over and I've killed both of them. And then the murderous red fog clears from my mind, and all my attention shifts to the Hunter kneeling at the back of the alley.

"MacTavish!" I shout, and I don't even try to get rid of the worry in my voice, because my nervous system is too overloaded to be able to work on such stunts. Instead, my body moves almost automatically, and I hurry through the narrow alley covered with corpses, shoving my weapon over my shoulder. And the closer I get, the more my anxiety increases, because this way I finally have the opportunity to measure the man's not-so-rosy state in detail.

"Woods... " He moans, and as he looks up at me, and the reddish glow in his eyes suddenly dissapears, which prompts me, when I finally reach him, to stumble and fall on my knees next to him, frantically directing my bright eyes at the injuries on his stomach and chest. “Why are you here? " He asks the completely logical question, yet impatience awakens in me from the way he is trying to question my actions through his pain.

"I came to save you." I tell him quickly and matter-of-factly, pushing his body back towards the wall of the alley with trembling hands so that he can rest while I assess the damage. The large cuts on his suntanned skin show off in an angry red color, from the deep furrows of which crimson blood gushes out, soaking what is left of his clothes. And as soon as I see the characteristic texture of the raw meat emerging on his belly, I don't hesitate any longer, I pull myself together and finally get to work. I can now perform what I was brought to do. Fuck!

"Leave me here..." He pleads with a his face distorted by pain, and as he closes his eyes, his head falls back and connects with the bricks with a soft thud, then I place my palms on his wounds without any delay, and fixing my gaze on his body, I aim the tensely bubbling waves of my energy towards him. "Go... Run..." He starts again with the martyr, self-sacrificing speech, and my teeth clench with such force from frustration that I feel my jaw ache from it.

"Shut up, Soap!" I glare at him, and even I myself don't notice what's slipping out of my mouth, but it's just enough to grab the Hunter's languid attention for a moment and snap him out of his self-pity. Only the beginnings of a cheeky smile appear on his lips, but before he can share his witty comment with me, suffering takes over his features again. And I take advantage of his silence to focus all my attention on healing, and as the complicated system of blood vessels, muscles and organs appear in my brain, and then the gaping cuts running across them, I close my eyes and cling to the damaged tissues with my own energy. In my mind, I watch how the torn blood vessels slowly but surely connect again, and I see how the torn fibers of the tissues intertwine, and gradually everything takes on its original, undamaged and flawless state. As the gashes of his wounds slowly disappear under my palms, the muscles that have been tense from agony also relax, and when a relieved sigh escapes from the man's mouth, I know that this will be enough for now. He probably won't die now, and although he still will be weak from the blood loss, he's just well enough to make a break for it. Because my womanly intuition tells me that my entrance was so radical that it will soon attract the scumbags who might have been idly looking around the area until now.

"Pull yourself together, MacTavish, we've got to go!" I warn the man in a firm voice, and shuffilng next to him I reaching under his arm to help him stand up by spreading my hand on his back. Surprisingly, the Hunter obeys my request right away, and hisses as he struggles to a standing position with me, putting his weight on me until he manages to pull himself together ready to go. "We have to get to the cars!" I tell him the facts, which represent the only possibility for survival, and which our other comrades have probably already set their sights on.

MacTavish acknowledges my proposal with only a weak nod, then sets off with me towards the entry of the alley as fast as he can, and I hastily lead him over the cadavers of so many beasts lying in the dust. As we pass the monster-riding F.H.L., I take one last look at its lanky, frighteningly pale body. And so, up close, it's even more unnatural how humanlike the mutation of the virus left it. I can't think of a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon, but since now is not the time for scientific reflection, I will save the whole problem for a later date. In my small room at the base, after a warm shower, I will stretch out in my bed and create hypotheses.

But when we reach the opening of the alley, the demonic growling sounds reach my ear canals again, signaling the approach of another fucking difficulty. These damned bastards never seem to run out, which awakens the suspicion me, that by size of the nest here, something really shady is behind the whole operation. Because it's quite certain that it wan’t the magically accelerated development of the virus that caused this whole tragic circus.

But before my thoughts can go any further, we step out into the street, and with that, we come face to face with the reception committee, who, breaking out of their mourning over the remains of their dead comrades, fix their eyes on us. And when the angry bloodthirst flares up there, I already know that there is still one more obstacle to go before we can even get to the end of the whole pile of shit. I push MacTavish's body against the wall of the building lining the side street, and he just leans against the hole-filled plaster with a weak groan full of suffering. He tries to say something to me, but before he could even start his sermon, I already have the gun in my hand again, and with all my remaining concentration I try to shoot down as many of the beasts swinging towards us almost simultaneously as possible.

And when life intervenes, and after a few shots I run out of ammo, I reach for the supply on my vest with hasty movements, but when the new magazine is just in my grasp, a beast appears in front of me, and I reflexively jump back before it could cut me open with its knife-like claws. And even though I thank the reflexes of my kind, my joy doesn't last long, because during my little maneuver, my foot skillfully finds one of the many pieces of debris lying on the ground. And as the piece of stone drifts under the sole of my boot and knocks me off my balance, I fell on my ass in such a beautiful curve that under other circumstances I would surely get a funny remark from my Scottish friend. But he holds into against the brick wall, hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, and doesn't pay attention to my clumsiness.

I fix my eyes on the monster attacking me, who has now been joined by a couple of its no less-dangerous friends, to end my life together. And I, keeping my eyes on them, reach for another magazine, because I cleverly dropped the previous one in the middle of my landing and released it somewhere among the other rubble. But by this time, the stress makes my movements properly uncoordinated, and although my mind is clear and continues to urge my body to act, my fingers suddenly become clumsy, even though I have already done this a thousand times with my masked trainer. It shouldn't be a problem for me to change a magazine, but as my brain takes in the mutants who are menacingly stalking towards me, waiting to pounce, then almost a short circuit occurs in every corner of my head. And the sly little voice in the back of my skull tells me that the effect of the adrenaline is diminishing, and that the energy I spent on healing the Scottish man is slowing me down at the moment.

However, after a few torturous seconds, my hand finally succeeds, just as the beast that wanted to slice me up gets tired of the slow, sinister stalking and swings towards me, springing into the air. And I aim my weapon at the monster as fast as I can, but before either of us can succeed in executing our attack, a metallic flash appears out of nowhere and hits the monster's head with such force that it splits apart with a gut-wrenching crack like an overripe melon. The dark blood of the mutant splashes on my face, but I'm unable to deal with it, because my mind is much more occupied by the very sinister figure that appears behind the beast falling to the ground.

It takes me a moment to comprehend who has come to save us, and when I finally realize that it's Riley, an indescribable shock washes over me. Because despite the fact that I voluntarily put my life on the line against his firm orders, I'm sufficiently surprised that he's still here. And as his furiously widened, red-glowing eyes survey my form sprawled among the debris, and then move on to his friend, who has fallen to the ground along the wall behind me, dirty with blood, then such a dangerous, ice-cold fury begins to flow from him that it freezes the blood in my veins. And although only the pale shine of the moon gives us some light, I can still clearly see the strained line of his broad shoulders, which makes him look quite like a predator ready to pounce. Even though for a fleeting moment it seems as if he wants to say something, he turns without a word in the direction of the mutants who are still carousing here, and then concentrates the poison that is surely raging inside him on them. And that's when I manage to observe what did he use so skillfully to free me from the bastard attacking me, and his makeshift weapon makes my eyes widen in an almost comical way. Because he lifts the traffic signpost with such ease, as if it were a twig, and with even more effortlessness and faster than that, he hits the devilish creatures leaping towards him with the piece of concrete at its end. And when I understand that this guy tore a fucking traffic sign out of the ground with his bare hands, in order to continue fighting with it, then, in addition to the surprise, something completely different reaches my nervous system, which is struggling to process the events. Because there is something quite animalistic in the way his body pulsates with power as he kills his enemies with the brutal strength and unstoppable momentum of a big cat. I feel a dull tingle in my stomach in an irrational way, and my mouth besomes dry in a fucked up manner as I stare at his strong figure rampaging and killing.

And scolding myself, I divert my attention from the massacare unfolding in front of me before I can even analyze how artistic I find the line of his broad back in the middle of the fucking bloodshed, as he beats down and degrades the I.M.L.s that come in front of him to pulp. Instead, I break out of my observation and get up on my feet again to hurry with quick steps to MacTavish, who is now lying limp at the bottom of the brick wall, immersed in the beneficial darkness of unconsciousness. My fingers carefully slip on his neck, and as I feel the slow, even pulse under the urgent searching of my energy, I calm down and turn back to our savior.

Riley takes care of all the mutants present with surprising speed, and then, when he has mutilated them all beyond recognition, he casually throws away his weapon and it lands with a loud crash on the street, which has now turned into total bloody chaos. It seems that he was able to release the accumulated tension, because when he turns his gaze to us again, he looks far more relaxed, and he strides towards us with confident steps, sizing up our little couple with his eyes. And when he stops next to me, he bends down without comment to throw his Scottish comrade on his back with a rather light movement, as if the well-built man was nothing more than a rag doll. And this is probably the case, if I only consider the way he got his previous weapon.

"Let's go. The others are waitin' for us at the edge of the combat zone." He says briefly, and even I'm surprised at how flat his deep voice sounds, despite the fervor with which he began the slaughter just minutes ago. And I'm not going to present him with an apt remark, but with a silent nod, I agree to his suggestion, because I also can't wait to finally be able to leave this fucking place. And if he hastened so enthusiastically to save us, then I won't talk back to him, thanks to whom my head is still in place. At least for a while, for sure.

The smoldering eyes of the masked man scan my face for a fleeting second, as if searching for something, but then, after a brief nod, he sets off in the direction of the road back, and starts running as fast as if he hadn't fought for half the night and wasn't weighed down by the one of his companions. And certainly, for a Hunter belonging to the SSS class, all of this doesn't pose any particular difficulties, yet for the first time, I'm amazed at the cold professionalism with which he handles this whole situation. After all, it occurs to me that this whole mission ended in a complete disaster, which no one could have predicted. The responsibility for this rests on his shoulders, despite the fact that even he can't predict the future, and even his super-sharp Hunter senses couldn't foresee the series of mishaps and sad accidents that would follow each other during the night. And the fact that we are now in the ruins of the deserted city, fleeing together towards the edge of the combat zone, is also only thanks to the immeasurable benevolence of fate.

We get back to the road we marched down at the beginning of our operation surprisingly quickly, and I'm filled with immeasurable gratitude that I can finally leave this godforsaken pile of ruins behind me, which only enriched me with a lot of new and quite pleasant experiences. Without a doubt, I overachieved the task imposed on me in a quite reckless manner, and I have no doubt that because of this, the man who continues to advance steadfastly in front of me will have an unsolicited word or two for me. But that's the least of the problems I experienced during the night, because his small punishment is dwarfed by what I saw. Because here something quite large had slipped by the wayside, which even Laswell's omniscient little information couldn't have avoided. And suddenly I remember the camera still merrily recording on my chest, and I thank my foresight and her clever procuring skills, because if Price doesn't see with his own eyes what MacTavish and I were able to experience in this goddamn place, then he won't believe it. If someone were to tell me that the I.H.L.s and the I.M.L.s united under their mutant-riding leader and surprised a team of trained Hunters and soldiers who had been through dozens of missions, then I would also offer that person a special medicine to stop imagining things. But this was different. This was reality. And nothing proves it better than the unconscious Scottish guy traveling on the back of the masked Hunter, who suffered this story firsthand. And the dull throbbing in my limbs, left behind by the long-gone adrenaline, is a very nice reminder that I, too, was lucky enough to admire this horror on several occasions. And although, for now, my brain can't dwell on this, I'm sure that I will have a thousand assumptions while watching the nice little recordings. Because we need to find an explanation for this.

When we finally arrive at the edge of the combat zone, and the waiting vans appear in front of me, my heart beating in my chest finally slows down a bit. The members of the Watcher team anxiously survey our arriving small group, and I look at the handful of survivors who remained from the original fifteen-person team that sneaked into the city with a similar gloom. And these four unfortunates have also seen better days, and even though all their limbs are intact at least, I know that as soon as we return to the base, I need to treat them immediately, because they have plenty of injuries to take care of. And this is another cruel stab in the festering wound caused by the events.

"Start the countdown when we leave. We don't leave it up to chance." Riley gives his first instructions to one of the soldiers left behind, who with a quick nod pulls out his remote control and then jumps into one of the vehicles with his companions. And I follow the masked man, who opens the back door of the other car with fast movements, and then, entering, lays his friend on the ground as carefully as if he were made of glass.

None of us waste any more time waiting, because the next step is to escape from here. We also get into the van, and after I find my seat, I lean forward and slide my hand on my patient's neck again, checking his vitals in a quick second, which flickers reassuringly steadily under the curious touch of my energy. Fortunately, I arrived in time to save him, and thanks to Laswell's pampering, I came here full enough to be able to save the man's life. But if I got there even a minute later, or Riley didn't come after us to help my stupid self stuck in the corner, things would be different now. And now, for the first time, I don't find it difficult to admit that even though I don't regret for a minute that I defied him, my dark little heart beats gratefully that nevertheless he rushed to our aid. Even if his efforts were more for his partner than for me.

And instead of brooding, I decide that it's time to regenerate the man with the mohawk a little, because by the time we get back, he should be alert enough to stand in as a witness to tell the story of what happened tonight. I gently place my palm on his neck and direct my force in even waves toward the unconscious MacTavish to breathe life into his exhausted body again. And when Riley throws himself down in front of me after the van takes off with full throttle, my troubled gaze meets his now familiar chocolate-colored eyes. And with an almost habitual sense, I decipher the thoughts swirling in them, which now pose even less of a challenge. Because in his stare, there is exactly the same grim restlessness that has settled in my head.

For a moment, an orange light paints his face as the bombs left behind explode in the distance, and none of us need to say a word to know that tonight is just the beginning of something terribly messed up.

[voidstilesplease]

I just finished the season. What the hell was that? I’ll start with things I liked Patrick’s shirt in the last two episodes and answering my question as to where Phillipe is. Now things I didn’t like basically everything, the new characters didn’t care about them, and the characters I did like previous are now so out of character that it’s ridiculous. Patrivan they so shippable in season 5 why destroy the one good ship from last season. Patrick didn’t deserve any of this neither did Ivan. I never minded Ari I didn’t hate her I didn’t like her she was just always there but this season wow they did her more rude, at the end I was worried for the baby with how much she drinks. I wish Raul was hit by the car he is almost if not as bad as the two guys in isadora’s storyline. Raul’s friend caused the fight at the game which caused everything to go nuts then drugs Mencia and well you saw how that turned out. I am glad isadora finally got actual justice for what happened and got to kiss the guy that likes her. This season was dumpster fire there were good moments but there were actual moments where I cringed and wanted to skip sometimes I had it on 2x speed just because I couldn’t stand the scene/characters. Overall I think this might be the worst season. Was it just me or did you get Carmuel goodbye parallels from patrivan goodbye. Carla left Samuel a voice message as he slept and then left, Patrick left Ivan a voice message as he was unconscious then left.

Im halfway through and it’s just pain. The only good thing that has happened other then the patrivan pool scene which was A+ was they answered my question where is Phillipe. He went back to his country.

Adding your previous message here, too, because I wasn't too quick to respond to that, and now you're finished. I could have warned you that the halfway mark wasn't the most painful yet. But, I guess, now you know 😭.

I must say, Patrick's wardrobe this season is great. Less provoking, but not less handsome. To me, it actually represents his maturity, the growth of his character, which is ���� from beginning to end.

Now about the rest of the season... Well, I understand if the new characters don't appeal to you yet, but I do have potential favorites. Nico, for example. He's just precious, I think. And Didac, too. The way he stood up for Isa against his childhood friend was very good. Sara, I feel for her. Bilal and Rocio could be cute but there's too little content to say any more than that, unfortunately. Raul is toxic and physically abusive - no, no, no. I have a penchant for liking toxic people (ahem Patrick and Ivan), but physical violence is just irredeemable. Sonia, who isn't part of the promoted new cast, is actually a great character.

But of course, I came here for the characters we already knew from season 5. Specifically, Patrivan. And true, the first episode actually felt a little off in the beginning because of some characters' behavior that I wasn't used to in season 5, but I also realized that circumstances from before changed them.

And yes, 100%. Patrick deserved better. Ivan, without the intention of invalidating his grief, could have done better. And Ari - oh god. Where do I even start with Ari. I didn't mind her in season 4, started to hate her in season 5, and just want her to disappear every time she's on screen this season. Patrick is self-destructive, but Ari is a walking disaster. She takes down everyone with her. And worse is, she betrayed her own brother. Who only wanted to help her, and Ivan too. But they stabbed Patrick's back instead, and then his chest right to his face. But the most despicable part is the pregnancy. I don't even want to think about it, much less address that it's actually part of season 6. I just want to delete that part in my brain because I can't.

True. The one, true, good thing to come out of this season is Isadora's storyline. But overall, I didn't hate the season. I understand if you do. But for me, objectively, it actually is the best season after 1-3. Even if it did crush my heart to pieces.

Anyway, thank you for sharing your thoughts! I am sorry if I'm rambling in my reply but I'm still, kind of, disoriented by the whole season, tbh.

Finally, no, it wasn't just you. The last scene with Patrick and Ivan is a parallel to Carmuel. Only, this one broke me utterly. Their parting isn't as acceptable as Carmuel's, in my opinion. Their parting is an audio recording that may or may not be heard by Ivan. And his accident could be traced back to Patrick's car, and now Patrick could even be under suspicion. His departure could be seen as running away rather than giving their relationship a chance to breathe. It's brutal.

[wreckedregent7]

Regent’s Ramblings - Aatrox’s VGU

Another day, another pointed thought-spill, this time about something I have in the back of my brain about 90% of the time. Riot has a reasonably good track record with VGUs - Sion, Warwick, Dr. Mundo, Udyr, etc. - oftentimes when they take the time to hash out and reinforce the core identity of a Champion, they manage to nail it pretty consistently.

However, there’s one Champion that wound up in a particularly poor state of balance following his VGU, and that state has been kept in constant flux ever since, with him very frequently crossing the line of dominance and needing to be pushed back down, and with his core fantasy being poorly expressed in gameplay. And man, do I have a love/hate relationship with Aatrox.

Before I talk about his VGU, I need to talk about what Aatrox was before it. In appearance, he was strikingly alien - tall, slender, with ragged banner-like wings, prominent horns, a jagged, segmented sword, and a posture of unusual refinement despite his trademark being unbridled violence. He made for an impressive character as one of a rare species known as Darkin, and his lithe form helped sell the aggression of his Diver playstyle.

His passive allowed him to store up energy in his Blood Well, and when it was full, he was given a revive a la Guardian Angel, being temporarily put in stasis as his health regenerated from the well. His Q fired two converging blades of energy to slow opponents at a range, his E allowed him to dive in, knocking opponents airborne if he landed on them, and his W allowed him to toggle his weapon between Blood Thirst - giving him minor burst heals every third hit - or Blood Price - sacrificing his health to boost the damage of every third hit.

And his Ultimate, Massacre, had him siphon the health from enemies nearby, giving him boosted movement speed and attack speed, making him a living single-target blender who could either sustain himself in combat or go full HAM to murder someone at great risk to himself.

When Riot planned their VGU for him, they initially wanted to keep him as a Diver - a Fighter who has strong engage tools and high consistent damage output with modest durability. They wanted to keep his drain-tanking mechanics, but reinforce his thematic identity as a warlord and war-deity.

And then when his VGU arrived, he became a Juggernaut - having lower average mobility, being easily kited, but having staggeringly high damage and durability to compensate - with some drain-tanking mechanics. His gameplay went from aggressive, risky plays to crowd control and masterful positioning, which, while not a bad thing in and of itself, but coupled with his other mechanics, does make for a bad combination.

So, covering his current kit real quick; His passive has him periodically empower his next basic attack to deal extra damage based on the target’s %max health, and heal him based on the post-mitigation damage, reduced against minions. Hitting enemies reduces the cooldown, and landing his Q sweet spots reduces it even more.

His Q is a three-part ability, where he slams his sword in three unique patterns, each with a sweet spot that deals extra damage and knocks the target airborne for a moment. The first is a narrow line with the sweet spot at the end, the second being a broad cone with the sweet spot at the outer edge, and then the last being a point-blank circle area with the center of the circle being the sweet spot.

His W launches a projectile that damages the first enemy hit, and if it’s a large jungle monster or a champion, it creates a trapezoidal field with the narrower section closer to Aatrox, with a chain linking the Champion to the center; if they remain in the area for a few seconds, they take additional damage and are dragged back to the center.

His E passively heals him for post-mitigation damage dealt to Champions, and also allows him a short dash, which he can use to adjust his positioning mid-Q. And finally his Ultimate fears nearby minions, grants him bonus Attack Damage, Movement Speed, and self-healing, with its duration resetting on Champion takedown.

His Ultimate used to grant him a one-off revive like Blood Well where he could move around while reviving, but they removed it some time after the VGU went live.

Now, you may notice that, despite having a kit that encourages drain-tanking and consistent damage output, Aatrox gets no attack speed steroids or anything like that. Meaning that the bulk of his healing is going to come from landing his Q, and especially the sweet spots. They don’t have too awful long of a cooldown, but the problem becomes much more apparent in practice.

Remember how I said his gameplay went from risky aggression to masterful positioning? Yeah, I meant it. Surviving as Aatrox means that you need to land your Q sweet spots; the 60% bonus damage matters, and on top of that the momentary knockup helps stall your opponent from landing hits in the trade - but Aatrox’s Q has windup, and the pattern is set, and thus becomes predictable.

Your enemy will start to dodge your Qs better, and then it becomes even more imperative that you get better positioning, catch your opponent with W, read their movements, feint, readjust, etc., just to get reasonable sustainability from a Champion whose mechanical identity is “drain tank”.

Comparing him to another drain tank for a second; Vladimir has a similar means of sustain - it’s all in his abilities, namely his Transfusion and Hemoplague. But he doesn’t rely so much on positioning; he can heal consistently off of minions since it’s a flat heal per rank, and he only gets a more effective boost during his Crimson Rush - it’s not tied to his damage, it’s tied to his ability rank and AP scaling, and a small reward for aggressive positioning and timing.

His Hemoplague, similarly, heals for a flat amount per Champion, with a reduction for subsequent Champions after the first. There’s no finnicky damage math - just “did I hit an enemy”. Sanguine Pool heals him as well, but notably for pre-mitigation damage; meaning, once again; your healing is not dictated by the enemy’s defenses, but rather your ability to stay aggressive and leech off of them.

Meanwhile Aatrox is a drain tank who can’t do his job well without a significant investment in items - and since his healing is tied to post-mitigation damage, he winds up being extremely janky as a Juggernaut whose first item is Lethality - Eclipse. Without the effective flat armor penetration provided by Eclipse, Aatrox doesn’t do any actual draining, despite being, again, a “drain tank.”

And I’m sure someone out there’s wondering; “why all this fuss over sustain?” - and the simplest answer is, because sustain is Aatrox’s identity, and it doesn’t mesh with his current mechanics. It makes him highly intensive to play, and also somehow manages to tie his ability to perform not just to player skill, but also specific, rigid itemization that runs counter to his mechanical design.

The standard Juggernaut fare as far as Mythics go are items that blend durability with damage - Goredrinker, Stridebreaker, Divine Sunderer, Riftmaker, etc. - and here we have a Juggernaut who has extreme difficulty functioning if his first item isn’t a Skirmisher Mythic. It lacks in effective durability (no, the shield doesn’t mean shit) which only increases the pressure to perform and exhibit the aforementioned masterful positioning.

And with Aatrox’s success so inextricably tied to specific itemization, he winds up being nerfed when his core gameplay becomes too effective; as seen with his semi-recent nerfs towards his sustain.

I’m gonna close this one out by saying, something I would love to see for Aatrox is to get his Deathbringer Stance changed; instead of periodically making his next basic attack give him a small burst heal, make it crush a portion of the target’s armor. Sacrifice one of his healing sources in exchange for giving him the power to make his healing actually function without needing high damage, low-durability itemization to come online.

It would bring back some of his risk/reward gameplay and still encourage skillful trades, as an enemy who gets their armor crunched is going to be far more wary of Aatrox’s predictable attack patterns.

I’d also love to see his revive effect come back, but I’ve given up hope on that one, no matter how many limitations could be put on it.

[thecreaturecodex]

Diplovertebron

Publicity still from The Monster of Piedras Blancas

[By the late 1950s, the Hays Production Code was weakening, and many movies not made by the big studios were released without code approval. This eventually lead to the MPAA and the movie rating system by the mid 1960s, but in the meantime, you had all manner of indie films experimenting with what they could get away with. Which is the major claim to fame of The Monster of Piedras Blancas. This is a Creature from the Black Lagoon ripoff featuring multiple decapitations and the female lead skinny dipping (although no nudity is actually caught on camera) while the monster sniffs her underwear. Pretty intense stuff for 1959! It’s those decapitations that are why I have my version slotted in at such a high CR. I wanted to have it at least have a chance to perform its signature move.

Incidentally, the name Diplovertebron is a real scientific name, for a very incomplete and possibly dubious genus of early tetrapod. The real animal was maybe half a meter long, not even remotely humanoid, and couldn’t pull the head off of even a single skinny-dipper. I can only imagine some screenwriter paging through a paleontology textbook until he spotted a name he thought sounded cool.]

Diplovertebron CR 11 NE Monstrous Humanoid This creature is humanoid, with a fleshy nose with barbels drooping over a fanged maw. It has ridges of armor plating along its back and arms. Its hands are oversized claws.

A diplovertebron is an aquatic humanoid with a protective carapace and lethal claws. They can smell blood at great distances, and may travel from afar in order to scavenge or prey upon whatever has spilled it. They require water in order to survive, but twin snorkel-like appendages grow from its head, allowing it to smell the air even while it is submerged. Once it finds prey, it attacks with stealth, hoping to make a kill quickly. They are noted for tearing the heads from their victims, as they seek fatty meals and humanoid brains are an excellent repast.

Diplovertebrons are family creatures, living in kin groups and assisting each other at hunting when possible. A lone diplovertebron is an unhappy one, and they may try to “make” a family by kidnapping people instead of killing them. A diplovertebron can speak Aquan, albeit without much articulation, and some of them find life in sahuagin colonies or among other evil aquatic intelligent creatures. They have very long lifespans, and may survive between 300 and 400 years if not slain by violence.

Diplovertebron CR 11 XP 12,800 NE Medium monstrous humanoid (aquatic) Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, keen scent, Perception +16 Defense AC 24, touch 14, flat-footed 20 (+3 Dex, +1 dodge, +10 natural) hp 147 (14d10+70) Fort +11, Ref +12, Will +12 Defensive Abilities fortification (50%) Offense Speed 20 ft., swim 60 ft. Melee 2 claws +19 (1d8+7/19-20 plus vorpal critical), bite +19 (1d6+5) Special Attacks powerful blows (claws), sneak attack +2d6 Statistics Str 21, Dex 16, Con 20, Int 7, Wis 17, Cha 12 Base Atk +14; CMB +19; CMD 33 Feats Blind-fight, Dodge, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Power Attack, Stealthy, Skills Climb +11, Escape Artist +8, Perception +16, Stealth +15, Survival +16, Swim +19; Racial Modifiers +8 Perception, +4 Stealth, +8 Survival Languages Aquan SQ water dependency Ecology Environment temperate aquatic and coastal Organization solitary, pair or family (3-6) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Keen Scent (Ex) A diplovertebron can detect creatures by scent in a 180 foot radius, and can smell freshly spilled blood up to a mile, in either air or water. Vorpal Critical (Ex) If a diplovertebron rolls a natural 20 on a claw attack and confirms the critical hit, the creature struck must succeed a DC 22 Fortitude save or be decapitated. This kills most living creatures instantly. This does not function if the target creature doesn’t have a head. The save DC is Strength based.

[babblydrabbly]

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 10

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW penetrative sex, dirty talk, fingering - 18+, minors dni Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: if smut is not your cup of tea please skip to the page break [denoted by the ***] b/c the little pillow talk afterwards relates to the overall story!)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Your head was absolutely spinning as you returned the kiss as passionately and strongly as Bucky had started it. Your lips molded together as if made for one another - but that’s right, they technically were, and suddenly it felt like everything had aligned. Like Fate herself had succeeded.

Your hand came up to Bucky’s jaw, caressing gently as he hummed into the kiss. His arms were locked securely around your waist. He pulled you into him as if you two could get any closer.

But then he broke the kiss suddenly, letting you two gasp for air. Although, there wasn’t really a moment to compose yourself. Just as fast as he kissed you, his lips now found their place on your neck. He nipped and sucked at your soft skin.

“You know,” you gasped as his lips continued their pleasant assault on your neck, “I don’t normally sleep with people after only the second date.”

Bucky chuckled, lowly. Dangerously. “You can’t make an exception for your soulmate?”

You couldn’t help but moan from the way the word tumbled off his lips so perfectly. “Say that again.”

“What?” He chuckled, playing dumb. “Soulmate?” You shyly nodded. 

“Come one, make an exception for me, doll,” he whispered as his hand traveled to the back of your thigh. “Let your soulmate make you feel good.”

That, for some reason, was just right for you. “Bucky…” you sighed as his hand began making its way higher, just skimming the bottom of your dress. Instinctively, you ground your hips into his, already feeling his hard-on forming.

You thought you were getting somewhere as his hand was now gripping your thigh, sure enough to leave bruises, but then all his actions stopped. His lips left your neck, letting the cool air hit the now raw and damp skin. Your jaw dropped, ready to protest, but he spoke before you had the chance.

“Our first time is not going to be in the kitchen,” Bucky said.

“Then point me to the bedroom because I don’t know how much longer I can stand here before I combust.”

Bucky just playfully rolled his eyes before doing something even more unexpected: he picked you up like you were the weight of paper and threw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise while he just laughed and began walking down to an off-shoot room from the main area. Next thing you know, you’re being draped gently across his bed. 

Bucky hovered, hands on either side of you. His lust-filled eyes raked over you, taking in the sight of your ruffled dress and braided hair. Both would be severely messed up in a short amount of time but for now, he just seemed to be enjoying seeing you in his bed. A soulmate in their soulmate’s bed. It didn’t feel real.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, placing your hand on his bicep, trying to coax him out of whatever thoughts were bombarding his brain. His sudden silence had made you a bit nervous thinking everything was going to dissolve. 

But Bucky nodded and said, “I can’t get over how gorgeous you look here, in my bed. Like this is where you belong.” 

Everything was suddenly on fire for you. From the desire pooling with you to the heat of his words… You didn’t know what else to do but throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for another kiss. While your first kiss was hot and heavy, this was slow and passionate. You had never touched like this nor had you been touched like this. Everything was so raw and significant. 

As your lips work, so did Bucky’s hands. You felt fingers gliding up your dress, slowly pushing it up until your panties were exposed. You didn’t even have time to worry about the fact they weren’t the fanciest piece you owned before Bucky was pushing them to the side and inserting one finger. He groaned against your lips at the wetness now coating his hand. 

“You’re soaking, sweetheart,” Bucky broke the kiss to moan, his finger pumping in a steady rhythm. “Feel so good already. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

His words went straight to your core, surprising you slightly that this bold Bucky was hiding under that timid man you just met a week ago. 

“Bucky, please,” you groaned, bucking your hips for him to speed up. He just chuckled and gripped your hip with his metal arm, forcing you down. You gasped at the feeling of the cool material on your hot skin. 

Bucky suddenly added a second finger, picking up his motions as his thumb came up to rub your clit. “Just a second, doll. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers first.”

You couldn’t verbally respond. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes fluttering as your orgasm built and built in you. Bucky’s motions picked up and the pressure on your clit intensified. His lips found their way to your neck again and for some reason, this entire combination was the hottest thing. You let go, squirming and whimpering as your orgasm engulfed you. Bucky worked you through it, his fingers not faltering. You whispered his name over and over before you even began coming down from the high. 

When your breathing got back to normal, Bucky removed his fingers, making you whimper just slightly at the loss of contact. He chuckled, feeling his hot breath hitting your neck. “You sound so pretty when you come.” A kiss. “I can’t wait to hear it again.” 

Without much warning, realizing Bucky is quite the spontaneous man when he wanted to be, he pulled your panties down and undid the front of his dress pants. You felt his hard cock spring free against your thigh. You moaned at the feeling and bucked your hips again, silently begging for him to hurry along. The strength of his metal arm came into play again, as he forced your hips back down. A bruise was sure to form but that was the last of your worries. You just needed to feel him. 

“So impatient,” Bucky tsked. He began pumping his cock a few times then lined up with your entrance. He didn’t push it yet as if wanting to torture you again. 

You rolled your eyes, “I’m impatient? You couldn’t even wait until we were undressed.”

“Next time,” he said and entered you in one swift motion. The connection was felt in every inch of you, the sensation and passion of it all. Your back arched as he filled you gloriously. Head thrown back, eyes shut, you let out a loud moan.

Bucky let out a low chuckle before reconnecting your lips. He moved in and out of you in such a wonderful rhythm. You had never felt so full. 

“Bucky…” His name was all you could muster up anymore but that seemed to please him just well. 

“That’s it, doll,” he whispered. “Let this whole apartment building know who’s making you feel good.” He pulled up then slammed back into you. “Let them know it’s me, your soulmate, making you go all dumb from pleasure.”

You groaned at his dirty talk, the words sinking to your core in just the right ways. Your hands found their way to his neck and back, gripping and tugging at the skin and material. He kept his motions as your mind went dizzy from the feeling. 

“B-Bucky-,” you moaned, quite loudly. He felt you begin to tighten around him. 

Bucky chuckled again, “You gonna cum, doll? Gonna cum again for me?”

You nodded, unable to form many words anymore. Bucky didn’t mind, still pulling all the way out then rushing back in. 

“S-So deep…” you sighed, tightening his grip on you.

He hummed, quite pleased with himself. “Almost there, doll, right?” You nodded and it was the truth. You were one second away from erupting in his arms. “That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for your soulmate.”

The word was too much for you and you were almost — just almost — ashamed at how it made you cum right then and there. Your second orgasm ran through you making you twist and turn, hips bucking up to Bucky’s, as you let the sensation flow through you. Bucky didn’t stop his movement, just faltered them slightly, working you through it and chasing his own. He wasn’t too far behind you, almost immediately filling you up gloriously with his seed. He groaned deeply in your ear as he released making you squeal. 

Bucky sighed contently, looking down at your fucked out state. Your eyes were just barely still opened, brain overwhelmed and spinning by the intensity of your lover. He moved his hips one last time just to hear your little squeals of protests in overstimulation before chuckling and pulling out. Warmness leaked out of you and onto the sheets but you were too wrapped up in the previous events to really care.

Bucky now laid on his side next to you, arm propped up watching you. He had a silly, goofy smile on his face. You gave a small smile in return, feeling warm again under his dreamy gaze.

***

“You okay, doll?” Bucky chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, moving up more towards his pillows and finding a discarded blanket to pull around you. Despite the prior actions, a bit of nervousness was coming over you again. “I’m just fine.”

“Just fine?”

“More than fine,” you sighed. “Complete.”

“Complete?” He asked. You hadn’t expected his pillow talk to be a round of twenty questions.

You shrugged. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Bucky studied you for a moment before nodding. “I understand.”

And you knew he did. You had felt it in the movements and passion that seeped through both of you as you finally gave yourselves to one another. Fate played such tricky games, you thought.

But a new thought suddenly came over you as the excitement of your orgasm drifted away. While you felt you knew so much about the man who had just been inside you, you were worried you also knew too little. It was only the second date, your anxiety reminded you. And now you were looking at each other like this was your entire world. 

“Bucky,” you broke the silence, “what do you do for a living?”

He looked at you, quite stunned at the sudden shift in tone. Whatever it was, you knew he felt some movement with you, thanks to the soulmate attachment. 

“I work with Steve on the... team.”

“So, you are an Avenger?” Internet searches had been all over that place on that, you remembered from your first virtual hunt. 

Bucky’s lip formed a tight line as if confirming or denying would be a curse. “I don’t consider myself that.”

You frowned, “Why not?” Maybe this was suddenly going off the rails. You were going for light get-to-know-one-another conversation, like, a date, but somewhere a nerve was struck.

He sighed, then looked away from you. “You know, doll,” he let out a humorless chuckle, “this is some heavy pillow talk.”

A master of sidestepping. Your heart began pounding at the words. “I-I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just…. I just wanted to get to know you better.”

“Do you feel like we’re strangers?”

You signed, defeated. “I-I guess yes and no. You’ve been a part of me for so long but it’s also been... I don’t think I can describe it, but what’s new, right? I think this bond and our… our actions tonight are going to my head.”

Bucky didn’t say anything as he threw his arm around you, pulling you tightly into him. His hand rubbed your back soothingly. You melted into his touch, face pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Look,” Bucky began, “I get it, trust me, I know it’s a lot.” He sighed. “But I also believe if we do what feels right to us, we’ll be on the right path. You gotta remember, doll, in some ways, we’re it for each other. This has to make sense on some level.” 

You didn’t know what to make of Bucky’s words. You felt them, you understood them, but you also were just reeling in from tonight. You didn’t want him to think you were having post-sex regrets but you also felt drunk on the sensations. And you couldn’t turn it off. 

But you didn’t say any of this, you just nodded. “I understand, Bucky.”

He rubbed your back in acknowledgment. Master of trying to change subjects, he said next, “So, do I get to ask you now about your career?”

You let out a weak giggle. “I guess so.”

“Did you always dream of serving coffee?”

“No,” you shook your head. “It just landed in my lap after a not-so-successful college stunt. But I’ve made it work and, really, if I hadn’t kept it, I never would’ve met Steve.” A light bulb went off. “Then I never would’ve found you.”

Bucky’s grip on you tightened at your words. You could practically hear his heart pounding out of his chest. His hold on you felt so right, so at home, you realized as a little tug fell on your heart after your admission. 

“Never thought I’d be genuinely thankful for coffee.”

You gave a small laugh at that and got comfier in Bucky’s arms. Eventually, you two drifted off to sleep, totally engrossed in the feeling of one another. A feeling much more innocent, but just as strong. 

That night, as Bucky held you like you were his last lifeline in this world, you had no nightmares. It was like they didn’t even dare to come back. This gave you just the bloom of hope that everything was indeed falling into place as all makers of fate had intended. 

The dream was like a soothing lullaby. You were treated to a scene of Bucky shopping. He seemed to be at some fruit stand, picking out produce. The feelings were a bit odd, more like he was lost yet focused in the moment. But they were much milder, much more welcoming, than anything else from the past images. You accepted it. Took it in greatly. As you slept, you felt you two got closer. You heard Bucky at one point sigh in content.

[healpeony]

Love Story

Levi Ackerman x reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; Levi's and Y/n love isn't accepted by many specially Y/n's parents, an Eldian and a Marleyan? a great represention of Persephone's and Hades love.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; profanity, angst, scene of smut (not explicitly described), violence, blood, being called whore (by her mother), homophobia (also used by her mother), spoilers.

Taglist; @icedkoffees

Note; she/her pronouns used for the reader as well as female anatomy. Also I'm using what Isayama said about how Levi would act shy around his crush and him being uncomfortable with sexual intercourse. And I also want to add that I don't know much about what happens when the Marleyans invaded Paradise, and I also added my own thing to help with my plot so this could be call a cannonverse!au.

PERSEPHONE a young women who's innocence was taken from her the moment she was kidnapped by her uncle, who fell in love with her. Despite her mother's (Demeter) attempts to fully get her back right away from the hands of her brother, it was too late that wasn't going to happened not after Hades persuaded Persephone to eat four seeds of pomegranate, which forced someone to have a connection with their captor, making them come back to them.

Each spring time Persephone would be living with her mother on earth, while in winter she was with Hades in the underworld.

Levi was the Persephone to Y/n's Hades, she being the one who used him and their love for each other was the pomegranate making Levi come back to her.

It's ironic how their love story started with y/n getting taken away from Marley, a place she called home.

Even though she wasn't necessarily kidnaped, she was sent away to accomplish a mission in a place called Paradise, she found it ridiculous how it was named that way when that land was full of devils.

Y/n was shipped to Paradise along with the warriors. She was going to infiltrate into the Survey Corps where she would hopefully sabotage every expedition without getting caught.

Her mission was to make sure none of the warriors get too cozy in the foreign place, and to focus on their mission, but it was impossible to do so when all the people who were described as devils, were actually just like them. Humans.

She was older than those kids being 22 when they were still 15, y/n loved them, they were like little siblings to her and it hurt when they lost Marcel, the jaw.

"Oi brat! Stay focused" the voice of her captain took her out of her train of thoughts

Captain Levi, he was called humanity strongest and was also what everyone called their only hope. At first Y/n didn't understood why he needed such a big tittle, but after being in his squad and witnessing him showing his skills and his hatred towards titans, she got why.

"I'm sorry captain" she saluted, which was dismissed by him

"You called what you did back in the kitchen, cleaning?" he asked pointing towards the place he just mentioned "There is dust everywhere, go and clean everything again, I don't want to see any dust in there again. That's where our food is made, you idiot"

Without another word he left, and when she felt like he was out of earshot, she kicked a chair, breaking it. He might be Humanities strongest, but he was soo irritating, so obsessed with cleaning. That's what they always did for the most part of their time.

"there is dust everywhere my ass" she mocked Levi's voice while looking around the kitchen she just finished cleaning minutes ago

She had made sure everything was left without a spot of dust, how in the world did Levi saw dust anywhere.

After she had cleaned the kitchen area, Levi had send her to clean the stables which took a lot of time since he told her to clean alone. It was already sun down when she had finished.

She was exhausted, her clothes were pooled with sweat and glued to her skin making her uncomfortable, she really needed a shower.

"Go take a shower" the sudden voice of the raven man scare the hell out of her

"Fuck Captain!" y/n yelled, putting a hand on her chest as if that would calm her speeding heart beat

"Go now, and then come to eat dinner with us" he continued, the blank stare he gave her when they made eye contact given her chills

"Yes, sir" she saluted, before leaving

The mess hall was well a mess, the cadets eat like animals. The same soup and bread they always eat, Y/n found it extremely annoying how the Military Police get all the meat when the Survey Corps were the ones doing the only brave work inside the walls.

"Y/n if you're not going to eat your soup can I have it?" Sasha asked

Oh, how much she wanted to say no, but she had a reputation to hold and she didn't want the soup anyway.

Y/n faked a smile, (one that everyone thought that was genuine) before saying "of course, Sasha" passing the bowl full of hot soup to the girl

"Thanks!"

Y/n felt how eyes were burning through her skull and turned her head to look down the table, just to see Captain Levi staring at her with a suspicious look in his eyes.

Oh shit, if he in some way found out about who she really was, she was fucked. The young women tried her best to stay seated, but her nerves didn't let her making her stand up.

"I'm exhausted, I think I'm going to sleep"

It wasn't a lie she was tired from all the cleaning, but she didn't want to sleep, she just needed to desperately get out of there.

When she was finally outside, y/n leaned against the wall, sliding down while taking a deep breath.

"You know, it isn't good to fake smile to your friends"

Y/n immediately turn around at the sudden voice of her captain, he did it again, he scared the living shit out of her.

"Captain!, Stop doing that!" her face felt warmer than usual for some reason

Was she blushing?

"Why did you do it? Are you sad?" Levi asked putting down a handkerchief on the ground before sitting next to her, looking over at her examinating her face

"Oh it's just stress" Y/n replied, praying that he would just believe her

"I see.." he turned towards the sky where the moon shined brightly along with the stars

What Y/n thought that would be a awkward silence, turned into a comfortable one. They just stared at the sky above them, it remind Y/n that she had a family waiting for her outside the walls and she was not going to disappoint them by getting comfy with the captain, even though she didn't know what his intentions were.

"I'm going to take a nap" she stood up, and called over her shoulder "Have a good night, captain" before proceeding to walk towards her room

"Good night, cadet..."

Y/n didn't know when it happened, was it when they continued sitting together and looking at the sky in complete silence, or was it when in some of those same nights they spoke more and more about each other's personal life (in none of those conversations she mentioned Marley, but still talked about her family). She didn't remember how her feelings for him changed, but they did.

Right now she was there, in the same spot on the wall with Levi next to her. They were even in first name basics with each other.

The raven man cleared his throat catching her attention, turning her head to the side to look at him she noticed how he was blushing.

"I.. I think is pretty obvious what I feel for— about you by now"

A surprised noice escaped Y/n mouth, she expected to have that talk with him some day, but not today or Levi being so straight forward with the subject.

The women could only nod, her brain still processing what he just said.

"I was wondering, if you felt the same.." his voice dropped to a whisper, while he looked down

"No" she shaked her head, making Levi looked up at her eyes widened with embarrassment at the rejection "Look, Levi.. it's just that I have done terrible things that you're not aware of. You don't want to be with me"

"Then tell me what terrible things you have done and let me be with you after your done" Levi said

"No, Levi you don't understand" tears pooled in her eyes, y/n didn't even remember the last time she had cry "I can't be with you"

"Why? Is it because of the terrible things you have done? Well guess what everybody has their own flaws, everybody in this world is an angel, at least until they get tired of the cruelty in it and let the demons take over" Levi grabbed her face between his hands, wiping the falling tears from her face "I want to be with you, wether you have let your demons take over or not"

Y/n felt the man lean in to place his lips to hers, they stayed pressed together without movement, before Levi pull away and kissed her again this time letting his emotions be known through the kiss.

Passion. Love. Care.

This is a moment in her life she would never forget not even when hers and the warriors mission is over.

Retaking of wall Maria

"I let you. I fucking let you in!"

Levi stood infront of her heartbroken, she told him, now he knew everything..

"Levi-" however she wasn't able to continue speaking since she received a kick right in the face making her fall on her side

She looked at Levi surprised, he had kicked her. Y/n knew she deserved, but it still hurt to have someone you loved hit you.

"You lied about everything didn't you? For what, to get information?" his voice was cracking slightly with each word he said "Was it necessary to use me for your stupid plans?"

"I didn't use you!, What I felt for you was real" y/n said defending her feelings

"I don't even know what is real about you anymore, is Y/n actually your name? Or is it just another lie?"

"It is my name.." she weakly murmured tasting blood in her tongue, she figured that her lip might have been split open from the impact

"Oh good to know"

Sarcasm tried to cover his hurt voice, which actually didn't work, since Y/n could clearly hear his shaky breath and it made her feel soo guilty.

"I hate you"

Those three little words were enough to make her world come crashing down, he hated her. Of course he did, it hurt so much but she had seen this coming, and she still didn't felt ready for it.

"I'm sorry, Levi"

That was all she said to him, before she was grabbed by a titan being controlled by Zeke, taking her away from the place where she meet someone who meant so much to her.

One thing that she was sure of was that

She will never forget Levi Ackerman.

Screams, that was what was heard everywhere. Kids either with their parents or alone were running desperately trying to find shelter, and that broke Y/n's heart.

She was tired of all the fighting, she was tired of pretending to be stronger than she felt. For once she just wanted peace and happiness, something that she didn't quite have the past four years.

How did they got here? That was one of the many questions going through her head, but one that she paid more attention to was the most important

Was he here too?

"There you are, piece of shit."

That voice, it was him. It might have changed, but she could recognize it everywhere, the same voice who used to startle her everytime they saw each other, the voice that bought her comfort, the voice of the man she fell in love with.

It was Levi.

Slowly she proceeded to turn around, the fear for what might happen next running through her veins. She was ready to be killed by him.

Finally she look up and saw the same man she fell in love with, the only change that she saw was the uniform, apart from that he still seem like he had the same height as before and from the look on his face he still had the same temper.

"Nice uniform, I like it" she told him quietly not knowing what to say

Levi scoffed at her statement, taking his blade out. So he was going to kill her.

"You can go ahead and kill me, might as well add another ghost to haunt you"

Did she felt fear? Yes she did, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

"Shut up" that was his response, before he connected his blade with her cheek leaving a long but not deep cut "You're going to come with me"

"I'm not going anywhere!"

The last thing he told her was that he hated her, why would he want her to come back to Paradise?, Was it to use her for information? Or because he missed her? It was stupid to think of the latter question, but she was still hopeful.

"I'm not asking, you brat"

That was the last thing she heard before he knocked her out.

"How could you be with a devil?!"

Her mom's scream hurt her eardrums, Zeke had told them about how she had been in a relationship with a so call devil. That seem like the only thing Zeke could do apart from throwing rocks, snitch.

"You were send there for a reason Y/n! No child of mine should've or should be with one of those devils!"

"Mother, I'm so sorry it's just that it would be easier for me to get the information about them that I wanted"

That was a lie. She loved Levi, even though she didn't get the chance to say it to him. She did, and that feeling wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

Her father stood next to her mother quietly looking at her with disgusts as if she was the trash people get rid of because of the smell, she hated that, it hurt to have your own parents hating on you.

"So what? For a piece of information, you had to go and whore yourself in there?"

Y/n gasped looking at her mom shocked "What? No mother, I didn't do anything like that with him!" she argue

That wasn't a lie, Levi was uncomfortable with sexual intercourse, since his own mother worked in a brothel and he had been the witness of how much that act hurt his mother, he had trusted her enough to tell her that.

"Good, you still have your purity." her mom nodded, before letting out a sigh "At least it wasn't with a women, you would've been completely kicked out of this house young lady"

"Now go take a shower, make sure to wash away every memory in that land while doing so." her mom smiled softly her hand reaching out to touch her cheek, before hugging her "My poor baby, having to live with those devils for so long. Don't worry you're home now, you're safe with us"

What once was her home didn't feel like home anymore, her house was just a place, her home was the person she left behind in Paradise.

Y/n didn't remember how many days have passed or what was going on outside of her cell. She didn't know in what prison she was in, but just a few days ago it had seem like there was a whole damn war going on outside.

She hasn't seen Levi since he put her into the cell, and she was scared that something might have happened to him. She heard the door of the corridor open, Y/n stood up walking towards the bars to see who it was, it was Hange.

"Y/n" Hange nodded at her as if they were saying hi "He said your name, so we think it would be good if you saw him"

"Who are you talking about?" Y/n asking looking at them confused

"Levi"

Her heart immediately speed up, something happened to him. Her anxiety grew each passing second as she took step by step through the halls, Hange having a hold of her arm to make sure she didn't try to run away.

"What happened to him?" Y/n questioned scared for what the answer might be

"Explosion" was all they said, before entering a room that seems to be Levi's, there was only a nurse sitting in a chair probably just there just in case Levi needed something

"Thanks, you can stand outside. We would call if we need you" Hange told the nurse who nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, but not before throwing Y/n a look of disapproval about her being there.

Y/n ran to Levi's side as soon as the nurse was out, he had bandages in one side of his face, and on his hands. Tears started sliding down the young women's cheek while Hange looked at her with pity, but also cautiously not wanting her to do anything that might hurt Levi.

"Levi.." she whispered, even though

y/n felt bad about disturbing him from his sleep knowing how difficult it was for him to do so, she wanted to hear his voice, reassuring her that he was going to be ok "Everything it's going to be fine, right Hange? Tell him"

“Yeah, I agree with you y/n”

She didn't knew who she was trying to convince herself or Levi, but that didn't matter, because she felt a squeeze in one hand and immediately look down to see that Levi was the one holding it. Y/n look back up to his face seeing how his eye was open and he was staring directly at her.

Y/n smiled "Hey darling, you're okay now" she let out those word between sobs "— I'm sorry for everything Levi, for not telling you where I was really from, for letting you fall in love with me when I knew how it was going to bed. I'm so sorry for every misery that I have put you through"

Levi squeezed her hand again "- 's ok, I f—orgive you" his words came out has a whisper and he struggled to speak but she heard him clearly

Hange watched the scene playing out infront of them, they could see how much those two loved each other. They were like a puzzle, that could figure each other out, knowing each piece of themselves like the back of their hands.

It has been a month and a half exactly since Y/n had seen Levi in the bed witnessing how helpless he looked, she had never seen him like that and wasn't planning to anytime soon, since then she hadn't left his side.

He was currently touching her bare back leaving kisses down her neck, their naked chest pressed together, hot and sweaty.

"Levi..." she moaned softly

This was their first time being intimate, and she didn't want him to feel pressured into anything.

"I know what you're going to say, and I want to how much as you" he said before continuing marking her, claiming her as his

Each move of his hips against hers, reminded her of who she was with. The gentleness in his touch making her forget about the world around them. The softness of his lips against hers taking her breath away.

It wasn't just the pleasure that made Levi take the decision of doing this with her, this was his own way of showing how far he would go just to be with her, to come out of his comfort zone just to shower her with intimate kisses and touches that he and neither would she forget.

“I love you Levi”

Her skin was the canvas, and his lips was the brush painting each part of her body.

“I love you too...”

“You will come back with us immediately young lady!" her mother said trying to remain calm infront of the devils

The rumbling was over, Eren Yeager was killed. Paradise and Marley were allies, but that doesn't mean they have forgiven each other for what each have done. Many Marleyans and Eldians from Marley came to visit out of curiosity, while people from Paradise went to explore the world (if we are talking about visiting the outside world and finding new things as much as possible), but they never want to visit Marley afraid that they might get turn into titans and angry for what those monsters have done to other people.

"I'am old enough to make my own decisions, mother" Y/n had answered, wanting to remain as calm as she could

"His manipulating you isn't he?"

"How dare you!—" Y/n yelled, before regaining her composure, her voice going back to calm but being loud and firm at the same time "I love him, he didn't manipulate me into anything. It's bold of you to assume that, mother"

"We're your family, your place it's with us!"

Some of the Military Police who were there scoffed along with some of the scouts, they have warmed up to Y/n already, but the Marleyans didn't seem to accept that one of themselves loved an Eldian, specially from Paradise.

"You're my family? Then where were you when I needed you the most?, All I needed when I returned to Marley four years ago was my mother!, The one who an illusion of my mind created, a sweet mom who would love me for being her child, and not see me as an object" Y/n couldn't remain calm anymore she needed to let everything out "— The time I spent with him, I got to truly know what comfort was, what being loved and being needed felt like! And you—" with tears in her eyes she turned to her father who was quiet, like he always was "You're so afraid of mom that you don't even dare to speak for yourself!, You did nothing to help your own daughter!, You just watched as she was raised to be something she didn't want to be!"

She spoke out her mind finally letting out those built up words that haunted her, needing to be said "— I thank you for everything though, despite not given me the love that I needed, your own choices took me to where we are now. Without those decisions, I wouldn't have met Levi so I thank you, for what you both did" she smiled at them

Her mom stood there quietly, before turning around and walking towards the door, her father following close behind "Don't bother returning home" was all her father said

"I won't"

She was already home, she was standing next to it. Holding his hand, Levi Ackerman was the safe place she will always and forever need.

“— And they lived happily ever after”

Y/n closed the book, looking at the twins, her daughter and son who had fallen asleep half way through the story.

“Please tell me you didn't read to them the explicit parts”

The voice of her husband scared her and she turned to him, who stood by the door leaning into it.

“Of course not you idiot!”

She stood up turning off the lamp and given both of the children kisses on their head, before going out of the room with Levi.

“I still think we should publish this book” Y/n smirked, a mischievous look in her eyes

“Absolutely not”

Yeah, their Love Story had a happy ending after all.

This was so much fun to write! I wrote 4k words and I'm proud of that! I feel like my writing has improved in the past few days, and this might be one of the works that will show it, and I hope future ones show the progress too! Also I want to punch y/n's mother in the face.

Thank you so much for reading, you can support my work by hitting reblog or liking! But don't repost to other platforms!

[pedrosbisch]

My Sun and Stars

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Reader w/ nickname

Chapter 1- Call Signs

Chapter 2

Summary:You go out on a Friday night with your buddies, and meet Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia for the first time Rated M for Mature themes, but would prefer the fic stayed 18+ since it gets a little spicy later 👌

AN: Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfic I’m posting, and I hope it’s up to par 😅 I’ve been delaying posting it for so long but I’m so excited to finally get this posted and starting this journey.

TW! Alcohol, Slight Violence. Please let me know if I need to add anything else!

It was just another Friday at the bar after a dull day at work. Your friend Will invited you out for drinks with him and a couple of his buddies to celebrate a friend coming home.

“Where is this guy anyway, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating him?” You ask, frustrated by the fact the person they were celebrating was nearly an hour late.

“Pope’s always late, he runs on his own time. But he’ll be here.” Will took another sip of his beer before glancing toward the door.

“He better be, I can’t stay late. I have to go back home to Maria, I promised her I’d help with the baby after I got back tonight.” Retorted Frankie.

“Speak of the devil.”

Up walked a man with curly hair and sun kissed skin. He's undoubtedly handsome, smiling before he claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“What’s up cabróns? Sorry I’m late, there was traffic coming from the airport and then there was this girl out in the parking lot who had this ass that-“

“Ah-hem.” You clear your throat, hoping to cut off whatever vulgar story he was about to tell.

“Pope this is Hail. We met through the VA, thought I’d invite her out with us.”

“Hail? Cute, what’s that short for, Hailey?” He pours himself a mug of beer, barely looking your way.

“Hail Mary.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Parents were religious huh?”

Benny snickers and Frankie leans back, preparing for the shitshow to unfold.

“Call sign. Hail Mary, as in the prayer most people say before they’re about to die; A last ditch effort. For a man whose nickname is Pope, seems like you’d know better”

“Oh baby, people call me Pope because I bring them closer to god, whether it’s out in the field or in bed.” He side eyes Benny and they fist bump behind your head.

“Classy.” You roll your eyes and look over to Will who pinches the bridge of his nose and mouths 'sorry' over to you.

“Anyways- glad to have you back safe man, but I really gotta go. Wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the baby like I promised.” Frankie fixes his hat and slaps Pope on the back before walking out.

“Yeah man me too, I’ve got my fight tomorrow and I already got too drunk waiting for you. You gotta come though!” Benny says as he wobbles standing up.

Will quickly stands after and steadies him propping him up on his shoulder. “I better drive Benny home, what about you Hail? You need a ride?”

“I’m alright, I’ll probably stay a little longer. I need to decompress from work.”

“Whatever works for you darlin, text me to let me know when you get home safe.” He says goodbye and shakes Pope’s hand before walking away with his brother.

“And yous better be coming to my match tomorrow!! I need my Hail Mary!!” Benny yelled with his head flopping back and forth.

“I’ll be there Benny.” You punch his ass and send them off, leaving you entirely alone with the menace of a man you’ve just met.

“So uh— you and the Miller brothers seem close.” Pope eyes you up and down, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missed while he was god knows where.

“Sure. Like Will said, we met through the VA. We’ve been pretty close since then.”

“I take it you’re a vet then, with your call sign and all?”

Was he actually trying to get to know you? “No, my dad served. 20 years in the Marine Corps, I just drive him to the meetings. He tried dragging me in one day to set me up with Will.”

“So you two are together then?” He looked up quizzically.

“Ha! If he’s interested he sure doesn’t show it. Plus I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“What is your type then?” Pope raises an eyebrow and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Definitely not a man some of whose first words around me were ‘there was a girl who had this ass’”

“So you don’t like me because I appreciate the female form?”

“Ha! I don’t like you because you make assumptions. Like how you just assumed that you could get me to go home with you.”

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me Princesa, and how are you so sure I want to you to sleep with me?”

“Don’t call me Princesa, and because if you didn’t want to— you’d be off chasing that girl with the ass down. But you’re here, talking to me about if I’m taken and what my type is. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home.” You gulp down the rest of your beer before grabbing your purse and speed walking to the door.

Pope rushes through the crowds and grabs your arm before you raise it to hail a taxi. You break from his grasp and slam your palm into his chest before realizing it was him.

“Agh! So you’re not all bark after all.” He rubs his shoulder and winces. “Listen, I truly am sorry for this bad first impression. But I don’t think Will would be happy with me if I didn’t at least offer you a ride home in your inebriated state.”

You roll you eyes before you look in your purse and realize all your cash went toward tipping the bartender; You sigh and toss your head back in defeat. “Fine. But you’re not coming in for a nightcap.”

He leads you to his Jeep and you buckle yourself in as he pulls out of the bar parking. You punch your address into his GPS and lean your head against the cool window as the music plays softly. The alcohol hits you all at once like a tidal wave, and your head starts to spin.

You’re thankful the ride home is quiet, and even more so when the car comes to a stop. The car door opens letting the fresh night air hits your face waking you slightly.

“Can I at least walk you to your door?” Says Pope, but this time his tone is different. It’s not assertive or defensive, almost like he cares you get home safe. And he has this look on his face, what is that look? You’re too drunk to tell.

"That would be great, actually." He walks beside you, careful not to touch you unless you expressly needed help. You were doing better than expected, swaying slightly and bumping arms as you walked side by side. You were about to send Pope off, all up until you came to foot of the stairwell.

“Shit. You can go, really I’ll be fine. You’ll be here all night watching me climb these stupid things. Without an ounce of of dignity, I may add.”

He chuckled as you planted your palms on the stairs and began to crawl up them like an overgrown toddler.

“I have all night to help you up the stairs Hail, but I’ll have to touch you. If that’s ok?”

Why did those words send fire through your cheeks? ‘But I’ll have to touch you.’ You quietly nod your head in defeat and feel two strong arms lift you from under your knees and behind your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest. The world is spinning and you’re doing anything to anchor yourself, even if it’s to him.

You turn your head and shut your eyes, taking deep even breaths into his chest doing everything in your power to calm yourself. ‘Focus’, you tell yourself. Focus on literally anything but the spinning. You take another deep breath, but this time you take a second to appreciate the scent of Pope’s cologne. It smells expensive, but sooo nice. You hear his heart beating, or—wait. Is it yours? Your mind continues to wander further as footsteps echo off the stairwell. His arms feel so nice, maybe you could invite him… No, you decide. You won’t just be another drunken conquest.

You reach the second floor of your apartment complex and tell him your door number. He steadily places you down, and keeps a steady hand on your back as you dig out your keys. You open the door and catch yourself on the frame turning yourself to face Pope.

“Thank you for taking me home, and for carrying me up the stairs. This is so embarrassing, I swear this never happens.”

“Shh, it’s alright Princesa. Drink some water and get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at Benny’s match. I’ll bring my best manners, and hopefully we can forget about today.” He gets you a glass of water and places it next to your couch where you ungracefully plopped yourself down.

“Mmhh. Pope?” You reach, as if trying to reach him without knowing where his is.

“Santiago. My real name is Santiago, but you can call me Santi if you want.”

Your brain is far gone, blacked out in a half asleep state with no filter attached to your mouth. “Well then Santiago, thank you again for bringing me home. Sorry it wasn’t in the context you wanted. Next time if you want it to go more smoothly, ask me to dinner. You smell too good to say no.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a soft expression before locking your door behind him as he makes his way back to his car. For the rest of the night, he replays the way you said his name in his head and makes a mental note to wear the same cologne again tomorrow night.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #185

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the snake/shrine maiden/ninja/widow Assassin of Paraiso! She’s got more jobs than a freakin’ barbie doll...

Check out her build breakdown (expect true name spoilers) below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: In Shimousa you must wait, until the dice read five or eight.

Mochizuki Chiyome is an Arcane Trickster Rogue for the regular kind of ninja trickery, plus a Fathomless Warlock to grab the kind of thing your forefather would normally have to boink a snake god to get. (That’s what happened, right? It’s been a while.)

Race and Background

Shockingly, Mochi is a Human, but Variant so we can get cool stuff. This gives her +1 Dexterity and Intelligence, as well as Religion proficiency to make her cover as a shrine maiden foolproof and the Mobile feat for when the right fool comes along. This adds 10′ to her movement speed, dashing lets her ignore difficult terrain, and you avoid opportunity attacks from creatures you’ve attacked this turn.

Magical assassins seem to be more common in D&D than their mundane counterparts, because they have their own freakin’ background! As a Volstrucker Agent, you get proficiency in Deception and Stealth. You know, for ninjaing.

Ability Scores

Dexterity is number 1. You’re a ninja, it’s not a surprise. Second is Charisma. Your snake blood doesn’t like to cooperate on good days, you’ve got to be convincing enough to make it behave. Also, there’s more ninja stuff in charisma, it’s a good skill to have. Your Intelligence comes next, ninjas don’t really have magic powers, they’re just really clever. That being said none of your spells actually use intelligence that much, so we don’t need it to be that high. Your Wisdom isn’t bad, spy networks don’t work if you can’t tell when someone’s lying, and since we’re only building the one character you’ll have to be your own spy network.

Oh yeah, the real Mochizuki ran a spy network, we’re throwing that in the build too. So we’re making a shrine maiden/snake/ninja/widow/master spy. Real simple.

Anyway. Your Constitution isn’t great, just don’t get hit and you’ll be fine. That means we’re dumping Strength. Don’t worry, you don’t really need it anyway.

Class Levels

Rogue 1: Starting off as a rogue gets you a lot of proficiencies, like Dexterity and Intelligence saves, plus four skills. Grab Acrobatics for ninjaing skills, Performance for better disguises, and Insight and Investigation for spy work. If that wasn’t enough, you get Expertise in two of those skills, doubling your proficiency bonus in Stealth and Insight. You also get a Sneak Attack if you’re attacking with a finesse weapon or a ranged weapon, and you have advantage or a friend near the target. This adds 1d6 damage to the attack once per turn. You also learn Thieves’ Cant. It’s a language.

Rogue 2: Second level rogues have a Cunning Action, which lets you dash, disengage, or hide as a bonus action. Y’know, ninja stuff.

Rogue 3: Boom! 2d6 sneak attack. Also, you’re an Arcane Trickster now. This gives you some Spells, most of which are Illusion or Enchantment, but all of which use your Intelligence to cast. Or they would, if we didn’t go the galaxy brain route and pick spells that don’t use your intelligence. You’re forced to pick up Mage Hand as one of your three cantrips, but you also get Friends to make fooling guards easier, and Prestidigitation for smaller magical tricks. On top of that, Illusory Script makes you an expert codewriter, Disguise Self takes care of your... well, your disguises (Though regular disguises are probably better since this is the one spell that actually uses your intelligence), and Fog Cloud gives you a quick and dirty smoke bomb. Speaking of Mage Hand, you also get a Mage Hand Legerdemain right out of the gate, making your mage hand extra sneaky. It can be invisibile, and you can use it to stow objects in containers carried by other creatures, steal objects from containers held by other creatures, or pick locks and disarm traps at range. Also, you only have to use your bonus action to control the hand.

Warlock 1: Bouncing over to grab your cursed Orochi blood makes you a Fathomless warlock. I know that’s a bit weird, but don’t worry, we’ll fix it in flavoring. Instead of a Tentacle of the Deep, you’re summoning a head of Orochi as a bonus action for up to a minute! Each turn you can attack for a bit of cold damage, and you can summon up to Proficiency heads per day. You also get a Gift of the Sea, giving you a swim speed of 40′ and the ability to breathe underwater. As long as you stay near the surface, you can probably get away with calling it walking on water. You also learn Pact Magic, which you cast with your Charisma. This doesn’t mix with your spell slots from rogue, but you can use warlock slots for rogue spells and vice versa. You get Eldritch Blast so you don’t have to collect your throwing knives like a chump, Minor Illusion for minor illusions, Hex for a weak Orochi’s curse, and Expeditious Retreat so you can go even faster if you wanna.

Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, like Devil’s Sight which lets you see in magical darkness and Armor of Shadows for free mage armor on yourself. Shrine maidens aren’t known for wearing plate mail, so this should help a bit. You also learn how to Cause Fear, frightening a creature for up to a minute if they fail their wisdom save. That means they can’t move closer to you, and they have disadvantage on attacks while they can see you.

Rogue 4: Now that we’re done with warlocking for a bit, bouncing over to rogue gets you your first Ability Score Improvement. Bump up that Charisma for stronger spells and Orochi heads. You also learn the spell Color Spray for some pocket sand at the ready whenever you want. Roll a couple dice, then blind creatures from least to most HP up to the point you rolled.

Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues get 3d6 sneak attack, and they can make an Uncanny Dodge as a reaction, halving incoming damage from an attack.

Rogue 6: At sixth level you get another round of Expertise, so double up on your Deception and Performance so you can sneak into wherever you need to go.

Rogue 7: Seventh level rogues get Evasion. It’s been a while since someone’s gotten evasion, huh? It’s a good feature though, it turns your failed dexterity saves into basically successes as far as damage goes, and successful dex saves now negate damage entirely. (Also, your sneak attack goes up to 4d6.)

Warlock 3: The Orochi isn’t quite done with you yet, so we’re heading back for a few more levels. At level three you undertake the Pact of the Talisman, letting you add 1d4 to a failed ability check Proficiency times per long rest. It’s a shame you don’t have a fancy sword like Grass Cutter, but at least it’s useful. Now that you can see in the dark though, you can cast Darkness to create a more effective smoke bomb that only you and other warlocks can see though.

Warlock 4: Use this ASI to get your Keen Mind. This adds 1 to your intelligence among other neat tricks, but the big reason we’re here is for the ability to recall information for up to a month. This will be more useful later, but it’s always nice to be brainy. You also learn the cantrip Toll the Dead for some ooky spooky necrotic damage, and Silence to perform acts of violence, in silence. Ninjas.

Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks can cause Fear, frightening multiple creatures who fail their wisdom save. Once per long rest you can also mark a creature with a Sign of Ill Omen, casting Bestow Curse using a warlock spell slot. There’s a couple out of the box options in the PHB, but ultimately you can make up whatever you want, as long as it’s DM approved. The target also has to fail a wisdom save, and it lasts up to a minute.

Rogue 8: Use this ASI on your Dexterity for better damage and a higher AC. Turns out rogues are dexterous, who knew? Speaking of being dexterous, grab Misty Step so you can become so dexterous you literally blink out of existence and back in. Related note, dexterous no longer looks like a word.

Rogue 9: Ninth level rogues can really mess up their enemies with 5d6 damage on a sneak attack, or you can mess up enemies with a Magical Ambush. As long as you’re hidden from whatever creature you’re targeting, they have disadvantage on a spell’s saving throw. This also applies to warlock spells, making it especially useful for curses. (Also, 5d6 sneak attack)

Rogue 10: Tenth level rogues get another ASI, so bump up that Charisma again for a stronger curse. You also can cast Message to relay info over short distances, or Magic Mouth to set up information dead drops for other party members.

Rogue 11: Eleventh level rogues can deal reliable damage thanks to their 6d6 sneak attack. They also have Reliable Talent, so the lowest you can roll on a skill you’re proficient in is a 10. When you’re good at something, you’ll never fail a day in your life. You can also cast Blur to become harder to hit. Maybe it’s like, a little smoke bomb? Not my best work, I’ll admit.

Rogue 12: At twelfth level you get your last ASI, so max out that Dexterity for the best damage and defense you could hope for.

Rogue 13: Thirteenth level arcane tricksters are Versatile Tricksters, letting you spend an action to distract a nearby creature with your mage hand, giving advantage on your next attack that turn. If you don’t have extra ninjas at home, magic bought is fine. Don’t scoff at free advantage though, especially with that 7d6 sneak attack. You also learn to pull a Kotarou and can cast Enemies Abound, which makes it so one creature can’t tell friend from foe and will attack randomly if they fail an intelligence check.

Rogue 14: Your brand new Blindsense means you’ll always be able to sense other ninjas, since invisible and hidden creatures within 10′ of you are always on your radar. You also -finally- get your spy network online thanks to Clairvoyance, letting you create a sensor in any location you’re familiar with, or an obvious one you aren’t, like around a corner. For up to ten minutes, you can see or hear through that sensor as if you were there, and can even swap which sense you use at will.

Rogue 15: Your capstone isn’t particularly flashy, but Slippery Mind will help make sure you don’t get cursed more than you already are, since you now have proficiency with wisdom saves. One last thing: 8d6 sneak attack. It’s pretty good.

Pros:

With multiple kinds of magic backing up your impressive stealth skills, you come packing with plenty of ways to slip into and out of combat at will, or even better, avoid combat entirely.

Thanks to your keen mind and clairvoyance, you can spy on others and keep that information tucked away for safekeeping. Then, you can use spells like Message and Magic Mouth to get that info where you need it to go without arousing suspicion. Who knows, you might legitimately start up a spy network.

Curses are great. For your enemies, I mean, sorry. But yeah, they’re pretty effective, especially if you can start a fight with an enemy already cursed. Like, say, you sneak up to them and use Magical Ambush to make it even harder for them to avoid the spell, and that starts initiative? That’d be nice.

Cons:

Some DMs are not very flexible, and they’ll just force you into combat regardless of how much you try to avoid it. That’s really bad for you, since you’ve only got 100 HP. One stiff wind and you’re in Power Word Kill territory. Fortunately you’ve got a good AC, but still.

The one spell you have that actually uses intelligence is probably one of your most crucial, at least early on. Disguise Self not being that good kind of sucks while you’re getting set up, but eventually you’ll be good enough with a regular disguise kit it probably won’t matter.

You have a lot of utility spells, but only a couple spell slots to use them with. Long missions might be a problem if you don’t pace yourself.

[shreddedparchment]

Pt.32 A Hulk’s Smashing Consequences (Pt.2)

06/26/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,568

Warnings: violence, blood, pregnancy, labor, seriously...lots of violence

A/N: I’ll let this one speak for itself. Enjoy! xoxo If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work!

“Oh…” You whimper, afraid to move as you try to assess the state of your body.

“Why Queen Flowers pee?” Hulk demands, standing up and pointing at your feet.

“I-I think my waters have broken.” You whisper, straining to feel the pain that you were told would come but nothing.

“Baby come now?!” Hulk asks, his voice a little higher than it was before.

You realize he’s nervous and look up to meet his eyes. He’s shifting from one large foot to the other, hands clenched into fists as he stares at the small puddle at your feet while his movements shake the room.

Watching him chew on his large lower lip looks strange considering the barbaric look of him.

“I think so.” You nod, getting a hold of yourself to keep the massive Hulk at ease. “Hulk?”

He turns frenzied and surprisingly understanding eyes on you. He’s definitely not stupid. You weren’t sure how much of Doctor Banner’s intellect transferred over.

One thing you can see in his eyes…a sweetness you hadn’t know you would find there. Fear of what’s to come, but true concern for you in this situation.

“All I need is to change into a simpler dress.” You’re still in your evening dinner gown. Heavy thick white fabric with golden thread embroidered along every surface in a carefully patterned damask design. “And then I’ll lay down, and we’ll wait. Grandmother will be back soon and-”

Oh, no…Grandmother…

Whatever expression your face takes—fear and panic probably from the way you’re feeling—makes hulk thump towards you, stopping two feet away.

“What wrong?” He worries, voice still higher than normal as his nerves get the better of him.

“How is she going to get back into the castle?” You wonder aloud. “She’s…she went into the village to fetch supplies for when I give birth and…and now I’m giving birth and she’s not here and with all the fighting there’s no way she can get back into the castle! Hulk…”

Oh yeah, panic most definitely begins to set in. You shift closer to your bed and carefully sit yourself down as your breathing speeds up. You can feel the wet from your underdress and it’s slightly uncomfortable but nothing you care to notice now.

“Queen Flower no worry. Hulk go get witch lady.” He promises then moves for the door. “Hulk be right back.”

“No wait, Hulk don’t-!” But he’s already gone, barreling through the castle making the ceiling rain dust. “Don’t leave me alone…”

Your whimper fades into silence as your panic begins to steal your resolve to face this night with courage.

Still you feel no pain yet and you relax a little though your mind is attuned to your body more than it ever has been before. When the time comes, you’ll feel it, won’t you? You’ll know when it’s really time?

“It’s too soon.” You cry, not realizing that tears have begun to trail along your cheeks. “You’re too soon.”

Caressing your bump, you sit there for a long time. You hear Hulk’s words again, his assurance and his calling Grandmother a witch which is nothing new—most of the village folk in Bright Rise had called her so—but it’s strange to hear it tumble from Hulk’s lips as if it were true.

Other worries cross your mind. Worries that you’d spoken to Steve about in the quiet hours of cold naked mornings spent with him in bed. Whispered concerns about the possibilities of giving birth. Things that could happen. Might happen. Things that you try not to dwell on right now when Hydra is attacking the castle.

You can feel the rumbles of what feels like castle walls being smashed. Strange sputterings of whizzing magic like that of Father’s energy that propels him through the sky. You hear that strange buzzing of the red magics you’d seen through the window.

There’s thunder and you’re glad that Thor is out there to help. His power is great, and you feel better with him helping in the fight.

It’s endless, their fighting. Although you can’t see it, hearing it you could almost imagine the carnage. The blood and the sweat of your loved ones, trying to protect you. Time too feels endless. Like the night is stretching out forever and only when the sky begins to shift from black tar to starlit indigo do you realize how much time has passed.

Hulk, where are you?

When you can’t stand the waiting any longer you get up and double over as your back splits with pain.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath as you feel the shift in your belly and finally the pain begins to show.

You push through the first wave and move to the large wardrobe where you know you’ll find your clothes. It’s laid out for you at the very front, a long and white nightdress, soft linen with a ruffled and rounded neckline.

It takes what feels like forever to get the cords around your waist undone. Your skirt falls. You unclasp the bodice and let that fall away too.

Your corset is the hardest. You strain to reach the strings that hold you together and as each pull through a loop loosens its grip, you feel a wave of relief to your back.

Stopping to relish in the ability to breathe deep, you stand there, eyes shut.

As another wave of pressure hits your lower back, you grit your teeth as the pain escalates a little more and your hands are temporarily clenched into fists and immobilized to removing your clothes.

You’re almost yelling in silence, mouth open as you struggle through the pain that forces you to stoop over and cling to the door of your wardrobe.

Only after it passes do you remember that Grandmother had told you to count the seconds of your pains, but you’re so wrapped up in it, your mind has only one mission: Endure.

With shaking hands, you manage to pull away from your clothes and stand naked in your room just as the pressure builds again.

“F-five…” You say to yourself, trying to remember that it has only been five minutes is your best guess.

You can’t concentrate enough to count in your head and focus on those sweet and worrying conversations with Steve about this very moment that you’re now living.

As this pain subsides, you breathe out one shaky breath before you concentrate on moving your arms and pulling your birthing dress on.

You feel a little better in clean clothing and waddle as best you can to your bed but reach the post at the foot before you’re seized by another pain. This one is sooner.

“Four…” You guess. “Ahhh…”

You groan with agony as the pressure rips through you once more. Your hand finds and fists the heavy curtains of the canopy on your bed. The strain pulls against the post and you hear a subtle creak as you rely on it with all your might.

The pain is fading when you find your voice again, and you whimper a tearless sob as you wait for your legs to be strong again.

“Steve…” You call for him, knowing he cannot come.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve crashes painfully with a cart covered in hay. It falls to pieces around him as his body does its damage.

“Ugh…” He groans before shaking his head once to rid himself of the daze and gets to his feet.

He turns to look at his opponent, Rumlow wearing a strange black metal armor. Over his helmet is painted what looks to be a smudged white skull. He can see Rumlow’s dark angry eyes surrounded by charred flesh. A result of the attack on Bright Rise, Steve would guess.

“I didn’t do that to you, which I am most grieved about.” Steve admits to him, rubbing salt in his wounds.

“You die today.” Rumlow promises. “As does that peasant slut you call a Queen.”

Steve’s blood boils and he sees nothing but Rumlow and the death he will gladly dispense.

“You first.”

In his peripheral, though he does not focus on it, he can see a streak of silver blur behind Rumlow across to a group of Hydra guard attacking the Scarlet Witch. She manages to fend them off however and waves her brother along who runs to a lithe figure in black with bright red hair. Natasha leaps onto the shoulders of a guard, twists her hips and brings him to the ground before she unsheathes the daggers along her thighs and throws them at two more guards that had been approaching from behind. The bodies are sent reeling back with the force of her throw, blades in skulls.

Just as the bodies hit the ground, a dark metallic arm reaches down and retrieves a dagger, and sickening squelch as the blade slides through brain and bone. Dressed in a worn but tough navy leather tunic with dark metal armor welded into the fabric to protect his most vital areas, Bucky tosses her dagger back to her before allowing the momentum of his throw to turn him around and catch a leaping guard by the throat. He slams him into the ground with a deep and guttural growl.

Another leaps onto his back and he reaches back, dark hair flying in the scuffle as he grunts and throws the attacker over his head.

The attacker flies through the air and topples into a grouping of five others that suddenly explode back up into the air and in their place is Scott getting larger by the moment. He grows and grows until he’s as tall as the Southern tower and he stomps his way towards the now crumbling and smoking castle gate shaking the ground as he goes. A few of the Hydra guard attack his large feet—a weak attempt considering they cannot even penetrate the thickened hide of his boot—but Scott ignores them and reaches for his target. He grips the flaming battering ram with one hand, lifts it, and with a squeeze of his fist he crushes it easily. As he drops the splintered wood and broken metal to the ground, he finally notices the guard at his feet.

They run, but Scott’s grip is large, and he takes a handful of them before throwing them over his shoulder.

Their bodies soar through the sky, past the Southern tower where Clint nocks an arrow and sends it flying to strike the flying targets. One, two, three bodies shot down, one after the other as the fly past the tower. He misses one and it nearly soars through an open window when Hope appears almost out of thin air to punch the guard. She disappears but the guard is knocked up into the air and then back down to the ground where he falls in a crumpled heap as Hope reappears over his body only to disappear again into the mass of black that pools around a stooped form that seems to be getting overwhelmed with the amount of bodies being piled on top.

There’s a subtle rumble from the sky before it cracks open and lightning rains down to strike the center of the pile just as Thor’s booming battle cry fills the air and those touching him fall down to the ground as the lightning burns them from within.

Thor’s arm is thrust into the air as he pushes up from the ground and flies up only six feet, lightning connecting with his hammer and sizzling with charge as he moves upwards and it follows him back down as falls and slams his hammer down onto the ground sending more Hydra guard up into the air.

They are caught by a streak of red and gold as the Iron Man flies by along with another streak of white and black steel. They throw the guards they’ve caught at each other to collide painfully, before Iron Man catches two more and sends them zooming towards the castle with a blast from his hand.

A shining gleam of silver cuts through the sky as two large wings slice into one of the guards then catches the second. Samuel holds onto the struggling form until they’re nearly at the peak of the tower then he releases the body and dives back down into the fray with an impressive sweeping wind.

The body nearly hits the stone of the parapet when a distinctive whip fills the air and web is wrapped around the body’s waist and swung up into the air and released. The Spider-Man, in a bright blue and red tunic with trousers to match, swings forward as Steve goes flying back once more, a small puff of smoke left where he’d been standing.

As Steve lands, the Spider-Man plants himself behind him and catches him, helping him stand before pulling Steve’s shield off his back.

“Lose something?” He asks, tossing it to Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve says, nodding at Peter before he shakes his head. “Why are you still down here? You’re supposed to be with her Majesty.”

“Hulk is with her.” Peter assures him.

“Hulk?!” Steve gasps, ducking as a guard dives towards him. He swings up with his shield and knocks him out.

“I got sidetracked. There are so many of them.” Peter gasps, jumping easily over a knocked-out guard that rolls by his feet.

“Well, at least I know she’s safe.” Steve sighs, turning back to Rumlow who is busy fighting a few of Tony’s own personal guards while Steve recovers quickly.

“GUHRAWRRHGGG!”

The animal-like cry is familiar and all too close.

Steve, Peter, and half of those fighting turn towards the terrifying sound of an angry Hulk as he comes barreling around the corner of the castle, trampling enemies as he goes while he simultaneously grabs hold of the ones he doesn’t step on, crushing them in his massive grip or throwing them into walls and dirt.

“HULK!” Steve shouts, desperate to get his attention.

The green mass seems to hear him as he turns to look at Steve and then jumps high up taking with him two bodies, before landing only a few feet away, crushing three others and dropping the two that he holds now lifeless.

As he walks over, Steve can see that he’s dirty, hands dripping with blood and mud as if he’s been fighting for a while.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks before Steve has the chance. “You’re supposed to be with her Majesty!”

Hulk stops, thumping his chest importantly before he points at the cart rolling in from where he’d just come.

“Hulk go get witch lady for Queen flowers.” He says, voice proud. “Queen have baby now. Queen flower peed on floor.”

All of the blood in Steve’s body rushes up to his head and he can hear nothing but Hulk’s last few words.

“Hulk…is-is Y/N in labor?!” Peter asks, voice shocked and full of worry.

“Mm.” Hulk says simply, then points to the cart where Grandmother is dismounting amongst a large violent scuffle.

Steve is numb, and for this moment at least, his mind travels back to a cold winter morning that he will never forget.

You’re nestled in his arms, naked chest pressed against his own as you rest against him. You’ve got one hand up on the back of his neck, your fingers twirling through his hair. The other is resting against his side and he’s trying not to focus on how it tickles when you move your soft fingers in little circles against his skin.

“May I ask you for something? A gift?” You say, voice clear as a bell and full of hesitation but excitement.

Steve smiles, happy that you’ve become so open with him. He can’t believe you’re actually asking him for things now.

“Whatever you want my petal, it’s yours.” He says, pulling you closer as he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

He can feel the heat of your cheek as his words have some strange effect on you. A pleasing one.

You turn to look at him, resting your chin on his chest as gently as you can.

He turns to meet your eyes, admiring the way your hair is all over the place, messier in the back from how much he’s had you on yours.

There’s a glow to your skin, a sticky goodness that gives him such pride to know that he’s spent so much time giving you the pleasure you’d so rightfully deserved. He will never finish making all of it up to you. But this is as good as it will probably get.

“Tell me.” He urges you when you don’t speak.

“Promise me that you’ll be by my side.” You tell him, voice more confident. “When our child is born, I-I know that women die from giving birth and if those are to be my last moments-”

“No.” Steve protests, stroking your arm and shoulders. “No, don’t say that my flower.”

“Please, Steve, I must say it. I need you to hear me and I need to know that you’ll do as I wish.” You sigh. “If giving birth to our son is to be the last thing I do, I would very much like to have you at my side. I love you but more importantly, I want to see him in your arms.

“I want to know that if I should be gone from his life, that you will be there for him. That he will have his father’s protection and love, forever.” You tell him desperately, voice tight and intense.

“Of course, I’ll be there for him. There is no question about my being there for our son. I will always be there for him.” Steve declares, but he knows that you won’t be satisfied with only this. “And I promise, I will be by your side when you give birth to our son.”

It’s odd, sure, for the father to be in the birthing room but if it’s your wish, Steve will fight anyone who gets in his way to be there.

“I-” Steve begins, looking around at the fighting as Hulk disappears into the battle once more.

Beside him, he can see, hear, and feel Peter blocking blows and shielding him from an interruption to his sudden frozen thoughts.

“Your Majesty?” Peter says, trying to bring him around as he incapacitates two guards with his webs. He flings them away where they crash into more Hydra then flips back towards Steve, stopping to place his hand on his King’s shoulder. “Steve…”

Steve looks at him, swallowing hard as he wars with himself to rationalize this decision.

Before he can, two more figures fight their way into their small tense circle.

“What’s the matter?” Natasha asks, red hair whipping back and forth as she blocks a sword and kicks the attack in the gut with a grunt.

Beside her Bucky takes his fist and slams it into the ground hard creating a localized tremor that unbalances a few more guards that Natasha takes out with smaller daggers from around her hip.

“Has something happen?” Bucky asks, breathing hard, skin smudged with blood and dirt.

Steve still can’t speak so Peter does. “It seems Y/N is having the Prince. Now.”

Natasha’s face whitens as she takes a step closer to them both. “What?!”

Steve meets her gaze and Natasha shakes her head.

“You must go, Steve. Go.” Natasha insists.

“What about the fight?” He hesitates, wanting to run to you but knowing that he’s needed here. What if one of them should die because he leaves? He can’t just go.

“We will make do.” She says.

“She’s right.” Peter chimes in. “Y/N needs you more than we do.”

“But-” Steve begins, already decided on giving in.

“STEVE!” Sam shouts from the top of the crumbling gate, pointing towards the Southern forest where a literal cavalry is breaking through the trees.

At the very front, sitting tall and proud with one eye obscured by a black metal mask that covers only that side of his face, Fury leads a troop of guards dressed in blue and gray armor.

There is a deafening crack as the sky splits open once more and through the inky clouds of the coming morning a streak of blinding golden light rips through. At the head of this light is a figure, body covered in a slender armor of gold, blue, and red. Through the helmet is a slit along the top through which long golden hair spills out in what looks like a mane.

The figure stops midair, seems to float there as if the action require no more effort than breathing, then with her fist leading the way, she dives down and cuts through the throng of black until she reaches Rumlow and lands with a small thud.

“Shall we dance?” She asks him, voice cool and amused. Rumlow slams his heavily armored fists together, a reverberating clang filling the air, before he launches himself at the stranger who appears to be on their side.

Steve’s chest is filled with relief as he spots the reinforcements and turns to give in to his own and Nat’s desires when he sees a glimmering blade moving too fast for him to block, aimed right at the center of Natasha’s back.

Steve blinks and when he opens his eyes, he sees Bucky with his metal hand wrapped around the tip of the blade, the back of his hand resting right up against Natasha’s back.

The fury and loathing that blackens Bucky’s eyes worry Steve for a moment that they might not have seen the last of the Winter Soldier but Bucky breaks the blade, knocks the sword from the guard’s hand, and grabs him by the throat.

“I’m going to knock your brain into the soles of your feet.” He promises before punching the man so hard he falls to the ground, motionless with a dribble of blood flowing from his ears.

As he turns to check on Natasha, he has no chance to worry as she throws her arms around him and kisses him so hard his lips turn bright red.

Bucky is quick to wrap his arms around her and crush her to his chest as he returns her affections wholeheartedly.

When she pulls away, they’re both breathing hard.

“We’re getting married tomorrow morning.” Natasha declares.

Bucky swoons and kisses her again.

Steve turns to Peter who nods, and runs with him, helping him clear a path to the nearest entry.

“Tell her we’re all with her.” Peter says, and once Steve is through, he shuts and blocks the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re nearly completely folded over, clutching your stomach and back and your legs and everything hurts, and you think you might die from this but then it passes and you’re counting in your head.

“Th-Three.” Three minutes. It should be time? Isn’t that what Grandmother said?

No. Wait longer. The pains must be so close together that you won’t be able to tell them apart. Laying down would be beset right now however, and you edge your way closer to your bed again.

You’re sweating and straining, breathing heavily, and also not breathing enough. It feels like you can’t take a breath. Every other sound that comes from your mouth is a whine or a groan or a moan as pain engulfs you once again.

You manage to sit this time, hands fisting the sheets of your bed as you grit your teeth and then remember to try and breath but it’s too much. It’s too hard. You’re sobbing by the time the pain passes, rubbing your stomach in the hopes that this is the way it should be and the pain is not a sign of some distress your baby must be in but you’re too stupid, too uneducated to know.

Most women don’t know these things right away. You attempt to console yourself, knowing that only a midwife would know. A doctor would know. A peasant turned princess turned queen would not know. It wasn’t in your studies.

Still, the feeling of helplessness takes hold and you hate yourself for not doing better.

“I’m s-so sorry.” You grieve with your little one, scared and unsure of the fate you will both suffer.

You lay yourself down as the pain subsides and it doesn’t help but you don’t want to stand so you lay there for only half a minute before the bedroom door is thrust open.

“Grandmother?” You squeak, turning to look at the door for what you hope is reinforcements but instead find all of the blood in your body turning into ice at the ashy blonde hair and the wrinkled skin and the thin and slightly parted mouth of a desperate Lord Pierce.

You sit up more quickly than you thought would be possible, eyes taking in his slightly hunched stance as he moves towards you with careful steps. His hands are wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword.

He’s sweaty, breathing just as hard as you.

You realize that he’s had to fight his way up here. There’s a cut along his cheek and another gash on his leg. Not big enough to matter but proof of the battle.

“You should have just stayed with the Asgardian in the woods.” Pierce says, voice strong and resolute. “You should have never come back. Then I wouldn’t have to kill you and that brat inside your stomach.”

You raise one hand, a plea for him to stop as you go numb to everything but his movements and your free hand searching underneath the pillows behind you as discreetly as you can manage.

“Please.” You beg. “Please…”

“You really shouldn’t have come back.” He says, almost truly sounding remorseful but really he’s only irritated that he has to get his own hands dirty.

He raises his sword and swings it down to cut off your head just as your fingers make purchase around the solid hilt of Steve’s hidden sword.

You raise the heavy thing with a strength you didn’t know you had and block Pierce’s strike with a metallic clang.

The two of you struggle for a few seconds, struggling against each other’s solid grips until finally you push yourself onto your feet and nearly scream as you muster up all the strength you can to push his sword away from you.

It frees you up and knocks him off balance but he’s recovering quickly and you know that you will not survive a battle of swords with this man so you do the only thing you can do. You reach for the pitcher of water beside your bed, chuck it at his head, and run.

You can hear him sputtering and the break of the china as you sweep from the room, moving as fast as your baby heavy body will allow. Your bare feet slap against the floor as you turn the corner and race down the hallway towards the war room, but there are two floors and six hallways between you and you’ll never make it.

Pain bites into you, compelling your feet to stop moving as you turn another corner and cling with one arm to the peach limestone of your father’s hallways. The sword drags along the floor, scraping and making noise as you groan and try to hold yourself together as you’re robbed of your breath once more.

“Bitch!” Pierce screams and his voice rounds the corner behind you.

Forgetting your pain, you push yourself forward, terrified that he will catch you. You can’t let him kill your son.

You move faster, urging your body to keep moving despite the crippling pain that threatens to bring you to your knees.

It isn’t fast enough. As you round another corner and the stairs are in sight, Pierce’s hand wraps around your hair and he pulls you back hard.

You scream, knowing that no one will come because every man is down on the grounds, fighting with the Avengers.

He manages to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, but you twist in his grip and he adjusts it so that he’s almost choking you. Drawing your sword again, you can’t swing it from this angle so you raise the hilt up as fast as you can and hit your mark.

Pierce’s nose gushes blood as he stumbles back. The chain of your necklace is wrapped around hit thumb and it rips as he falls, releasing you from his grip.

The run down the stairs is terrifying, with every step a threat to you and your prince. You nearly fall on the last two but catch yourself along the banister before you’re racing forward once more.

You turn the corner and can hear Pierce barreling along the steps. In one horrible moment, you realize that you cannot outrun him. Slipping into the first door on your right, you rush in and urge your breathing to slow as the quiet of the room makes every noise you make that much louder.

You have never been in this room before and find yourself in a room with towering shelves. Each shelf is filled with books and strange knickknacks. Statues and pieces of artwork carefully organize and lined up.

Although the silence is unbearable, you’re grateful for the winding and maze-like bends and turns of the shelves and bookcases.

As silently as you can, you weave through them, stopping only when you feel you are deep enough and go still so that you can listen.

Your heartbeat is in your ears. Your breathing is still too labored.

Was that the door?

No. You cry in silence as the pain strikes again. In your back, in your lower body, your pelvis, it’s all on fire.

You raise your hand to your mouth and bite down hard. You can feel the skin break as the pain becomes unbearable, but you cannot utter a single sound or it’s all over.

Not my baby. You grieve.

The pain begins to pass, and you realize that it has only been a minute since the last one and you have to get out of here if your child is going to survive.

With all the remaining courage in your heart mustered you turn around to sneak out once more only to feel the sting of a powerful hit on the left side of your face.

The strength of it sends you falling onto your back and you gasp, struggling to catch your breath as your bones protest the fall.

“Why do you have to make this so hard?” Pierce asks angrily.

Looking up you see the sword flying towards your stomach.

You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around it, trying to cover as much of your baby as you can before the blow lands. You hear the terrible squish of blade piercing flesh and sob once because you know you’re dead…only there’s no pain.

You hear a groan, Pierce’s groan, and urge your eyes open only to find him standing over you with a shining silver blade peeking out of the center of his gut.

Blood dribbles from his mouth onto your nightdress as the light in his eyes fades. The sword is withdrawn and with a shuddering breath, you begin to cry.

“Are you alright?!” She asks, all beauty and enviable strength in her form hugging tunic of blue and black. Her long blonde hair is gathered up on her head, swept out of the way so that she can fight without struggle.

She sheathes her sword and kneels down beside you, her hands moving along your arms as you let your head fall back, happier to see Lady Sharon Carter than you ever thought you’d be in your life.

New pain fills your body as it struggles through the shock of what just happened and the urging of your son to come into this world.

You groan and moan and Sharon’s eyes fill with panic as she realizes that you’re about to give birth.

“Oh my-” She gasps.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Another shout fills the castle halls, moving closer and closer as he no doubt follows the trail of your fearful flight.

“Here!” Sharon rises to her feet and disappears from your sight, but you hear the door open again. “Steve, she’s here! Quick!”

Despite the pain your body is in, your mind begins to fuzz over and as you lay there between two large bookcases, Pierce’s lifeless stare gazing right at you, you begin to feel numb again.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice is closer. “Where?!”

“Here.” Sharon says, leading him to you.

You know when he has you in his sights because his voice breaks as he speaks.

“No.” He cries. “I’m here. My flower, I’m here.”

He kneels beside you and you eagerly turn to meet his gaze.

He’s got cuts along his neck and forehead.

You frown, reaching for them in clear disapproval of any injury he’s gained. Storm blue eyes filling with tears, he’s careful to touch you but places his hand over yours as you touch him.

“Steve…” You try to smile. “I-I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Stay with me, love.” He whispers, tracing the shape of your arm from wrist to shoulder and back. “Stay awake.”

Your eyes close and Steve screams. “NO!”

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I’ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

[chaptersinprogress]

diamonds are forever

“Great,” Tsuna whimpered. “Can I have my car back now?”

aka Tsuna just wanted one hour, just ONE, of uninterrupted sleep.

Rating: T

Pairings: Sawada Tsunayoshi & Skull

Warnings: 007-levels of car chases, violence & swearing

Prompt: @khrrarepairweek 2021 day 2 | accidental kidnapping

Tsuna prided himself on being able to sleep anywhere, everywhere, and through any thing.

Standing up in a train, during a Michael Bay movie at the cinema, and once, through an actual earthquake!

(It was a minor one and admittedly not the smartest thing in world, but in his humble opinion, he'd rather die unaware in his sleep than awake and terrified.)

Basically, Tsuna very much valued his shut-eye.

So when he had to pull 2 consecutive all-nighters for finals week submissions - not sleeping for almost 60 hours straight - the first thing he did after the last paper was march off to his car parked right outside the campus hall, and pass out in the backseat.

It was the perfect plan: nap for a while in the back, then once he'd recovered more functionality and brain power, drive home and sleep properly in his bed.

He had even prepared a blanket and pillow for the occasion!

Eyes sliding shut as he bundled himself up, Tsuna mentally patted himself on his back for his foresight. Then with a sigh, happily tipped himself into the waiting arms of Morpheus.

All was well in the world.

Until a body crashed through the front passenger-side window.

Tsuna jackknifed up with a shriek to accompany the blaring car alarm; the vehicle rocking heavily as the person who landed inside scrambled around the front, swearing loudly.

"Fucking, fuck fuck, where are the keys?!" the person yelled, strapping himself into the driver's seat and frantically rummaging through the compartments. "Got them!"

Slamming the keys into the ignition, he gunned the engine and the car raced forward with a squeal of tires, leaving behind a thin trail of exhaust.

Barely catching on to what was happening, Tsuna opened his mouth to yell at the person who was stealing his car. And instead let out another shriek when bullets exploded through the rear window and shredded the unused headrest beside him.

The sound of glass shattering along with the roar of his poor second-hand purchase's engine that the car-thief was pushing like a fucking NASCAR drowned out his opera audition. Then a sharp turn threw him off the seat and onto the floor with a yelp, entangled in his blanket and pillow.

"Fucking fuck, fuckity fuck," the car-thief chanted as he spun the car in dizzying circles, swerving through narrow lanes and along hairpin turns.

Tsuna dug his fingernails into the leather beside him and hung on. Lifting himself up slightly, he got ready to give his unasked-for chauffer a piece of his mind.

But the bullets smashing through glass and the metal body of the car had him ducking back down, whimpering in fear.

The whole thing was like a terrifying roller-coaster of a nightmare!

'Please let it be a nightmare', Tsuna wished fervently. At least he would get to wake up, instead of being shot full of holes or turning into paste when the car crashed!

A horn blared, tires screeched and he was unceremoniously thrown forward as his commandeered vehicle drifted wildly. Pulse pounding in his ears, Tsuna faintly registered the enthusiastic yelling coming from the front.

Then all the noise died down into a pleasant silence.

"Wait, did I lose them?" the person spoke aloud. "Holy shit, I think I lost them!"

Tsuna (metaphorically) hit the roof. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR!" he shrieked.

The person screamed and slammed the brakes. Tsuna's head banged harshly against the back of the driver's seat.

Groaning, the undergraduate cradled his head in his hands. He already was having a headache from the lack of sleep and being unceremoniously woken up; the impact with the car seat was doing him no favours.

The driver twisted around to peer into the back. "Oh my god," he muttered. "Who are you?!"

Tsuna squinted angrily at the figure. "Who am I?" he said incredulously. "I should be asking you that! Who the fuck are you?! You tried to steal my car!"

"Oh my god, did I just accidentally kidnap someone?" the person asked himself. "Holy fucking shit, I did! Oh my god, I accidentally kidnapped someone!"

Tsuna's vision finally cleared enough for him to properly see the asshole who'd stolen his car with him still inside it. And his jaw promptly dropped.

'112, a clown has escaped the circus' he though hysterically. 'He's in my car. Which has been through an action movie car chase and shot full of holes, courtesy of said clown. Please come and collect.'

"Hey kid, are you ok?!" the aforementioned clown asked frantically. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to call the ambulance?"

Tsuna couldn't help but shoot him a truly withering look. "I'm fine. No thanks to you. And I'm not a kid, I'm 22 for fuck’s sake."

He could see why the guy would think otherwise though. Tsuna looked positively baby-faced compared to the whole multiple facial piercings, bright purple spikey hair, make-up, motorcycle suit and weird (facepaint? tattoo?) teardrop thing the other had going on.

"Oh," said the driver, clearly surprised. Then he puffed up slightly. "I'm 26. The name's Skull. Also known as the Immortal Stuntman, Hated by Death Itself."

"Delighted," Tsuna replied, sarcasm dripping from the word. "Now about my car-"

The rear windshield was taken out entirely by a spray of bullets that had both the occupants ducking and yelling in surprise.

"Let's discuss that later!" Skull shouted as he floored the accelerator.

And Tsuna once again found himself an unwilling participant in a high-speed, high-stakes car chase.

"Get onto the seats and buckle up!" Skull ordered as they left the town behind and raced along narrower and narrower mountain roads.

Swearing like a sailor, Tsuna did as he was told, flinching as bullets pinged off the rock face, and clinging onto the seats for dear life. Then smothered a fearful yell when the sound of a vehicle crashing through the guardrail came from behind them.

Skull shot Tsuna a fierce grin through the rearview mirror, more teeth than smile. "Hang in there kid, we're almost at the finish line."

Taking another turn at break-neck speed, Skull twisted around with a pistol in hand and shot twice out of the back, then resumed driving. All within a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment.

The front tires of the final car chasing them exploded and the vehicle fish-tailed wildly, smashing into the side of the mountain with a sickening crunch before rolling off the side of the cliff.

The stuntman whooped loudly as they continued speeding down the road. “And we’re home-free!”

“Great,” Tsuna whimpered. “Can I have my car back now?”

[pretend-writer]

The Ghost Of You (Hargreeves x sibling!reader)

Summary: Klaus comforts Y/N after Ben’s death that happened during a mission. 

Pairing: Hargreeves x sibling!reader

Title Reference: The Ghost of You x My Chemical Romance

Word Count: 1.1k words

Warning: mention of death, violence

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Everything happened so fast, the time was ticking quicker than the speed of my brain. By the time everything was processing in my mind, it was too late.

I had just fought off one of the robbers as I high kicked him in the face, making him unconscious. When my part was over with, I was going to help Ben who was right by me while our other siblings were clearing a different floor.

As I turned to give my brother a hand, I didn’t think my life would fall apart as quick as it did. It felt as though the whole room went silent as Ben fell to the ground, taking his last breath. The bank robbers with a pistol in his hand shot him right in the head.

Rage quickly rushed over my body as I ran toward the man who murdered my brother. With my martial arts skill and the extra energy I had from anger, I jumped onto the man and snapped his neck.

It was a slight thrill, making me feel better that I killed him for revenge but the sadness of losing my brother flushed right back. It didn't matter after all, it didn't bring Ben back.

Quickly rushing to my brother who was lying still on the ground, I hoped that he was still breathing. It was a long shot but I needed to know if I could heal him with my powers.

I've tried countless times to heal him but he was long gone. The bullet went straight through his brains and there was nothing I could do to get Ben back. We were next to each other fighting the group of robbers, there were so many things I could've done to prevent my brother from dying.

After the building cleared out from all the robbers, the rest of the siblings gathered around Ben. They were all in shock, not believing that we lost one of our own. I've wondered if they ever blamed me for his death.

Dad showed up a while later with Vanya on his side, I could never forget the look on his face when he saw Ben, lifeless and still. 'Who was Number Six's partner for this mission?'

'It was me.' I mumbled as tears fell down my cheeks, not being able to take my eyes off of Ben.

'We all know who's at fault then. Right, Number Eight?' He kept a straight face then turned around without saying another word.

I didn't know what hurt worse, Ben dying when he was my responsibility or disappointing dad when all I want to do it prove that I was great.

When we got home, dad announced that we will do a memorial for Ben first thing in the morning. As much as the house was quiet due to dad hating us talking unless told, that night was the most quiet it had been.

It was hard to look at my siblings in their eyes, I knew that they judged me for what I didn't do to save Ben. They haven't spoken a word, it could be because we were all grieving but I couldn't help but think that they hated me now.

Grace was the only one I talked to before bed; she gave me a goodnight kiss on the cheek and tucked me in just as she does every night. I've asked her if she thought my siblings hated me or if they were angry about what had happened. She said not to worry and that they were all just sad that their beloved brother passed away.

I wish I'd believed that.

That whole night all I did was toss and turn. No matter how much I tried to sleep, it was hard to keep the flashbacks from replaying in my head.

The design of the pistol the man had in his hand, the way Ben slowly hit the floor as if it was in slow motion. The smirk on the robber's dirty face when he saw that he didn't miss his shot. The words that came out of Reginald's mouth when he found out that Ben had died.

It was all haunting me but perhaps I deserved it. After all, I failed the mission and failed everyone in the family.

My pillow was practically soaking from all the tears as I thought of the worst day of my life. I hated every single moment of this day. Too bad Five was away and couldn't go back in time to stop everything from happening.

'Aw Y/N. Don't cry.' I heard Klaus' voice from my door, I didn't even notice it even opening.

I sat up as he walked into my room, sitting right beside me on the side of my bed. Klaus laid his hand on my shoulder and lightly smiled. 'It's not your fault.'

'It is... I could've saved him. I was too busy fighting off the other ones that I barely noticed him struggling. I should've known...'

'No it's not, okay?' Klaus sighed, 'Ben came into my room to tell me you were crying. That you were blaming all of this on yourself. Ben said it's not your fault.'

My head shot up, immediately putting the words he said together. Has Klaus contacted Ben through his powers? 'Wait. B-Ben's here?'

Klaus nodded, 'Yeah. He's standing across from us, actually.'

I tightly hugged Klaus, crying into his chest as more tears streamed down my face. 'Oh my-. Ben... Ben I'm so sorry.'

Caressing my back, Klaus soothed me to try to calm me down. 'He doesn't blame you, trust me. No one else does too, you know?'

'Dad blames me. I know that I could've healed him. I was just not there on time.'

'Ben said that he was gone before you killed that murderer.' Klaus kept eyeing the door, assuming that he was looking at Ben. 'He says nice kill by the way.'

I couldn't help but chuckle. Even when he wasn't around anymore, Ben always found a way to make me smile. 'Yeah now that I think about it, it was pretty extreme. I did it for you, Ben.'

Klaus smiled at me, then looked at Ben. Oh, how I wish I could just give him a big hug or at least see that he was doing alright.

'Hey, also dad is a prick. All the years we've grew up in this house and I have never seen that old man smile. Just a negative, lonely man he is.' Klaus tried to cheer me up, having the biggest grin on his face. 'Can wait to move the hell out of here. Do you want to come with?'

A smile formed on my face, something I'd never thought I'd do all day. 'You promise you're going to bring me with you?'

'Duh, Y/N.' Klaus laughed, 'Maybe Ben would join us too.'

I hugged my brother once again, just happy and appreciative that I had siblings that cared for me. 'Can't wait.'

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Train Day - Rowe and Mason

[I TRIED SO HARD TO COME UP WITH WHUMP ON A CHOO CHOO BUT  

I 

COULD 

NOT

so here’s some “training Whump” but with a Twist! Mason and Rowe (who belongs to @whumpzone (and Tomas) The Training is from this prompt, and this interaction :)

hehehehe sorry Rowe Also I kinda want to write more Training!Rowe but who knows]

CW: Conditioning, past abuse discussed, cursing, dubcon touch (non sexual), misunderstanding (look Tomas is TRYING), implied electrocution, Pet Whump, conditioned mindset, dehumanization

[Rowe’s Masterlist] [Mason’s Tag] 

Mason sat, scribbling notes with the office phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear.

“Just a general kind of refresher?”

Tomas nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “Yeah – nothing harsh, though. He’s been acting out lately and I just don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Acting out how?”

Tomas bit his lip for a second before he sighed. Strangely enough, he felt almost like a teacher phoning home about a disruptive student. He would never hurt Rowe, but he needed some correction.

“Uh, marking up things around the house” – destroying my favorite shoes- “messing with things he knows better than to mess with” – playing around with the collar I should have thrown away – “I mean, he cut his own hair for goodness sake.”

Mason wrote down attention seeking and hummed understandably. “Has anything changed recently? Did you get a new job or move or something to that effect?”

A pause.

“Well, Luca’s been coming around more...”

Mason leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin creeping along his face. By the blush in the man’s voice, he could tell Luca was more than just a random friend. He chuckled silently and shook his head. That explains it.

“Alright. Has he ever been through a formal training before?”

“I, I don’t think so. I got him, uh, he came to me through some, not, great circumstances, if you know what I mean. Pretty rough shape. So, uh - no. I’m going to go with no. Or at least, not like, kind training.”

Mason nodded subconsciously as he took more notes. Alright, a little handholding necessary with this one. Fair enough.

“Sorry to hear about that. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything other changes?”

Another pause, longer this time. Mason just waited, understanding that some people who were embarrassed about needing a trainer for their pet. Really, there was nothing to be ashamed for, but there was still that expectation. Sadly, that mindset is what messed up the pet in the first place.

“He has nightmares,” Tomas blurts, feeling like this might be the only opportunity for Rowe to get some professional help. “Almost every night – all from before. Not me, all before.”

“Oh,” Mason said, dropped from that professional voice to one a little more casual. Clients liked that, made them feel like friends or something. Personal anecdotes. “Yeah, one of my boys got those too after a little scare with a SUV that was speeding through our neighborhood. It’s fixable.”

“Thank goodness,” Tomas muttered, head in hands. “He’s still scared of that guy. I just, I just wish he wasn’t so scared of everything. I want him to be calm, and comfortable, and feel safe with me. I, I care about him.”

Companion, Mason noted. “Sounds like you’re trying all the right things. I’ll see what I can do to help you and-” he checked the form again “Rowe.”

A sigh of relief from Tomas. It had been a while since there was someone who could help him with Rowe. After, after the whole Kasia debacle that blew up in his face.

It was nice to have someone on his side again. Someone who wanted to help Rowe like he did.

A few more pleasantries, and they said their goodbyes. Mason hung up the phone, glancing over to the pet that had been kneeling in his office. It had been trembling the entire time, not daring to look up. Mason stretched as he stood and made his way over to it. He crouched down, taking the pet by the chin to examin its face.

Big, scared brown eyes couldn’t decide where to look; flickering from the floor to his face, but never quite reaching his eyes. Poor thing flinched when he brought up his other hand to inspect the sloppily shorn hair. He could already tell that the pet was layered in scars, trying to breathe silently but given away by a slightest rasp. It tried to studder something out, but the words got caught.

Mason tutted, using his thumb to rub the boy’s temple in comforting circles. Barbaric. That’s the only way to describe the treatment of the pet’s previous owner. How could people do shit like this? Pet were just that - pets, not just living punching bags. Disciple needed to be humane, needed to help get the lesson across instead of useless violence.

The comforting touch seemed to confuse it even more, the pet staying stalk still. He tried a different spot, and the pet quickly relaxed, neck going slack. Mason smiled a little, faintly remembering another pet that came through a while ago. Loved touch, that one did.

He wondered how it was doing now.

~

Rowe couldn’t stop shaking. He was trying, oh he was trying his best but he just couldn’t seem to stop. The man was big, biceps as big as Rowe’s head. He was shorter than Master Tomas, but he scared Rowe more.

And that made him feel so guilty.

He should respect his Master the most; should be the most concerned about what Master Tomas thought or wanted. He shouldn’t care so much about what happened to him, or about what this man would do. He just needed to be good, and obey. But he was scared. This man was going to fix him, teach him to be better, and with Rowe’s old Master that always meant pain. Pain and darkness and hunger that hollowed him out. Burns and cuts and lashes and begging that made everything worse.

When the man lifted his other hand, Rowe flinched away from it. He wasn’t ready to be hit again. Master Tomas had been too easy on him! Too pitying, too nice. He had gone soft, spending all this time doing house chores and sleeping on a bed and reading. Now he needed to learn his place again and it scared him so much.

“P-p-please Sir, please. I-I-I-I, I, hng-“ Rowe’s voice cracked, and he could feel heat rush to his face. The man made a little clicking noise, and Rowe froze. A thumb was rubbing little circles into his temple and he didn’t know what to do. He found himself looking into the man’s face, utterly confused. Was, wait – did Rowe do something right? What was happening? It, it didn’t hurt. It felt kind of nice. What was he supposed to do? He stayed still, chest rising and falling quickly.

The man made an expression, but it was gone so quickly Rowe couldn’t tell what it meant. Hands reached for his neck, and Rowe whimpered. But they just laid across his skin, not squeezing or putting any pressure. Even so, Rowe still felt faint. Oh, oh oh he must have been so so so bad.

But there was no pain. The man’s fingertips pressed into the back of his neck, right where his spine met his skull. Little circles again, digging into the muscle. Rowe’s head moved a little with the motion for a second - before he felt the tension in his neck just melt away.

It felt so good, his eyes fluttered closed. It was hard to keep his head up straight, gravity pulling it back to rest on the man’s hands. Rowe was still incredibly confused, but he didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want to mess up somehow and lose this reward that he certainly hadn’t earned. He almost didn’t hear it when the man started talking.

“Feeling a little ignored, eh? Had a bitch of an owner before, didn’t you. Fucked you up real good.”

Rowe’s brain snapped to attention hearing mention of his old owner. He tried to shake his head a little. No, no his old owner was fair. Rowe was the one who kept messing up and needing correcting. He was just a pet, that was how he was supposed to be treated. He knew better. He knew it.

“Hey hey hey,” Mason said, suddenly stopping the motion and firmly holding Rowe’s neck straight. The brown eyes flew open, wrenched from his blissful state. “No, you don’t correct your Trainer. Your old owner was wrong. Now, let’s get you all fixed up for your Master. No more acting out, no more breaking your rules, no more attention seeking.”

Rowe cringed in on himself as he was reprimanded. Yes, yes that’s what he had been doing. Trying to take up Master’s time like an ungrateful thing. He could be good. He could show the man he was well trained.

“I-I’m, I’m sorry. Please, p-please p-punish me, I-“

Mason scoffed lightly, releasing Rowe and stand. “Yes, but that’s only part of the reason you’re here.”

He paused. “Talkative. Does your Master like you to talk with him?”

Rowe’s jaw snapped shut, eyes wide as he realized what had happened. He covered his mouth with his hands instinctively but nodded to answer his Trainer’s question.

“Alright. What does he do for punishments?”

Rowe shivered, starting to tremble again – wait when did he stop – remembering his old punishments. But Master Tomas never did that. He was so kind to Rowe.

“He, he, he h-has me remove spider-rs? Sometimes? Or, um, or he, um.”

Mason sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course, one of those loosey-goosy owners that never punished anything. Probably too afraid to seem like “the bad guy” or like the pet’s old Master. Two extreme pet owners; too much punishment and not enough.

Rowe stopped talking immedicably, unsure of what to do. The Trainer gestured for him to stand as well, and Rowe obeyed. Mason took a step behind him, pinning one of the pet’s wrists to the small of its back while the other hand firmly gripped the back of its neck. The lack of collar made sense now.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the training floor and get started.”

~

Tomas was pacing in the waiting room. The door opened, and Tomas wheeled around.

“Master Tomas!”

Rowe came up to him excitedly, not falling to his knees, but standing sheepishly in front of him. Tomas looked him up and down, a little shocked.

“Rowe? Oh-h, you seem, well.”

Rowe nodded, eyes locked on Tomas’ face. “I, I am! Thank, thank you.”

Tomas glanced over and saw Mason leaning in the doorframe, looking rather smug with himself. Tomas smiled at him half-heartedly. He filled out the paperwork quickly, anything he had to do to take Rowe home.

Every day Rowe was gone made Tomas doubt his decision more. He was so glad they were going home, and that all of this was behind them. He already felt awful for sending Rowe away for the week or so he’d been gone. He’d thoroughly missed having Rowe around the house.

The moment they left, Tomas took Rowe’s hand.

“Are you really okay? Rowe, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that to you. Did he hurt you? What did he do?”

“I’m fine, M-Master,” Rowe said, smiling. There was a pause in the conversation for him to add more, to answer the other questions, but he didn’t. Tomas swallowed, not really believing him.

~

Rowe curled his toes and twitched his shoulders as he spoke. (If you have to move, if you have to flinch or feel scared, move somewhere your Owner can’t see. No one wants a pet that flinches away) Master Tomas seemed concerned. And sorry? Sorry for what? Rowe was his pet and Master Tomas could send him wherever he wanted.

His trainer had been fair, helping Rowe be the best he could. But, but he didn’t want to go back to the Trainer. Under his arms still stung, the little electrodes removed only that morning. There were so many things he had to remember, so many secret rules that he needed to follow to keep Master Tomas happy. To make sure Master Tomas knew his pet was calm, and comfortable, and felt safe with him. It was a lot to remember, but his Trainer has explained that this was how Rowe showed how thankful he was.

You don’t need attention; you need to make sure your Master is happy.

He, he kind of liked his Trainer, but he was also so scary. He got loud sometimes, able to make Rowe nearly fall apart with just his words. And he was downright terrifying when he made Rowe tell him about his nightmares. All the little details and everything that happened. Making Rowe say it over and over again; but with a different ending. Saying that Master Tomas had come and saved him. Taken him away from his old Master.

His Trainer said it would help. Help stop the nightmares. That, and the stretches that didn’t hurt so much after hours of practice. Master Tomas had saved him, and he was forever grateful to him. So thankful to be his pet.

Pets smiled. Pets did what they were told. Good pets followed the secret rules, the ones that kept them good pets. His Trainer had explained those, too. Explained why Master Tomas acted how he did. Why he acted kind.

Why he told Rowe he was a person.

He wasn’t, Rowe knew and his Trainer made sure he knew, but it made Master Tomas feel better to say. So, it was a good thing. Anything that made Master happy was a good thing. Rowe just had to play along. It wouldn’t be hard, as long as he reminded himself the truth when he was alone.

He was a pet.

He was there to be a companion to Master Tomas.

He wasn’t a person.

He belonged to Master Tomas.

He did what Master Tomas wanted.

Master Tomas saved him so he could do whatever he wanted to Rowe (even play this pretend game with him)

He was a pet.

Rowe just had to follow his secret rules.

Just because Master Tomas hadn’t given him rules didn’t mean there weren’t any.